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Life And Works Of Saint Bernard Of ClairvauxCOPYRIGHT © 2024 BY eCatholic2000. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. LIFE AND WORKS OF SAINT BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX EDITED BY DOM. JOHN MABILLON, PRESBYTER AND MONK OF THE BENEDICTINE CONGREGATION OF S. MAUR. TRANSLATED AND EDITED WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES, BY SAMUEL J. EALES, M.A., D.C.L., SOMETIME PRINCIPAL OF S. BONIFACE COLLEGE, WARMINSTER. SECOND EDITION VOL. I. & VOL. II. LONDON: BURNS & OATES LIMITED NEW YORK, CINCINNATI & CHICAGO: BENZIGER BROTHERS CONTENTS
LIFE AND WORKS OF SAINT BERNARD: VOLUME 1PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITIONTHERE are so many things to be said respecting the career and the writings of S. Bernard of Clairvaux, and so high are the praises which must, on any just view of his character, be considered his due, that an eloquence not less than his own would be needed to give adequate expression to them. He was an untiring and transcendently able labourer; and that in many fields. In all his manifold activities are manifest an intellect vigorous and splendid, and a magnetic attractiveness of personal character which never failed to influence and win over others to his views. His entire disinterestedness, his remarkable industry, the soul-subduing eloquence which seems to have been equally effective in France and in Italy, over the sturdy burghers of Liége and the turbulent population of Milan, and above all the wonderful piety and saintliness which formed the noblest and the most engaging of his gifts—these qualities, and the actions which came out of them, rendered him the ornament, as he was more than any other man, the leader, of his own time, and have drawn upon him the admiration of succeeding ages. We have to look at S. Bernard in more than one capacity. First and chiefly, he was a monk, for he lived in an age when the most elevated religious enthusiasm inevitably took the form of the monastic vocation. Nor is it difficult to see why this was necessarily the case. In the eleventh and twelfth centuries war, public or private, was the chief business of princes and nobles, and a constant incident of the daily life of the masses of the common people. But always when the world lives in a state of war, religion is driven to take the incorporated or associate (i.e., the monastic) form by a kind of unconscious reaction, and indeed, in order to maintain its existence at all. Exaggerated forms generate each other in turn; and the idealized unworldliness of the monastic theory was the virtual protest, and a very needful one, against the coarseness and cruelty of the world as it stood. Monastic institutions satisfied, in fact, the conscience of the age, and were popular because they did so. Even so gifted a man as Bernard, we may venture to believe, would not have been nearly so influential had he been anything but a monk; because monachism was the expression, and the necessary expression, of the religious sentiment of those times. How deeply the monastic theory was graven into the consciousness of the twelfth century is shown by the practical paradox attempted, and actually accomplished for a time, in the welding together of characters absolutely contradictory—the soldier and the monk,—in the Knights Templars, the Knights of Calatrava and Alcantara, and other military Orders. S. Bernard, then, was a monk and an ascetic, and as such the foremost in power and influence of his time. He was not only practically the founder of the great Cistercian Order, which was frequently called by his name, but to him was owing in great measure, though not wholly, that general reform of the monastic Orders which restored for a time the austerity of the ancient discipline, and even surpassed it. So great was the enthusiasm which he inspired that thousands of eager postulants, drawn from all classes, crowded into the convents which were reorganized or founded by him. Knights, nobles, ladies of the highest rank, were among these ardent devotees, and that in large numbers. Even reigning sovereigns, in not a few instances, descended from their thrones before middle life was well over and entered some convent. Clairvaux, while he presided over it, sent out parties of its monks to found new monasteries, at the average rate of four every year, as may be noted in our Table of Bernardine Chronology. At the death of S. Bernard the number of Cistercian Abbeys exceeded five hundred, and to such a degree did this enthusiasm grow that in 1142 the kingdom of Portugal declared itself a fief of the Abbey of Clairvaux. Under the influence of S. Bernard the endurance of austerities became a passion to be eagerly sought, not a penance reluctantly submitted to, and the heavier and sharper was the Cross voluntarily borne, the greater was held to be its glory. Not only was he the head of this great Order, but for a whole generation his influence was paramount over the Church. He was, more than any of the Popes who succeeded each other at such short intervals, “the governing head of Christendom,” to whom every subject of importance was sure to be, in some form, referred, and the expression of whose view was equivalent to a judgment upon it. He had received, in the view of his contemporaries, unctio illa quæ docet de omnibus. His voice was the most trusted and authoritative in Europe, though he was no Bishop nor Archbishop, but only a simple Abbot. When, at the Council of Etampes, he opened his mouth to declare to King Louis VI. and all the prelates of France that Innocent, and he alone, was the legitimate Pope, his words were taken as the decision of the Holy Ghost, and unhesitatingly acted upon. Henry I. of England, the Emperor Lothair of Germany, and the Count of Aquitaine, yielded to the force of his arguments, or to the winning power of his remarkable personality, and acknowledged Innocent as Pope, abandoning his rival. It is no wonder that to those who looked on at these astonishing facts, occurring one after another, the character and the powers of the Abbot of Clairvaux should have seemed truly Apostolic. They saw what in that age seemed marvellous in the extreme—a monk, poor, infirm, and obscure, yet the counsellor, reverenced and obeyed, of sovereigns, and even of Popes. Nor was there any adventitious or worldly reason to account for this profound influence which he exercised. In him the ascendency of a higher intellect, of a nobler spiritual nature, a purer and more elevated purpose, of a truly religious force, in short, was felt by all. A halo of sanctity surrounded the head of the humble Bernard, and whenever a difficult question of ecclesiastical polity or of personal duty perplexed Prince, or Bishop, or monk, the great Abbot of Clairvaux was constantly the chosen referee. It would be easy to adduce instances of this, even from the few specimens of letters to him which are still extant, although the great mass of his correspondence has naturally perished. As a theologian he was equally distinguished. Though he was not unacquainted with the writings of the Fathers and earlier commentators, his own expositions owe little to these. They have an individuality that shows them to be the utterances of a single mind. He treats all subjects on the grand scale; refers all actions to spiritual standards, and both illustrates and determines the question he is treating by principles and sanctions drawn from the most unexpected quarters, and frequently from the most awful heights of authority. He has the imagination of a poet; and his works are full of word-pictures which glow and sparkle like gems, even at the present day, through the medium of the stiff and scholastic Latin in which they are set. In his writings there are not a few of those jewels five-words-long That on the stretched forefinger of all Time Sparkle for ever. Mysticism from his mouth drops most of its questionable tendencies, and becomes a thing to charm the devotional mind, and to lift the thoughtful into new and loftier regions of emotion. He is a mystic undoubtedly, but after the manner of S. Ephrem Syrus and S. Gregory the Great rather than of Eckart (b. 1260), Tauler (b. 1290), or even of his contemporaries Hugo and Richard of S. Victor, though these latter approach much nearer to him than the former. It is essentially a pure and spiritual mysticism that he inculcates, clear of all the actual sounds, sights, and odours, celestial music, Elysian fragrance, miraculous visitations, such as appear for example in the writings of S. Theresa; though no doubt occasional extravagances of language may be found in his writings, particularly in his Sermons on the Canticles. Once, indeed, he relates that the Saviour came down from heaven, and entered into his soul; but he relates even this great distinction shown to him hesitatingly and with a reluctance and modesty in every way honourable to him. And he takes care to make it quite clear that this was a purely spiritual event, attended by no outward manifestations: “Ita igitur intrans ad me aliquoties Verbum Sponsus, nullis unquam introitum suum indiciis innotescere fecit, non voce, non specie, non incessa. Nullis denique suis motibus compertum est mihi, nullis meis sensibus illapsum penetralibus meis: tantum ex motu cordis sicut præfatus sum, intellexi præsentiam ejus; et ex fugâ vitiorum, carnaliumque compressione affectuum … percepi utcunque speciem decoris ejus.” To a certain extent it is no doubt the case that besides being a mystical theologian, he was a mystic in another sense, that of being a theurgist, i.e., one who claimed to exercise supernatural power. It is unquestionable that he is said by his biographers to have performed vast numbers of miracles. At some periods of his life, e.g., during his progress through the cities of north Italy on behalf of Pope Innocent, and his preaching of the Second Crusade in the Rhineland, almost every action of his was regarded as miraculous, and every word he spoke as a prophecy. The possessed, the blind, the deaf and dumb, the fever stricken, and even the dying, he cured by the laying on of his hands. He worked marvellous cures with the sign of the Cross, with the sacramental Elements, with the touch of his vestments. He is said to have once performed thirty-six miraculous cures in a single day; and it was calculated that during this Rhineland mission he healed an average of thirty persons daily. One of the most striking—we had almost written of the most awful—instances in history of the magnificent power of a firmly-rooted faith, is the account of S. Bernard’s confronting William, Count of Aquitaine, bearing in his hands the sacramental species, and thus breaking down his opposition to the religious peace of the State. But this subject of S. Bernard’s miracles we have only space just to mention here, and must hope to be enabled to consider it at greater length in the Life of S. Bernard, which will, it is hoped, conclude this edition of his works. For a similar reason we merely refer to Bernard in his capacity as the antagonist of the brilliant and able Peter Abaelard; as the mission-preacher among the simple countrymen of Languedoc; or, lastly, as the Apostle of the Second Crusade, that unfortunate enterprise in which so many predictions were falsified, and so many lives hopelessly thrown away. Bernard being such as he was, it is a matter of surprise that his works, almost alone among those of the Fathers, have never yet appeared in the English language. To the English reader the Sermons and Treatises of “The Last of the Fathers” are a rich mine, as yet unworked and almost unknown. Sundry versions of parts of the Works have been published by various persons at long intervals. The following will be found (it is believed) a tolerably complete English bibliography of this subject:— 1. The Meditatons of Saint Bernard, translated by a Student of the Unyversity of Cambrydge. (Wynkyn the Worde \[sic\], Westmester, 1496, and again in 1545.) 2. An Epistle called the golden epistle (T. Godfray, London), 1530. (?) 3. An Epistle called the golden epistle Edited by Robert Whetford (Wynkyn de Worde, London), 1531. (?) 4. An Epistle called the golden epistle. (Rob. Wyer, London, 1531.) 5. A compēdius and a moche fruytefull treatyse of well liuynge. Translated by Thomas Paynell, London, Thomas Petyt. 8vo. 6. How to Live Well. Translated by C. B. Tyrwhitt. Oxford. 1886. 7. Devout Meditations of S. Bernard, Or, his Book of the Soul, made English by G. Stanhope. 1701. 8. S. Bernard his Meditations, by W. P., M’r. of Arts in Cambridge. 1631. 9. A Monomachie of Motives in the Mind of Man. A. Fleming. 1582. 10. A Hive of sacred Honicombes. Translated by A. Batt. Doway, 1631. 11. Christian Doctrine and Practice in the Twelfth Century. (Small Books on Great Subjects.) London. 1841. 12. Flowers of S. Bernard, selected and translated. London. 1870. 13. The Virgin Mother of God. Selections from S. Bernard arr. and trans. by a Secular Priest. London and Derby. 1886. 14. Sermon on Cant. I, 5, on the death of his brother Gerard. 1858. 15. Sermons for the Seasons of the Church. Trans, by W. B. Flower. London. 1861. 16. Four Homilies on the Incarnation. Edinburgh. 1843. 17. Glories of the Virgin Mother. By a Catholic Priest. Boston (U.S.). 1869. 18. S. Bernard on the Love of God. Transl. by M. C. and C. Patmore London. 1st ed. 1881; 2nd, 1884. 19. The Holy War. Trans, by S. R. M \[aitland\]. Gloucester. 1827. 20. Letter of S. Bernard to Thomas of Beverley, on Conversion. Trans, by R. Collins. 1856. 21. The Mystic Vine. Trans, by W. R. Brownlow. 1873. 22. The Mystic Vine. Translated by Samuel J. Eales, D.C.L. London. 1889. 23. A Legendary Psalter of S. Bernard. London: Percy Society. 1842. 24. Rhythmical Prayer to the Sacred Members of Jesus. Rendered into English Rhythm by C. M. Shapcote. London. 1879. 25. S. Bernard’s Verses containing the unstable felicitie of this wayfaring world. (R. Edwards, Poet) 1596. 26. The same. R. Collier. 1867. 27. A joyful ballad of the Name of Jesus. Trans. by T. G. Crippen. London. 1867. 28. The Jubilee Rhythm of S. Bernard. Trans. by Alfred Edersheim, D.D. London. 1867. BIOGRAPHIES29. Life of S. Bernard. Dublin. 1854. 30. Life of S. Bernard. Derby. 1858. 31. Biography of S. Bernard (Four Ecclesiastical Biographies), by J. H. Gurney. S.P.C.K. 1864. 32. Bernard of Clairvaux. A Biography, by T. M. Lindsay. 1882. 33. The Life and Times of S. Bernard. By Dr. Augustus Neander. Trans. from the German by Matilda Wrench. London. 12mo. 1843. 34. Life and Times of S. Bernard. By James Cotter Morison, M.A. London. 1884. 35. The Sweet Song of S. Bernard (Jesu! dulcis memoria), newly translated by the Rev. George Peirce Grantham. London: s.d. 1886. (?) It ought, however, to be mentioned here that it was at one time proposed by the Rev. Frederick Oakeley, then Fellow of Balliol College, Oxford, and the Rev. J. S. Brewer, of Queen’s College, Oxford, to translate and publish a complete edition of the Works of S. Bernard. Their prospectus (which is now before the Editor) was issued, it is believed, about 1844; but events which speedily followed prevented its being carried out. The present Edition may be regarded as a revival of that plan. One single aim has been, and will be, pursued throughout by the Editor: that of producing a translation as faithful and complete as possible; and the Notes have been confined to elucidations or illustrations of the text without any comment whatever from a doctrinal point of view. The following observations made by the two scholars just mentioned, in their original proposal, may be quoted here, as they exactly express the position taken up in the present Edition, and the reasons for it:— “It is to be distinctly understood that the various parties who may be concerned in this undertaking pledge themselves by the act no farther than to the opinion that it is, on the whole, desirable to promote acquaintance with the writings of this great Saint, and that in an unmutilated form. Any omission would seem to involve an expression of opinion both upon the part excluded and the part retained.” The Editor feels that the right course is: to avoid intruding the expression of his personal view of S. Bernard’s writings, as they are one after another translated: to put before readers, to the best of his power, the exact equivalent of what his author wrote: and then to leave it to speak for itself. He can hardly hope that in so great a mass of translation some inaccuracies will not have crept in; but a certain degree of consideration will no doubt be given to one who presents these writings for the first time in English. Letters 127–173 and 175–298 (both inclusive), with their appendant notes, have been translated by the Rev. W. F. Cobb, B.A., T.C.D. All the rest, with the Prefaces, Chronology, and Notes, by the Editor, and he is also responsible for the whole. Notes which he has added are distinguished by the letter \[E.\], or by \[Trans.\]. The references to Scripture have been made accordant with the Authorized Version, and the wording of that Version has been generally adhered to. But S. Bernard, of course, quotes the Vulgate; and the Vulgate has many renderings peculiar to itself, upon which, not unfrequently, he founds his exposition or his argument, which would be deprived of much of its appropriateness, or even rendered altogether meaningless, by the substitution of other words in the quotation. When this is the case, a translation of the text of the Vulgate is given, distinguished by the note (VULG.). Vols. I. and II. are occupied mostly with the General Introduction and the Letters, which it seemed imperative to give first. But the characteristic excellences of S. Bernard’s writings will be put fairly before the reader in Vols. III. and IV., which will contain a mass of S. Bernard’s Sermons for the Christian year, and will, it is hoped, be issued at the end of 1889. SOLI DEO GLORIA. SAMUEL J. EALES. GENERAL PREFACE OF DOM JOHN MABILLON TO HIS SECOND EDITION OF THE WORKS OF S. BERNARDI. After I had given the first-fruits of my studies to the works of S. Bernard, I never so far put out of my mind that first edition of them as to cease to think of completing, of perfecting, and if I saw the necessity, of entirely recasting it. Since I was at that time very young, and an unskilful beginner, when I set my hand to that first task, I did not think the work so perfect and correct in all respects, as that with longer experience and greater literary skill, I should not be able to find many passages in Bernard of which the text might be better established, and the meaning made clearer by more laborious notes. Wherefore, although in course of time, the direction of my studies had taken me far away from that great Doctor, yet my memory of the holy man and my affection for him remained so great, that whenever in reading and studying other authors, anything came before me which might later on be of use to me for settling the text of his works, or illustrating it, I carefully made note of it, and laid it aside in readiness for the preparation, in due time, of a second edition. During a long period my other labours altogether absorbed my attention so as to hinder my occupying myself with such a task; but at length the taste for other literary occupations weakened, and in these times of continual wars, grew cold, and I was left with my S. Bernard only on my hands, as the occupation of that leisure which advancing age afforded, as it had been of the first years of my manhood. Gladly then, by the indulgence of my Superiors, did I devote this leisure to throwing fresh light upon an author who so well deserves his high repute; and I cannot refrain from saying that my coadjutors, and I myself, have devoted all our care and diligence to make this edition, not so much a reissue of the former, as an entirely new, and as far as we could make it, a perfected edition. II. There will, perhaps, be some who disapprove of these repeated editions, and blame them as being of more inconvenience than advantage in study. Nor do I deny that it would be very desirable that authors should, in the very first edition, be presented in as near an approach to perfection as is possible to be attained. But those who are acquainted with that kind of labour are not ignorant of the difficulty, not to say the absolute impossibility, of succeeding in editing perfectly an author whose works are contained in so great a number of ancient copies, scattered in places far removed from each other, and presenting among themselves so great a number of differences. So that after much and long labour in getting together a great number of copies, and not only of complete volumes, but of leaves scattered here and there, there is sometimes need of an Ædipus as an interpreter to determine the text of the author in the midst of a crowd of variant readings, to correct passages which had been badly treated, to throw light upon obscurities, and to distinguish between works which are authentic and others which are not. To succeed in all these objects, and to produce at the first attempt a perfect work, there will be need of a genius and a degree of good fortune, which I am far from possessing, nor do I know whether anyone could claim to have it. However that may be, I prefer to ask pardon for the fault of rashness (if the fact be so) in attempting my first edition, than either to increase my fault by making excuses, or to leave my former edition imperfect. This is why I have thought it my duty to undertake a new and more correct one, executed with greater care. I have, then, collated anew the text of the holy Doctor with the most ancient copies that I could procure; and lastly, have bound myself with my companions once more to the wearisome labours of the printing office, being cheered by an assured confidence that those who are wise will welcome not ungratefully my plan and my new labours, especially when they shall know the reasons which have prompted the undertaking of this new edition, and have understood fully the advantages which, as I hope, it will offer. § I. OF THE DIFFERENT EDITIONS OF THE WORKS OF S. BERNARD: THE CAUSES, REASONS, ADVANTAGES, AND USEFULNESS OF THIS NEW EDITIONIII. In the first place, nothing shows more the value and the merit of the works of S. Bernard, than the number of editions which have appeared of them, both before and after the invention of printing. The number of these is a proof how eagerly the works of Bernard were procured by many persons, and how much they were read and admired by all; nor is this to be wondered at; for in his writings shines forth an intellect endued with nobility, power, and elevation, united with gentleness, urbanity, and virtue. Eloquence is natural to him, an eloquence unpretending and unforced, though not without ornament. His style is nervous, his discourse vigorous, his language appropriate, his thoughts elevated, his sentiments pious, his humour not laboured, his whole discourse breathing of God and heavenly things. The fire of his zeal burns not to consume, but to inflame with itself. He makes the point of his weapon felt, and pierces, not to irritate but to move to action. He criticizes, he blames, but so as to attract, not to excite antipathy. He accuses, he threatens, he terrifies, but always in love, never in anger. He soothes, but does not flatter; he praises, but without extravagance. He urges, but with kindness; he reproves, without being offensive; he charms, he pleases, and he delights. His discourse, says Sixtus of Sienna, is everywhere sweet, and yet fiery; it so delights and, at the same time, inflames, that honey and milk seem to flow together from his persuasive tongue, while jets of fire and flame burst from his heart of fire. As for his knowledge, it was far beyond the common, and was fed with the sap and the very words of the Holy Scripture; and he so took into his heart the sayings of the Fathers as to make them entirely his own. He writes with such originality of Divine things, of grace and free-will, of the office and of the proper character of Bishops, of clerks, of monks, or of lay people, that his teaching shows him to be, as it were, a fountain, not a river or canal. Can we wonder if a man so gifted is appreciated and his works sought out, read, and studied by all the world? If editions of them without number appear, and if learned and experienced men employ their labour to augment, illustrate, and restore them to their original integrity? If Rome herself, lady and mistress of the world, which once received with veneration the instructions and even the reprimands of Bernard; if Rome, I say, herself suffered the Books de Consideratione, which were first presented to Eugenius III., which Nicolas V. caused to be copied out with the greatest care, at length to be published from the Papal Press under Clement VIII., and would have published the entire works of Bernard if Gerard Voss had been willing to undertake to edit them? What is less to be wondered at after this, is that in the capital of France, of which Bernard is one of the greatest lights, he has deservedly received the honour of the Royal Press. IV. There are, however, other causes, some of them proper and even necessary, why so many editions and collations of the works of Bernard have been made. One, and, indeed, the chief is, that the writings of the holy Doctor have been very widely scattered in various and very numerous MSS., of which not all could possibly find place in a first edition. These are brought to the light one after the other as fast as they fall into the hands or come to the knowledge of scholars. The first edition appears to have been that which Peter Schœffer issued at Mayence in 1475; it contained Sermons de Tempore, those de Sanctis, also those de Diversis, and the Book ad Milites Templi, with some others, rightly attributed to Bernard. About the same time appeared at Rouen, without any date, three Treatises of the blessed Father, viz., the Books de Consideratione, the Apologia to Abbot William, and the Book de Præcepto et Dispensatione. In 1481 appeared at Brussels an edition, without name of editor or printer, which contained the Sermons de Tempore and de Sanctis, and certain of the Letters then published for the first time. In 1494, at Paris, an edition containing three hundred and ten Letters, with the Sermons in Cantica, edited and corrected by Magister Rouald, Doctor in Theology. The edition of Spires appeared in 1501. Two years later appeared that of Venice, but without the Letters, and already occupied to the extent of almost half by apocryphal writings and works of other authors. Possevin places that of Brescia in the year 1495; it contained the Homilies on the Missus est, and some other Treatises. The first edition of S. Bernard containing almost all his collected works is that of Paris, in 1508, called the Seraphic edition; and is said at the commencement to comprise the works of S. Bernard the Doctor, mellifluous and devoted, compared then for the first time, and with the greatest care, with the originals in the library of Clairvaux, and arranged into a single volume by the care and industry of Magister John Bocard, and at the cost of John Lepetit, sworn librarian of the University of Paris. Six years later, in 1515, Jodocus Clictoveus, of Nieuport, revised the preceding edition and republished it at Lyons, the printer being a German, John Klein, adding to it the Sermons in Cantica of Gilbert of Hoyland; it was then many times reprinted both at Paris and at Lyons. In 1520 appeared another edition at Lyons by two monks of Clairvaux, Lambert Deschamps and Laurence of Dantzig, much more correct than all the others. After these appeared many other editions, which I pass over without notice to come to that which Francis Comestor, of Arnay-le-Duc, a fellow of the College of the Sorbonne, undertook, to contain all the works of the holy Doctor, with an Epistle Dedicatory to Louis de Rie, Bishop of Geneva, in which he says that, in examining the ancient books, in which the library of the College of the Sorbonne was then very rich, he had happened upon an Appendix to the Book de Diligendo Deo, which was not found in any preceding edition, and afterwards upon a Treatise de Amore Dei ac Dignitate Amoris; he printed these books with the works of S. Bernard, at the office of the Veuve Claude Chevallon in 1547. This edition was reprinted many times, which, however, did not prevent Antoine Marcellin from publishing another at Bâle in 1552, which was printed by John Hervage. He prepared it, he says, with the greatest care, after consulting very ancient copies, and examined the whole works afresh and gave them in a different order, so that the Sermons were put in the first place, the Letters followed, then the Treatises, and lastly the writings attributed to S. Bernard, with some by other authors. Before the edition of which we have just spoken, one appeared at Venice, of which mention is made by John Guillot, of Champagne, in the preface he wrote for the edition of Nivelles, published at Paris in 1572, and in which he speaks of a collation of the various texts undertaken by the theologians of the Faculty of Paris, who corrected the latest editions as well according to their own knowledge as with the help of all the MSS. they could draw from the various libraries of France. So that, says Guillot, to attempt to correct again after so many scholars, and those of such mark, would be to try to cure a man already quite well, which did not all the same prevent his declaring that he had made many important corrections. He divided, also, into chapters, with analytic titles, the Books de Consideratione, addressed to Pope Eugenius, and the Book de Præcepto et Dispensatione, the text of which Henry Cuyck, of Guttenberg, had corrected by collation with seven MS. copies. He takes great care, also, to separate the authentic works of S. Bernard from those which are spurious, and to arrange the former in a more reasonable and convenient order. Nevertheless, Guillot leaves among the genuine works some spurious, either already included, or added for the first time; also Flowers collected from the works of S. Bernard. But six years previously, in 1566, had appeared at Paris, the publishers being William Merlin and Sebastian de Nivelles, another edition; the Letter from the same Francis Comestor, who was lately mentioned with praise, to the Bishop of Geneva, being prefixed. It was enlarged by an Appendix Hervagiana published at Bâle by the successors of John Hervage, under the care of James Pamelius, of Bruges, who published also sixteen brief Sermons by S. Bernard, the Parable concerning Christ and the Church, a book of Soliloquies, and some other writings attributed to Bernard. The same year Louis le Mire, of Rosay, caused to be printed at Paris, by Charlotte Guillard, another Appendix which he had received from Francis Comestor. I pass over a great many other editions which appeared during this epoch. Indeed, scarcely a year passed without its being signalized by the appearance of one. The finest of all is that which appeared in 1586 under the sign of the Ship, with a Letter Dedicatory from John Guillot, to the Reverend Father Guy de Chartres, Abbot of Clairvaux, and a preface from the same to the reader. In 1575 Hubert Lescot, Regular Canon, made a translation into French of the greater number of the Sermons and Treatises of S. Bernard, but without the Letters. These latter were added in 1622, having been translated by Philip le Bel, Doctor of the Faculty of Paris, according to what is stated in the latest version by the Reverend Father Gabriel, de S. Malachi des Feuillants. V. As for the editions of S. Bernard which have appeared in our age, it would almost be a never-ending task to enumerate them, nor is it at all necessary. Two only I am glad to note, that of Edmund Tiraquellius, a monk of Cîteaux, in the year 1601, the other of Jean Picard in 1609, with notes, some additional Letters, and an Epistle Dedicatory of Tiraquellius to R. P. Edmund de la Croix, Abbot of Cîteaux, and also a Letter and Preface of Guillot. This edition of Picard appeared also in the same year at Antwerp, printed by John Keerberg, and after that was reprinted many times; until, in 1641, appeared the best and most accurate of all, that of James Merlon Horst, a most pious and learned man. That edition threw all others into the shade, and was reprinted frequently. VI. It will be well to say a few words respecting the mode in which this worthy man has prepared his edition. In the first place he expresses his wonder that since of all the Fathers of the Church there is none whose works are more frequently read than Bernard, he should be at the same time that one of whom the editions had been up to that time most neglected, so that they seemed to become worse and more defective the more they were multiplied, as if that Father either did not need any care at all, or was unworthy of it. He declares that this was the cause which had moved him to set his hand to cure this evil. He had submitted the whole of the works to exact and severe criticism, and divided them into six volumes, of which the first contained the Letters; the second the Sermons de Tempore and de Sanctis; the third the Sermons in Cantica; the fourth various Treatises; the fifth those writings which are not by S. Bernard; and the sixth, those of the two disciples of the Holy Doctor, Gilbert and Guerric. It is he, also, who divided the Treatises into chapters and sections, and has prefixed analytical summaries to each Letter and Treatise. He spared neither labour nor expense to procure all the editions of S. Bernard which he could find in the libraries of different countries, although he was not successful in obtaining some of the works of that Father, of which Possevin and others have given a list. Besides these a great many introductions are added, the life of S. Bernard in seven books, with various Elogia of the Saint, and a chronology. Finally, he has inserted lengthy Notes, besides those shorter ones which are inserted in the margin throughout the work, with very full Indexes of the places of Scripture, of subjects, and of the names mentioned by S. Bernard. The reader cannot help recognizing the immense labour with which he has endeavoured to make his edition absolutely accurate. Unfortunately the work of the printer has not altogether corresponded to his wishes. This learned man was preparing an edition more complete and more careful still when he died, on the 20th April, 1644. VII. Nevertheless it cannot be questioned that Horst was happily enabled to bring that first edition to a degree of perfection as complete as was possible to a man who, though learned, diligent, and most studious of his author, was working alone: so that his edition was received with both hands (as the saying is), approved and very often reprinted in various countries and places. But our illustrious Claude Cantelou, having collated, at the order of our superiors, the text of Horst with many MSS. in France, discovered in his work certain faults which required to be corrected by the aid of our Codices, and he published the corrected text of the Sermons de Tempore and de Sanctis in a new form. He was preparing with the same care to publish the rest of the works of S. Bernard, when he died, and left his work for me to continue. I was then a young man; a novice and inexperienced in the literary art, and it would never have occurred to me to put my labour and knowledge into comparison with those of the learned Horst, if our Superior General, the Reverend Abbot Bernard Audebert, of pious memory, had not overcome my scruples and my reluctance to continue the work of Cantelou after his death. I obeyed, however, though unwillingly, and with the useful and valuable help of James Lannoy, who put at my disposal all the originals of S. Bernard’s works which existed in the library of Cîteaux, of which he was abbot, I succeeded at length in producing an edition in larger and also in smaller size of S. Bernard, as perfect—I do not say as it might and ought to have been, but as good as my young inexperience was able to make it, or rather as the selfishness of the printer, who showed himself more careful to serve his own interests than those of the public, would allow it to be. VIII. But with time and experience in that kind of labour, I accumulated, day by day, more materials which would be of use for another and much improved edition of Bernard, and I continued, as I have said, diligently to collect these, in order that when time and leisure should permit, I might make such an edition more correct, more elegant, and more perfect. But when I set myself to the work I found myself confronted by another difficulty, arising from the unhappy state of the laws which ruled the press, and from which I extricated myself at last in any way I could, as if taking refuge in any harbour attainable from a storm, and in a manner which there is no need to detail here. IX. Although it is entirely foreign to my habit and to my intention to extol my own work, yet it is proper here to show, in the first place, in what respects this latest edition differs, as well from that of Horst as from my former one. I have, first, had the advantage of being able to collate a number of ancient MSS. which I had not seen at the time of my former edition, both those which I consulted and studied in the provinces that I traversed, and in the Colbertine Library, where Stephen Baluze, a man born to help and develop learned pursuits, had assembled a great many copies since my first edition had appeared. I have thus been able out of the various readings to select and restore to the text those which seemed most to accord with the manner and sentiments of Bernard, which pursuit requires an extensive acquaintance with old books, a tact acquired by habitude only, and a riper judgment than the general run of educated persons suppose, who regard us as collectors of spiders’ webs when they see the importance that we attach to those things which they regard as trifles; but, let that class of men think what they please respecting me; I do not desire the applause of men for my work, but to render service to the Church and to the literary fraternity. X. Nor have I employed the resources of criticism only in restoring the text, but also in separating the general writings of Bernard from the suppositious and spurious writings which had made their way among the genuine, as well in the edition of Horst as in my former one. Thus I have expunged two Letters of Bernard Brito which Horst had placed among those of our Bernard; I have rejected four or five Sermons from those de Tempore and de Sanctis; I have rejected also a Book of Declamations, and some others which were shown by clear signs and arguments not to be from the pen of Bernard. XI. For that work of criticism I have found of great assistance, not only the writers of the Lives of S. Bernard, and chiefly Geoffrey, which contain a list of the principal works of the holy Doctor, but also the old MSS., the citations of ancient authors, and, most of all, the ancient Collection from the writings of Bernard, which is called Book of Flowers, Florilegium and Bernardinus, first edited at Paris in 1503. It is much to be preferred to another collection which was made in 1571 by a Canon Regular named Hubert Scutépuits, and intruded by John Picard into his edition of Bernard. That first Collection is far more ancient, and an old MS. copy at Cîteaux has supplied to us the name of the author, for we find in it these words, with an inscription following:—“Here begins a prologue of Bernardinus, which Dom Willermus, monk of S. Martin of Tournay, has extracted and compiled from the books and sayings of the holy Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux.” That prologue begins thus:—“As I was not greatly occupied in any pursuit,” etc., as in the editions in which the name of the author is wanting; but it is easily inferred that he must have lived in the thirteenth century, from the age of the MSS. in which this Collection is found. The Collector does, indeed, praise certain Treatises as being Bernard’s, which are not his, viz., the Letter to the Brethren of Mont Dieu, Meditations, and Book of Declamations; but, nevertheless, his authority is of considerable weight, especially in recognizing the Sermons of Bernard. Thus every time that a doubt arises on any passage of his writings, as in the Sermons de Diversis, it seemed advisable to note these citations out of Bernardinus. Nor is it wonderful that both the Letter to the Brethren of Mont Dieu, the Declamations, and the Meditations are brought forward in that Collection under the name of Bernard, since S. Bonaventure makes the same mistake as to that much-praised epistle, and the Books of Declamations and Meditations appear to be centos out of the writings of Bernard, as I shall point out in the proper places. XII. Besides criticism of the books, I have made some changes in Horst’s arrangement, both of the volumes and of the treatises. He had placed the Sermons de Tempore and de Sanctis after the Letters; then came the Sermons in Cantica and, lastly, the Opuscula and the Treatises. It appeared to me better that the Opuscula and the Treatises should follow the Letters, since the former are, for the most part, written in the form of letters, or have even been transferred out of that class to rank among the latter. From this order it results that the Sermons de Tempore and de Sanctis fall into the third place, and those in Cantica into the fourth. In the fifth place I have added the Sermons of Gilbert on the same subject, being a continuation of those of Bernard. As to the fifth and sixth volumes, I will speak more at length in the Preface to Vol. v. or even in those to the earlier volumes. XIII. In order that all the genuine works of Bernard might be contained in one volume, I have placed at the end of Tome vi. or Vol. ii. the Books of his Life and Actions, which Horst had put at the beginning of his first volume, so that neither should the allied works of Bernard be separated from each other, nor the size of the volumes be made very unequal. At the end of the first and of the second volume I have placed very full indexes, the former of the genuine works of Bernard, the latter of those not by him. XIV. The more lengthy notes and observations with which the Letters and other works of S. Bernard had been enriched by Horst, or formerly by myself, have been thrown together at the end of each Tome. To the first Tome a short Chronology is prefixed, which may serve to throw light upon the notes and provide a solid framework into which they may be fitted. Such is the character of the improvements that I have introduced into this new edition of Bernard. XV. To come in particular to the examination of Tome i., which contains the Letters of Bernard, I have devoted no little labour to correcting, arranging, illustrating, and adding to them. For corrections I have consulted the MSS. in various libraries; of the Vatican, of the Colbertine, those of S. Peter at Ghent, and of Orval in Belgium; besides those which I used in my former edition. From one MS. at Corbey I have restored certain inscriptions of some importance. By the aid of that MS., and of two others in the Colbertine of good rank, bearing the numbers of 1410 and 2476, and containing the Opuscula of S. Bernard, with which I have collated the same Opuscula, I have added for each Letter marginal notes, which briefly explain any historical facts referred to. XVI. Respecting the order of the Letters, I have long hesitated whether to retain the received order or to adopt a new one. There were reasons for each course. The antiquity of the existing order was a reason for retaining it, for it appears to have been adopted while Bernard was still living, at least as far as the first 310 Letters, of which the last is addressed to Arnold, Abbot of Bonneval; while as for the others, which were scattered here and there, it was not until later that they were united to the great body of Letters; nor all at once, but only at intervals, as they came to the knowledge of the editors or collectors. Then one other reason was in favour of the ancient order, viz., that in it the order of time was, on the whole, preserved; whereas it was to be feared that more inconvenience than usefulness would follow any change of the received order, because of the numerous citations of the Letters numbered on that ancient method, without mentioning the fixed and solemn order of the ancient copies. What, on the contrary, strongly made for the opposite course was the intolerable confusion of certain Letters which were arranged at a considerable distance before those to which they were the replies. From this results the farther inconvenience that the parts of a subject are by this faulty arrangement detached from each other. In these difficulties it seemed best, on the whole, to take a middle way, and while retaining the received order for the first 310 Letters, to arrange the remainder in order of time, noting in the margin the number by which each had previously been marked. When in consequence of this new arrangement it happens that a Letter ought to follow some other, we warn the reader to defer it until the other has been first read; in that manner we have both respected the old order, and avoided the confusion that a new one would have caused. We have said that the old order, in which we read the Letters of S. Bernard, seems to have been established even in the lifetime of their author; we find the proof of this in William, formerly Abbot of S. Thierry, who died before Bernard. For he, in the first book of his Life of the Holy Doctor, evidently written during the life of Bernard, reports that his Letter to his relative Robert (n. 50), which had not been wetted in the midst of a shower of rain, “was not unjustly placed first by his brethren in the volume of his Letters because of so great a miracle.” The author of the third Life, who is no other, as we think, than Geoffrey, his secretary, relates that that arrangement was made by him. XVII. The order of the Letters is, nevertheless, not quite uniform in all the old copies, although in most of them there is no great difference up to Letter 310. There are not quite so many as this in some copies, from which we gather that there were, not one collection of the Letters only, but many. In the three Vatican MSS. these Letters are included. Of these the finest, No. 662, contains 296, in nearly the same order as that of the editions; the last of these is the Letter addressed to the Irish Brethren on the death of the blessed Malachi. In another MS., No. 664, there is the same order in 282 Letters; of which the last is that to Hugh, Knight of the Temple. The third, No. 663, contains 240 Letters, arranged in an order entirely different; so that the first of that collection, addressed to Cardinal Haimeric, is the 313th in previous editions, and the last, addressed to Pope Eugenius on the subject of the Bishop of Autun, is the 275th. In all the other MSS. the order is pretty nearly the same as in the printed collections, with the exception of the MS. at S. Peter of Ghent, in which the collection is divided into three parts, the first containing 100 Letters, the second 164, the third 76; in which the last is from John of Casa Mario to Bernard, and that preceding it, from Bernard to Rorgon of Abbeville. And perhaps in no other MS. are more Letters of Bernard collected than in that of Ghent; and Willermus, the monk of Tournay, must have had this MS., or one similar to it, under his eyes in writing his Bernardinus, which was just now praised, since he quotes the Letters as of the first, second, or third part. But in the MS. at Clairvaux of the Cistercian Order there are 307 Letters, and in that at Orval 306; each of these having in the last place the Letter to Abbot Arnold, which was certainly the last which Bernard wrote. It was without doubt the former of these two collections that John of Salisbury (Letter 96) begged Peter de Celles to send to him, as he thanks him “for the Letters of the blessed Bernard” in the following one. XVIII. To speak now of the Letters added in this edition (which are in the last place to be treated of), we ought to premise that in the first edition of the Letters of Bernard, which appeared at Brussels in 1481 and at Paris in 1494, there were only 310 Letters, of which the antepenultimate is that to Arnold, Abbot of Chartres, the penultimate to the Irish Brethren on the death of the holy Bishop Malachi, and the last to Guy, Abbot of Moustier-Ramey. But the edition of 1520, executed by two monks of Clairvaux, as we have said above, contained in all 351 Letters, of which the last is addressed to the novice Hugh, who was afterwards Abbot of Bonneval. The Letter to Arnold is the 310th, and that to the Irish the 311th. The reason for this difference is that in the former edition two Letters are wanting, viz., the 84th, which is the second to Simon, Abbot of S. Nicholas, and the 147th, to Peter, Abbot of Cluny. Jodocus Clictoveus, in his edition of 1515 and those following, has only 350 Letters in all; he has omitted that to the novice Hugh, which was inserted by Antonio Marcellino into the edition of Bâle of 1552, and in all those which followed up to that of John Picard. This last editor added seventeen new Letters to those already known, but without arranging them in order. Two of these Letters are placed at the head of those which he drew from the MS. of Pithon; the others were not published till long after. He had found them in his library at S. Victor. Horst omitted certain Letters which had been wrongly included, and so reduced the number to 366; to which he added two spurious Letters of Bernard de Brito, seventeen genuine from certain English MSS., and one of the Abbot Fastred to finish his volume, which brought the number to 386. I had myself included eleven new Letters in my first edition, and in this the number has risen to 482. This includes not only the twenty-eight Letters of Bernard recently discovered in Germany, and added in the form of an Appendix to an edition of Horst published at Cologne, but also some other Letters of the Saint found elsewhere, and some Letters addressed to him, or written concerning him, which seemed necessary for full understanding of those which he himself wrote. I have divided all these Letters into three parts, of which the first comprises the 310 former Letters retaining their ancient and common order; the second to the 454th comprises the rest of the genuine epistles of Bernard; the third the doubtful, the spurious, and those written by others. These are the chief matters which have occupied my attention in editing the first Tome; other things the diligent Reader will easily observe. XIX. I may state here that the Works of Bernard, which Horst complained were lying hidden in various libraries, are not from the pen of the Saint; a fact which I have been able to ascertain. Thus the book on the Hexæmeron is by Arnold, Abbot of Bonneval in the Chartrain; the Commentary on the Penitential Psalms by Innocent III.; the Exposition of the Psalm Afferte (Ps. 29) by Richard of S. Victor; another upon Ps. 1. by Urban II. A Commentary on the Epistles of S. Paul is, according to Possevin, by Bernard of Clavone, an Augustine monk. A Commentary on the Apocalypse has been wrongly attributed by Caramuel to Bernard, which Commentary, being placed in a MS. next following some works of Bernard, under the title of “cujusdam” (of a certain author), Caramuel read “ejusdem” (of the same author), and so ascribed it to Bernard, like the preceding. I am convinced that with the exception of certain Letters which have not been yet brought to light, there remain no important works of Bernard unpublished. These are:—A Letter to Hugh, Abbot of Pontigny, as appears from the first paragraph of Letter 33, addressed to the same Abbot; two to Innocent II. against Peter of Besançon, from Letter 195; one to the same on behalf of Peter of Pisa, from the end of Letter 213. We learn also from the commencement of Letter 253 that he had addressed many Letters to the same Pontiff on behalf of the introduction of Premonstratensian monks into the Monastery of S. Paul at Verdun. There is also in Letter 203, to Atto, reference made to a Letter to Ansellus, sub-deacon of Troyes; in the beginning of Letter 223, to Joscelin, to an apologetic Letter to Suger; in Letter 233, to the same, to two Letters to John de Buzay; in the end of Letter 284 to Pope Eugenius, to another addressed to the same Pope in favour of the Bishop of Claremont. The monk Hermann of Tournay speaks also of a Letter which Bernard wrote to Pope Eugenius on behalf of a monastery at Tournay (No. 115). The Letter formerly numbered 358, now 376, makes mention of an encyclical Letter against duels, addressed to the Archbishops of Rheims and Sens, the Bishops of Soissons and Autun, and the Counts Theobald and Raoul. Furthermore, Peter the Venerable repeats, in his Letter numbered 388 among those of Bernard, some words of a Letter which the holy Doctor had written on behalf of a certain English abbot, “as if judgment were subverted,” etc., which I do not remember to have read in any of Bernard’s Letters. XX. Ordericus Vitalis also mentions a Letter of Bernard to Natalis, Abbot of Rebais, on behalf of the monks of Utica, whose abbot, named Guarin, was begging for the relics of S. Evroult from Abbot Natalis:—“Geoffrey declared that he had the intention of going to Clairvaux, and asked him to go thither with him, to which he consented willingly. They came them both together to Clairvaux with all their attendants. They were received hospitably by the brothers of that community, who strictly observe the Rule of S. Benedict. They asked to see Dom Bernard, the Abbot of that monastery, and having spoken with him and asked of him many questions, they found in him great wisdom. He replied to all their questions, treated eloquently of the Holy Scriptures, and satisfied all their wishes. When he heard of the cause of the Religious of Utica, he kindly came to the aid of Abbot Guarin, and wrote a persuasive Letter to the community of Rebais.… Abbot Guarin presented this Letter of the venerable Bernard to these Religious, who received it with pleasure, and willingly determined to comply with the request made.” Thus writes Ordericus in his sixth book. XXI. Furthermore, Ademar of Angoulême says in his Chronicle, when treating of the origin of the Carthusians:—“This Order, as Bernard bears witness, holds the first place among ecclesiastical Orders, not on account of its antiquity, but by the power of its sanctity. Wherefore he calls it the most beautiful column of the Church,” which words are not found in any of the published works of S. Bernard. XXII. Finally, John Picard cites from John de Manburg in his treatise Concerning the manner of life of Regular Canons, a letter addressed by Bernard to Fulk, from which Manburg has quoted these words:—“Instead of wearing black or grey furs round the neck, they wear furs coloured purple like women.” If these words were quoted from any Letter of Bernard it has not been yet published, but in the second Letter from Bernard to Fulk, par. II, there are to be found expressions similar in sense, although not exactly alike in words. It is the same in the passage which Picard cites also from Manburg as being still inedited. It is contained in substance in the de Consideratione, B. iv. n. 12, concerning the qualities requisite for a Cardinal. This is all that it seems necessary or interesting to say by way of preface to this new edition of the Letters of S. Bernard. § II. OF THE SANCTITY AND LEARNING OF BERNARD, AND HIS AUTHORITY IN THE CHURCHXXIII. Before proceeding farther it will be well to consider the two titles which are commonly bestowed upon Bernard, viz., that he is called Doctor Mellifluus (the sweet-tongued or honied-worded Doctor), and the Last of the Fathers, though not unequal to the first. The title of Doctor has been yielded by the Church to those whose teaching has been approved by its general voice, particularly when that teaching is united with sanctity of life. She gives the name of Fathers to those whom their sanctity, their teaching, and at the same time their antiquity, unite to distinguish; teaching, I mean, of the Holy Scripture and of the tradition of the Church, rather than of philosophical reasonings. Therefore holy men illustrious by their teaching may be called Doctors immediately after their death, but the name of Fathers is reserved for those whom a certain antiquity long since acknowledged renders venerable, at the same time that they are distinguished by a method of treating the subjects on which they have touched, quite different from the method of philosophical deduction. Each of these titles of honour Bernard has deservedly obtained. As for the first, it was bestowed upon him by Pope Alexander III., even in the very Mass of his canonization, when he read the Gospel reserved exclusively for the holy Doctors, and commencing by these words: “Ye are the salt of the earth,” etc. (S. Matt. 5:13). Pope Innocent III. confirmed that title of honour in eloquent words in the Collect which he composed for the Festival of S. Bernard, and in which he is called “The Blessed Abbot Bernard and Illustrious Doctor.” The appellative of Mellifluus (whose words are sweet as honey) is more recent, and the holy Doctor was first called by it by Theophilus Reynauld in a singular little book which is entitled the “Gallic Bee” (Apis Gallicana). The first editors of his works who gave him that title on the first page of their volumes are—first, the editor of the edition of Lyons in 1508, then Jodocus Clictoveus in 1515, and also the two monks of Clairvaux, whom I have already highly praised; and Horst restored the use of the same name after it had fallen into neglect; but among all his praises the very best is this: That merely his name at the head of his works is a title sufficient to recommend them. There can be no praise beyond that for an author; but if there is any other epithet that befits Bernard, it is surely this of θεοδίδακτος (taught of God), bestowed upon him by other authors; since the knowledge with which he was endued seems to have been not so much acquired by human powers as infused into him from above. XXIV. That he was, notwithstanding, wanting neither in labour nor industry in reading and studying both sacred and profane authors is clear from the manner in which he sometimes quotes them. Without doubt, he had learned and studied profane authors in his youth and when he was still in the world; and these would sometimes come back to his memory in his old age. As to theological subjects, he studied them with care and industry when he became a monk. How extensive and profound his knowledge of them was may be gathered, in the first place, from two of his Sermons in Cantica, the 80th and 81st, where he discourses in terms so just and so elevated upon the image of God, in the word and in the soul, and on the homogeneity of the Divine Nature, that no one before or after him has surpassed them. A similar remark must be made upon his Letter (190) to Pope Innocent, in which he sets forth wonderfully the satisfaction which Christ has obtained for us by His suffering; and his knowledge of the Canons, as shown in those famous Books de Consideratione, is incomparable. Hence is confirmed that saying of Leo the Great: “The true love of that which is just contains within itself both the precepts of Apostles and the authority of Canons.” Finally, the holy Doctor was versed in the Holy Scriptures, by continual perusal of them, to such a degree, and his writings show so plainly everywhere his use of that knowledge, that, to employ the words of Sixtus of Sienna, they may be called truly centos from the sacred volumes, so studded are they everywhere with phrases drawn from the Old and New Testament as to form a jewelled mosaic, so skilfully and aptly introduced, that they might be thought to be suggested by the subject. And if it is not becoming to make use of the Holy Scripture in that way at all times, and upon every subject, yet it can hardly be disapproved when treating of sacred things. Upon this point may be adduced the words of the Apostle Peter: If any man speak let him speak as the oracles of God (1 S. Peter 4:11). It may be said, indeed, that Bernard sometimes employs various texts of Scripture in a sense unfounded and far from literal, so that he seems rather to play upon the words quoted, than to expound their real sense; but it is easy to reply that, there being in Scripture manifold senses, the holy man believed that he might choose that sense which seemed to him proper to edification, especially when he was not treating of any doctrine of the faith, but only proposed to himself to enlarge upon some pious thought, and thereby to attract the attention and delight of his hearers. XXV. That S. Bernard was not only versed in Holy Scripture, but also had a knowledge of the writings of the holy Fathers, as extensive as his numerous occupations had permitted him to obtain, no one will doubt who has diligently perused his writings. He names them from time to time, and praises their sayings; and their teaching is to be found throughout all his works. Thus, when he says that he has only had “the oaks and beeches of the forest for masters” (Life, B. i. n. 23), he must be understood to speak in the sense that he himself suggests to Cardinals in the fourth Book de Consideratione, n. 12, viz., that “in every matter we ought to count more upon prayer than upon one’s own industry or labour,” which Geoffrey has rightly applied to Bernard in this very matter (Life, B. iii. 1). But how greatly he profited from the reading of the Fathers, especially from S. Augustine, is shown easily by his Treatise de Gratia et Libro Arbitrio, which is a kind of learned and able summary of Augustine’s teaching on that subject. He joins Ambrose to Augustine in his Letter 11, or rather his Treatise addressed to Hugo of S. Victor; and he adds that from these two columns of the Church he will not easily be drawn away. He praises Athanasius in his tenth Treatise against Peter Abaelard; and not unfrequently Gregory the Great also. Finally, in terminating his Homilies de Laudibus Virginis, he acknowledges that he has borrowed many things from the Fathers. It is a wonderful thing indeed that the holy man, though suffering under so many complaints and such weak health, though distracted by so many cares and duties, not only those belonging to the community (and these could have been neither few nor light in so numerous a household of monks as that over which he presided), but also, and chiefly, public affairs, about which he was consulted, should yet have been able either to read so many books or to succeed in the composition of works so eloquent and so learned; so wonderful indeed that no one can doubt that, beyond the noble nature and rare intelligence with which he had been gifted at his birth, a certain assistance of Divine wisdom must have been bestowed upon him to enable him to speak, act, teach, and write as he did. Thus Geoffrey reports that he had “sometimes acknowledged that when in meditation or prayer he had seemed to see the whole Scripture placed and opened before his eyes” (Life, B. iii. n. 7). But he was accustomed to say that he ascertained better the meaning of the Scriptures “by drinking from the original fountain itself, than from the streams running from it, that is, the expositions of the text; yet he used to peruse pious and orthodox expositors, not with the idea of preferring his own opinion to theirs, but in order to form his own upon theirs; and following faithfully the track made by them, he too used to quench his thirst at the fountain whence they had drank before him” (Ibid. i. 24). This reverence of the holy Doctor towards the ancient Fathers shines forth everywhere in his writings, as in Letter 98, n. Serm. v. in Cantica, n. 6, and elsewhere. He had leisure to devote himself to the study of them, during the long continued malady under which he suffered, and which obliged him during the early years of his office of Abbot to withdraw himself from the society of his brethren, and to live as a private person in the monastery. He only did this at first, according to the account of Abbot William, in obedience to the express command of William, Bishop of Chalons, and of the Abbots of his order; but afterwards the progress of the disease made it impossible for him to do otherwise (Ibid. i. 33, 40). Abbot William saw him when he was relieved of the management, internal and external, of the monastery, “rejoicing to be able to think of nothing but God and the salvation of his own soul, and enjoying, as it were, the delights of Paradise.” Then the holy man discoursed to him of the Canticles, as he did at greater length later on. When Bernard had recovered a little health, he devolved a part of the administration of the monastery upon his brother Gerard, which left him sufficient leisure for the study of the Holy Scripture, and in his twenty-first Sermon in Cantica he attributes to that leisure all the progress that he had made in his spiritual studies. We learn from Sermon 51, n. 3, on the same subject, that these were his occupations; prayer, reading, composition, meditation, and such like. It was in such pursuits that the blessed Father spent the fifteen years of his life which elapsed from the foundation of Clairvaux to the schism of Peter Leonis, at which period, being brought into connection with great public events and questions of considerable difficulty, he so acquitted himself with regard to them as to excite the admiration with which the whole of Europe, not to say the whole world, afterwards regarded him. XXVI. It was not without reason, therefore, that Nicholas Lefèvre, a great man and preceptor of Louis the Just, was accustomed to say, as we are told by Francis Balbus in his Life, that while he had the highest admiration for all the Fathers, he especially admired the divine (divus) Augustine, whose works he habitually read, and among more recent writers the divine Bernard, whom he called the Last of the Fathers, and certainly as there is none of the ancients who went before him who merited better than Bernard the praise of being second to Augustine, so there is none of those who came after him; since in none is there either a sanctity made more illustrious by actions and even by miracles, a doctrine more pure, a severer respect for tradition, an eloquence more splendid in speech and in writing, or finally, an influence more widely diffused or more powerful. To use the words of William, “What man is there to whose will as well the highest secular authority, as the highest ecclesiastical, deferred, and to whose advice it humbled itself? Proud kings, princes, and tyrants, soldiers, and even robbers so fear and even reverence him, that the saying may seem to have been fulfilled, which we read in the Gospel that the Lord spoke to His disciples: Behold I give you power to tread upon serpents and scorpions, etc. (S. Luke 10:19). But among spiritual persons … there is in him an authority of quite a different kind. For just as it is said by the Prophet concerning those sacred Living Beings, that when there was a Voice from the firmament that was over their heads, they stood and let down their wings, so at the present time everywhere in the world, men of spiritual faculty when they hear him speak or teach are silent themselves, and yield the precedence to him, submitting their senses and their intellect to his. One sees a proof of this in his writings, etc.” (Life, B. i. n. 70). Rightly, therefore, says the Monk Cæsar Heisterbach, that his authority was so great “that the purple-clad Fathers of the Church, the kings and princes of the world, used to speak through the mouth of Bernard alone, as through an oracle recognized by the whole world (De Miraculis, B. xiv. c. 17).” This estimation in which the holy Doctor was held has continued even to our own day, as is shown by the testimonies of illustrious men concerning him, among whom Bartholomæus à Martyribus, the pious Bishop of Braga, a student and admirer of Bernard, ought to hold no small place. XXVII. What drew to him, in his life-time, so great authority in the eyes of all, was his extraordinary humility, even in the midst of honours. He himself ranked this virtue higher than any (De Laudibus Virg., Hom. iv. n. 9). This is what Ernald says: “His life is full of things admirable and worthy of praise. Some admire his teaching, others his character, others his miracles, and I,” he says, “render honour to all these. But there is something which I place above them all, and to which I render more willing admiration; it is that being a vessel of election, and boldly upholding the Saviour’s name before nations and kings, seeing himself obeyed by all the princes of the world, and the Bishops in every nation listening for his opinion, his advice, by a singular privilege, reverenced by the Roman Church herself; nations and kingdoms being subjected to him, as if by a general delegation; and when his actions and his words were supported even by miracles, which is a thing still more glorious, he was never thrown off his balance, never thought of himself more highly than he ought. On the contrary, he always thought humbly of himself, considered himself not the author, but the instrument, of mighty works; and when in the universal judgment he was raised above all, he was the lowest of all in his own” (Life, B. ii. n. 25). “His heartfelt humility overcame in him the elevation forced upon him, nor was the whole world able to do so much to exalt him, as he to keep himself humble” (Ibid., iii. 22). Nor did such profound sentiments of humility lower him in the opinion of others, but on the contrary raised him the more, and “the more modest and humble he showed himself, the more important were the services he rendered to the people of God in the knowledge of their salvation” (Ibid., iii. n. 8). XXVIII. To the sanctity of the Father Abbot responded in his sons the sentiments of piety and perfection of life, which redounded to his glory. The entire Roman Court was a witness to this, when it accompanied Pope Innocent to Clairvaux. “The Bishops wept and the Pontiff himself. All wondered at the gravity of demeanour in that community on an occasion so solemn, so happy for them. Their eyes were fixed upon the ground, nor wandered in curiosity around the assembly. It might have been thought that their eyes were closed; they saw no one, although they were themselves seen by all. The Roman saw nothing that was precious in that monastery; no costly furniture met the eye. They saw nothing in the chapel but the bare walls. The only thing that ambition could envy was the characters of the brethren, and this was not a costly treasure for the brethren, since piety is not diminished when it is shared by another” (Ibid., B. ii. 6). It was on these columns that the authority of Bernard was reared, and by these guards that it was protected. “But the sweetness of his character tempered the austerity of his life, and his sanctity preserved his authority, as if he had brought from heaven to make visible among men a marvel of purity more than human, and sought for in the presence of God” (Life, B. iii. 21; B. i. 28). His sanctity and purity were attested by miracles which were so remarkable and famous that his enemies themselves acknowledge them, so numerous and frequent that Bernard himself was struck with wonder, as Geoffrey testifies (Life, B. iii. 20). XXIX. As his influence was so great we cannot wonder that he was able, as William reports, “to revive the ancient religious fervour in the monastic order” (Life, B. i. 42), and, according to the narrative of Geoffrey, “to correct the corrupted manners of Catholics, to restrain the violence of schismatics, and to confound the error of heretics” (Life, B. iii. 12). With what power he did all these things is shown by the history of his life, by his own writings, and, most of all, by his Letters. § III. WITH WHAT SUCCESS BERNARD LABOURED IN REFORMING THE LIVES OF THE CLERGY, THE MONKS, AND THE LAY PEOPLEXXX. This holy man grieved over and deplored the morals of his age, which were everywhere corrupted, and particularly those, of the ministers of the Church, of whom he brought many to a better life. Such was the influence of his words and of his preaching that he altogether renewed the appearance of the Church and of the clergy, particularly in France, and restored it to its ancient virtue and earnestness. It was to him that the elevation of Eugenius, a very holy man, to the See of Rome was due; and he instructed and animated in him all Roman Pontiffs to the right and legitimate administration of the duties of their charge by the admirable books which he put forth de Consideratione. Among Bishops he recalled Henry of Sens and Stephen of Paris from living as courtiers, to a manner of life worthy of their Episcopal order; many also of his own Religious he caused to be elevated to the Episcopate to serve as an example to other Bishops (Life, B. ii. 49). To all of the clerical order he has given salutary warning in his sermon addressed to clerics de Conversione. Concerning the Episcopal office and character, Letter 42, to Henry, Bishop of Sens, may first be consulted. It is counted among the Treatises and placed now in Vol. ii. Rightly, therefore, in the History of the Bishops of Verdun, is Bernard spoken of as “he on whose counsels the Church of France, and the Realm of France, too, are firmly founded at the present day” (Spicileg., Vol. ii. p. 311). XXXI. He had, in speaking, an extraordinary charm, “of which his pen, however elegant it might be, could not reproduce the warmth and sweetness.” God had bestowed upon him the gift of speech, equally learned, pleasing, and persuasive. “He knew how to adapt what he had to say to the need of the hearer, whether consolation was needed or entreaty, exhortation or blame; he knew when and by whom each was required, and this is apparent even now in reading his writings, though they are far from having the same effect as his words had upon those who heard them” (Life, iii. 7). If his writings are able to produce such an impression upon the reader, how much greater must his words have done upon those who heard them? It is not wonderful, therefore, that God should have done so many and such great things by his means for the salvation of men of his time. XXXII. But who could possibly recount all the efforts that he made to resuscitate the ancient fervour of the monastic orders? Some idea of this may be formed by going through his admirable letters and writings upon this subject, his Book de Præcepto et Dispensatione, his Apology to Abbot William, and various Sermons. In these he encourages monks to retain with care, and to re-establish with zeal, the original institutions of the Fathers of monachism, that is, works of penitence, mortifications, modesty and humility, poverty, contempt of the world, love of solitude and silence, and zeal for continual advance, upon which he saw that the whole monastic life turned and depended. Hence Peter the Venerable calls him, not undeservedly, “the strong and milk-white column, on which the edifice of the monastic order is supported,” and “the brilliant star, whose glowing and luminous rays give light, as it were—that is, by his example and his preaching—not only to monks, but the whole of the Latin Church in his time” (Letter 228, n. 30). XXXIII. Laurence of Liége, in his Lives of the Bishops of Verdun, compares the Orders of Cîteaux and of Prémontré to the two Cherubim which shadowed the Mercy Seat; one of those, that of Cîteaux, under the guidance of Bernard, that Abbot of holy memory, recalled to the original rule of Apostolic life the monastic Order which in his time had almost lapsed. “That Order of Cîteaux,” he continues, “spread, in the space of three years, into as many as two hundred abbeys of great reputation, merit, and number of Religious, and began to be diffused even among the barbarous Sarmatians and the farthest Scythians” (Spicileg., V. xii. p. 325). So powerful and widespread was the reputation of Bernard for sanctity and that of his disciples! Hence it came about that Bernard himself was held to be, as it were, the founder of the Cistercian Order, of which he was, in fact, the child and scholar. In his time the Cistercian Order took the name of Clairvaux from his monastery, and men began afterwards even to call the Order by the name of S. Bernard, although Innocent VIII. had forbidden that in his letter of union between the two monasteries of Clairvaux and Cîteaux. Hence in the letter of Albero, Bishop of Verdun, cited by Laurence of Liége, of whom we have spoken above, the abbots of Trois-Fontaines, and of Caladia are regarded as being of the Order of Clairvaux (loc. cit., p. 222), and Peter de Celles speaks of “the Order of Cîteaux or Clairvaux” in B. i. Letter 24. So in a letter of Samson, Bishop of Rheims, he makes mention more than once of the Order of Clairvaux (Letter 435). It is true that by these words, “the Order of Clairvaux,” the single monastery at Clairvaux with those dependent upon it is intended rather than the whole Order. XXXIV. It does not seem necessary to explain in this place how austere and rigorous was the life of the Religious of Cîteaux or Clairvaux under Bernard, since that is shown with the greatest exactness in the letters and writings of Bernard, as well as in his Life, especially in B. i. 5, in which the first inhabitants of Clairvaux are said to have served God “in poorness of spirit, in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakedness, and in many watches; frequently they had no food except the leaves of the beech tree boiled, and bread made of barley, vetches, and millet.” Bernard himself in his Letter to Robert (n. i.) says that the delicacies of the Monks of Cîteaux were “vegetables, beans, pottage, and coarse bread with water.” Fastred makes similar statements in his Letter, which may be read among those of Bernard. Stephen of Tournay declares (Letter 72) that “so great is their frugality in food that they use only these two dishes—either beans or pulse from the field, cabbage or vegetables from the garden. As for fish they use it so rarely that scarcely more than the name of it is known among them.” Many more details are given by the same author and by Peter of Celles. This austerity of the Order was kept up not only to the end of the twelfth century, as appears from Peter of Blois (Letter 82), but even beyond the middle of the thirteenth, according to James de Vitry, who says of them: “Meat they do not eat except in severe illness, and they commonly abstain even from the use of fish, eggs, milk, and cheese.” (Hist. Orient. et Occid. c. 13.) We see the same severity of life revived even in our own day in France in the pious monks of Notre Dame de la Trappe, and in those who have imitated them, who by the purity and austerity of their life, by their love of solitude, their silence, their labour, and other religious virtues, show that to be possible in fact, which we read of, but scarcely believe, of Bernard and his disciples. XXXV. James de Vitry adds in the following chapter that women, who by reason of the weakness of their sex had not dared “from the beginning of the Order” to carry austerity to such a degree of severity, did at length imitate this example. Even in the lifetime of Bernard the female sex was not altogether a stranger to the rigorous observance of the Rule; as we learn from Hermann, a monk of Laon, who says in his Book of the Miracles of the B. Virgin (B. iii. c. 17) that there was near Laon a little convent of virgins of the Cistercian observance, which the Bishop Bartholomew had founded, in which the nuns, under their Abbess Guiberga, “had renounced the use of garments of linen and the use of furs, and used only tunics of wool, which they had spun and woven themselves;” and that they cultivated the earth, clearing the woodland with axe and hoe, tearing out brambles and thorns, labouring with their own hands, seeking in silence their daily bread, and imitating in all respects the life of the monks of Clairvaux. XXXVI. It would be too long to adduce the names of all the illustrious persons, of both one and the other sex, whom we know to have been induced by Bernard to enter the monastic life. Of such were Henry, son of Louis VI. King of France, Ermengarde Duchess of Brittany, Adelais, Duchess of Lorraine, and innumerable men and women besides, but it is no less true and admirable that he persuaded men who remained in the world to adopt a pious and religious habit of life. Beyond all princes Count Theobald attached himself to him, put himself and all his resources at the disposal of the monastery of Clairvaux, put his very soul into the hands of the Abbot, and, laying down his princely dignity, showed himself among the servants of God as a fellow-servant and not a lord, so that he would obey in all things whatsoever the lowest in the house had demanded of him (Life, ii. 52.) Abbot Ernald, from whom we have quoted these words, is a witness how much so great a prince was able to do at the advice and entreaty of Bernard, both in constructing, endowing, and assisting monasteries, in relieving the poor, and in the discharge of his high duties as sovereign, and Bernard’s Letters testify to the same thing. We learn also from the 118th Letter of Bernard that Beatrice, a lady as distinguished by her piety as her birth, was glad to emulate the pious example of Theobald. Lastly, I may cite as an example how great was the influence which Bernard exercised in correcting the lives of men; the conversion of William, Duke of Aquitaine, whom he changed from a determined schismatic to be a most obedient and pious prince. To sum up all in a few words with Geoffrey: “What crimes has he not condemned; what hatreds has he not composed; what scandals has he not put an end to; what schisms has he not extinguished; what heresies has he not confuted!” But these two last subjects, viz., the schisms and the heresies, require from us special description. § IV. OF THE SCHISM OF ANACLETUS, WHICH WAS PUT AN END TO BY S. BERNARDXXXVII. Although Baronius and other ecclesiastical historians have written much concerning the schism which after the death of Honorius II., in 1130, arose between Innocent and Anacletus, there still remain points requiring a fuller explication, which I shall endeavour to supply from my reading of ancient documents, so as to illustrate the Letters of Bernard upon this subject. And that we may proceed in due order we have first to inquire who or what before the schism were Gregory, Cardinal of S. Angelo, and Peter Leonis (for these were the original names of Innocent and Anacletus). Then we will examine with care the election of Innocent, its circumstances and conditions, and the opposition of Anacletus, and, lastly, the consequence following from all these facts. XXXVIII. Peter Leonis, a Roman of the Leonine family, was at first a monk at Cluny, and was by Paschal II. (if we may believe Onuphrius) created Cardinal deacon, with the title of SS. Cosmas and Damian; afterwards he was created by Callistus II. Cardinal presbyter of S. Maria trans Tiberim, title of Callistus, in 1120. We learn from the Chronicle of Maurigny “that this Peter was son of Peter who was son of Leo. But Leo, when he made his passover, that is when he was converted from Judaism to Christianity, was baptized by Leo (Leo. IX.) and had the honour to receive his name.” “This man,” that is to say the convert Leo, “because he was very learned, attained to great honour in the Court of Rome. He had a son named Peter who afterwards acquired great power and reputation. About that time began between the Sovereign of Germany, who was by succession from Charles the Great Patrician of Rome, and the Roman Church, that most violent quarrel respecting investitures. In the war which followed that man Leo showed himself so strenuous in arms, so provident in counsel, and so faithful to the Roman Church that the Pope honoured him with a particular friendship, and confided to him, with the defence of the other fortifications of Rome, the guard of the Tower of Crescentius, a kind of strong castle which resembled a second Rome, and which is constructed on the right bank of the Tiber and at the head of the bridge which is thrown across the river. From thence his greatness was wonderfully increased; his reputation became every day higher, and he grew continually in riches, possessions, and honours.” I have quoted this passage in full, since our view of what was done will depend in great measure upon the descent of Peter, his Jewish origin, his power, and to recall the name of the tower of Crescentius (which they call the Castle of S. Angelo), in which Anacletus found a safe asylum. The author of this Chronicle continues: “Among the numerous children of each sex of which this kind of Antichrist boasted must be counted this Peter of whom we are speaking now; he is reported in a letter to have been called by some ‘the precursor of Antichrist.’ ” I believe, however, that he was not called thus until after the great event of his life and the consequences which followed from it. “He repaired,” continues our author, “to France, and pursued his studies in Paris; and when he was returning into his own country he assumed the monastic habit at Cluny, that very rich and holy community. After having practised there for a certain time the rules of a religious life, he was recalled to the Court of Pope Paschal II. at the request of his father; and was made Cardinal in the time of Pope Callistus with the same Gregory who afterwards became Pope Innocent II. Then he was sent into France to hold councils at Chartres and Beauvais.” There is no mention here of the title of Cardinal deacon, which, according to Onuphrius, he had received from Pope Paschal. On this matter the authority of the Chronographer of Maurigny is the better, as he was a contemporary of Peter Leonis. XXXIX. Gregory was, it is said, created Cardinal deacon, with the title of S. Angelo, by Urban II., then sent into Gaul as Legate by Callistus II. with Peter Leonis in 1124, and proceeded with him to Séez, in Neustria, as Ordericus reports. This is how Vincent describes the legation:—“The most excellent Cardinals, Gregory and Peter Leonis, between whom later on there was a schism as to the Papacy, having been sent into France, performed their commission at Limoges, and during that time made a visit to the man of God, Stephen.” Duchesne reports that they both attached their signatures to the constitution of Abbot Suger in 1125 as Legates in these terms:—“I, Peter, Cardinal presbyter and Legate of the Apostolic See, approve and confirm. I, Gregory, Cardinal deacon of S. Angelo and Legate of the Apostolic See,” etc. At the same time Bernard wrote many epistles to a certain Cardinal deacon named Peter, who was also Legate; they are numbered 97 and following. This Peter I once supposed, with Manrique, to have been Peter Leonis. But since that Peter to whom Bernard writes appears to have been Cardinal deacon, not presbyter, these letters cannot have been addressed to Peter Leonis, who was at that time Cardinal priest, as we gather from the story of Onuphrius and from some other writers, as well as from the signature of Peter himself, which I have reported above, and from the testimony of Suger, which I am about to adduce. Perhaps this Peter, Cardinal deacon and Legate, to whom Bernard addressed the Letters we have referred to, was the same who came into Gaul by the command of Pope Honorius against Pontius, the deposed Abbot of Cluny, and his supporters; of which step Peter the Venerable speaks thus:—“The venerable Pope Callistus of whom I have written above had then departed this life, and Pope Honorius was his worthy successor. He at the news of the violent disputes at Cluny sent as Legate de latere the lord Cardinal Peter, with whom was joined Hubald, Primate of Lyons, and he condemned with a terrible anathema Pontius and all his supporters, who were then called Pontians.” But it is not easy to decide of what title this Peter was Cardinal, for there were more Cardinals of that name about that time besides Peter Leonis, namely, Peter, Bishop of Porto; Peter of Pisa, of the title of S. Susanna; Peter of Burgundy, of the title of S. Marcellus; Peter, Cardinal of S. Æquitius, who was promoted in 1125 in the first creation of Cardinals by Honorius; Peter, Cardinal presbyter of S. Anastasia in the following year; and, lastly, Peter, Cardinal deacon, of the title of S. Adrian, two years later. But the Letters of Bernard seem to have been written before the creation of these two. XL. In the meantime Pope Honorius died, in the middle of February, 1130. The Chronicle of Maurigny makes this date 1129, since it counts the year in the French manner, beginning from Easter. “Then,” says the same author, “the Cardinals who were present at Rome with the Chancellor Haimeric, and had been present at the last moments of Honorius, set over themselves a certain Gregory,” him, that is to say, whom we have just now mentioned, “a man distinguished for knowledge and piety, and clothe him, a little too hastily as is said by some, in the Pontifical insignia. They say that this was done by a dispensation, so that they might frustrate the intrigues of a certain Peter who seemed to be aspiring to the Papacy by secular means. This was Peter, son of Peter, son of Leo,” and so on as I have related above concerning him. Suger explains the circumstances very clearly in his Life of Louis the Fat, where he says: “At the death of Honorius the elder and wiser dignitaries of the Roman Church, for the purpose of avoiding any tumult in the Church, agreed that this important election should take place in common, according to the Roman custom, in the Church of S. Mark, and not elsewhere.” But “those Cardinals whom duty or personal intimacy retained around Honorius, not daring to assemble in that place through fear of the Roman population, who were in a state of tumult, elected as Pontiff, before the decease of Honorius was generally known, Gregory, Cardinal deacon of S. Angelo, a person of high character. But those who favoured the party of Peter Leonis, having invited others according to the agreement in the Church of S. Mark, assembled there; and when the death of the lord Pope was known they elected by vote the same Peter Leonis, Cardinal presbyter, with the consent of many Bishops, Cardinals, clergy, and Roman nobles, and thus was this pernicious schism caused. The election of Innocent was, therefore, the first in date, but it was made hastily and without the attendance of all the electors. But,” continues Suger, “as the party of Peter Leonis prevailed at Rome, both by the influence of his family and by the favour of the Roman nobility,” Innocent left Rome, embarked for France, and “sending messengers to King Louis,” entreated his assistance. Therefore Louis summoned at Etampes “a Council of Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots, and Religious in order to inquire not so much concerning the election as concerning the person elected.” This Council declared for Innocent, under the influence of Bernard, in whose judgment the whole of the Council coincided by their vote, as Ernald declares (Life, B. ii. c. 1). In consequence of this Suger, as he himself reports, was commanded by the King to go to meet Innocent at the Abbey of Cluny, whose Abbot, Peter the Venerable, had, with his monks, declared for Innocent, although Anacletus had formerly been a monk there, as I shall note afterwards upon Letter 126. The King himself, with the Queen and his children, went to meet the Pope as far as the Benedictine Abbey of Fleury, where “he prostrated himself at his feet, as if doing reverence at the sepulchre of Peter.” Following his example, Henry, King of England, came likewise “to Chartres to meet Innocent, and devoutly prostrated himself at his feet” and promised him obedience for himself and his subjects. But Innocent “in the course of his visitation to the Church of France arrived in Lorraine. The Emperor Lothair came to meet him in the city of Liége with an enormous attendance of Archbishops, Bishops, and dignitaries of his realm, and in the midst of the great square before the cathedral church, as if he had been the Pope’s equerry, approaching him respectfully on foot in the midst of his procession, he kept off with one hand the crowd with a rod, and with the other he led by the bridle the white horse on which the Pope was mounted, like a servant conducting his lord. Then, as the ground was sloping, he supported and almost carried him, and thus greatly increased the dignity of His Paternity (the Pope) in the eyes of all.” All this took place in 1130. Although Suger says nothing here of Bernard, we know from Ernald that he was a constant companion of Innocent’s journey throughout France. XLI. Before going on to other subjects it will not be out of place to remark here what took place at Liége. The Annals of Magdebourg, or Saxon MSS., inform us under the year 1131: “The Sunday before Mid-Lent, March 22nd, was held at Liége a very distinguished assembly of Bishops and Princes, thirty-six in number, in presence of the Apostolic lord Innocent, of the Emperor Lothair, with the Empress, where many wise decisions were made for the good both of the Church and of the State.” There also Otto, Bishop of Halberstadt, who had been deprived of his See three years before, was restored to it by the intercession of the Emperor and the Princes. Ernald reports that in that assembly was brought forward also the question of investitures, which at length Lothair, by the influence of Bernard, restored to the Church. This Council was preceded by a synod at Wissembourg, as one of the authors of the Annals of Magdebourg contemporary with these events asserts. There was in the month of October a Council of sixteen Bishops assembled at Wissembourg by the Emperor, at which was present the Archbishop of Ravenna, as Legate of the Apostolic See, where Gregory, who as Innocent had prevailed over Peter Leonis in the election of a Pope, was recognized and confirmed by the Emperor Lothair, and all there present. XLII. After the assembly at Liége Innocent returned into France (as Suger relates) and passed the feast of Easter at S. Denis. “Three days after Easter he went to Paris, and then when he had spent some time in visiting the churches of France, and in supplying his penury from their abundant wealth, he chose to take up his abode at Compiègne”. Some time after (Suger declares) he held a Council at Rheims, the opening of which Dodéchin fixes on October 19th, and in which Louis the Younger received on the 25th of the same month the insignia of royalty from the hands of Innocent, as Robert, who has continued the Chronicle of Sigebert, states. The Saxon MS. Annals report under 1131, “Pope Innocent on the Feast of S. Luke having again assembled together many of the clergy and laity,” that is after the Synod at Liége, “held at Rheims another assembly for some days, over which he presided.” Suger adds that having dismissed this Council the Pope made some stay at Autun, and at length returned into Italy with Lothair. XLIII. Ernald (Life, ii. c. 1) places the Council at Rheims before that at Liége, and writes that Innocent proceeded from Liége to Clairvaux, and after a short delay in France returned to Rome in the company of Lothair. But it is quite clear that the synod at Rheims was later than that at Liége, as well from the narrative of Suger as from the Saxon Annals, and especially from the Chronicle of Maurigny, in which the journey of Innocent is carefully described. The chronicler, in fact, relates that Innocent, after having been recognized at Chartres as legitimate Pope by King Henry of England, “resolved to proceed to the Court of Lothair, Patrician of Rome, Emperor, and as his first stage on leaving Chartres was at Maurigny,” which is a Benedictine Abbey in the neighbourhood of Etampes, and in his company, besides Bishops and Cardinals, was “Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, who was the most famous preacher of the Divine Word at that time in the whole of France,” and Peter Abaelard, Monk and Abbot, who is called “a religious man, who holds an excellent school of theology.” When the Pope had consecrated the Church of Maurigny, “on the third morning he departed with his company and proceeded to his conference, which was at Liége … then, returning to Gaul, he remained a long time at Autun until the time drew near for the meeting of the Council, which had been summoned to assemble at Rheims on the Festival of S. Luke the Evangelist; then having gained over to his cause Geoffrey Martel of Tours … he returned to Paris, passing by Orleans and Etampes.” In the meantime he heard of the death of Philip, whom his father had associated with him in the kingdom. Profoundly grieved by this news he sends as his legates a latere to console the King two venerable Bishops, “Geoffrey of Châlons, and Matthew of Albano.” Then proceeding to Rheims he solemnly anointed Louis as King in a fully-attended synod. He received at the same time letters of obedience and fidelity from the Emperor Lothair and from Henry, King of England, as well as from Hildefonso the Elder, King of Hither Spain, and Hildefonso the Younger, King of Farther Spain. Besides this, it filled the Pontiff with great joy to receive “a letter from the most excellent hermits of the Chartreux, which was borne by a certain venerable Abbot of the Cistercian Order, and read in full Council by Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres.” This Abbot was Hugo, of Pontigny, as the letter bears witness, which the same Chronicler inserts at the end of his second volume. At the commencement of the third he adds that “a little after the Council of Rheims Innocent returned to Rome, but because Peter, his unjust rival, had drawn to his own side the greater part of the city, Innocent was able to obtain only the Church of S. Peter, which is the seat of the dignity of the holy priesthood, but Peter occupied as his residence the palace of the Lateran, to which belongs Imperial dignity.” Upon this matter there is a letter of the Emperor Lothair in the Spicilegium, Vol. vi., in which Norbert, Archbishop of Magdebourg, has the title of Chancellor. He was acting as the deputy of Bruno, of Cologne, who had not proceeded into Italy with the Emperor (Chron. Saxon.) But Innocent for the sake of the City of Rome withdrew to Pisa, where he remained until the death of Peter, which took place in 1137. XLIV. In the meantime Peter, or Anacletus, left no means unattempted to bring over persons of influence to his side. Among Bishops, Gerard of Angoulême adhered to him, who since he had fulfilled the functions of legate under the two last Popes had it much at heart to obtain the same honour from Anacletus also. He gained over to Anacletus William, Count of Poitou. Furthermore, Anacletus, in order to bring over Roger, Duke of Apulia, to his party, gave him his own sister in marriage and crowned him King of Sicily, as Ordericus states (B. xii. p. 498). Among the letters of Peter Leonis, in which he takes upon him the name of Pope, which have been preserved in the MS. of Casinum, and published in part by Baronius, there is one in which he complains vehemently of the Abbot of Farfa, whom, because he was opposed to himself, he has, as he says, “stricken with the sting of the Church,” i.e., “condemned with a sentence of excommunication.” XLV. All these troubles and divisions which we have detailed, perhaps at greater length than was necessary, gave much occupation to Bernard, who wrote letter after letter in every direction to bring over schismatics to Innocent and to keep those who were faithful to their duty. He undertook various journeys also for the same cause, as we infer from the following epistles and from his Life (B. ii. 6 and 7). XLVI. We now have to speak of Gerard, Bishop of Angoulême, of whom Arnulf, then Archdeacon of Séez, and afterwards Bishop of Lisieux, has left us a portrait in the treatise which he wrote against him, and which our brother Achery has published in Vol. ii. of the Spicilegium. “He was Norman by birth; the poverty of his parents obliged him to leave his father’s house, and was at length elected Bishop of Angoulême by a chance,” as there was a division among the electors, and his election offered “a certain means of escape” from the difficulty in which they were. Then he began to confer the dignities of his Church upon his nephews, born in a low condition, to shut his eyes to crimes and leave them unpunished, to seek and to obtain the dignity of legate from the Pontiff, to act haughtily, to convoke Councils and synods in a spirit of ostentation. Arnulf adds that when Innocent was elected, Gerard at first favoured him, but not having been able to obtain the dignity of legate from him he threw himself into the party of Peter Leonis, by whom a new commission as legate was granted to him, embracing all the countries between the Alps and the ocean of the west. And it was added that “wherever he should set his foot there he should have the power of legate.” When he was reinvested with this dignity he endeavoured to gain over the Kings of England and the two Spains to the party of Anacletus, but without success. He deposed the Bishops of Poitiers and Limoges and replaced them by unworthy men. He imposed himself, Gerard, upon the See of Bordeaux, being at once Bishop and Archbishop, which Ernald also states (Life, B. ii. c. 5). Then Arnulf says, addressing Gerard, and enumerating the partisans of Anacletus, “that unbelieving troop whom you follow compose all the supporters of Peter Leonis; it is not yet purged from the leaven of Jewish corruption, and that tyrant, whom Sicily, the nurse of tyrants, sustains … it has in its ranks only the Count of Poitou, a man devoted to pleasures, a man sensual, not capable of comprehending spiritual mysteries, given over to the error because of the refusal of a request unlawful to be granted.” These are the supporters of Anacletus. “While to our side,” continues Arnulf, “we have the adhesion of the Emperor, every king, every prince, every man almost who is worthy to bear the Christian name. But in that universal consent, those whose adhesion is most significant to my eyes, whose authority strikes me, influences me, and commands my obedience, are the men to whom it has been given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, and whose conversation seems to be already in heaven; such are they in truth who dwell among the perpetual snows of the Chartreuse, and they who, shining forth from Cîteaux or Cluny, fill all the world with the rays of their light.” Thus speaks Arnulf to Gerard, whom, nevertheless, others praise, but the authority of Arnulf ought to weigh most with us. “I have written nothing,” he says, “but what I either myself knew personally or have received on good authority, or which is not, at least, affirmed by public report.” There is more respecting Gerard in the notes to Letter 127. Gerard died in 1136. Then Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, received the command of Innocent to traverse the whole of France, and especially Aquitaine, and to destroy with his own hands all the altars which Gerard, the author and supporter of that rebellion, or which Gilo, Bishop of Tusculum, or their accomplices had consecrated in the time of the schism, “with benediction and unction of chrism,” as we read in the Chronicle of Maurigny, B. iii. But we are lingering too long upon these matters. Those who wish to learn more respecting the sentiments, life, and character of Innocent and Anacletus may consult the treatise of Arnulf just quoted. There is a letter of Paschal II. respecting the Legation of Gerard to be found in Spicileg., B. iii., and in B. iv. an account of the Synod of Laon, at which he presided in 1109. XLVII. It may be seen (as we have already said) by the Life and in the Letters of Bernard how many journeys he accomplished, and how much trouble he went through in the long and unhappy time of that schism. Thus he thrice travelled into Italy upon this account, and it was thanks to his efforts, that the schism was terminated by the death of Anacletus in 1138. For although the schismatics gave him a successor in the anti-pope Victor, it was “not so much in order to prolong the division as to find, by delay, a suitable opportunity to reconcile themselves with Pope Innocent,” and, in fact, Victor himself came by night “to the holy man”—that is, to Bernard—“and he induced him to lay aside the insignia of Papal dignity which he had assumed, and conducted him to the feet of Innocent” (Life, ii. 47). Such was the end of this long and calamitous schism. XLVIII. In sign of gratitude for so great a service, which was due principally to Bernard, Innocent freed by his own authority the possessions of the Cistercian Order from the tithes payable upon them, without even consulting those to whom the tithes belonged. From these new divisions arose, which caused no little trouble and annoyance to Bernard. The monks of Cluny, in particular, complained loudly against this exemption, which deprived them, without compensation, of a great part of their revenues, and their irritation rose to such a point that the monks of Gigny destroyed to the very ground a neighbouring monastery of the Cistercians named Moiremont. The detailed account of this melancholy event will be found in two Letters numbered 229 and 283, the former from Peter the Venerable, and the latter from Bernard, and in the notes upon these. Nor was this contest immediately closed, but in process of time extended into other countries also. XLIX. We may infer this from Letter 82, which Peter of Blois wrote in the name of Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, “To the Abbot and the Convent of Cîteaux;” for in this letter, after beginning with praises of the Cistercians, he goes on to say that “their reputation is in one respect stained by their refusal to pay to other monks and to the clergy the tithes which are due from them,” the writer continues, “and whence comes this injurious exemption that you should be freed from the payment of tithes, to which your lands were liable before they came into your hands, and which have hitherto been paid, not with respect to the persons holding them, but by the necessary liability of the land? If those lands had passed into your possession, wherefore is the right of another person over them in this respect to be endangered? For, in common fairness, when the lands passed to you they passed with the burden that was upon them.” And when the privilege accorded to the Cistercians by Pope Innocent was brought forward as an argument against him, he replies that such a privilege “might be borne with for a while, since necessity had been the cause of its introduction at a time when the Order”—that is, of Cîteaux—“was happy in its poverty, and gladly shared with the poor its scanty resources.” But now that its possessions were multiplied, “even beyond all measure,” such a privilege must be considered rather to minister to the ambition of the Order than to be a means of assistance to piety. “Furthermore, whatever may be the extent of the privileges of the Roman Church, they cannot be made use of to usurp unjustly that which belongs to another.” At length, if the Cistercians shall show themselves pertinacious and unyielding in this matter, Richard threatens that he will bind in the bond of anathema all persons “who shall either give or sell anything to the Cistercians” to the hindrance of the right of tithes, and that he will appeal to the throne of the Supreme Judge “that none may absolve from the bond of this excommunication.” He goes even farther still, since he threatens to invoke the help of the secular arm in favour of the spiritual power, and to confiscate all that shall have been sold or given to the Cistercians against the decree which he has pronounced. This is what we read in the letter of Peter of Blois. L. Geoffrey, Prior of Vigeois, makes similar complaints on the same subject in his Chronicle (Labbe, Biblioth. ii. p. 328), in which, after praising the Cistercians because they gave many alms from the proceeds of their own labour, because they sang their offices in choir, according to the Rule, and for many other good actions, he yet notes this against them, that they took the lands and refused to pay the tithes due to others; without counting this, that they indiscreetly threw into obscurity the memory of certain saints. He wrote this about the close of the twelfth century, at which time the tempest raised by the exemption from tithe decreed by Innocent in favour of the Cistercians had not yet subsided. § V. CONCERNING THE ERRORS OF PETER ABAELARD AND OF GILBERT DE LA PORRÉE, AND S. BERNARD’S REFUTATION OF THEMLI. This circumstance added no little to the glory of Bernard, that he had no others as adversaries than the partisans of error or heresy, nor did he attack the men so much as their errors. Chief among the former class must be reckoned Peter Abaelard and Gilbert or Gislebert de la Porrée. Among heretics, the worst was Henry and his followers, who were called Henricians from him. We shall treat here of the two former, and of Henry and his followers in the next paragraph. LII. Peter Abaelard gives a vivid description of himself in his history of his calamities; afterwards Otto, Bishop of Frisingen, has sketched him with a kindly pen. You have an epitome of his life in my Notes to Letter 187 of Bernard, where the defenders and supporters of Abaelard are refuted. Here we need only give a summary of what Bernard did against him. Then we shall show by the words of his defenders themselves how unjust those are towards the truth, who declare themselves in his favour in the controversy, rather than in that of S. Bernard. LIII. First, we will commence by observing that long before his collision with Bernard he had been cited by Conon, Legate of the Holy See, to the Council held at Soissons in 1121; and in it, his Book on Theology, in which erroneous propositions were contained, was committed to the flames, the author being confined in the monastery of S. Medard. When he was dismissed thence, he proceeded to disseminate his views in all directions, and grievously resenting the imputation of being a heretic, which was thrown upon him by many people, and of which he suspected that Bernard was the origin, he cited him to the Council of Soissons, in 1140, or it might be said, dragged him thither, so unwilling was Bernard to come. There, in presence of the Bishops and other illustrious clergy of the second order, Abaelard himself was heard a second time and confuted by Bernard, his doctrine examined and again proscribed, but the author was left unpunished, because he had appealed to the Apostolic See. But as he heard that the sentence of the synod had been approved by Innocent II., he desisted from his appeal, and on the advice of Peter the Venerable retired into the monastery of Cluny, and at last made a pious ending of his days in a monastery at Chalons sur Saône. LIV. Bernard wrote against Abaelard various Letters, of which the most important is one to Pope Innocent (Letter 190), which is placed eleventh among the Treatises. In this letter Bernard names briefly the chief heads of the errors which he had found in the writings of Abaelard, and logically refutes them. In this edition I place, following the Vatican MS., at the head of this Letter, or rather Treatise, fourteen propositions extracted by Bernard from the writings of Abaelard which were submitted to Innocent at the same time as the Letter. I shall treat at length the whole of this controversy in an Admonition prefixed to this particular Treatise. For the present I content myself with adding some particulars respecting the defenders of Abaelard. LV. In the first place must be quoted Abaelard himself, who in his Apology complains that many errors had been imputed to him “by malice,” and particularly that he had said “the Father is all powerful, the Son powerful, and the Holy Spirit without power,” which words he repudiates as “not merely heretical, but diabolical,” and affirms that they cannot be found in his writings. But of this and other heads of accusations I shall speak in observations on Treatise 11. Abaelard confesses, however, in the course of his Apology, that he had written “some things that he ought not, by error;” but protests that he had written nothing “through malice or through pride,” and adds that if through his much speaking, some expressions had escaped him which were to be regretted, he was always prepared “to correct, or altogether retract, what he had spoken ill;” and finally, that he was a son of the Church, and “received what she receives, and rejected what she rejects.” Well and good; I have no wish to prove Abaelard to have been a heretic; it is sufficient for the cause of Bernard to show that he erred in certain respects, and this indeed he himself does not deny. LVI. But how far does the testimony of Otto of Frisingen tell against the holy Doctor or in favour of Abaelard? He says that “Bernard had a fervent jealousy for the Christian religion, and was credulous from his habitual gentleness of character,” so that he had little love for those Professors who attached too much importance to their human reasonings and their worldly wisdom, “and if anything was reported of such persons which seemed to show that they were out of harmony with the Christian faith, he listened willingly to it” (Otto, B. i. c. 47). But this judgment is rather praise than blame for the holy Doctor, since there is nothing more in the duty of a Catholic Doctor than to repress as soon as possible men of that class, who attach too much value to their philosophical reasonings, especially when they devise new terms of philosophy, which may easily lead into error incautious persons. I may adopt the words of William, that “the excess of zeal which is blamed in him will be itself praiseworthy to pious minds … happy is he to whom the only crime which can be imputed is that which others are accustomed to consider as doing them honour” (Life, B. i. 41). But Otto himself, although he favours Abaelard, yet acknowledges that he had weakened too much the distinctions between the Three Persons of the holy Trinity, not having followed good precedents, “and that because of this he was considered a Sabellian heretic in the provincial synod of Soissons.” How then can it be wondered at, if repeating the same errors a second time he was regarded with extreme suspicion by lovers of the orthodox faith? LVII. I need not say much of Berengarius of Poitiers, who wrote an Apology for Abaelard, who had been his teacher, against the synod of Soissons and against Bernard himself; as well because he was a man of little or no authority, as because he, when he returned to a better mind, was unwilling to continue to be “the defender of the propositions objected to Abaelard because, although they might not be unorthodox, yet they sounded distinctly suspicious,” and he would have suppressed his book if he had been able, as he declares in his letter to the Bishop of Mende. And although we have no longer all the books of Abaelard in which he had disseminated his errors, yet in those which remain there is no lack of “difficult and dangerous” passages, as the Paris theologians have detected, and have placed at the head of his works a kind of antidote to destroy the effect of the more dangerous of these. It would have been very desirable that the Apologetic Preface should have been expunged from thence. But enough has been said of Abaelard. LVIII. The condemnation of Gilbert de la Porrée, Bishop of Poitiers, excited no less angry feeling against Bernard than that against Abaelard. According to Otto of Frisingen, Gilbert “was born at Poitiers, studied there, afterwards became a teacher, and from a teacher he finished by being Bishop of the same city. From his youth he subjected himself to the training of the most renowned masters, and relying more on their knowledge than his own intellect, he acquired from them learning solid and profound” (Otto, B. i. c. 46), while praise of his knowledge was enhanced by the gravity of his character. These masters were, “first, Hilary of Poitiers, then Bernard of Chartres, and finally two brothers named Anselm and Ralph, both of Laon.” This Hilary was no other, I think, than the great Bishop Hilary of Poitiers, whose authority, as Geoffrey declares, Gilbert abused. Bernard of Chartres is not otherwise known to me than by the testimony of Otto; as for Ralph of Laon, he was well known to Guibert, to a monk named Hermann, of Laon, and to Geoffrey, the secretary of S. Bernard, as was also his brother Anselm, Dean of Laon. In his Commentaries on the Psalms, on the Epistles of S. Paul, and upon Boethius, he indulges in philosophical speculations concerning the Divinity and other truths of religion beyond what is permissible. Otto states that “there were among other opinions which were objected to him four propositions concerning the Divine Majesty, namely:—That the Divine Essence is not God; that the properties of the Persons are not the Persons themselves; that the Divine Persons cannot be predicated in any proposition; that the Divine Nature is not incarnate.” I will speak more fully upon these in later chapters. Minor errors also were objected to him, namely, that “no one except Christ had any merit, that no one should be baptized except those ordained to salvation,” and other opinions of that kind which Geoffrey reports. (Treatise against the opinions of Gilbert, in the Appendix.) LIX. Gilbert having given utterance to all these errors in a sermon which he preached to an assembly of his clergy, his two Archdeacons, Arnold and Calo, report the matter to Eugenius III., who was then at Sienna, in Tuscany, and was coming into France. He remitted the examination of the cause to France. In the meantime the Archdeacons obtain the support of Bernard for their side. An examination was made of the accused doctrines at Auxerre and at Paris, and they were condemned at a Council at Rheims in 1148. Otto reports briefly what was done in each of these assemblies, but Geoffrey, the secretary of Bernard, gives a more detailed account. He even wrote a short history of the proceedings respecting them at the Council of Rheims, and forty years later he wrote a letter on the subject to Henry, Cardinal Bishop of Albano. Both his letter and this history will be found at the end of Vol. vi. LX. I have found no particulars respecting this assembly at Auxerre, of which only Otto makes mention; but there are, on the contrary, many details given of the proceedings of that at Paris. Geoffrey states that it was held “at the Festival of Easter,” and therefore it must have been in 1147; since we learn from Otto that the Council assembled at Rheims “during the Lent” of the following year, and the Appendix to Sigebert fixes it as the 22nd March. “Gilbert appeared then before the Pope, the Cardinals, the Bishops, and other venerable and learned men, to explain himself on the points upon which he was accused. The debate lasted for several days. There appeared against him two celebrated doctors, Adam de Petit-Pont, a very acute reasoner, and recently made Canon of the Cathedral of Paris, and Hugh de Champfleury, Chancellor of the King, who affirmed upon their oath that they had heard from the mouth of Gilbert certain of the incriminated propositions. In the midst of the discussion which followed upon this, it was declared that Gilbert had said amongst other things that ‘I confess that God the Father is God in one sense, and Father in another sense; yet not both God and Father in the same sense.’ Joscelin, Bishop of Soissons, was particularly indignant at this declaration. All this took place on the first day. Another time he was accused of having in a prosa concerning the Holy Trinity said that the ‘three Persons were three individuals.’ The Archbishop of Rouen (Hugh the Third of that name) made the matter worse by saying that it would have been better to say that God is one individual.” This is the account which Otto, Bishop of Frisingen, gives of the Council of Paris (Otto, B. i. c. 51–52). LXI. Geoffrey relates it a little differently, and makes the synod at Viterbo which was held upon the same subject to have preceded it. He mentions but one informer against Gilbert to the Pope, the Archdeacon Arnold, upon whom he bestows the cognomen Pince-sans-rire \[= qui non ridet, i.e., a dry joker\]. But in the meeting at Paris he opposes Bernard to Gilbert as his only adversary, “whose concern it was wherever he might be to defend every interest of our Lord Christ. When Gilbert was required to produce his Commentary on Boethius, in which were contained some suspected propositions, he replied that he had it not at hand. But he denied that he had ever taught or believed ‘that the Divine Nature was not God,’ etc., and he called in witness of this two of his disciples, Rotold, then Bishop of Evreux, and afterwards Archbishop of Rouen, and the Magister Ivo of Chartres, another person without doubt than the illustrious Bishop of Chartres of that name.” I think that this man was a regular Canon of the Abbey of S. Victor, near Paris, and afterwards created Cardinal by Innocent II., to whom Bernard’s Letter 193 was addressed. To put an end to these altercations the Pope orders that the book in question should be brought to a future Council “which he proposed to hold during the same year at Rheims;” and although it was deferred to mid-Lent of the following year, it was none the less held within a year from the meeting at Paris, since that was held, as we have said above, during the preceding Easter. LXII. “In the meantime the Exposition of Boethius by Gilbert was, by order of the Pope, sent to Godescalc, then Abbot of Mont S. Eloi, near Arras, and afterwards Bishop of the same town, in order that he might examine it; he noted in it many suspicious propositions, to each of which he opposed the teaching of the holy Fathers extracted from their works. Alberic, Bishop of Ostia and Legate in Aquitaine, would have brought forward the most ample information regarding the life and conduct of Gilbert if he had not been removed by a premature death a little before these discussions. At length, at the Council of Rheims,” came on the discussion of the propositions noted by Godescalc; but as he was not a practised speaker the book of Gilbert, and also the passages of the holy Fathers noted by Godescalc, were delivered by the lord Pope to S. Bernard. The Council contained Bishops from the four realms of France, Germany, England, and Spain. Among these were personages of great renown and of no little learning, Geoffrey de l’Oratoire, Archbishop of Bordeaux, whose suffragan Gilbert was; Milo, Bishop of Térouanne; Joscelin, Bishop of Soissons; and Suger, Abbot of S. Denis, to whom Louis, King of France, when setting out for Jerusalem, had committed the administration of his entire realm; and, indeed, says Otto, he did this according to the prerogative of that community (Otto, B. i. c. 55). Geoffrey, although he did not approve the teaching of Gilbert, was favourable to his person. LXIII. At the first session of the Council Gilbert called his clerks to bring in various enormous volumes, complaining that his adversaries had quoted against him only mutilated texts. Then Bernard spoke thus: “What need is there to delay longer about expressions of that kind? The origin of this scandal arises from nothing else but this—that a great many persons believe that you think and teach that the Divine Essence or Nature, the Divinity, Wisdom, Goodness, Greatness are not God, but the Form in which God is. If this is what you believe, avow it openly or deny it.” He dared to affirm, that all this was the Form of God and not God Himself. Then Bernard replied: “Behold! here we have what we were seeking; let that confession be written down.” So the supreme Pontiff directed; and then Dom Henry of Pisa, who was then sub-deacon of the Roman Church, and who at a later time became a monk at Clairvaux, the Abbot of S. Anastasius, and finally Cardinal priest, with the title of SS. Nereus and Achilles, brought at his command pen, ink, and paper. But while he was drawing up the record of that avowal of Gilbert, the latter cried out, addressing himself to Bernard: “And do you write also that the Divinity is God.” To this Bernard replied: “Let it be written with an iron pen, with a point of diamond.” After much disputation on one side and the other, the Cardinals declared that they would reserve their judgment. At this the Bishops murmur greatly because the Cardinals reserved to themselves alone the decision of the cause, and charged Bernard that he should draw up articles of faith in an opposite sense to those for which Gilbert was accused, fearing lest (since there were many supporters of Gilbert among the Cardinals) the Council should be dissolved without any decision. Therefore Bernard did this. Then the Bishops subscribed these articles, and sent them by Hugh, Bishop of Autun, Milo, Bishop of Térouanne, and Abbot Suger to the Pope, begging him to confirm them, which Eugenius did without difficulty. At length Gilbert, being summoned before the assembly which had met in the noble palace called Tau (the palace of the Archbishop of Rheims was thus called because of the shape of the battlements, which recalled the form of the Greek letter T), he abjured spontaneously all the errors contained in each of his propositions. The Pope condemned them all likewise, with the book of the author of them, and strictly forbade that anyone should dare to read or transcribe that book until the Roman Church had corrected it. Gilbert having said that he would make the corrections that the Pope required, the Pope refused permission for him to do so. This is in brief summary the account of Geoffrey. LXIV. The account of Otto gives some details which are wanting in that of Geoffrey, and in some respects does not agree with it. Thus, he places the examination of Gilbert as having been entered upon “when the synod was finished and the decrees promulgated;” then he says that it was “after the week of Mid-Lent,” and when the time of the sacred Passion of the Lord was beginning to draw on, that Gilbert was brought up for judgment; and that when he had read from the books of the orthodox Fathers passages in his defence, it was Pope Eugenius, who was fatigued with all these quotations, and not Bernard, as Geoffrey asserts, who required that Gilbert should say simply “whether he believed that the supreme Essence was God,” and that he, wearied by the lengthened reading, replied, without consideration, “Not,” which avowal the secretary of the Council immediately caught up from his mouth. After the dismissal of the assembly he says that Gilbert employed the rest of the day and the following night in assuring himself of the support of his friends among the Cardinals, of whom he had no small number. LXV. The next morning the record of the proceedings was read, and the Bishop was called upon to reply; but he at length so explained his view that, if the Name of God were taken to denote His very Nature, he allowed that it was God; but if it were understood to denote a Divine Person, then he could not subscribe to that, for fear (he said) that if he did so, without qualification, he might be led to allow that, whatever might be affirmed of either Person, the same might equally be affirmed of the Divine Essence; and so “be led on to say that as the Person of the Son had become incarnate and had suffered, so the Divine Essence had also been incarnated and had suffered.” He supported this distinction by passages drawn from the works of the Fathers Theodoret and Hilary, and also by the authority of a Council of Toledo: “and when the Abbot of Clairvaux wished to determine the sense of this last authority, and employed certain words which were not pleasing to the Cardinals,” Gilbert demanded that they might be written down, to which Bernard agreed, using the words which Geoffrey records, “Let them be written with a pen of iron and point of diamond.” At length the holy Abbot assembled with the Bishops, and, together with them, drew up a profession of faith opposed to the propositions of Gilbert, which act of the clergy of France so grievously offended the sacred college of Cardinals that they complained of the matter to the Pope, both against the Bishops and against Bernard himself, because they had ventured by drawing up their profession of faith without even consulting the Cardinals, to put the last touch, as it were, to the final sentence, which office belonged to the Roman See. Bernard being at length called upon by the Pontiff to give satisfaction to the Cardinals, replied, with deference and humility, that neither he himself, nor the lords the Bishops had made any definition with respect to the articles in question; but having been challenged by the same Bishop of Poitiers to write down his profession of faith, he had not been willing to do that alone, but had simply taken the Bishops as witnesses of his views to give more authority by their witness to that which was asked of him. At this explanation so full of humility and modesty, the previous indignation of the Cardinals was appeased, on condition, however, that the writing just read having been drawn up without reference to the Curia, should not be taken for a Creed in the Church, as being deficient in the needful weight of authority. “And thus no decision could be arrived at concerning the three propositions, because of the excitement which had before been raised.” Otto declares that this was not strange, and he adds that Gilbert differed from the other Bishops on a fourth point also, “since they professed that the Divine Nature was Incarnate but in the Son.” But Gilbert, “that the Person of the Son was incarnate not without his Nature. The Roman Pontiff spoke only on the first point, and defined that in theology no separation can be made between the Nature and the Person, and that the Divine Essence should be called God not only in an ablative sense, but also in a nominative sense.” Gilbert reverently accepted the decision of the Pope, restored his Archdeacons to favour, and returned to his diocese “in full honour, and in the completeness of his powers.” LXVI. In all these accounts it is evident that Otto strongly favoured Gilbert, therefore it is not to be wondered at that at the end of his account he should add that it is doubtful whether “in this matter the Abbot of Clairvaux, being subject as a man to the weakness of human nature, was not deceived, or whether the Bishop, being a very learned and accomplished man, did not simply escape the judgment of the Church by cleverly concealing his real meaning.” But Radevic relates that Otto, when very near his death, caused his book to be brought in which he had written this, and delivered it to certain religious men, “that whatever he had said on behalf of the opinions of Magister Gilbert which might do harm to anyone might be corrected according to their judgment.” Rightly does Geoffrey refer his readers with respect to the whole of this disputation to the Sermons of Bernard in Cantica, especially to Sermon 80, in which the holy man does not hesitate to declare that those are heretics who persist in defending the opinion of Gilbert, although he refrains from mentioning the name of the author because of his submission. § VI. OF THE HENRICIANS AND OF OTHER HERETICS WHO WERE REFUTED BY BERNARDLXVII. Gilbert and Abaelard, who had fallen into theological errors by a perverse employment of philosophy, Bernard overcame by reason and authority. He overcame equally by his actions and his example many heretics who at that time infested the various provinces of France. These were, in Flanders, Tanchelm, a native of Antwerp; in Provence, Peter de Bruys, whose followers were called Petrobrusians; and in Aquitaine Henry. Others there were, but without any well-known leader, in Lorraine and in the districts about Cologne, whom we will therefore call Colognians. To these may be added all the followers of Arnold of Brescia. LXVIII. It appears from the Life of S. Norbert that he opposed Tanchelm and his eager assaults, and that Frederick, Bishop of Cologne, “hindered their advance and their attacks” in the diocese of Maestricht: and on this subject there is a letter in Tengnagel from this Church to the same Frederick about “the seducer Tanchelm,” which gives an account of his heresy and its origin. Peter the Venerable also laboured against the Petrobrusians, and wrote a treatise in order to refute them. The zeal of Bernard for the Christian cause was exercised chiefly against the heresy of the Henricians, which he industriously harassed by speech and writing. His Letters 240 and 241 should be read on this subject, and the Life of Bernard, by Geoffrey, B. iii. c. 6, to all of which we will add some further information from other sources. LXIX. Henry, whom the holy man, and Geoffrey after him, calls “an apostate monk,” is also called “a false hermit” in the Acts of the Bishop of Mans (Analecta, Vol. iii.), where his character and his perverse actions are accurately described. In what place he was born the words used do not indicate precisely. “About the same time,” that is to say, under Bishop Hildebert, “a certain hypocrite appeared on the confines of these regions whose depraved character and whose detestable doctrines rendered him worthy of the punishment of being thrown to scorpions in the manner of parricides.” He under a feigned show of learning and sanctity committed horrible excesses. He was wont to boast that he could recognize at the first glance the faults of all men, even those which were unknown to anyone. He sent to Mans two of his disciples, who arrived in the suburbs of the city on Ash Wednesday. “They bore, according to the custom of their master, staves and a banner of the Cross, and resembled penitents in all respects by the colour of their garments, and by their kind of life.” The inhabitants of Mans, being deceived by these appearances, welcomed them as if they had been angels. Even the Bishop Hildebert received them kindly, and as he was on the point of setting out “on a journey to Rome,” he “enjoined his archdeacons amongst other things to permit the pseudo-hermit, Henry, to enter peaceably into the town and to preach to the people,” which he had afterwards reason bitterly to repent. Perhaps it may be inferred from this that Henry was originally from the neighbourhood of Mans, where he commenced to disseminate the venom of his perverse doctrine. If he had made himself known elsewhere already, Hildebert, who was a prelate both learned and vigilant, would not so easily have given him access into his city. But it may possibly be the case that he had come from a distant region, perhaps from Italy, as I am about to explain. LXX. Scarcely had Henry entered into the city than “the common people, as they were accustomed to do, applauded his novelties.” Many of the clerks also supplied him with food, and prepared for him a platform from whence he might address the great crowds of people, which he did with “marvellous eloquence.” The effect of his addresses was to excite the anger of the people against the ecclesiastics of the town. They were treated “like heathens and publicans, so that great threatenings were uttered against their domestics, nor would anyone buy anything from them or sell anything to them.” They even went so far as “to determine not only to pull down their houses and pillage their goods, but also to stone them or to hang them to the gibbet, had not the sovereign and the nobles resisted their wicked intentions.” LXXI. When the turn which things had taken was but too late perceived, the clergy of Mans forbade, by a written notice, the preaching of Henry and his followers. Wherefore Henry, the return of Hildebert being made known, “retired into the village of S. Carileph,” by no means desisting from his endeavours, but breaking out into more violent proceedings day by day. When Hildebert, on his return from his Roman journey, wished to give his benediction to the people, they being led away by the preaching of the heretic, treated him with great disrespect. Then he went to meet the deceiver, demanded of him “whether he had received sacred Orders, and if so, what?” He replied that he was a deacon; and having been bidden to depart out of that province, “he fled secretly, and would have spread his serpentine venom and troubled other regions in like manner, but that happily his reputation preceded him.” All that we have said upon this subject is from the Acts of Hildebert. LXXII. During this time, two disciples of Henry, Cyprian and Peter, renounced their errors, as an encyclical letter of Hildebert (n. 78) declares. In this their master is thus depicted: “This was Henri, a principal snare of the devil and well-known soldier of antichrist. Taken captive by his appearance of religion and knowledge, these two brothers long adhered to him, until both the turpitude of his life and the errors of his doctrine became evident to them. When they had become convinced that his ways were not right, their eyes were opened as to their condition, and they came to present themselves to us. He had so infested our diocese with his doctrines, that our clergy had scarcely the liberty to oppose and confute them even within the walls of their Churches.” It was thus that Hildebert was convinced, though very late, of the danger to which he had exposed himself by an incautious approbation of unknown teachers, who under an appearance of piety corrupt the minds of their hearers. LXXIII. It is clear from what precedes, that this Henry infested the diocese of Mans long before he approached the neighbourhood of Toulouse, whence Bernard expelled him: since the journey to Rome, which Hildebert undertook while he was yet Bishop of Mans and during the time of which that wicked deceiver sowed the tares among the people of Mans, must have taken place before 1125, in which year Hildebert became Archbishop of Tours. But Bernard, on the other hand, did not go into the neighbourhood of Toulouse before 1147. In his Letter 241, which he wrote from Toulouse to Count Hildefonsus, the holy man expresses himself in these terms: “Inquire if you please, in what manner he has departed from the city of Lausanne, from Mans, from Poitiers, and from Bordeaux.” It appears that such was the itinerary of that apostate in his wanderings. He began to preach at Lausanne, from whence he went to Mans; perhaps he had come to Lausanne from Italy, from which rubbish of this kind, relics of the Manichæans, passed over into every part of France. Such were those heretics called Cameracenses who had come out of Italy and were in 1025 condemned at the Council of Arras. About the same time some of them were burnt at Orleans, and indeed the Exordium Cisterciense (Life, B. vii. c. 17) calls the Henricians by the name of Manichæans, where it is reported that the legate of the Pope and other Bishops assembled at Toulouse with our Saint, “in order to confute the heresy of the Manichæans.” The most illustrious Bishop of Meaux, in the excellent work which he has written concerning the Variations of Heretics, has clearly shown (B. xi.) in what manner these heretics and their followers merited the name of Manichæans since they shared their errors. LXXIV. The same Henrician heretics spread also in the diocese of Périgueux, under the leadership of a certain Pontius, as I learn in a letter from Heribert, in Vol. iii. of my Analecta, where the peculiar tenets of those Pontians are set out. This explains why Bernard repaired to the people of Périgord or to Perigueux, as appears from Part iii. of Book vi., which is that of his miracles; it is related in Par. 4, that he found many Arians at Toulouse, and put them to flight as he had done the heretic Henry. Not only this, but the same Henry having been previously condemned in a Council at Pisa, is said to have been committed to Bernard in order that he might become a monk at Clairvaux. But he, after he had received a letter from Bernard to the inmates of Clairvaux, preferred to persist obstinately in the error which he had once taken up, rather than to return in this brief and easy manner to the way of salvation. LXXV. Bernard depicts Henry in vivid colours in his Letter 251 already quoted. He represents him as a man well-educated and having an appearance of piety, but given over to gaming and to bad women. He enumerates as his errors these: He made no account of priests and persons in holy Orders, he abolished sacraments and festivals, and refused baptism to infants. Of another class was that heretic, who is mentioned by Hildebert in his Letter 51, who rejected intercessions of saints, and endeavoured, without success, to draw Hildebert himself into giving patronage to his sect. But whether those heretics whom Bernard addresses himself to confute in his Sermons 65 and 66, super Cantica, are the same as the Henricians we must now inquire. LXXVI. I was myself at one time of the opinion that they were the same, but the discovery of a letter of Evervinus, Abbot of Steinfeld, which was the occasion of these two Sermons, made me change my opinion. Those heretics were, in fact, from Cologne, and, though they shared in some points the errors of the Henricians, they differed from them in many respects. Evervinus divided the heretics from Cologne into two classes. One class pretended that they alone constituted the Church, since they only walked in the footsteps of Christ. In respect of food they forbade the use of milk and whatever was made of it. In their sacraments they covered themselves with a veil. They asserted that they consecrated every day their food and their drink to be the Body and Blood of Christ, and that other people in their sacraments were far distant from the truth. Besides the baptism of water they employed another in fire and the spirit by the imposition of hands alone. Our baptism they rejected, as also marriage. Finally they declared that whomsoever was chosen or baptized among them had the power of baptizing others whom he thought worthy, and of consecrating upon their altar (mensa) the Body and Blood of Christ. LXXVII. The others refused to the priests of the Church as living in a worldly manner the power of consecrating and of administering the other sacraments, baptism excepted, which latter they used to confer, not on children, but on adults alone. Every marriage contracted between persons who had ceased to be virgin they regarded as fornication. Lastly, they rejected the prayers of saints, fasting, and other bodily mortifications; also purgatory and prayers for the dead. LXXVIII. The Henrician heretics and those of Cologne, therefore, were of similar views, inasmuch as they held in hatred the ministers of the Church, the sacraments, the baptism of infants, and marriage. They differed only in a few particulars which arose from a certain variety of disposition than from opposing principles. In one word, they were different branches, but they sprang from the same root. I have no doubt that these heretics of Cologne were produced from the workshop of Tanchelm. He was a layman, as Abaelard asserts, who disseminated his errors in Flanders, and especially at Antwerp, and at length arrived at such a point of madness that he used to call himself the Son of God, and caused a temple to be built to himself, it is said, by the people whom he had seduced. For this reason there was founded by the Bishop of Tournay, under whose jurisdiction that place then was, a company of twelve clerics in the Church of S. Michael at Antwerp, in order that they should combat these impious dogmas, which church was afterwards given over to S. Norbert. What were the perverse dogmas of Tanchelm I learn from a Letter of the Church at Maestricht to Frederick, Bishop of Cologne, “Concerning the seducer, Tanchelm.” He used to say that “the Churches of God ought to be considered places of prostitution; that what was done by the priest’s office at the table of the Lord was absolutely nothing; that the sacraments ought to be called pollutions, and that their efficacy came to them from the holiness and the merits of the ministers who performed them,” all of which agree perfectly well with the wild fancies of the heretics previously named. A certain presbyter, Evervacher, “apostatizing from his priestly dignity, adhered to the service of that execrable man and followed him to Rome.” The same person did much harm afterwards to the Church at Maestricht. The whole clergy of that city returned thanks to Frederick because “he hindered the progress and success” of Tanchelm, from which it is to be inferred that his errors had penetrated even into the diocese of Maestricht, and as far as Cologne, as is evident from the Letter of Evervinus, and that those heretics of Cologne arose from the same author. LXXIX. Hugo Metellus, who was then a canon regular of Toul, is a witness in his Letter to Henry, Bishop of that city, that a scourge of the same kind had crept in upon the soil of Toul. “There are hiding in your diocese,” he says, “or rather are beginning to show themselves, men who are destructive, who would be more truly called by the name of savage beasts, since they live in a similar way, for they condemn Marriage, they abhor Baptism, they make a mockery of the Sacraments of the Church, and they abhor the very name of Christian.” These were, without doubt, the miserable and ill-omened disciples of the heretics of Cologne. LXXX. To the Henricians succeeded, or rather were added, men of the same stamp, who called themselves Cathari, that is to say, the pure; whose errors Bonacursus, who was at first their master at Milan, has laid bare and confuted in a book which has been published in Spicilegium, B. iii. These have much affinity with the tenets of the Manichæans, as also with those of the other heretics whom we have mentioned above. It is to the Cathari that Gilbert of Hoiland seems to make allusion in his Sermon 36, in Cantica, n. 6. “There shoot up,” he says, “in these days certain trees which our Heavenly Father hath not planted, trees whose origin is not from our Libanus. These are the men who boast of their endurance in labour, their patience under injuries, and their endurance of poverty. They seem to be cedars, but they are not those of Libanus. Their heart and conscience is defiled.” Ecbert, Abbot of Schönoue, also wrote Sermons against the Cathari, which still remain. LXXXI. Bonacursus associates the Passagiens and the Arnoldists with the Cathari, the former because they declared that all the rites of the Mosaic Law ought to be observed. They equally denied the divinity of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, and rejected the authority of all the Doctors of the Catholic Church, as they did also and chiefly that of the Roman Church. The latter—that is, the Arnoldists—thought that “the Sacraments of the Church ought to be avoided because of the corruption of the clergy.” LXXXII. They took this name, I imagine, from that factious man Arnold, who, under pretext of restoring liberty and the Republic at Rome, desired all the temporal rights of the Pontiff to be abrogated, and to leave him only the power over spiritual things with tithes and free will offerings. He was born at Brescia, and was a clerk of the Church of that town. He had been a disciple of Peter Abaelard, and had a strong liking for new and singular opinions, as Otto of Frisingen testifies. After having studied in France he returned to Italy, and assumed the habit of the Religious, the better to deceive the unwary; which, however, did not prevent him from being a hater of monks, and especially of the clergy. While he flattered laymen, he used to say that neither clerks who had property, nor Bishops who had rights of temporal lordship, nor monks who held lands, could possibly be saved, but that all these things pertained to the sovereign. “Besides this, he is said not to have held correct opinions respecting the Sacrament of the Altar, nor the Baptism of infants” (Otto Fris., B. ii. 20). Thus he was infected with the errors of the Petrobrusians and Henricians. Innocent II. expelled him from Italy and obliged him to retire to Zurich in Switzerland. Having heard of the death of Innocent, he returned to Rome at the beginning of the pontificate of Eugenius, and, finding the city ill-disposed towards the new Pontiff, he blew upon the flame of sedition. This reached so great a height that the Cardinals were maltreated, some of them wounded, and Eugenius himself driven from Rome. Bernard undertook the cause of the Pontiff, and wrote to the Romans a magnificent Letter on this subject (Letter 243). He addressed another in the same sense to the Emperor Conrad, whom the Romans had endeavoured without success by a Letter, given by Otto (B. i. 28), to draw over to their side. Thus our Saint was never found wanting to any needful work, nor to any necessity of the Church; he seemed to have been born only to labour for the common interest of the Christian Republic. At last Arnold was apprehended, attached to a post by order of the prefect of that Rome which he had so greatly flattered, and his body reduced to ashes, “so that his remains might not be held in veneration by the foolish populace.” Much more respecting him may be read in Otto and in the Notes from that author to Letter 195 of Bernard. § VII. OF THE CRUSADE PREACHED BY S. BERNARD AND ITS UNHAPPY ISSUELXXXIII. One of the last labours of Bernard was the preaching of an expedition into the Holy Land, which enterprise was for him the source of great labour and anxiety, as may be easily understood both from his Life and his writings. Otto of Frisingen attributes to Louis the Younger, King of France, the idea of this expedition. He felt himself strongly influenced by the idea of making a voyage to the Holy Places, as his brother Philip, who was “bound by the same vow,” had been prevented by death from fulfilling it. He imparted his design to the chief noblemen of his court, and they determined to take the advice of Bernard on that subject. The holy abbot being then summoned, was of opinion that a matter of such great importance should be referred “to the consideration of the Roman Pontiff.” Eugenius sanctioned and greatly approved the project, and “committed to the Abbot of Clairvaux full power of preaching and of exciting the zeal of all to this enterprise, since he was regarded as a prophet or apostle among all the peoples of France and Germany.” Bernard obeyed the Apostolic letter, “and having raised the minds of very many persons to a high pitch of enthusiasm for the expedition beyond the sea, he gave the Cross at Vézelay to King Louis, to Thierry, Count of Flanders, to Henry, son of Theobald, Count of Blois, and to other barons and nobles.” LXXXIV. In the meantime a certain monk, named Ralph, whilst preaching the Crusade also in Germany, excited the Christians to commence by the murder of the Jews. Bernard repressed his zeal by a Letter, and he himself undertook to preach the Crusade in the east of France, that is to say, in that region of Germany which borders on the Rhine. Then the Emperor Conrad summoned a general assembly at Spires, whither Bernard proceeded, and, “by the working of many miracles, both in private and public, he persuaded the Emperor Conrad and his nephew Frederick and other princes and illustrious persons to take the Cross.” Frederick, Duke of Suabia, whom his son had greatly displeased by taking the Cross, he succeeded in appeasing; he ordered the monk Ralph to return to his cloister, and in his place he gave to Conrad, who was travelling through Bavaria, Adam, Abbot of Eberach, to help him in urging on the departure of the expedition. There is extant a Letter of Bernard (n. 363) on this subject addressed to the peoples of the East of France; it is followed by a Letter addressed to Henry, Archbishop of Mayence, to beg him to repress the zeal of Ralph. “Thus,” continues Otto, “not only the whole of the Roman Empire, but also the neighbouring realms, Western France, England, Pannonia, and many other peoples and nations, rose to take the Cross on hearing of this expedition, and almost the entire West became peaceful, so that it was regarded as a crime not only to excite private quarrels, but also for any one to bear arms in public.” LXXXV. So great an impression upon the whole of the West is to be ascribed to the preaching of Bernard; but when the success of the expedition did not answer to the hopes and prayers of the people, all the obloquy of the ill-success was thrown upon him also, as is customary with mortals who judge of things according to their issue; nor was there anything that ever caused greater grief to Bernard than that, not for his own sake, but for the cause of God. Thus he says at the commencement of Book ii. Of Consideration: “If it is needful for one of two things to happen, I prefer that the murmurs of the multitude should be against me rather than against God It would be a happy thing for me if the world would deign to use me for a shield to ward off blows directed against Him. Willingly do I accept the detraction of evil tongues,” etc. The unfortunate issue of that enterprise threw such a gloom over the minds of almost all that the holy Doctor pronounced him happy “who had not been scandalized by it.” But how great was the sorrow of Bernard himself appears both from Letter 288, which he wrote upon that subject from his bed of suffering, caused probably by grief of mind, and from the Letter of John, Abbot of Casa Mario, to Bernard himself, which is now numbered 386 among those of Bernard, in which the author tries to console our Saint, whom he had heard was deeply afflicted on account of the unfortunate issue of the expedition. LXXXVI. Yet there were not wanting those who came forward to defend Bernard, among whom must be reckoned, and not in the last place, Otto, Bishop of Frisingen, who was not in the habit of greatly favouring Bernard. He makes a digression in his Book de Gestis Friderici (chap. lx.) to excuse the failure of that expedition, in which he himself had taken part. At the end of an excursus, philosophical rather than historical, he thus concludes in favour of Bernard: “Yet if we should say that that holy Abbot was inspired by the Spirit of God to rouse us to that enterprise, but that we, disobeying the salutary commandments of God by our pride and our licence, have deservedly compromised both the success of the undertaking and the safety of those engaged in it, we should say nothing contrary to ancient example and arguments.” Yet one thing, he adds, namely, that “the spirits of the prophets are not always subject to the prophets,” desiring, no doubt, to indicate by these words that it is not absolutely certain that Bernard had spoken by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit respecting that expedition, when he conjectured what the event of it would be. LXXXVII. And yet Bernard himself, at the beginning of B. ii. de Consideratione, written to Pope Eugenius, when trying to defend that enterprise from calumny, does not hesitate to say that he was impelled from above to what he did. “We have spoken of peace,” he says, “and there is no peace; we have promised success, and behold confusion.” Then he adds these words in his own defence: “Can it be said that I acted rashly or lightly in that matter? I have run, indeed, in it not (as the Apostle says) as uncertainly, but at your bidding, or rather at the bidding of God, through you.” And a little farther on he supposes his adversaries to reproach him thus: “How do we know that your word comes from the Lord? What sign doest thou that we may believe thee?” And addressing himself to Eugenius he replies thus: “I have nothing to reply to that; modesty constrains me to be silent. Do you reply for me and for yourself according to what you have heard and seen.” In which words he, without doubt, makes a modest reference to the miracles done by him for the confirmation of his preaching. LXXXVIII. But of all his apologists Geoffrey, his disciple, best vindicates his master from reproaches (Life, B. iii. c. 4). He first remarks that Bernard was not the original author of the enterprise; “in fact, the proved necessity of the Crusade had already won over the minds of many persons when he was called into counsel once and again by the King of France, and entrusted with the matter also, by letters from the Pope; nor did he consent to open his mouth upon this subject nor to give advice to the people until he was bidden by the express communication of the Pontiff himself to lay the matter before peoples and princes as the tongue of the Roman Church.” His preaching, undertaken by him as a matter of obedience, was at length confirmed from on high by so many and so great miracles and signs that “it would be very difficult to relate them or even to enumerate them.” Finally, that if the Eastern Church did not obtain freedom by that expedition, at all events the Church on high attained a joy proportioned to the number of those who, by their death, “rendered up their souls to Christ in the fruit of penitence and purified by many tribulations.” And, indeed, this was the very truth which John, the holy Abbot of Casa Mario, signified to Bernard had been made known to him by revelation. LXXXIX. But why do we delay in justifying Bernard? His authority has long been so great in the eyes of all, even of the heterodox, that his life, his extraordinary sanctity, and his teaching are approved by the general opinion and praise of all. XC. So much it seemed proper to me to say by way of Preface to this new edition of the Works of S. Bernard. If it shall seem careful and accurate to the learned, my friends and the companions of my studies, Dom Michael Germain, D. Thierry Ruinart, and also D. Edmond Martène, who have expended their labour upon this edition with much love and industry, will have the praise. For myself I ask but one reward, as I have proposed to myself but one end, that the fruit of my labour should be, if only in some small degree, serviceable and useful to the admirers of S. Bernard, to the Church, and to the entire Christian world. To this preface in the fourth edition, from which we have translated, the following note is appended:— Such, with the exception of a few words, were the prefatory observations made by D. John Mabillon to his second edition of S. Bernard, which we reproduce in preference to others, inasmuch as it is considered of higher value by the studious. In the year 1719 appeared a third edition, with various additions, respecting which we read at the end of Mabillon’s preface as follows:— “D. Massuet had made a beginning of labour upon this edition, and would have proceeded with it had not an untimely death put a period to his studies. To him are owing, in Vol. i., two recently discovered Letters, Nos. 418 and 419, a third drawn from the Miscellanea of Baluze, No. 425, and also two charters, whereof the former is for the monasteries of Lisieux and S. Évre, and the other for the monastery of S. Amand de Boisse. In the second volume there will be found new: The third book of the Epistle to the Brethren of Mont Dieu, and the Admonitio of D. Massuet, in which he claims the entire Epistle, which was ascribed to William of S. Thierry, as having been written by Guigo, fifth Prior of the Grande Chartreuse. Also another Observatio of the same writer which assigns the Treatise de Contemplando Deo, and that de Naturá et Dignitate Amoris to William of S. Thierry. Lastly, the Letter of Tromund, monk of Clairvaux, respecting the canonization of S. Bernard, which has not before been published.” In this fourth edition we have not omitted these additions, and we have furthermore included thirty-six Letters of S. Bernard which, after the above editions were completed, D. Martene transcribed from MSS., viz., thirty-four from the Vedastine, one from that of Anchin, and another spurious one from Verdun, and first made public in his Amplissima Collectio Veterum Scriptorum, etc., Tom. I., pp. 725–744. Of these the first is numbered in the common order of the Letters, 420, and the thirty-fifth, 454, the spurious one, 455. Also a Hymn of the holy Doctor, which in the same Collection (Tom. i. p. 746) D. Martene has brought forward from the Aldenberg MS., and as it is in the praise of S. Malachi, it finds an appropriate place in Vol. ii., after the Life of that Bishop. In order that this new edition might be the more correct, I have consulted not only three examples of Mabillon, but also some older copies. BERNARDINE CHRONOLOGYA.D. 1091. The fourth year of Pope Urban II., the 35th of the Emperor Henry IV., the 31st of Philip I., King of France, BERNARD was born in the castle called Fontaines, near Dijon, in Burgundy. His father was Tescelin Sorus, lord of Fontaines; his mother Alith, daughter of Bernard, lord of Montbar. His paternal house was lately, by the gift of Louis XIII., King of France, granted to the Feuillant Fathers for a convent. 1098. B. Robert, Abbot of Molêsmes, taking with him twenty-one monks of the same house, withdrew into the desert of Cîteaux, and there founded a new monastery, in the Diocese of Chalons, about five leagues from Dijon, with the approval and help of Walter, Bishop of Chalons, and Hugh, Archbishop of Lyons. 1099. Death of Urban II. He is succeeded by Paschal II., who had been a monk of Cluny. B. Robert, on the complaints of the monks of Molêsmes, is commanded by the Pope to return to Molêsmes. He is succeeded at Cîteaux by Prior Alberic. This year the Church is dedicated to the honour of B. V. M. 1100. This year the monks John and Ilbodus are sent to Rome with commendatory Letters. Paschal II. confirms the foundation of Cîteaux, and confers privileges upon it. 1101. Abbot Alberic institutes a stricter observance of the Rule of S. Benedict. 1102. Odo, Duke of Burgundy, founder of Cîteaux, dies, and is buried in the Abbey Church. In the same year his son Henry puts on the monastic habit there. 1103. The Cistercians are believed to have changed from a black habit to a white; and they propose to recite daily the office of the B. V. M. 1105. Alith mother of S. Bernard, is believed to have died this year. 1109. B. Alberic, second Abbot of Cîteaux, died this year, having sat 9½ years. He is succeeded by B. Stephen Harding, of a noble English family, and formerly Prior. 1110. In this year died B. Robert, Abbot of Molêsmes, and first founder of Cîteaux. 1113. Is to be noted for the conversion of B. Bernard. He entered the community at Clairvaux, then under Abbot Stephen, with thirty companions, and thereby made it well known. The Cistercian Order begun from that time to flourish greatly. In the same year Ferté (Firmitas), the eldest daughter-house of Cîteaux, was founded in the Diocese of Chalons. The first Abbot was Bertrand. 1114. Bernard prays for and obtains the ability to reap, which his weakness of body had hitherto prevented. Pontigny, the second daughter-house of Cîteaux, is founded four leagues from Autun. The Church of this community was afterwards built by Theobald, Count of Champagne, who was styled the founder. The first Abbot was Hugo of Mâcon, afterwards Bishop of Autun, to whom Bernard wrote many Letters. 1115. In this year were founded Clairvaux and Morimund, third and fourth daughter-houses of Cîteaux. The former not by Theobald, as some think (confounding-the translation of Clairvaux in 1135 with its foundation), but by Hugo, Count of Troyes, and Bernard was made Abbot of it, being then in his twenty-fourth year. Morimund was in the same diocese, and was founded by Odalric d’Egremont, and Adeline, his wife, Lords of Choiseul. These four abbeys were the daughter-houses of Cîteaux in the first degree, as it were, and it was from them that in after-time others arose. Arnold was first Abbot of Morimund, to whom Letter 4. 1116. The first general chapter of the Cistercian Order called together by B. Stephen. It was to be summoned each year afterwards on the 13th September. 1117. Bernard, being enfeebled by illness, is by the interposition of William, Bishop of Chalons, committed to a country doctor for medical treatment. In the same year, or about that time, is believed to have taken place the conversion of Tescelin, father of Bernard, who died not long after in the reputation of sanctity. 1118. In this year began the Order of the Soldiers of the Temple, founded by Hugh de Payen and Geoffrey d’Aldhemar, and confirmed in a Council at Treves, 1128. There was also founded the monastery of Trois Fontaines, in the Diocese of Chalons, first daughter-house of Clairvaux. The first Abbot was Roger, the second Guy, to whom Letters 69, 70. Also Fontenay, a second daughter-house, in the Diocese of Autun. The first Abbot was Godfrey, a relative of Bernard. He afterwards returned to Clairvaux, where he became the third Prior, and at length Bishop of Langres. 1119. In this year was completed the thirty articles or chapters, fixing the usages of the Cistercian Order, and commonly called the Charter of Charity. It was drawn up by B. Stephen, Abbot of Cîteaux, with the assent of his co-abbots, twelve in all, and approved by Pope Callistus II. 1120. S. Norbert, whom Bernard calls “the reed-pipe of the Holy Spirit” (Letter 56), founds the Præmonstratensian Order in a spot of the territory of Laon, commonly known as Prémontré. 1121. A Synod is held at Soissons against Peter Abaelard, under the presidency of Conon, Bishop of Præneste, Legate of the Holy See, in which Peter himself was obliged to commit his book on the Trinity to the flames. William of Champeaux, Bishop of Chalons, died this year. The monastery of Foigny founded, in the Diocese of Laon, to whose Abbot, Rainald, Bernard wrote Letters 72–74. 1122. Peter Maurice de Montboisier, called the Venerable, an Auvergnat, and a very dear friend of Bernard, was made Abbot of Cluny. 1123. About this year Peter, Abbot of Ferté, was chosen to be Bishop of Tarentum, being the first of the Cistercian Order to become a Bishop, and was succeeded by Bartholomew, brother of Bernard. Suger elected Abbot of S. Denys in succession to Abbot Adam. 1125. Death of the Emperor, Henry V., and a disputed succession. In the same year a severe famine in France and Burgundy, which gives extensive exercise to the charity of Bernard. 1126. Otto, afterwards Bishop of Frisingen, a well-known chronicler, enters upon the monastic state in the community of Morimund. 1127. About this time Stephen, who from having been Chancellor had become Bishop of Paris, was reclaimed by the admonitions of Bernard from living the life of a mere courtier to a more faithful fulfilment of the duties of his office. He was harshly treated and persecuted by King Louis, but was at length restored to favour by the efforts of Bernard. Henry, Archbishop of Sens, who not long after fell under the royal displeasure for a similar cause, was also defended by him. See Letter 45 and notes. The monastery of Igny, fourth daughter-house of Clairvaux, was founded in the Diocese of Rheims. The first Abbot was Humbert, who not long after resigned his post through love of quiet, and returned to Clairvaux, for which Bernard, then in Italy, wrote him a letter of severe reprimand (Letter 141). The second Abbot was Guerric, a man famed alike for his piety and his writings. 1128. A Council held at Troyes, under Matthew, Bishop of Albano, at which were present Stephen, Abbot of Cîteaux, Bernard, of Clairvaux, and other Abbots of the same Order. In it a white habit (to which Eugenius III. afterwards added a red cross) was prescribed for the Knights of the Temple, and a Rule drawn up to govern the Order. Regny founded in Diocese of Auxerre. 1129. The same Legate holds a Council at Chalons; where by the advice of Bernard, Henry, Bishop of Verdun, was deposed from his See and another Bishop appointed. Monastery of Ourcamp (Ile de France), in the Diocese of S. Cloud, founded by the Bishop Simon. 1130. Death of Pope Honorius II. and schism in the Church, caused by an election to the Papacy disputed between Gregory (Innocent) and Peter Leonis (Anacletus). Bernard energetically supported the cause of Innocent for eight years. In the same year Bernard firmly refused the vacant Archbishopric of Genoa. Also Baldwin, in a Council held at Clermont, was admitted to the College of Cardinals; he was the first Cistercian to be raised to that rank. 1131. Pope Innocent is magnificently received at Liège, having come into France late in the former year. Bernard induces Lothair to abandon his demand for the cession of investitures, and the Pope crowns him King of Germany in the same place. The Imperial diadem is to be conferred in Rome two years later. After this he crowned the young Prince Louis in place of his dead brother; then consecrated a church at Cluny; and after that visited Clairvaux and other churches, Bernard accompanying him everywhere. In this year also Bernard was elected to the Bishopric of Châlons, but firmly declined it. In this year was the murder of Thomas, Prior of S. Victor, at Paris, by the nephews of Theobald Notier, Archdeacon of Paris. In this year were founded the following daughter houses:— Moreruela, in Castile. S. John of Tarouca, in Portugal. Longpont, in the Diocese of Soissons. Charlieu, in the Diocese of Besançon. Bonnemont, in Savoy; Diocese of Geneva. Rievaulx, in England; Diocese of York. 1132. Bernard proceeded into Italy after departure of Pope Innocent; reconciled the Pisans and Genoese, and modestly but decidedly rejected the Archbishopric of Genoa, once more offered to him. At this time arose that great controversy between the Cluniacs and Cistercians, arising out of the exemption of the latter from tithes by Pope Innocent. See Letters 228, 283. In this year were founded:— Vaucelles, in Diocese of Cambrai (Letter 186). Fountains (Tres Fontes), in England, Diocese of York (Letters 92, 94). 1133. S. Bernard, since the forces of Innocent were not sufficient for taking Rome (the Emperor Lothair had supplied him with 2,000 soldiers only), wrote to Henry, King of England, to beg help. But at length Innocent obtained entrance into Rome, and crowned Lothair in the Lateran Church. When Lothair returned home Innocent was obliged to retire to Pisa, whence Bernard was sent into Germany to reconcile Conrad to the Emperor Lothair. At this time the holy Abbot sent the congratulatory Letter to the Pisans, because they had resisted the attempts of Anacletus to win them over to his party (Letter 130). On this journey took place the conversion of Mascelin (Life, iv. 3), and also of the Duchess of Lorraine. 1134. A Council was held at Pisa, at which Bernard attended by command of Pope Innocent, having made peace between Lothair and Conrad. He had great difficulty to avoid accepting the Archbishopric of Milan, which was pertinaciously pressed upon him. He founded a monastery of his Order at Chiaravalle (Chara-Vallis), near Milan. Then he proceeded to Paris and Cremona to reconcile those cities; but not having succeeded at Cremona, he notified their obstinacy to Innocent (Letter 318). In the meantime, after the Council, Norbert, founder of the Præmonstratensian Order, departed this life; also Stephen, Abbot of Cîteaux, who was at length succeeded by Raynald, son of Milo, Count of Bar-sur-Seine. There were founded this year Hemmerode, in the Diocese of Trèves, and Vauclaire (Vallis-Clara), in that of Laon. The first Abbot (of the latter) was Henry Murdach, to whom Letter 321. 1135. Bernard, after his return through Milan from Italy, was enabled to accomplish the transfer of Clairvaux to a more convenient site (Life, ii. 5). Scarcely had he settled there than he was sent, with Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, into Aquitaine, to reclaim William, Count of Poitou, and other schismatics led away by Gerard, Bishop of Angoulême (c. 6). A little after his return he undertook his Exposition of the Canticles, at the request of another Bernard, viz., Desportes, Prior of the Chartreuse (Letters 153, 154). This year were founded:— Buzay, in the Diocese of Nantes, by Ermengarde, Countess of Brittany, whom he had recalled from worldly vanity during his journey just mentioned (Letters 116, 117). The first Abbot was John, to whom Letter 232. Hautecombe, in the Diocese of Geneva. Grâce de Dieu, in Diocese of Saintes. Eberbach, in Diocese of Mentz. 1136. Guy, the eldest of Bernard’s brothers, died away from Clairvaux, according to his brother’s prediction (Life, ii. 12), namely, at Pontigny. This year were founded:— Balerne, Diocese of Besançon; first Abbot, Burchard, to whom Letter 146. Maison Dieu, on the Cher, in Diocese of Bourges; the first Abbot was Robert, cousin of Bernard, to whom Letter 1. Auberive, Diocese of Langres. There was also adopted the Abbey des Alpes, in the Diocese of Geneva; Guarine, the Abbot, and afterwards Bishop of Sion, urging the transfer (Letter 253). 1137. Bernard is summoned into Italy for the third time by Innocent, the cause of Anacletus being still supported by his great partisan Roger of Sicily. In this year were founded:— Di Columba, Diocese of Placentia, in Italy. Bocchia, Diocese of Vesprin in Hungary (although this is referred by some to 1153). There was also adopted the monastery of Valparaiso (formerly Bellus-Fons), in Spain. 1138. The Emperor Lothair II. died this year, and was succeeded by Conrad, Duke of Franconia, his former rival. Also the Antipope Anacletus. The successor to him elected by the Cardinals of his party, Cardinal Gregory, called Victor, resigned the Papal insignia into the hands of Bernard, and submitted to Innocent, thus closing the schism, in great measure through the zeal and prudence of Bernard. “But the holy Abbot, leaving the Roman Court without delay, returned into France, nor would he bring back anything with him by way of gift or recompense, beyond a tooth of S. Cæsarius, and other relics of saints” (Life, iv. 1). His brother Gerard died this year. He now resumed his work on the Canticles, which had been interrupted. In this year Rainald, Archbishop of Rheims, died; and after two years Samson, Bishop of Chartres, was made his successor, Bernard himself having declined the dignity. This year was founded the monastery of Nisors, Diocese of Lyons, over which was set Alberic, to whom Letter 173. There was adopted also that of Dunes, Diocese of Bruges. The first Abbot was Robert, who afterwards succeeded Bernard at Clairvaux. To him Letter 324. 1139. Lateran Council assembled at Rome. In this year Malachi, Primate of Ireland, visited Clairvaux on his way to Rome. He left there six of his companions to be trained in the Cistercian Rule, that they might introduce it into Ireland. 1140. A Council held at Sens, in which the errors of Abaelard are condemned. He retired to Cluny, and two years later died at the monastery of S. Marcellus, Châlons, where he had gone for medical treatment. There were founded this year:— Clairmarais, Diocese of S. Omer. Blancheland, Diocese of S. David’s, Wales. Ossera, Diocese of Orense, Gallicia. Rivour, Diocese of Troyes, over whom was set Alan, afterwards Bishop of Autun, compiler of a Life of S. Bernard. Also Pope Innocent handed over to the monks of Clairvaux for reorganization the monastery of S. Anastasius, at Aquæ Salviæ; and there was set over it Bernard of Pisa, a disciple of S. Bernard, who afterwards was called to the Roman See as Eugenius III. Also were adopted that of Benchor, conveyed by Archbishop Malachi; and of Casamaria in Veroli, Italy. 1141. Pope Innocent laid King Louis under an interdict because he refused to receive the Archbishop of Bourges, whom, however, he did at length receive, and then was absolved from an oath which he had unreasonably taken (Letter 218 onwards). In this year the same King Louis attacked Theobald, Count of Champagne, and laid waste his territories (Letters 217, 220, 222, 223). At this time occurred the death of Humbeline, sister of Bernard (Life, i. 6). This year was founded the Abbey of Mellifont, in the Diocese of Armagh, Ireland, by the efforts of Archbishop Malachi. It consisted of the companions whom he had left at Clairvaux for training, with some others (Letters 356, 357). 1142. Ivo, cardinal presbyter, was sent into France to pronounce sentence against Ralph, Count of Vermandois, who having repudiated his former wife Eleanor, niece of Count Theobald, had married Petronilla, the daughter of William, Duke of Aquitaine, sister of the Queen (Letters 216, 217, 220, 221). Alfonso, King of Portugal, gave himself as tributary, and his realm to be a fief of the Abbey of Clairvaux, and assigned to it a payment of fifty double Marabotines of fine gold. In this year died Hugo of S. Victor, called a second Augustine for his own age, an intimate friend and admirer of Bernard (Letter 70). About this time were founded:— Melon, Diocese of Tuy, in Gallicia. Sobrado, Diocese of Compostella. Haute Crète, Diocese of Lausanne, in Savoy. 1143. Pope Innocent died in this year, and was succeeded by Guido de Castello, called Celestine II., to whom Letters 234, 235. Founded this year:— Alvastern, Diocese Linköping, Sweden. Nidal, in the same (some writers put this four years later). Belle Perche, Diocese of Montauban. Meyra, in Gallicia; Diocese of Luçon. 1144. Pope Celestine died. Bernard succeeded in making peace between King Louis and Count Theobald (Letters 220 and onwards should be read). In this year died Bartholomew, Abbot of Ferté, brother of S. Bernard. Also Stephen of Châlons, Cardinal Bishop of Praeneste, a member of the Cistercian Order, a man of great sanctity, to whom Bernard wrote various Letters. Founded:— Beaulieu, in Diocese of Rhodez. 1145. Pope Lucius died this year, and was succeeded by Bernard, Abbot of Aquas Salvias, as Eugenius III. (Letter 237 and onwards). At this time Bernard was consulted by King Louis respecting a Crusade, and devolved the decision upon the Pope. Founded:— La Prés, in Diocese of Bourges. 1146. Council held at Chartres to consider of the Crusade, to which Peter the Venerable was invited (Letter 364), but was not able to come, as we collect from his reply (B. vi., L. 18). Bernard was, by the direction of Eugenius, chosen as chief advocate of this warfare. He exhorted the peoples of Germany, of Eastern France, the Bavarians, the English, etc., both by letters and by preaching, to take the Cross, and was greatly assisted by many miracles (Letters 363–365, and Book of the Miracles of S. Bernard). Founded:— Boxley, in Diocese of Canterbury, England. Villars, in Diocese of Namur, Brabant. This foundation the Auctarium Gemblacense fixes in the following year in these words:—“Twelve monks with their Abbot, Laurence, and five lay brethren (conversi), sent by B. Bernard from Clairvaux into Brabant, erected the monastery at Villars.” 1147. Pope Eugenius was driven from Rome by Arnold (Letter 242), and took refuge in Gaul, being received in Paris with great honour by King Louis, who had taken the Cross in the previous year, on Palm Sunday, and with him his brother, Robert and Geoffrey, Count of Mellent. The King set off into Syria against the Saracens on June 14. In a Synod at Etampes the administration of France was committed to Suger, Abbot of St. Denys, Gilbert being present. Bernard, with Alberic, Cardinal Bishop of Ostia and Legate, and Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, proceeded into Aquitaine against the heretic Henry (General Preface, and Letter 241). In this year Alfonso, King of Portugal, having taken the city of Santarem by the intercessions of S. Bernard, sent letters asking for monks to be sent that he may found a monastery of the Cistercian Order in his kingdom. Founded:— Alcobaça, Diocese of Lisbon, in Portugal, by the before-mentioned king. Vauricher, in Diocese of Bayeux. Margan, in Wales. Espina, in Diocese of Palancia, in Castile, by Sanchia, the sister of King Alfonso (Letter 301). Also the monastery of Grandselve, in Diocese of Toulouse, of the Order of S. Benedict, was adopted, its Abbot, Bernard, passing over himself with the whole house (Letter 242). 1148. This year Pope Eugenius was present at a general council of the Cistercian Order, and consecrated a new cemetery for them. Taking leave of the brethren, not without tears, he returned into Italy. After the departure of Eugenius from France, S. Malachi, Primate of Ireland, who was on his way to Rome, to apply to the Pontiff for the pallium, happily departed this life at the place he most wished, namely, Clairvaux, and at the time also, namely, on the very day of the solemn commemoration of all the departed. His memory began to be held famous immediately upon his death (see the Epistle Consolatory, 374, to the Irish; also his Life, by S. Bernard; and two Sermons delivered at the time of his burial). The new building for the Abbey of Clairvaux was completed at the very time that S. Malachi was lying at the point of death, and the bones of the venerable Fathers which at first had slept in the old monastery were translated from the old cemetery to the new on the Festival of All Saints (Sermon i. on S. Malachi, n. 1). His canonization is in the Chronicle of Clairvaux (given by Chifflet), referred to 1192. In the same year died the blessed Humbert, Abbot of Igny. (For proof of this date see note on a Sermon delivered by Bernard on his death.) Founded:— Cambroane, in the Diocese of Cambray. The first Abbot was Fastrade, from Clairvaux, which latter Abbey he was the head of after Robert. Also was adopted Alne, in the Diocese of Liège, previously a Benedictine Abbey, and afterwards a house of Regular Canons. Also in this year Serlo, Abbot of Savigny, submitted his own abbey and thirty other monasteries depending upon it; viz., the Benedictine Abbey of Savigny, in the Diocese of Avranches, to Clairvaux, during the meeting of the great Chapter of Cîteaux; and four also were adopted from Stephen, the founder and father of the rising community of Obazin, in the Diocese of Limoges. 1149. In this year King Louis returned to France after the unsuccessful issue of the Crusade (see Letter 386; Lib. de Consideratione, ii. 1; and Life, iii. 4). When making preparations for a new expedition he was dissuaded by the Cistercians, as Abbot Robert reports in his Chronicle, under A.D. 1150. In the same year Henry, brother of King Louis (Chronicle of Tours), who had before been Treasurer of S. Martin at Tours and afterwards had put on the monastic habit at Clairvaux, was made Archbishop of Beauvais (see Letter 307 and notes). Founded this year:— Font-Morigny, Diocese of Bourges. Aubepierre, Diocese of Limoges. Lonway, Diocese of Langres. Looz, Diocese of Tournay. Also adopted, Boulancourt, a house of Regular Canons, in the Diocese of Troyes. 1150. Bernard sends Book ii. of his de Consideratione to Pope Eugenius, now, after many conflicts, in possession of Rome, and makes it include an apology for the recent design of a Crusade. He receives a consolatory letter from John, Abbot of Casa Maria, in the town of Véroli (now Letter 386 among those of Bernard). 1151. Abbot Rainald, of Cîteaux, died towards the end of the preceding year, and was now succeeded by Goswin, Abbot of Bonnevaux, in Poitou (Letter 270). This year died Hugo, Bishop of Auxerre. Respecting the election of his successor, see Letters 261, 274, and onwards. Also Suger, Abbot of S. Denys, to whom, when on his death-bed, Bernard wrote Letter 266. Founded the Monastery of Hesron, in Diocese of Roskild, Denmark. 1152. This year died Theobald, Count of Champagne, a man of distinguished piety, the friend and patron of S. Bernard. He was buried in the monastery of Lagny, on the Marne, of which he was patron (advocatus). Bernard wrote to him Letter 271 not long before his death. Adopted this year the Abbey of Moreilles, in Diocese of Maillezais. Also (about this time) Armentera, in Diocese of Compostella, Gallicia. Founded:— Abbey of Clermont, in Diocese of Mans. 1153. Pope Eugenius died this year. Not long after died the holy Doctor Bernard, worn out with many labours for God and the Church. Though his strength was consumed by violent disease since the middle of the winter, as he writes in Letters 288, 307, 308, he had succeeded in making peace between the townsmen of Metz. He rested in peace himself at length, on the 18th of August, at nine o’clock a.m., in his sixty-third year, in the fortieth year of his monastic profession, and in the thirty-eighth year of office as Abbot. Bernard was succeeded by Robert, Abbot of Dunes. In this very week Ascalon, the strongest city in Palestine, was taken by the Christians, according to the frequently repeated promise of the Saint (Life, iii. 4). Founded this year monasteries at:— Peyrouse, Diocese of Périgueux. Mores, Diocese of Langres. And adopted:— Abbey of Monte Ramo, in Diocese of Orense, in Gallicia. LIST AND ORDER OF THE LETTER S OF S. BERNARD, ABBOTDATE.
LETTERSLETTER I. (Circa 1119.)TO HIS COUSIN ROBERT, WHO HAD WITHDRAWN FROM THE CISTERCIAN ORDER TO THE CLUNIACHe recalls, with wonderful gentleness, and affection more than fatherly, Robert, his relative; who, induced either by shrinking from a very severe Rule, the attraction of a freer life, or the blandishments and cunning suggestions of others, had withdrawn from the Cistercian Order to the Cluniac. 1. I have waited long enough, my dear son Robert, perhaps too long, \[hoping\] that the grace of God might deign to visit both your soul and mine, inspiring you with salutary contrition and me with joy for your repentance. But since my hope is so far not fulfilled, I am no longer able to hide my grief or express my anxiety. Thus, though wounded, I am obliged to call upon my assailant; despised, to ask for the pity of him who contemns me; though injured, to make satisfaction to my injurer; and in fine, against all rule, to beseech him who ought to beseech me. Extreme grief does not deliberate or observe limits, is not ashamed, does not fear loss of dignity; it disregards measure, and rule, and order. The powers of the mind are wholly occupied in relieving itself, by any means, of what causes it pain, or in obtaining what it suffers to be without. But you say: I have not injured nor despised anyone, but rather, being scorned and injured in many ways, I have fled from my enemy. Whom have I injured in fleeing from injuries? Is it not better to withdraw from the persecutor than to resist him?—to fly the striker than to strike back? Truly, I allow it. Not to contend have I begun to write, but to bring contention to an end. The pursuer—not the fugitive—is to be blamed for a flight from persecution. I pass over what has been done. I do not ask why or how. I do not discuss whose is the fault, and I wish to bury all remembrance of wrongs. Such \[discussions\] are wont to arouse, not to soften, differences. I speak only of what is more to my heart—unhappy that I am—to be deprived of you, and not to see you, death for whom would be to me life, and without whom life is death! I do not ask why you went away. I complain only because you have not returned. I speak not of the causes of your departure, but of the delay of your return. Return only, and there shall be peace. Return, and it shall suffice, and I will sing with joy, He was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found! (S. Luke 15:32). 2. Surely it was my fault that you departed. I was rigid to a delicate youth: I was severe, and treated harshly a sensitive mind. When you were here you were wont, as far as I remember, to murmur against me, and since, as I have heard, you do not cease to blame me, though absent. It shall not be laid to your charge. I might, perhaps, allege that it was my duty to restrain the passions of petulant youth, and that those harsh beginnings of strict discipline are needful in early years, as the Scripture bears witness: Chasten thy son with a rod, and thou shalt deliver his soul from death (Prov. 23:13); and, again, Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth (Heb. 12:6), and that More wholesome are the wounds of a friend than the kisses of an enemy (Prov. 27:6). But let it be, as I said, that it was by my fault you went away; only let there be no contention about the offence to hinder the amends for it. I have, perhaps, sometimes and in some matters acted unwisely towards you, but never have I been ill-disposed. Therefore, spare the penitent, or at least have consideration for one who speaks frankly to you. If you fear for the future you shall find me not what I was, because I think that you are not what you were. A changed person yourself, you shall find me changed, and him whom you before feared as a master you may safely embrace as a companion. Therefore, whether you withdrew by my fault, as you think and I do not dispute, or by your own, as many think, although I do not maintain it, or by our common fault, as I incline to think, if for this reason you demur to return, you alone shall be without excuse. Would you be free from all blame? Return. If you acknowledge your fault, I forgive it. Do you also forgive me where I acknowledge mine, otherwise either you are too indulgent to yourself, when you are conscious of your fault and yet will not acknowledge it, or you are too unmerciful to me, whom you will not forgive even when I make amends. 3. Now, if you are unwilling to return, seek some other excuse wherewith to flatter your conscience, for henceforth there will be no reason for you to dread the severity of my rule. You need not fear that I shall be too severe to you when you are here, seeing that I abase myself with my whole heart to you when absent, and am bound to you by entire affection. I practise humility, I promise love, and do you still fear? You have fled from a stern \[ruler\]; return to a gentle one. Let my lenity recall you, since my severity drove you away. See, my son, how I wish to recall you—not in fear again and in the spirit of servitude, but in the spirit of filial adoption, in which you may call and not be disappointed, Abba, Father! (Rom. 8:15). Though you have caused me so great grief I use not threats and terrors, but caresses and entreaties. Others would, perhaps, employ different means; would lay before you your offence, would remind you of your vow, and awake in you the fear of judgment. They would reproach you with disobedience, with apostacy in abandoning a coarse garment for a line habit, a diet of vegetables for dainties, and, in fine, poverty for riches. But I know that you are more easily induced by love than compelled by fear, and I have not thought it needful to goad the unresisting, to terrify the frightened, to confound still more him who blushes. But would it not seem an unheard-of thing that a youth, modest, simple, and retiring, should have dared to violate his vow, to leave the place of his profession against the will of his brethren, the authority of his master, the obligation of his rule? Yet it is not more strange than that the piety of David should have been beguiled (2 Sam. 11), the wisdom of Solomon mocked (1 Kings 11), the strength of Samson rendered vain (Judges 16). What wonder that he who deceived our first parents and expelled them from Paradise should have seduced an inexperienced young man in the midst of a desert solitude! Add to this that he has not been led away by beauty, as the elders of Babylon (Hist, of Susan., 8), nor by the love of money, as Gehazi (2 Kings 5:20), nor by ambitious desires, as Julian the Apostate, but holiness deceived him, religion seduced him, the authority of his elders led him astray. Do you ask how? 4. A certain great Prior was sent forth by his superiors: and he, a wolf disguised in sheep’s clothing, was admitted into the sheepfold. He attracts, he allures, he flatters; the preacher of a new Gospel, he commends drunkenness, condemns frugality; voluntary poverty he calls misery; fasts, vigils, silence, the labour of the hands, he styles folly; but, on the contrary, sloth he names contemplation; gluttony, loquacity, inquisitiveness, in short, every kind of excess, he calls discretion. What, he says, does God delight in our sufferings? Where does Scripture bid anyone to slay himself? What sort of religion is it to dig the earth, to cut wood, to carry manure? Is it not the declaration of the Truth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice (S. Matt. 9:13, Ezek. 33:11, S. Matt. 5:7). Why has God created food if it is not permitted to eat it? or given us bodies if we must not sustain them? And then, He that is evil to himself, to whom will he be good (Ecclus. 14:5). What wise man ever hated his own flesh? (Eph. 5:29). 5. Thus with such pleadings a too credulous youth is seduced; he follows his deluder, he is led to Cluny; he is shorn, shaven, washed; in place of his worn, cheap, rustic clothes he is clad in new, fashionable, and costly ones, and thus he is taken into the convent. And with what honour, triumph, and observance! He, a youth, is set above his equals, above his seniors; the entire brotherhood favours, compliments, congratulates him; they all rejoice as victors when they divide the spoil. O, good Jesus! how many things are done for the destruction of one poor soul! Whose heart, however firm, would not grow soft? whose inner eye, however spiritual it might be, would not be confused? Among such distractions who could consult his conscience, who could either recognize truth, or maintain humility? 6. Application is made on his account to Rome. Apostolic authority is approached; and that the Pope may not refuse his consent, it is suggested to him that \[the youth when\] an infant was offered to that monastery by his parents. There was no one to contradict this; judgment was given upon a mere statement, and against the absent. Those who did the injury are justified, those who suffered it put off altogether, and the offender absolved without making satisfaction. Too mild a sentence of absolution is confirmed by a cruel privilege, which, when reported, encouraged and rendered secure the ill-assured victim of bad advice. And among these things a soul may perish for which Christ died, because the Cluniacs choose! Profession is made upon profession, vows which will not be loosed and cannot be kept, and since the first agreement is made invalid, a pretext is found for a second, and sin heaped upon sin. 7. May He speedily come who will right wrongs judicially done and put to shame unlawful oaths, who will right those that suffer wrong, will judge the poor in justice, and contend with equity for the meek of the earth! To Thy tribunal, O, Lord Jesus, I appeal; to Thee I commit my cause, O, Lord God of Sabaoth, who judgest justly, and triest the reins and the hearts (Jer. 11:20), whose eyes, as they cannot deceive, so they cannot be deceived. Thou seest who seeks the things which are Thine, and who seeks his own (1 Cor. 13:5). Thou knowest with what gentleness I have succoured him in all his temptations, with what groanings I have wearied for him the ears of Thy Holiness, how troubled I used to be by his faults and escapades. And now I fear that it was in vain. For I think, as far as I have tried, that it is for the profit neither of the mind or body of a young man, by himself sufficiently eager and inexperienced, to apply to the one such stimulants, to the other such incentives to vanity. Therefore, Lord Jesus, be Thou my judge; let my sentence come forth from Thy presence, let Thine eyes look upon the thing that is equal (Ps. 17:2). 8. Let them see and judge which ought rather to stand good, the vow of a father respecting his son or that of the son respecting himself, especially when he has made the vow even more perfect. Let them see how Thy servant, our law-giver Benedict, would have decided; whether what was done respecting a young infant, without his knowledge, or what he himself afterwards did advisedly of his own accord, when he was of an age to speak for himself, should hold good. It is clear that he was promised only, not given. The petition which the Rule prescribes was not made on his behalf by the parents, nor his hand with the petition folded in the covering of the altar, so that he might be offered before witnesses. A \[piece of\] ground is shown which is said to have been given with him and for him. But if they received him with the ground, why did they not keep him as well as the ground? Did they, perhaps, require more than its fruit, or value the land more than this soul? Otherwise, if offered to the monastery, what was he seeking in the world? If he were to be brought up for God, why was he abandoned to the devil? Why was Christ’s sheep found a prey to the wolf? From the world you came, Robert, yourself being witness, not from Cluny, when you came to Citeaux. You requested admission, you begged, you entreated; but were put off for two years, on account of your tender age, though you were most unwilling to wait. Which time being patiently and blamelessly fulfilled, you begged with many prayers and even (if you remember) tears, and at length obtained, the wished-for favour and the entrance \[into the Order\] which you had so desired. After this, being patiently proved for a year, according to the Rule, and your demeanour being resolved and without reproach, you were professed at your own wish; then first you discarded the secular dress and put on the religious habit. 9. O, foolish boy! who has enchanted you that you should not fulfil the vows of your own lips? Shall you not be justified or be condemned out of your own mouth? Why are you careful about your parent’s vow and forgetful of your own, forgetting that out of your mouth, not of his, you will be judged? Who can flatter you with talk about an apostolical absolution, while the Word of God itself holds your conscience bound? No one, He says, putting his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God (S. Luke 9:62). Question your own heart, your intention; let your conscience answer you why you fled, why you deserted your Order, your brethren, your place, and me; me, who am near you in blood and still nearer in spirit. If you are now living more severely, more correctly, more perfectly than before, then you may be confident that you have not looked back, and glory with the Apostle who says: Forgetting the things that are behind and pressing forward unto the things that are before, I press unto the mark (Philipp. 3:13). But if it is otherwise, be not high-minded, but fear; because whatever indulgence you give to yourself in food, in unnecessary dress, in idle words, in unregulated and inquisitive licence, beyond what you have promised and have observed here, this beyond doubt is a looking back, a wandering from the path; in short, an apostacy. 10. And these things I say to you, my son, not to distress you, but to warn you, for though you have many teachers in Christ, you have not many fathers (1 Cor. 4:14). For (if you should deem it of any value) both by word and by my example have I begotten you to religion. Does it please you that another person should glory in you, who has laboured not at all for you and in you? Like as to the harlot before Solomon, so it has happened to me: namely, to her whose little son had been secretly taken away by another, who had overlaid and destroyed her own (1 Kings 3:20). 11. Now for what advantage to you, or for what need of yours, have our friends endeavoured to do this? For as for me, if I had ever offended them in anything (which I am not conscious of having done), I would at once have made full amends. But it is strange if I have not sustained the worse reprisal; if (that is to say) I have been able to do them some such injury, as I have now endured from them. For I protest that they have taken, not the bone of my bones nor flesh of my flesh, but the very joy of my heart, the fruit of my spirit, the crown of my hope, and (as I verily feel) the half of my soul. And why? Perhaps they pitied you, and not bearing to see the blind leading the blind, they took you to their own leading, that you might not perish under mine. But could not you be saved, unless I were despoiled? And would that you may be saved even without me! But is your salvation likely to be more advanced by nicety of dress, and abundance of dainties, than by frugality of dress and living? If soft and warm garments, fine and costly cloths, full sleeves, an ample hood, a thick and soft coverlet, and fine linen make a saint, why should not I also follow the example? But these are the comforts of the sick, not the weapons of combatants. For those who wear soft clothing are in kings’ houses (S. Matt. 11:8). Wine and fine flour, mead and fat things, fight for the body, not the soul. With broiled meats the flesh, not the soul, is made fat. Many brethren in Egypt long served God without using even fish. Pepper, ginger, cumin, sage, and a thousand kinds of things pickled, delight indeed the palate, but inflame the passions. And do you place security in these things? or suppose that you can spend your youth safely thus? Salt, with hunger, is sufficient condiment to one who lives soberly and prudently; but if hunger is not waited for, it becomes needful to excite it with I know not what potions. 12. But what shall he do, you say, who cannot live otherwise? I know that you are delicate and would not be able to endure a harder life, but that is only because you are accustomed to these things. But what if you could make yourself able? Do you ask how? Rise, gird yourself, shake off sloth, use your powers, move your arms, open those folded hands, do something useful, and you will soon find that you have appetite for what takes away hunger without pampering the palate. Many things which, when idle, you turn from, after labour you will take with relish. Cabbage, beans, pottage, coarse bread, with water, are little appetizing, I allow, to an idle person, but they seem great delicacies to one who has laboured. Having become unaccustomed to tunics, you are perhaps afraid to take to wear them again, as being too cold in winter and too hot in summer; but have you ever read, He who fears the hoar frost the snow shall fall upon him? (Job 6:16). Idleness produces distaste, exercise, hunger. You fear watchings, fastings, and the labour of the hands; but these things are trifles to him who meditates on the everlasting burnings. Then the remembrance of the outer darkness causes you not to shudder at solitude. If you remember that every idle word shall be called in question (S. Matt. 12:36), silence will not greatly displease you. That eternal weeping and gnashing of teeth, if brought before the eyes of the heart, will render hard mat or soft couch the same thing to you. Finally, if you have faithfully kept watch the whole time of the night which the Rule prescribes, with Psalms (Rule of S. Bened., cap. ix. seqq.), hard indeed will be the couch on which you will not sleep soundly. 13. Rise, soldier of Christ, shake off the dust, return to the battle whence you have fled, fight more bravely after your flight, and you shall conquer the more gloriously. Christ has indeed many soldiers who have set out bravely, stood fast and overcome, but few, who having turned back from flight and dared anew the peril which they had evaded, have put to flight the enemies from whom they had fled. And because every rare thing is precious, I rejoice that you should be of those who shall appear the more glorious the rarer they are. But do not think that because you have fled from the fight, you have escaped from the hands of the enemy. The adversary overtakes you with more pleasure when flying than he resists you when combating, and strikes more boldly at your back than he attacks face to face. Are you securely taking your morning slumbers, when at that time Christ rose from the dead; and thus unarmed, at once more timid yourself and less formidable to enemies? A multitude of armed ones have surrounded your house, and you are sleeping? Already they ascend the mound, they pull down the palisade, they rush in at the postern door. Is it safer for you that they should find you alone than with others—naked in your bed than armed and in the field? Rise up, seize your arms, and fly to your fellow soldiers whom you have deserted. Let fear itself join you again to those from whom it parted you. Why do you, O, effeminate warrior, shrink from the weight and hardness of your weapons? The adversary pressing on you and the darts flying around will make the shield, the cuirass, and the helmet seem to be no burden. Even the bravest soldiers have fears when the trumpet sounds before the combat, but when they are in the thick of the fight, the hope of victory and the fear of being overcome renders them intrepid. But what can you fear when the unanimity of your brethren and fellow combatants fortifies you on all sides, when the Angels stand beside you, when Christ, the leader of the war, will go before you, cheering His own on to victory, and saying, Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world! (S. John 16:33). If Christ be for us, who can be against us? (Rom. 8:31). You can fight safely when you are sure of victory. Safe, indeed, is warfare with and for Christ, for, though wounded, prostrate, trampled on, killed, if possible, a thousand times, yet, if only you do not fly, you shall not lose the victory. Flight, flight alone can take it from you. Woe to you if, in declining the fight, you lose at once the victory and the crown; which may God avert from you, my dearest son, since your condemnation will be the greater, if I have rightly charged you in this my letter. LETTER II. (Circa A.D. 1120.)TO A YOUTH NAMED FULK, WHO AFTERWARDS WAS ARCHDEACON OF LANGRESHe 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. 1. I do not wonder at your surprise; I should wonder if you were not surprised that I should write to you, a countryman to a citizen, a monk to a scholastic, there being no apparent or pressing reason for so doing. But if you recall what is written—I am debtor both to the wise and to the unwise (Rom. 1:14), and that Charity seeketh not her own (1 Cor. 13:5)—perhaps you will understand that what it orders is not mere presumption. For it is Charity which compels me to reprove you; to condole with you, though you do not grieve; to pity 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, employest 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. 68:6). 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 rejected 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 themselves; 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 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 6:30). 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 thou sawest a thief thou consentedst with him (Ps. 50:18). 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 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 temptation. 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 perdition? 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, How often would I have gathered thy nephews as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings and thou wouldest not? Behold thy house is left unto thee desolate (S. Matt, 23:37). Christ says, Suffer the little children to come unto Me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven (S. Matt. 19:14). 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, 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 cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out (S. John 6:37). 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. 2:16), not so to him. Wherefore? Because the carnal man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him (1 Cor. 2:14). 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 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 prepared? 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 cannot be concealed. Fulk is a Canon Regular, and if he returns to the world will be remarked and disgraced. But it is better to hear that about him than to live without him. Let integrity yield to convenience, 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 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 persecute 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. 76:12). 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. Remember that Lot’s wife was, indeed, delivered from Sodom because she believed God, but was transformed in the way because she looked back (Gen. 19:26). 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 9:62). 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. 36:4). Do not turn aside to vanities and falsehoods (Ps. 40:4). Behold in the way in which you walk he hides snares—he has stretched nets. His discourses are smooth as butter, and yet they are sharp spears (Ps. 55:21). See, my son, that you are not 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 betrays; it betrays to catch the poor when it has attracted him (Ps. 10:9). Beware, I say, My son, that you do not confer with flesh and blood (Gal. 1:16), for My sword shall devour flesh (Deut. 32:42). 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 pronounced. 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 apostatize. 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. 12:30). 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 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. 3:18). These and similar warnings 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. 58:4, 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 one snatched Fulk from S. Augustine, so the other Othbert from S. Benedict. How much more beautiful 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 intercessor 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 somewhat 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 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 sweetness 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. 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. Why, 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 violation of your vow. Therefore, beloved, do not compare yourself with your contemporaries, from whom the profession which you have made separates you, nor flatter yourself so much because of your self-restraint in comparison with men of the world, since the Lord says to you, I would thou wert hot or cold (Apoc. 3:15, 16). 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 fervent in warmth. And because I have found thee lukewarm, He says, I 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. 4:11). 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 eats of Me shall always hunger, and he who drinks of Me shall never cease to desire to drink again (Ecclus. 24:29). 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 (1 Cor. 10:21). The cup of demons is pride, detraction, 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 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 incompatible. 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 splendour 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 preserve 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 (colloquia: otherwise counsels, consilia). 11. 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 16:25). 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 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 præbend 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. 30:8). The Apostle says, having food and clothing (1 Tim. 6:8), 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. 28:20). 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 makes 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 effeminate soldier? Your fellow soldiers whom you have deserted by flight are fighting 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 13:10). 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 144:1). 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 25:12). Make yourself known then and seen beforehand, 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 14:21). 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 (1 Corinthians 13:12). In the meantime I have by 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 III. (Circa 1120.)TO THE CANONS REGULAR OF HORRICOURTTheir 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 convincing 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 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 us is the Lord (1 Corinthians 4:4). As to the brothers concerning whose safety we recognize that your charity has been solicitous, that we should return them to you unharmed; know that by the advice and persuasion of many illustrious persons, and chiefly of that very distinguished man William, Bishop of Châlons, 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 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 IV. (Circa 1127.)TO ARNOLD, ABBOT OF MORIMONDHe recalls Abbot Arnold, who had rashly left his monastery and was wandering abroad, to the care of it. To the Lord Abbot Arnold, Brother Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, desires the spirit of compunction and prudence. 1. First of all I have to inform you that the Abbot of Cîteaux has not yet returned from Flanders, whither he had gone, passing by this place a little before your messenger came to us, and because of this he has not yet received the letter which you charged to be presented to him, and hitherto is ignorant of the great novelty which you have presumed to undertake. He would be happy, I consider, to be ignorant of such deplorable rumours as long as possible. As for yourself, that you should forbid me to write to you, and should declare useless the efforts I should have made to try to dispose you to return, because you say that your course is irrevocably taken, makes me despair. Perhaps, indeed, I ought not in reason to obey you in this; but in truth, the grief I feel will not suffer me to keep silence; and more, if I knew for certain where I should meet you, I would rather have come to you, than have sent this letter, to try if I should have more success in person than my letter is likely to obtain. Perhaps you smile at my unfounded confidence, inasmuch as you are conscious of your own strength of purpose, and hope that no force, no prayers, no persistence would be able to bend it. But I am not distrustful of His power who said: All things are possible to him that believeth (S. Mark 9:22). And I do not hesitate to apply to myself that saying: I can do all things in Him who strengtheneth me (Philip. 4:13). Although I myself am not ignorant of the obstinacy of your stony heart, yet would that I could now take you aside to plead with you, whether successfully or not. Then I would put before you face to face not only in words but in looks and in countenance what I have in my heart against you, whether uselessly or not, I cannot tell. Then I would fall at your feet, I would embrace your knees; and falling upon your neck would kiss that head which is so dear to me, and which has borne many years with me the gentle yoke of Christ. Weeping, I would beg and entreat you with all my energy, by Jesus Christ, to spare His Cross by which He has redeemed those whom you, as far as in you lies, are destroying; has collected those whom you are dispersing. You are destroying, I say, those whom you desert, and dispersing those whom you take with you, for each of whom I fear an equal peril, though of a different kind. And, lastly, spare also us your friends to whom you have left nothing but grief and tears, although undeserved. If it had been permitted to me, I could have influenced you, perhaps, by the feelings of the heart, though not by reason; and the tenderness of a brother would, perhaps, have softened that iron heart which now refuses to yield even to the fear of Christ. But, alas! even this opportunity you have taken away from us. 2. O, powerful support of our Order! Listen patiently, I beg, to your friend, though absent, who cannot bear your entire departure, and who feels with you to the very marrow your sufferings and dangers. Do you not fear, O, great support of our Order, that by your fall its entire ruin will surely and speedily follow? But I, you say, do not fall; I know what I am doing, I have a good conscience. Be it so. I believe you in what you say of yourself, but what of us, who by your departure must groan under the heavy weight of scandal, and trembling expect still heavier perils to come? Or do you know all that, and yet pretend not to know? How do you pretend that you have not made ruin for yourself when you have drawn ruin upon many others? You were not placed in this post to do what was useful to yourself, but rather that which was useful to others; then ought you not to seek not the things which are your own, but those which are for Jesus Christ? How, I ask, will you depart in safety, who have taken away by your departure every kind of security from the flock committed to you for ever? Who will protect them from the attacking wolves, who will console them in tribulations, provide for them in temptations, and resist for them the roaring lion who seeks whom he may devour? They will be exposed, without doubt, to the bites of the wicked, who devour the flock of Christ as bread. Alas! what will be the fate of those new plantations of Christ, which, by your hands, He had set in divers places, in the spots of horror and solitude? Who will dig around, who nourish them, surround them by a hedge, and cut back with care the greedy shoots which exhaust their strength? Either, when the wind of temptations shall blow, these ill rooted ones shall easily be rooted up, or growing up among thickets of thorns will be choked by them, as there is none to clear them away, and thus will bring forth no fruit. 3. This being so, consider what is this good which you have done, and whether it can be called good, in the midst of such evil consequences. However worthy the fruits of penitence that you flatter yourself you will make, will they not be necessarily choked in the midst of thorns? Do you not, in fact, sin, even if you offer rightly, if you do not rightly divide the victim? Will you say that you rightly divide when you trouble yourself only about your own soul, and deprive those sons who were committed to you of a father’s care? O, unhappy ones, and to be pitied; the more that they see themselves orphaned even while their father lives! Then, farther, ought you not to have doubted whether you were doing well, even for your own soul, to venture on a step so unexampled without the advice of your brethren and co-abbots, without the permission of your father and master? It must also raise against you the indignation of many, that you have led away with you weak youths and delicate young men. Or, if they were strong and robust, then they were indispensable to the house now desolate; but if (as I have said) weak and delicate, they will not be fit to endure the fatigues of a hard and laborious journey. And we cannot believe that your remaining over them is because you wish still to direct their souls, since we know that you propose to lay down the burden of the pastoral charge of them, and henceforth to live for yourself alone. And, furthermore, it would be unfitting that without being called you should presumptuously resume in one place a burden which against rule you have rashly laid down in another. But you know all these things, and I do not wish to press upon you superfluous words; but, in conclusion, I faithfully promise that if you ever give me the opportunity of converse with you I will strive to find for you a means of doing as far as may be with permission, and therefore in peace of mind, what you are now attempting lawlessly and with peril. Farewell. LETTER V. (A.D. 1125.)TO A MONK ADAMBernard exhorts him not to adhere to Arnold, the Abbot of Morimond, nor make himself the companion of his journey, or rather wandering. 1. Your humility, which is well known to me, and the circumstances of peril in which you stand, oblige me to address you earnestly and reprehend you in plain words. O, foolish one! who has bewitched you to withdraw so hastily from the salutary rule of life in which you equally with me (God is witness) were lately agreed? Consider your ways, O foolish one, and turn your steps towards the testimonies of the Lord. Do you not remember that you first dedicated the first fruits of your conversion at Marmoutiers; then that you were put under my poor direction at Foigny, and that you made your final profession at Morimond? Was it not there again that at my suggestion you frankly renounced the journeying, or rather wandering, suggested to you by Abbot Arnold, and you saw clearly that company with him was forbidden to you if he himself was not able to go forth lawfully? What then? Can you say that he departs in a lawful manner who has left a lamentable scandal amongst those committed to him, not waiting for the licence of his superior? 2. But to what purpose, you may ask, are all these details? That I may show you your manifest inconstancy; that I may show you clearly that you say both Yes and No; that I may force you to recognize and blush for your errors, and to learn, though late, from the Apostle that we must not believe every spirit (1 S. John 4:1). Learn from Solomon to have many friends, but to choose one counsellor among a thousand (Ecclus. 6:6); learn from the example of the Forerunner of the Lord not to wear soft clothing nor to be blown about with every wind of doctrine, like a reed shaken with the wind (S. Matt. 11:7, 8); learn from the Gospel to build thy house upon a rock (S. Matt. 7:24); learn also with the disciples not to forget the wisdom of the serpent with the simplicity of the dove (S. Matt. 10:16); and both from these as from a great many other testimonies of Scripture you may get to understand how greatly that seducer has deceived you, who, since he was not able to arrest the beginning of good in you, envied your perseverance, considering without doubt that it would be sufficient for his malicious purpose if he could take away from you this one and only virtue which would assure you the crown. I beg you, therefore, by the bowels of the mercy of Christ, that you wander abroad no more, or at least not before you come to speak with me at a place convenient to us both, and consider what remedy may be found for the very great evils which from your departure we either feel have happened or feel will happen. Farewell. LETTER VI. (A.D. 1125.)TO BRUNO OF COLOGNEBernard begs him to take means for bringing back certain wandering monks of Morimond to their monastery. To the very dear and most illustrious lord Bruno, Brother Bernard, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and whatever good the prayers of a sinner can bring. Since the day when we had the pleasure to become acquainted at Rheims I trust I have retained some small share in your remembrance; and because of this I do not write to you timidly, as to a stranger, but freely and confidently, as to a well-known and familiar friend. 1. Arnold, Abbot of Morimond, has lately quitted his monastery and scandalized our entire Order by his breach of rule, because he neither waited for the advice of his brother abbots before carrying out a plan of so doubtful a nature, nor for the licence or assent of the Abbot of Clairvaux, under whose authority he was. But being a man under authority and having soldiers under him, while he proudly threw off the yoke of his superior, he still more proudly kept his own yoke upon those subjected to him. Thus of a great multitude of monks, whom uselessly traversing sea and land he had gathered together, not for Christ, but for himself, abandoning a few only, and those the simpler and least fervent, he has taken the better and more perfect as sharers of his error. Among whom, three whose withdrawal has much troubled me, he has dared to win over and take away with him, namely, Everard our brother, Adam, whom you have known well, and that noble youth Conrad, whom some time ago, not without scandal, he carried off from Cologne. Whom, if you would kindly take the trouble, I feel sure that you would be able to recover. 2. Concerning Arnold himself, I have long known his obstinacy and unbending mind, and I do not wish to trouble you with useless efforts to recall him. But I have heard that Everard, Adam, and some of the other brethren of the same company, are now staying in your neighbourhood. If that is the case, it would be well if you would go yourself at once to see them, would win them over by entreaty, convince them by reason, and strengthen in them the simplicity of the dove with the wisdom of the serpent. Make them understand that obedience should not hold them to a man who has not himself been obedient; that they cannot lawfully follow a superior who is unlawfully wandering abroad; nor be drawn away to desert the Order they have professed for the sake of a man who has disregarded its Rule; that the Apostle bids us not to hesitate to declare anathema even an angel from heaven, who should preach another gospel; and that by the same Apostle they are taught to withdraw themselves from any brother that walketh disorderly (2 Thess. 3:6). Who may teach you also to be not high-minded nor trust in uncertain riches (1 Tim. 6:17), until Christ shall claim for Himself His true disciple, proved by his renunciation of all things. Farewell. LETTER VII. (A.D. 1126.)TO THE MONK ADAM1. 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. 11:29). 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 mother of peace and concord, on what ground, I ask you, do you presume that your sacrifice, whatever it may be, will be accepted by God, when without it even martyrdom profiteth nothing (1 Cor. 13:3)? 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. 1:5). 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, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me (Isa. 1:2). Charity is God Himself. Christ is our peace, who hath made both one (Eph. 2:14). 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 disobedient? But you cannot have forgotten the conclusion to which we came one day after a long 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. 1:1). 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. 8:4). 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. 19:6). But the Apostle asserts that when the husband is dead the wife is freed from the law of her husband (Rom. 7:2), 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? 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 obedience. 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. 125:5, VULG.). And that no one may contend 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. 18:20). 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 5:29). Does not the Lord in the Gospel blame the Pharisees: Ye transgress the commandment of God on account of your traditions (S. Matt. 15:3). And by Isaiah: In vain they worship Me, he says, teaching the commands and doctrines of men (Is. 29:13). And also to our first father. Because thou hast obeyed thy wife rather than Me, the earth shall be rebellious to thy work (Gen. 3:17). 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 circumstances 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 practise 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 practise 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 are, finally, things of a middle kind which are not in themselves good or evil; they may be indifferently 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 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 Cîteaux (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, without caring for the prohibition of the Apostle, and his precept, to withdraw from even brother who walks disorderly (2 Thess. 3:6). Despising also the voice of the Lord himself, He who gathereth not with me scattereth (S. Matt. 12:30). To you, brethren, belongs clearly and specially that reproach spoken by Jeremiah, which I recall with grief: This is a nation that obeyeth not the voice of the Lord their God (Jer. 7:28). 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 ringer to ward off simple souls from his ungodly example: He who is not with Me, He says, scatters; ought you to have followed a disperse? 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 exposed 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 without 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. 7. I should be able, indeed, to bring forward the Abbot of Cîteaux 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 committed to his charge, rightly complains that you have held him in contempt because of the other. I might 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 10:16). 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. 9:12), 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, 18:6). 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 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, 15:14), 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 presumption, 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 unexampled 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 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 permitted 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 intention, 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 irrefragable 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, 18:6–10), 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 permitted to anyone 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 conceived in sorrow, but they did not bring forth iniquity until the Pope had afforded his consent to that unrighteous 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 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 importunity. 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 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. 11. 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 display 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 impatience! 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 scandalous and yet you obeyed him! True patience consists in doing or in suffering what is displeasing 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 heaven, Woe to him through whom scandal cometh (S. Matt, 18:7). 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 together 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 deafness! What a voice of power and magnificence when the words are spoken: Let the Lord arise and let His enemies be scattered (Ps. 68:2). And again: Disperse them by Thy power, O Lord, my protector, and put them down (Ps. 59:12). 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 together 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 concerns one whom it was not right for me to contradict. The disciple is not above his master; and it was to be taught, not to teach, that I attached myself 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 himself another Antony, 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! And this is obedience without delay. If this is a right view of duty, then without cause do we read in the Church: Prove all things, hold fast that which is good (1 Thess. 5:21). 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. 10:16). 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 prudence 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 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, 18:6). 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 obedience 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 7:6). If you see and feel this, do you not groan if you 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 of unclean lips (Isaiah 6:5). For he blames himself not because he dwelt among sinners, but because he has not condemned their sins. For, so he says: Woe is me because I have been silent (Isaiah 6:5, 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. 140:4, VULG.). Or when he made this prayer: Cleanse me O Lord from my secret sins, and spare Thy servant from the offences of others (Ps. 18:12–13, VULG.). Wherefore he strove to avoid the society of sinners in order not to share in their faults. For he says farther: I have not sat in the council of vanity, and I will not enter into the company of those who do unjustly (Ps. 25:4–5, VULG.). And then he adds: I have hated the congregation 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. 1:10). 14. Have you, then, against these and innumerable other and similar testimonies of the truth, thought that you ought to obey anybody? O, odious perversity! The virtue of obedience which always wars on behalf of truth, is arrayed against truth. Happy the disobedience of brother Henry, who soon repenting of his error and retracing his steps, has the happiness of not persisting longer in such an obedience. 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 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. 16. 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 Cîteaux, whereas I now dwell elsewhere. To which I reply, I am, indeed, a Cistercian monk professed in that place, and was sent forth by my abbot to where I now dwell, but sent forth in peace without scandal, without disorder, according to our usages and constitutions. 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 promised. 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 Cîteaux, 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 promised. 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 obedience, you promised also constancy. And if you have, indeed, obeyed, but have not been constant by offending 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 constancy, which is not even of weight to justify itself? Everyone 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 employed 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 authorize 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 condemned 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 19:22), and because The mouth which lies slays the soul (Wisd. 1:11), and that we chant with truth before God, Thou wilt destroy all those who speak falsehood (Ps. 5:6), and because everyone shall bear his own burden (Gal. 6:5), and everyone shall give account of himself to God (Rom. 14:12). 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: I will render unto Thee my vows, which my lips have uttered (Ps. 66:13, 14). In fact, the abbot himself ought to consider the 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. lxiv. 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. 18. 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: I have not hid my righteousness within my heart: my talk hath been of Thy truth and of Thy salvation (Ps. 40:12). 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 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 displeases anyone, 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. 20:15). 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. 2:24). Take heed, therefore, to thyself. 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? 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 profession 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 (1 Kings 19:18). 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 relaxations 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 (1 Peter 4:8), 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 4:6). 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 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 judgment 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 VIII. (A.D. 1131.)TO BRUNO, ARCHBISHOP ELECT OF COLOGNEBernard 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. 1. 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? 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, confession 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. 30:23). 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 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. 32:2), 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 death unto the land of the living, and from this foul mire into the paradise of joy (S. Luke 23:43). 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 7:37–50), and in a short time she merited to receive that amplitude of charity which, as it is written, covers the multitude of sins (1 S. Peter 4:8). 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 forgiveness 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 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 16:15), until after he had done penitence, accompanying the Lord whithersoever 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 Episcopate 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. 77:10). 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 without 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 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, 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 IX. (A.D. 1132.)TO THE SAME, THEN ARCHBISHOP OF COLOGNEHe exhorts Bruno, then recently created Archbishop of Cologne, to fear. I have received with respect the Letter of your Grace, and have attended with care to what you have enjoined. If I have succeeded, you will have proof. But enough respecting that. Permit me in the same spirit of charity to say what follows. If it is certain that all those who are called to the ministry, are chosen also to the Kingdom, certainly the Archbishop of Cologne is secure of his own salvation. But if Saul was chosen to the kingdom, and Judas to the priesthood, by no other than God Himself, and it cannot be disproved that Scripture asserts this, then it is needful for even the Archbishop of Cologne to fear. But if that declaration holds good even in our own time (and it is true that it does) that not many noble, not many powerful, not many wise are called by God (1 Cor. 1:26), has not the Archbishop of Cologne a triple cause for fearing? Let us, then, who are raised to high dignities, study not to be high-minded, but to fear, and condescend to those of low estate. Have they made you chief? it is said, be among them as one of the rest (Ecclus. 32:1); and again, The greater thou art, the more humble thyself in all things (Ecclus. 30:18). It is the counsel of the wise, and listen to that of Wisdom Himself, who says He that is greatest among you, let him be as the younger (S. Luke 22:26). We know from other passages that those who have authority will have to meet a strict judgment (Wisd. 6:5). Fear, then, ye that are powerful. The servant, also, that knoweth his Lord’s will, and doeth it not, he shall beat with many stripes (S. Luke 12:47). Fear, then, ye that are learned. Let the noble fear, for the Judge of all is not an acceptor of persons. That triple bond of necessary reason for fear will be very difficult to break through. Do I seem hard because I do not flatter, because I inculcate fear, which is the beginning of wisdom, upon a friend? May it be granted to me always so to benefit my friends; that is, by inspiring into them a salutary fear, rather than to deceive them by flattery. To that He incites me who says: Happy is the man who feareth alway (Prov. 28:14); and He deters me from flattery who says: O My people, they who flatter thee cause thee to err (Is. 3:12, VULG.). LETTER X. (A.D. 1132.)TO THE SAMEHe incites Bruno to a just zeal for the punishment of crime. The duty of your office, and the injunction of the Holy See, lay upon you a double obligation to punish a crime so enormous. Yet I think it not superfluous that the admonition of a friend should be added in a matter of such importance. I wish the one whom I regard as father and friend to be admonished of this, to punish in every case that requires it, and with a due degree of severity; so that you should not only visit an offence that is before you with a just chastisement, but should also restrain the hearer from rashly imitating it. LETTER XI. (Circa A.D. 1125.)TO GUIGUES, THE PRIOR, AND TO THE OTHER MONKS OF THE GRAND CHARTREUSEHe discourses much and piously of the law of true and sincere charity, of its signs, its degrees, its effects, and of its perfection which is reserved for Heaven (Patria). 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. 1. 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 12:49). 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 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 heareth (1 Sam. 3:10). 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.” I 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. 84:9, VULG.). Or, at least, this: Depart from me, ye evil-disposed, and I will study the commandments of my God (Ps. 119:115). 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; I am for My Beloved, and My Beloved is for Me; He feedeth among the lilies (Cant. 2:16). 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 rejoicing 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 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 sufficient 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 man’s reward (S. Matt. 10:41). 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 estimation 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 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. 118:1). 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. 49:18). 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 mercenary, and desires somewhat for himself; but the third is a son, and gives praise to his Father. Therefore 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. Wherefore I think that it was of charity that was spoken, The law of the Lord is pure, converting the soul (Ps. 19:7), because it is that alone 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 appearance 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 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 advantageous 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 (1 S. John 4:16). 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 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 themselves—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. 7:24) with which I am so weighed down that unless the Lord had helped me, my soul would almost have dwelt in the grave (Ps. 94:17). With this load was he burdened who groaned, saving: Why hast Thou set me as a mark against Thee, so that I am a burden to myself? (Job 7:20). 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 himself 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 happiness. O Lord, my God, why dost Thou not take away my sin, and pardon my transgression? (Job 7:21). 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 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. 13:8) are themselves as God is in this world, nor are they slaves or mercenaries, but sons. Therefore neither are sons without law, unless, perhaps, some one should think the contrary because of this which is written, the law is not made for a righteous man (1 Tim. 1:9). 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, nevertheless, they are always under the rule of the law of charity? But ye have received the spirit of the adoption of sons (Rom. 8:15). Listen, now, in what manner the righteous man confesses that at the same time he is and is not under the law. I 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 law of God but in the law of Christ (1 Cor. 9:20, 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 Lord also beautifully says, Take My yoke upon you (S. Matt. 11:29). 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 mercenaries. 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. 5:17). 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. 19:9). For that which is written, perfect love takes away fear (1 S. John 4:18), 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, 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 perfected 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 (1 Cor. 15:46, 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 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: I will enter into the powers of the Lord: O, Lord, I will make mention of Thy righteousness only (Ps. 71:16). He knew well that when he entered into the spiritual powers of God he would be freed from all the infirmities 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. 5:16). There no one knows himself according to the flesh, because flesh and blood will not inherit the kingdom of God (1 Cor. 15:50). 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 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 weakness will be far away. We ought not to think that he will still let fall tears over those who have not repented 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. 46:4), the gates of which the Lord loves more than all the dwellings of Jacob (Ps. 87:2), 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. 87:7, VULG.), and again: Everlasting joy shall be unto them (Is. 61:7). 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 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 conversing 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 by 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 (1 Cor. 13:7). 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 (1 Cor. 2:11). 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 feel 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. LETTER XIITO THE SAMEHe 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 acquaintance; 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 endure, and therefore my anger is frequently excited. 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 (1 Samuel 15:13). 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, exposed 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 XIII. (A.D. 1126.)TO THE LORD POPE HONORIUSHe begs that the election of Alberic to the See of Chalons-sur-Marne may be ratified. To the supreme Pontiff Honorius, a certain brother, a monk by profession, and by his life a sinner, sends his humble duty. It is said that over you the prayer of a poor man has more power than the will of the powerful. The thought of this singular nobleness in you, as well as the suggestion of charity, impels me to write without fear to your Highness. I speak to you, my lord, with regard to the Church of Chalons, and I neither am able, nor ought I, to conceal from you as far as my ability extends, the danger to which it is exposed. In fact, being in its neighbourhood, I feel already that the peace of this Church will speedily be profoundly troubled, if your Holiness should not be able to assent to the election of that distinguished man, that is, of Magister Alberic, which has united the suffrages of the whole clergy and the people in an equal vote. On that subject, if you should deign to inquire or to care for my opinion, I would say that that man is of a faith irreproachable, that his doctrine is sound, and that he has shown prudence both in divine and human things; and I hope that in the House of God (if by Him he should be chosen) he would be a vessel of honour, and would be of service not only to that house, but to the whole of the Gallican Church. It is now for your wisdom to judge, whether I am right in asking from you the giving of a dispensation from which such good effects may be expected. LETTER XIV. (Circa A.D. 1126.)TO THE SAME POPE HONORIUSHe commends the cause of the Church of Dijon to the Pontiff. To the Supreme Pontiff HONORIUS, Brother BERNARD, called to be Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and all that the prayers of a sinner can do in his behalf. God, whom we venerate in you, knows the respectful fear with which I write to you. But charity, who governs both you and me, makes me bold so to do. Being requested by the Church of Dijon, I have undertaken to make request on its behalf. But I almost doubt what I ought precisely to ask for it. For, as it is unjust to try to obtain anything contrary to justice, either by entreaty or by purchase, so it is superfluous before one who loves justice to make great efforts on behalf of that which is just. But although I do not know precisely what request it is best to make, yet I have full confidence that your kindness will not be unfruitful, especially in the cause of Religious. And, indeed, I know not what your Holiness may think good to decide after a careful examination of the matter, but I can bear witness that I have heard, and frequently do hear, that the Abbey of Dijon has possessed by long and uncontested tenure that which the people of Luxeuil are contesting with them, so that the older inhabitants of the neighbourhood are astonished, and indignant at the unfounded claim. LETTER XV. (In the same year as the preceding.)TO HAIMERIC THE CHANCELLORTo the illustrious lord HAIMERIC, Chancellor of the Apostolic See, BERNARD of Clairvaux wishes health, and the grace to follow the Apostle, forgetting the things which are behind, and looking forward to those which are before. Our friends are not ignorant of your friendship for me, and if I were desirous of keeping the fruit of so great felicity to myself they would show themselves jealous. The monks of Dijon are very dear to me, because of the ancient associations of that Church. I beg you to let them experience that affection, whether yours for me or mine for them is not without its influence. Justice, nevertheless, being done in all respects, against which it is not right, even for a friend, to desire anything. LETTER XVI. (The same year as the preceding.)TO PETER, CARDINAL PRESBYTERTo his very dear lord PETER, Cardinal Presbyter, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health everlasting. I have no cause to plead with you; yet the cause of the monks of Dijon, because they are Religious, I regard as mine. Take their cause in hand as if it were mine; yet so mine that it may be also that of justice. I believe, however, that their cause is just; and the whole country testifies with me. LETTER XVII. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO PETER, CARDINAL DEACONHe excuses himself that he has not come when summoned, 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 awaiting 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. 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 reputation. 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 XVIII. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAMEHe protests against the reputation for holiness which is attributed to him, and promises to communicate the treatises which he has written. 1. 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 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 whatever 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 imaginations (Rom. 1:21). Rightly, then, were their foolish hearts darkened, because since they recognized the truth and despised it, they were justly punished for their fault by losing the power to recognize 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 recognize the truth should be withdrawn from those who have despised it, and that those who did not glorify the truth when they recognized 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 like, he says, to retain God in their knowledge, He gave them over unto a reprobate mind (Rom. 1:28). 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 knowledge 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. 3:3). 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 full knowledge, so hope leads to perfect love, and, as it is said, If ye will not believe ye shall not understand (Is. 7:9, acc. to lxx.), 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. 2:4), 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 17:3). He is Love, because He is God, and God is Love (1 S. John 4:16). He is both the Goodness of God and the Wisdom of God (1 Cor. 1:24), 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 willingly (Rom. 8:19, 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. 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. 61:9, lxx). 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. 12:6). 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 proceeded 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 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 1:26). 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 Cîteaux, 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. LETTER XIX. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAMEHe commends the deputies from Rheims. It is the time for me to ask the fulfilment of your promise, so as to prove that I have not been wrong in putting all my confidence in you, since I have had the honour to make your acquaintance and obtain your friendship. Be assured that I shall regard as done to myself whatever assistance you are able to give to these deputies from Rheims. I venture to make this request, not because I think myself of so great importance, but because you have made me the promise. Whether you have done well, it is for you to see. LETTER XX. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLOR, ON THE SAME SUBJECTTo the illustrious Lord HAIMERIC, Chancellor of the Holy Roman See, Brother BERNARD, of Clairvaux, health and prayers. Since I have once begun, permit me to speak to you, even though I shall make myself importunate; but importunate for charity, truth, and justice. For although I am not of sufficient importance to have at Rome business of my own, yet I do not regard any of the affairs of God as things in which I have no concern. Wherefore, if I have with you still the favour which many people suppose, permit me to beg you to forward the deputies of the Lord Archbishop of Rheims in their present business. I am sure that they neither resist for themselves nor ask from another anything but what is just. LETTER XXI. (Towards the end of A.D. 1127.)TO MATTHEW, THE LEGATEHe 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 coat, how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them? (Cant. 5:3), 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 I am not. Furthermore, 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 anger, I am prepared to keep your commands. But it will be a mark of your indulgence to spare me whenever you find it possible to do so. LETTER XXII. (Before A.D. 1128.)TO HUMBALD, ARCHBISHOP OF LYONS AND LEGATEHe commends the cause of the Bishop of Meaux. To the most Reverend Lord and Father HUMBALD, Archbishop of Lyons and Legate of the Roman See, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and all that the prayers of a sinner can avail on his behalf. The Lord Bishop of Meaux was on his road to visit us, as it happened, when he received your letter. Since he wished to reply before leaving us, he begged me to join in a letter with him, in the hope that as I have the honour to be known to you, it might help to forward his business. I could not deny what he wished, and have thought it well to make this known to your Reverence in a few friendly words: because if you shall listen to the complaints of men who love only their own selves, and seek those things that are their own, against a Bishop who regards only those that are of Jesus Christ, it will be agreeable neither to your duty nor to your office. LETTER XXIII. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO ATTO, BISHOP OF TROYESBishop Atto had, in a sickness which he believed mortal, distributed all his goods to the poor. When he was restored to health, Bernard writes to console him, and praises what he had done. To a poor Bishop, a poor abbot, wishes health and that he may attain the reward of poverty, which is the kingdom of heaven. 1. I should praise you, and rightly, did not that saying restrain me, Praise no man before his death (Ecclus. 11:28). It is certain that you have done a thing worthy of praise: but the praise is to be ascribed to Him, from whom you have received both to will and to do what is praiseworthy. We glorify God, therefore, by you and working in you; who also has willed to be glorified in you, only that He may render you glorious also. Who, since He is glorious in His Majesty, deigns to appear glorious in His Saints also, that He may not have glory alone. For although He Himself is sufficient unto Himself in an infinity of glory, yet He seeks glory also in His Saints, not that His own may be increased, but that He may partake it with them. For He knows them that are His: but we do not easily know them except He shall deign to reveal them to us. I know, indeed, of what kind of men it was written: They are not in the trouble of men, and shall not be plagued with men (Ps. 73:5). I know without doubt that those words do not concern you. I know also that it is written again, Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth (Prov. 3:12, and Hebrews 12:6), and when I see you stricken and thereby amended, can I infer anything else than that you are of the number of His children? I do not wish for a clearer proof that He has corrected you than your very poverty itself. A noble title is that of poverty, which God Himself commands by the mouth of the Prophet, saying, I am a man who sees my poverty (Lam. 3:1, VULG.). This title ennobles you more, and renders you more illustrious, than all the treasures of the kings of the earth. 2. I know that I have set down out of Scripture just now that a man is not to be praised during his life. But how can I refrain from the praise of him who no longer runs after gold, and who disdains to put his confidence in the treasures of the world? Of such a man Scripture thus speaks: Who is he and we will call him blessed? For he has done wonderful things in his life (Ecclus. 31:8, 9). Perhaps man, indeed, is not to be praised during his life, inasmuch as it is a struggle upon the earth; yet ought he not to be praised when he is dead unto sin and lives unto God? That praise is indeed vain and seductive which is addressed to a sinner in his passions; whosoever calls him happy leads him into error, but will not the life of him who is able to say, I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me (Gal. 2:20) be praiseworthy and much to be commended? When, then, a man is praised in whom not himself, but Christ, lives, he is praised, not in his own life, but in the life of Christ, and because of this he is not praised against the Scripture which forbids a man to be praised in his life. Why, then, shall he not be worthy of my praises of whom God deigns to accept the praises to His Name? As David says, the poor and needy shall give praise unto Thy Name (Ps. 74:21). 3. Job is praised because he bore the loss of his goods patiently, and shall a Bishop not be praised who has both parted with them of his own accord, and distributed them liberally? He has not waited until death came, when he would have it in his power neither to give nor to retain anything: which many do, whose testament has no force until they have ceased to live, but while still placed between the hope of life and fear of death, it was then that in life, and with goodwill, he shared his goods among the poor, that his righteousness might remain for ever and ever (Ps. 112:9). Would the money itself have remained similarly for ever and ever? Good is the recompense of righteousness for money when in exchange for that which could not be held fast. A price is given which remains happily for ever, for righteousness is incomparably better than money, because the one enriches and fills only the chest, but the other the soul. Then the priests of God are clothed with righteousness, and thus far more richly and becomingly than in robes of gold or silk. 4. But render thanks to God who has inspired in you a glorious contempt of the transitory glory belonging to these things, and at the same time stricken you with a salutary fear of the peril to your soul. O, wonderful goodness of God towards you! He has made you have trial of death so that you might not die; and made you fear it, to preserve you from its stroke. This He has done, so that your goods might not be dearer to you than yourself. A devouring fear was raging in the very marrow of your bones, and hindering the relief of perspiration, the disease grew graver day by day. And now the limbs without grow cold, while within burned a devouring fire which wasted the viscera, already exhausted by long deprivation of nourishment. Speedily the pale and doleful image of death was before your eyes. But behold a voice, as it were from heaven, was heard: I am He who destroys (not thee, but) thy iniquities (Is. 43:25); and speedily when the priest of God had distributed all his goods to the poor, that as a poor man he might die, suddenly the sweat long unhoped-for burst forth from all its fountains; health came back equally both to body and soul, and clearly showed that what God promises in Scripture had been fulfilled in you: I kill and I make alive; I wound and I heal; neither is there any that can deliver out of My hand (Deut. 32:39). He has stricken the flesh to save the soul; He has slain avarice that you might live unto righteousness. Now that you are restored to life and health, we hope that none will be able to snatch you from the hands of God, provided that you do not lose sight of that counsel in the Gospel: Behold thou art made whole; sin no more lest a worse thing come unto thee (S. John 5:14). And if thy kind Father forewarns thee of this, it is because He does not desire it to happen; because he willeth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live. And rightly. For what advantage would there be in the death of a sinner? The grave will not confess God, nor will death praise Him; but you who are living, do you bless the Lord and say: I shall not die, but live and declare the works of the Lord; thou hast thrust sore at me that I might fall, but the Lord helped me (Ps. 118:17, 13). LETTER XXIV. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO GILBERT, BISHOP OF LONDON, UNIVERSAL DOCTORHe 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 recognize 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 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. 112:9). 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 benediction, 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 Greatness. He is exceedingly dear to me for his goodness and piety. LETTER XXV. (A.D. 1130.)TO HUGO, ARCHBISHOP OF ROUENHe exhorts Hugo to strive to be patient and peaceable among his Rouennais, and at the same time to temper his zeal with discretion. 1. If malice grows every day, yet let it not prevail; if it is boisterous, let it not trouble your peace. The waves of the sea are mighty, but the Lord in heaven is mightier, and the mercy from on high has dwelt with you, illustrious father, as you know, with extreme goodness even until now. For by a kindly Providence you are no sooner set to preside over sinners than you are associated with the good and pious, by whose example and company you may become good, and so may be able to dwell in the midst of sinners without ceasing to be righteous. And, indeed, to be righteous among the righteous assures salvation, but to be so among sinners assures also praise. The one is easy and sure, the other as meritorious as difficult. For the task is as it were to touch pitch and not to be defiled therewith, to walk in fire without being injured, and in the shadows without being dark. The Egyptians formerly were in darkness that might be felt, while of the people of God the Scripture says Wheresoever Israel was it was light (Exod. 10:23). David was a true Israelite, and, therefore, spoke with preciseness that he dwelt not “in Cedar,” but with the dwellers in Cedar (Ps. 120:5), and as one who habitually dwelt in the light, although his bodily abode was with the dwellers in Cedar \[Kedar\]. Wherefore also he blames certain persons as not being true Israelites, because they were mingled among the heathen and learned their works, and it became a snare unto them (Ps. 106:35, 36). 2. I say, then, that it was sufficient when you were at Cluny to keep yourself innocent, as it is written, With an innocent man Thou shalt be innocent (Ps. 17:26, VULG.). But now that you are among the Rouennais (otherwise, at Rouen) you have need of patience, as the Apostle teaches: The servant of the Lord must not strive, but be patient towards all (2 Tim. 2:24). Nor must he be only patient, so as not to be overcome of evil, but also pacific, to overcome evil with good. The one that you may bear with evil persons, the other that you may do good to those whom you thus bear with. In your patience possess your soul (S. Luke 21:19), but be also pacific, that you may have control also over the souls committed to you. What so great glory as to be able to say, With those who hated peace I was pacific (Ps. 120:7). Be, then, patient, because you are among evil men; be pacific, because you have such to govern. Let your charity be zealous, but moderate your severity for a time. Censure should, indeed, never be altogether foregone, but it may often be profitably intermitted. The vigour of justice should be always keen, but never precipitate. As not everything that is pleasing is permissible, so not everything permissible is expedient. You know all this better than I, and, therefore, I do not insist farther. I beg you to pray for me earnestly, because I do not cease to fall into sin. LETTER XXVI. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO GUY, BISHOP OF LAUSANNEYou have undertaken great things; you have need of courage. You have become a watcher for the house of Israel; you have need of prudence. You are a debtor both to the wise and unwise; you have need of righteousness. Lastly, you have, above all, need of temperance and self-control, so that one who has preached to others may not become (which may God forbid!) a reprobate. LETTER XXVII. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO ARDUTIO (OR ARDUTIUS), BISHOP ELECT OF GENEVAHe 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 recognize 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 otherwise, 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 prevented with the blessings of grace, and shall hope that after these you will receive still better graces. I 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 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 XXVIII. (In the Same Year.)TO THE SAME, WHEN BISHOPHe exhorts him to adorn the dignity which he had obtained without preceding merits, by a holy life. 1. 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 befitting 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. 118:23). So Paul, from a persecutor, became the Doctor of the Gentiles; so Matthew was called from the toll-booth, so Ambrose was taken from the palace, the one to the Episcopate, 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 confidence, 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 Bonnemont, in the Alps, and of Hautecombe. By your bounty towards these I shall see what degree of affection you have for me. LETTER XXIX. (Circa A.D. 1126.)TO STEPHEN, BISHOP OF METZHe congratulates Stephen on the restored peace of the Church, which he says is due only to the bounty of God. TO STEPHEN, by the Grace of God, the strenuous minister of the Church of Metz, his humble brethren in Christ from Clairvaux, wish health and assure him of their prayers. From the day when, if you remember, you deigned to associate yourself with our community, and to commend yourself humbly to our prayers, I have always been anxious, as I ought, to know something of your state, and have frequently inquired as I was able respecting your welfare, from those who could inform me, earnestly desiring and praying that your work and all your undertakings might be prospered in God, and your steps directed in the path of His commandments. I bless God who has not rejected my prayer nor turned His mercy from you, who has made me glad by the coming of this venerable brother William, in whom I have not less confidence than in myself, and who has informed us of your good health and prosperity, and of the restoration of peace to your Church by your means. I congratulate you upon it, but I render glory to God, knowing that all you are able to do is of Him, and not of yourself. Which also I venture as a friend to warn you always to keep before your mind, that you may not fall into a kind of powerlessness either to be or to do anything, if you should think otherwise, and attribute to your own merits or powers (which God forbid) the least of your successes. Otherwise it is to be feared that your peace will be turned into trouble, your prosperity into adversity, by a just judgment of Him who is accustomed to resist the proud, but give grace unto the humble; who not only is holy with the holy, but perverse with the perverse man, as we read in the Psalm (Ps. 18:26), who not only makes peace, but creates evil, as is described by the Prophet (Is. 45:7). LETTER XXX. (Circa A.D. 1126.)TO ALBERO, PRIMICERIUS OF METZHe warns Albero to wait God’s good time for the completion of a certain business which he was hurrying on, and that He requires us rather to do good for a good reason than from an interested motive. To the very honourable ALBERO, by the Grace of God Primicerius of the Church of Metz, the brethren who serve God to the best of their power at Clairvaux, health and their prayers. We have formerly heard and seen, and now have experienced for ourselves, your faithful zeal in the things of God. But although you were favourable and your Bishop gave prompt assent to the things proposed to him by the brethren whom we last sent to you, after your counsel: as our first duty is to know God’s good pleasure in all things, especially in matters of religion, and to know what is His good pleasure in that matter, we have thought it advisable, as was agreed between our brethren and your Bishop, not to abandon, but to defer until after the harvest (that time being convenient in itself and for you), the execution of a design of which your assistance prepares and facilitates the progress, and your help will bring, as soon as possible, to an honourable conclusion. But now if your Bishop, and you yourself, are still in the same mind as before, we have still more confidence that it is the will of God, and that there is nothing better to do than what you propose. So that we hope to satisfy your pious desire (which is shared by us also) according as it was determined on. I think that to be accepted by God, we ought to study as much as in us lies, to be burdensome to no one, that it may not seem that we (which may God forbid) seek His glory less than our own interests; and especially that it would not be pleasing to God, nor would be in accordance with our manner of life, to make ourselves troublesome to you when there is no need for an occasion of that kind; nor to withdraw you from your other greater and more pressing occupations. LETTER XXXI. (A.D. 1125.)TO HUGO, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE, WHO HAD BECOME A KNIGHT OF THE TEMPLEHe congratulates Hugo on having entered into a military Order, and promises remembrance of his benefits. If for the cause of God you have, from being Count, become a simple soldier, and from a rich man have become a poor one, I congratulate you in the first place as is right, and in you I glorify God, knowing that this is the work of the Right Hand of the Most High. But I do not, I confess, anticipate without great regret being deprived, by the secret Providence of God, of your valued presence, and never more seeing you, in whose company I would wish always to be, were it possible. What then? Can I forget your friendship of old standing, and the benefits which you have so liberally bestowed upon our House? May God Himself, for whose love you have done this, hold you in perpetual remembrance. Nor will we be ungrateful, but will keep in mind the recollection of your great kindness, and will show it, if possible, in our actions. O, how willingly would I have provided for the needs both of your body and of your soul, if it had been granted to us to pass our lives together! But as that is not possible, it only remains to assure you that though we cannot have you present with us, we shall always pray for you in your absence. LETTER XXXII. (Circa A.D. 1120.)TO THE ABBOT OF SAINT NICASIUS AT RHEIMSHe consoles this abbot for the departure of the Monk Drogo and his transfer to another monastery, and exhorts him to patience. 1. 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 necessities. 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 circumstances 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 potter’s vessels, and temptation the righteous man (Ecclus. 27:6, VULG.); The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a contrite heart (Ps. 34:18); and We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God (Acts 14:21); and All who will live godly in Christ suffer persecution (2 Tim. 3:12). 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 such, and fear lest it may be for ill; since whilst, indeed, to saints and the elect tribulation worketh patience, patience experience, experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed (Rom. 5:3–5), to the condemnable 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, was received and retained at Cluny against my will I was afflicted, indeed, but 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 XXXIII. (Circa A.D. 1120.)TO HUGO, ABBOT OF PONTIGNYHe writes more plainly his views about the reception of Drogo, and removes unfavourable suspicion from himself. To his very dear brother, Hugo, Lord Abbot, Brother Bernard, of Clairvaux, health and all that he desires for himself. 1. In my former letter I, as far as I can understand from yours, wrote less clearly than I wished, or you understood it otherwise than you ought. When I spoke of the consequences that might follow to you from the reception of that monk, I truly feared, and fear still, as I wrote. But in writing to you thus I had no intention of persuading you or giving you advice; nor certainly, as you write, did I think that he ought to be sent back, since I have long known his very strong desire, and I ought rather to congratulate him that he has now accomplished it. But as his abbot, my intimate friend, and the Archbishop of Rheims required of me a letter pressingly demanding him back, in order that I might take off every suspicion from myself, if it were possible, I took pains to dictate as well as I could such a letter, in terms which would both satisfy them and forewarn you of the reproaches which would be made against you by them, by not concealing them from you. I believed that your sagacity would be able to understand my intention in that letter at once, especially when reading the note which you remember I placed at the end of it, that it should be read by you in the same spirit it was written by me. For after having set out the evils which not unreasonably I feared for you, I went on: “It is for you to see whether you prefer to endure all these things or to send him away; the matter does not concern me.” These very words were used by me, or nearly these, and when I wrote thus at the end, how else could I secretly intimate to you that all that I had said previously was spoken by way of complaisance, not to say of pretence? 2. But as for what you have written, that I should have charged your messenger to say to the same monk, that if he wished to enter our Order his absolution should be privately obtained, I declare to you that it is not true. How could I suppose or hope that I could receive a monk from a monastery so well known to me, and whom I did not think that even you could retain without great scandal? But let it be so. Suppose that I envied you that monk, and desired to attract him to me; and that I was hoping or fancying that I might be able to do something towards obtaining his absolution. But is it for a moment to be believed that I should be willing to lay open this plan of mine which I had concocted against his own monastery to the very messenger whom you had sent to me? But to convince you that what you have believed hitherto concerning my affection towards you is well founded, I feel myself obliged, for you even more than for me, to redouble my efforts, as I have done up to the present, so that our friendship may not altogether be dissolved, but be made more close and strong. What can I say to you more? I, at least, could not believe you capable of such an action, as you have without ground suspected me of. Concerning another matter, your Blessedness knows that Count Theobald has received my letter of recommendation for Humbert, but he has not as yet replied to me. What you could do as to this your piety will best suggest, if you will have the kindness to consider the miserable state of a man unjustly stricken with exile. LETTER XXXIV (Circa A.D. 1120.)TO DROGO, THE MONKHe congratulates Drogo on having embraced a more severe rule, and exhorts him to perseverance. MY VERY DEAR DROGO, 1. I find more than ever justified the great affection which I have long felt for you. You appeared to me before very lovable and accomplished in many things, but I had felt that there was something in you worthy of higher admiration than anything that I had seen or heard of you. Had you already heard the voice of the celestial Spouse, in whose arms your soul was closely clasped? Had you heard His voice saying to your soul, His modest turtle, Thou art all fair, My love; there is no spot in thee? (Cant. 4:7). Who would believe that which you have done? The whole city is full of talk of your virtues and piety, so that it was not believed possible that anything could be added to all your good qualities, and then you, quitting your monastery as a secular might quit the world, were not ashamed to lay the burden of new observances and of a more severe Rule upon your neck, already worn with the yoke of Christ! In you now, brother, we verify that saying, When a man hath arrived at perfection then he beginneth (Ecclus. 18:7). The mark, then, of your perfectness is that you have now commenced, and in that you did not judge of that you had attained you prove that you have done so, for no one is perfect who does not desire to be more perfect, and a man shows himself more perfect, inasmuch as he aspires to greater perfection. 2. But behold, my dear friend, he by whose envy death entered into the world has bent his bow and prepared himself. Being driven from your heart, he has lost his power within, and therefore he will rage as much as is in his power without. And, to speak more plainly, do you not know that the Pharisees are scandalized at what you have done? But remember that there are scandals about which one ought not to be greatly troubled, according to the reply of the Lord, when He said, Let them alone, they are blind and leaders of the blind (S. Matt. 15:14). For would it be better that a scandal should arise than that the truth should be abandoned? (Greg. Hom. 7 in Ezekiel). Remember who it was who was born for the fall and rising again of many (S. Luke 2:34), and do not wonder if you, too, are to some as an odour of life unto life, and to others as an odour of death unto death. If they have directed maledictions against you, if they have launched at you darts of anathema, hear Isaac replying for you, He who shall curse thee shall be himself cursed, and he who shall bless thee shall be loaded with blessings (Gen. 27:29). And you, fortified by the safe defence of your conscience, reply inwardly and say, Though a host should encamp against me my heart shall not fear, although war should rise against me in this should I hope (Ps. 27:3). For you shall not be confounded when you speak thus with your enemies in the gate; but I trust in the Lord that if you stand firm against the first blows and do not yield either to their promises or threats, you will speedily bruise Satan under your feet. Then the righteous shall see and rejoice, and sinners shall be reduced to silence. LETTER XXXV. (A.D. 1128.)TO MAGISTER HUGO FARSIT.He commends to him the cause of a certain Humbert, and warns him not to blush at retracting a certain erroneous opinion. To his very dear brother and co-abbot, BROTHER BERNARD, health and assurance of the most sincere affection. I commend to your protection, with the greatest confidence in your goodness, the poor man Humbert, who is said to have been unjustly disinherited. I have undertaken, for the love of God, to plead his cause with your Count, and I hope that you will help me, with the assistance of the Lord of Heaven, to reconcile him with his earthly prince, so that he may be restored to his country, his wife and children, his property and friends; for by taking the trouble to effect this you will both free from the hands of a sinner a man who is in distress, and will be labouring at the same time for the welfare of his oppressor. You will show yourself helpful to me in no small degree, without mentioning that by performing the office of a peacemaker you will prepare for yourself a high place among the children of God. Let us speak now of another matter. It has been reported to you, as I hear, that I have thrown into the fire the letter that your Holiness lately favoured me with. Be so kind as to believe that I preserve it carefully, for would it not have been the effect of envy, or rather of madness, rashly to condemn a work useful and praiseworthy, in which there was nothing but what was sound in faith, salutary in doctrine, and tending to spiritual edification? I ought, however, to except one passage, because between friends no timid and dangerous flattery ought to influence them against the truth. One passage, I confess, troubled and still troubles me, that in which you endeavoured to sustain and defend in beginning your work an opinion which you had put forth already in an interview between us respecting the Sacraments. If you will reflect upon the doctrine that you supported in that interview you will see whether it agrees or no with the teaching of the Church. It will be a mark of your candour and humility not to be ashamed to be corrected if you have ever held an opinion not conformable to sound doctrine. Farewell. LETTER XXXVI. (A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAMEHe replies to the letter of Hugo, and advises him to desist from impugning the doctrine of a Bishop, then dead. To his very dear friend now as formerly, and by the grace of God, holy Abbot HUGO, Brother BERNARD of Clairvaux, health and the assurance of sincere and undiminished affection. I intended to reply more at length, as it was my duty, to the letter of your Worthiness, which was shorter than I desired, though longer than I deserved, but the haste of your messenger did not permit. Nevertheless, that he may not depart with his hands quite empty, I send in haste these few lines in reply to the much longer letter, for which I acknowledge myself the debtor. I commence by saying, in few but sincere words, as to an old and dear friend, to whom I also am dear, that from the bottom of my heart I hold you for a Catholic, a holy man, and one very dear to me. As to the purity of your faith, I trust your own confession; your high reputation vouches for the holiness of your life, and as for the affection which I have said that I feel towards you, my own heart is a sufficient witness. You protest that you do not retain the least vestige of that opinion, which rightly, in my judgment, raised scruples in my simple mind, and I receive the assurance as willingly as I read with gladness in your last letter the concise statement of most pure truth, so that I would rather believe that it is I who have wrongly understood you than that you had put forth any proposition contrary to the faith. Now, permit me to advise you, with brotherly boldness, not to attack, now that he is dead, the doctrine of a Bishop, as holy as learned, whom you have left unmolested while he lived, lest in blaming one not now able to answer for himself you may hear the whole Church replying for him, and seem to have acted more from a want of charity than from love of the truth. For Humbert, as I have begged you, so I repeat my request, that you will afford him, as far as you are able, your advice and protection. Farewell. LETTER XXXVII. (A.D. 1128.)TO THEOBALD, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNEHe expresses astonishment at having been refused, in the cause of Humbert, though he asked nothing but what was right and just; he warns the Count, by the remembrance of the Supreme Judge, not to deny help and mercy to an unfortunate man. To the noble Prince THEOBALD, BERNARD, the unprofitable servant of the servants of God who are in Clairvaux, health and peace. 1. I am very grateful that you have been so good, as I have heard, as to be anxious about my poor health; and while I see in this a proof of your worthiness towards me, I cannot doubt of the love that you have towards God; for unless for that reason, when would one of your high rank deign to know so humble a person as myself? Since, then, it is certain that you love God, and me because of Him, I wonder the more that a small petition, preferred through confidence in God, and neither unjust, as I think, nor unreasonable, should have been refused to me by you. If I had asked of you gold or silver, or something of that kind \[either I am much deceived as to your goodness, or I should certainly have received it\]. But what, I say, had I asked? Already, without asking, I have received very many gifts of your generosity. But this one thing which I requested from you, not for my own sake, but in the name of God, much more in your interest than my own. What cause was there that I did not merit the granting of it? Did you think it an unworthy thing of me to ask, or of you to grant, that you should have mercy upon a Christian man, whatever might be the crime of which he was accused before you, after clearing himself of it? If you do not believe that he has fully cleared himself because he did not do this in your court, at least permit him to present himself there to establish his innocence, and thus obtain indulgence. 2. Are you ignorant of the threatenings of Him who has said, When my time shall be come I shall judge the judgments themselves (Ps. 65:2, VULG.)? And if He judges the judgments much more the injustices. Do you not fear what is written again, With what measure ye have measured it shall be again measured to you (S. Matt. 7:2)? Do you not know that if it is easy for you to deprive Humbert of his heritage, it is as easy—it is even incomparably more easy—for God to deprive Count Theobald (which may God forbid) of his? And even in such cases where the fault appears so open and inexcusable as that there is no opportunity left for mercy except at the cost of justice, even then it is only with fear and regret that you ought to punish, more because obliged by the duty of your office than from a desire to inflict punishment. But when the crime charged is either not certainly known, or is capable of excuse, not only ought you not to deny, but ought most willingly to embrace an opportunity for pardoning, and be glad that when justice is secured your mercy and indulgence have found place. I supplicate your Highness, then, for the second time to have pity upon Humbert, as you would that God should have pity upon you; and to lend an ear either to that gentle promise of the Lord, Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy (S. Matt. 5:7), or to that terrible threat, He shall have judgment without mercy that hath showed no mercy (S. James 2:13). Farewell. LETTER XXXVIII. (A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAME, ON THE SAME SUBJECTTo the very pious Prince THEOBALD, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and prayers. 1. I am greatly afraid lest I should at length become troublesome by too presumptuously pouring my frequent appeals into your much-occupied ears. But what can I do? If I fear to offend you by writing to you too often, how much more ought I to fear to offend God, to whom still greater fear is due, by not interceding for an unfortunate man? Besides, pardon me for saying that I am unable to see without pitying the misery of that unfortunate, on whose behalf I return again to weary you with my prayers. It is still about Humbert that I speak. His lot is the more unhappy that from having been rich he has become poor and a beggar for daily bread. I cannot but compassionate his widow and orphans, who are the more unhappy because deprived of their father while he is yet alive. I render you thanks for the favour that you have been so gracious as to accord me in this matter, in deigning to permit that Humbert should come himself to make his defence before you, and in doing him the justice not to listen to his slanderers. To perfect your work of charity, you had arranged most kindly that his patrimony should be restored to his wife and children; and I cannot but wonder that your charitable orders in this respect were not at once carried out. 2. When we receive, perhaps, from other princes words untrue or untrustworthy, it is something neither new nor wonderful to us. But in the case of Count Theobald it is a matter of great surprise that his Yes and No should be without weight, since a word from him is for us equivalent to an oath, and a slight untruth is regarded as a grave perjury; since of all the virtues which dignify your high rank and render your name celebrated throughout the whole world, the chief and the most extolled is your steadfast truthfulness. Who, then, has tried to weaken, either by artifice or counsel, the intrepid firmness of your soul? who, I say, has endeavoured to enfeeble by his fraud your purpose so holy, so noble, so exemplary for all princes? Falsely, not truly, does he love you, perfidiously, not faithfully, does he counsel you, who tries to obscure because of his cupidity your glorious reputation for truth, and endeavours by some malicious motive to render vain a word that your mouth has spoken—a word not less pleasing to God that it is worthy of you; as just as it is pious, and pious as just. I entreat you, then, by the mercy of God, that you pursue your good purpose, and not permit the wicked to boast that the poor man is ruined; rather take means for the full carrying out of the promise you have made, to Dom. Norbert and to me, that you would restore the patrimony of Humbert to his wife and children. Farewell. LETTER XXXIX. (A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAMEHe commends the causes of various people to Theobald; then he urges him to treat with honour and reverence the Bishops assembled at Troyes to be present at a Council. 1. Among the many signs of condescension which you are pleased to display towards me, which arouse my grateful affection, that which I feel most is that, although I know I have ventured to address your Highness on behalf of many people, I never remember to have experienced a repulse from you. Having naturally become more confident, therefore, I approach you without hesitation to recommend to you the Canons of Larzicourt. I do not ask any favour for them, because I have so much trust in your justice and observance of law that I think if your enemy came to plead a cause in your Court he need not fear that he would not receive justice; but this is the supplication which I from a distance unite with them, and for them, to make: both that you would accord to them a speedy and favourable access to the presence of your Serenity, which I know they greatly need, in order that their neighbours may render them the respect which their piety deserves, and which they will do when they learn your good disposition towards them; and that if any of your soldiers or officials have acted unjustly towards them, they may understand that they must not henceforth trouble their Godly peace without incurring your displeasure. 2. I have another request respectfully to make. I met lately, when passing through Bar, a woman very much to be pitied; she was in great trouble, and my heart was moved on hearing her sufferings. She begged with tears and prayers that I would intercede for her with you. She is the wife of that man of yours, Belin, whom you were obliged to punish some time since for an offence which he had committed. Have mercy upon her, that God may have mercy also upon you. 3. Since I have once begun, I will continue to speak with my lord. In a duel which has lately been fought in the presence of the Prêvôt of Bar, the vanquished was condemned by your order to lose his eyes on the spot; but, besides this, as if it were not enough to be vanquished and to lose his sight, he was deprived of all his goods, as he complains, by your people. Your benevolence will find it just that they should restore to him sufficient to sustain his miserable life; and, besides, the offence of the father ought not to be imputed to his innocent children. Let them, then, at least succeed to the father’s possessions if he has any. 4. In conclusion, I would beg you to treat with all the honour, of which they are well worthy, those holy Bishops who have assembled in your capital to consider together matters of religion. Deign also to show yourself devoted and obedient as far as you can in all things to the Legate himself, who has chosen to honour you and your capital by the holding of so important a Council. And be so kind as to give your support and assent to the measures and the resolutions which he shall judge advisable for the promotion of good; but especially I beg you to receive with honour the Bishop of Langres, who is your Bishop as well as mine, and for the fief which you hold of his Church you ought to render the due homage. With humble respect, farewell. LETTER XL. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAMEHe commends a poor religious to Theobald. I commend unto you two things in this man whom you see: poverty and piety, that if you do not compassionate the one in him you may reverence the other, and may not deny to him what he has come so far, and at the price of so many fatigues, to ask of you. Give him, then, some help, if not for his sake, at least for your own; for if he has need of you because he is poor, you have as much and, indeed, more need of him because he is a religious. Finally, of all those many people whom I have sent unto you for the same cause, I do not know if there has been one other on whom you might bestow a benefit with greater certainty that it would be pleasing to God. Farewell. LETTER XLI. (In the same year.)TO THE SAMEHe recommends to him an aged religious. I fear that you are troubled by my frequent scribblings, but the law of Christ and the necessity of friends drives me to this opportunity. I entreat you not to send away empty this aged man whom I have recommended to you. He is aged as you see, and of a good and religious house, as I know. Besides this, I would ask you to be so good as to give him a letter to the King, your uncle, whom he is going to seek. I would wish that all the servants of God might become, if it were possible, your debtors, so that they may receive you one day into the everlasting habitations in return for the mammon of iniquity which you share with them. Farewell. LETTER XLIITO HENRY, ARCHBISHOP OF SENSThis Letter deserved a place among the Treatises, and we have removed it thither under this title: De Moribus et Officio Episcoporum Tractatus, or Letter 42 to Henry, Archbishop of Sens. LETTER XLIII. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAME HENRYHe writes on behalf of the Abbey of Molesme. The kind reception which you gave to my last request gives me room to hope to obtain what I now ask. I would first express my most earnest thanks for your previous, kindness, and then venture to beg that you would make me a second time your debtor, namely, by permitting the Abbey of Molesme to possess freely the Church, on account of which they are grieved to have lost the favour of your Serenity, and which it is certain that they possessed in the time of your predecessors. Farewell. LETTER XLIV. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAME, ON THE SAME SUBJECTYou see how often I count on your bounty, so that I do not fear, although I have received so much from you, to make myself again an importunate suppliant and to weary you with new demands. My presumption, indeed, is great, but it does not merit indignation, since it is caused by affection and not by want of consideration. Your Paternity remembers, I doubt not, that when I was lately at Troyes you were so good as to relinquish for the love of God, and at my entreaty, all the claims which you had made against the monks of Molesme on the Church at Senan. Now, the same monks complain that I know not what new, and, as they say, undue prærogatives are asserted over the forenamed Church. I beseech you that these also may be remitted, and trust that in this even you will not refuse me, so that, as you have granted me the greater favours, so I may be successful in obtaining the lesser. Farewell. LETTER XLV. (A.D. 1127.)TO LOUIS, KING OF FRANCEThe monks of Cîteaux 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 docs not desist. To LOUIS, the glorious King of France, STEPHEN, Abbot of Cîteaux, and the whole assembly of the abbots and brethren of Cîteaux, wish health, prosperity, and peace in Christ Jesus. 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, but the Lord of Paradise, a terrible God who cuts off the spirit of Princes (Ps. 76:12), and who has said to Bishops, He who despiseth you despiseth me (S. Luke 10:16). 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 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 to write in his favour to the Lord Pope. But we judge that we ought first to commence 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 be 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. LETTER XLVI. (A.D. 1127.)TO THE LORD POPE HONORIUS II., ON THE SAME SUBJECTThey complain to the Pope that by the raising surreptitiously of the interdict, the King of France, before disposed to peace, was rendered more obstinate. To the supreme Pontiff HONORIUS, the abbots of the poor of Christ, HUGO of Pontigny, and BERNARD of Clairvaux, health and all that the prayer of sinners can effect. We are not able to conceal the tears and complaints of the Bishops, and, indeed, of the whole Church, of which we have the honour, however unworthy, to be sons. We speak of what we have seen. A great necessity has drawn us from our cloisters into public, and what we have seen there we report to you. We have seen and repeat sad things. In the time of Honorius the honour of the Church has been deeply wounded. Already the humility, or rather the constancy, of the bishops had bent down the anger of the King, when the supreme authority of the supreme pontiff intervening, alas! threw down constancy and set up pride! We know, indeed, that that mandate must have been obtained from you by falsehood, as is quite evident from your letter, or you would not have ordered an interdict so just and so necessary to be put an end to. But should not the falsehood be at length detected—should not iniquity be made to feel that it has lied against itself, and not against dignity such as yours? For it is that which astonishes us, that judgment should have been given without hearing the two parties, and that the absent should have been condemned, which, indeed, we do not blame with rash presumption, but with the love of sons we suggest to the heart of our Father how greatly from this act the wicked triumphs and the poor is cast down; but how long he ought to suffer thus, and in what degree you ought to suffer with him, it is not for us, most holy Father, to prescribe to you; it is for you to consult your own heart. Farewell. LETTER XLVII. (A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAME POPE, IN THE NAME OF GEOFFREY, BISHOP OF CHARTRESHe 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 words. 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 satisfaction from him. Understanding, at length, that in 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 instead 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 displeasing 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 on our behalf. LETTER XLVIII. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLOR, ON THE SAME SUBJECT, AND AGAINST DETRACTORSHe justifies himself against attacks made upon him, and begs to be allowed to enjoy solitude and silence. To the illustrious HAIMERIC, Chancellor of the holy Roman See, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, health eternal. 1. Does truth bring hatred even to the poor and indigent, and does not even their misery secure them against envy? Ought I to complain or to glory because I am made an enemy for speaking the truth or for doing right? That is what I leave to be considered by your brethren, who, against the law, speak evil of one deaf (Lev. 19:14), and not fearing the malediction of the Prophet, call evil good and good evil (Is. 5:20). I ask of you, O good men, what in me has displeased your brotherhood? Is it because at Chalons was deposed the Bishop of Verdun, a man everywhere decried, because he had dissipated in management the goods of his Lord committed to him in the Church over which he presided? Or was it because at Cambray, Fulbert, who conducted his monastery manifestly to its destruction, was obliged to yield his place to Parvin, a prudent and faithful servant, according to the testimony of all? Or, again, was it because, at Laon, a sanctuary of God was restored to him after having been made a shrine of Venus? For which of these things do you, I do not say stone me, so that I may not borrow the language of my Lord (S. John 10:32), but tear me to pieces? And this I should be right to reply to you with pride, if any of the credit of these things belong to me. But, now, why am I judged for what others have done? Or if for my actions, why am I accused as if I had done something wrong, when no one can be so silly as to doubt, or so shameless as to deny that all these things were done justly and well? Choose now which alternative you please; either deny or assert that I am the author of these things. If I have done them, it is a thing worthy of praise to have brought about praiseworthy actions, and I am wrongly blamed for that which renders me worthy of praise. If I have not done them, as I have deserved no praise, I deserve no blame. It is a new kind of detraction that is employed against me, and has some resemblance to the work of Balaam, who, being brought and paid to curse the people, heaped them with blessings instead (Num. 22. and 24). What more just and more consoling for him whom the design was to blame than to see that, though willing to blame him, you unwillingly praise, and unknowingly employ the language of laudation for that of insult? Could you not find enough of real defaults in me that you reproach me for a good action as if it were evil, or rather that you impute to me what I have not done? 2. But I am not distressed by undeserved reproaches, nor do I accept unmerited praises; nothing concerns me which I have not done. Let them praise if they will or blame if they dare his lordship of Albano for the first matter, for the second his lordship of Rheims, and for the third the same archbishop, with the Bishop of Laon, with the King in the same degree, and with many other reverend persons, who will by no means disown that they have taken a principal part in them. If they have done well, or if otherwise, what is it to me? My sole and only fault is that I have been present at these assemblies, being a man deserving only of solitude, who ought to judge only myself, to be the accuser and arbiter of my own conscience only, if I wish that my life should display what my profession declares, and my name of monk describe truly my solitary habit of life. For I was present, I avow it; but it was because I had been summoned, and, as it were, forced to come. If this has been displeasing to my friends, I confess it has displeased me also. Would that I had not gone to these assemblies, would that I may not go to any similar to them! Would that I had never gone where I had the sorrow to see (as lately) a violent tyrant armed against the Church by the authority of the Holy See, as if he had not been already by himself sufficiently powerful! Then at length I felt as the Prophet says, my tongue cleave to my mouth (Ps. 137:6), when I saw that unquestionable authority bear us down with its weight, and when the Pope’s letter was brought forward. Alas! I was mute, I was humbled, I was silent even from the good: and my sorrow was renewed (Ps. 39:3, VULG.), when suddenly I saw the letter of the Pope cover the faces of the innocent with confusion, make the impious and sinners to rejoice and triumph in their wickedness. The indulgence which was shown to the wicked, as says the Prophet, did not teach him to do righteousness; and he who dealt unjustly in the land of the righteous (Is. 26:10) was freed from the most just interdict under which his domain was held. 3. For reasons of this kind, even if there were no others, I am vexed to have meddled in the transaction of business, especially as I know that in it there is nothing that concerns me. I am vexed, yet I am forced to go. But by whom could I better hope to be relieved from this necessity than by you, O best of men! to whom in such a matter neither is power wanting nor, as I know well, the will. I rejoice, therefore, to know that my occupation in such matters is displeasing to your wisdom; you are entirely right, and I recognize in it your friendship for me. Since, then, such is your desire, or rather since you perceive and determine that it is better for your friend and more becoming to a Religious, take means, I pray you, to ensure that both your will at once and mine may be accomplished as soon as possible, that justice may be satisfied, and the safety of my soul cared for. Forbid, if you please, those clamorous and importunate frogs to come forth from their hiding-places, but let them stay contentedly in their marshes. Let them not be heard in Councils, nor enter into palaces; let no necessity, no authority draw them to mingle in the settlement of disputes or of any business. So, perhaps, your friend may be able to escape from the charge of presumption. I do not know, indeed, how there can be any occasion for it, for my resolution is fixed not to set foot out of my monastery unless summoned by the Legate of the Apostolic See, or, at least, by my own Bishop, since, as you well know, it would be altogether wrong for a humble person like myself to resist these unless by privilege of some higher authority. If ever you shall succeed in effecting this, as I sincerely hope, then, without doubt, I shall have peace myself and leave others in peace. Yet, even although I shut myself up and keep silence, I do not suppose that the murmurs of the Churches will cease, if the Roman Curia continues to do injury to the absent in order to be complaisant to those who are near at hand. Farewell. LETTER XLIX. (A.D. 1128.)TO THE LORD POPE HONORIUS, ON BEHALF OF HENRY, ARCHBISHOP OF SENSTo the Supreme Pontiff, HONORIUS, his servants and sons (if we are worthy to be so called), STEPHEN of Cîteaux, HUGO of Pontigny, BERNARD of Clairvaux, health and their best prayers for their most reverend lord and kind father. Though dwelling in monasteries, to the shelter of which our sins have driven us, we do not cease to pray for you and for the Church of God committed to your charge, and share the rejoicing both of the Spouse of the Lord over so faithful a guardian, and of the friend of the Bridegroom over labouring so abundantly for her. In faith and truth we make known to you, holy Father, the evils to which we see with grief our Mother, the Church, exposed in this realm. As far as we, being on the spot, are able to judge, King Louis is hostile not so much to Bishops, as to any zeal for justice, practice of piety, and even religious living in the Bishops. That this is the fact the penetration of your Holiness will easily infer from this, that the very men who previously in secular life were highly honoured by him, judged faithful, regarded as familiar friends, are now treated as enemies, because they behave worthily in the priesthood and honour their ministry in all things. This is the cause of the insults and injuries with which the Bishop of Paris, though innocent, has been attacked, yet he has not been crushed, because the Lord arrested the King’s hand when he opposed yours. Hence, also now he endeavours to weary and break down the constancy of the Archbishop of Sens, so that when the Metropolitan is vanquished (which may God forbid) he may easily, as he supposes, prevail over all the suffragans. Finally, who doubts that what he really wishes to attack is religion, which he looks upon openly as the destruction of his realm and the enemy of his crown? Another Herod holds Christ in suspicion, but it is Christ no longer in the cradle, but triumphant in the Churches, who is obnoxious to him. Nor do we think that his hostility to the archbishop has any other object than this, that he strives to extinguish in him, as in others, the spirit with which he is animated. Finally, if we are thought to be deceiving you, or to be ourselves deceived about these matters to which we bear witness, we desire that you will examine into them yourself as quickly as possible, so that (which we vehemently desire and suppliantly entreat) judgment may come forth from your presence, most holy Father, and in it we have no doubt that you will seek equity and protect innocence. But that the cause should be brought back into the presence and under the power of the King is plainly nothing else than that the just should be delivered into the hands of his enemies. LETTER L. (A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAME, ON THE SAME SUBJECTHe demands that it should be allowed to the Archbishop to appeal to the Apostolic See. It would be desirable, if it seems good to your authority, that the cause of the Archbishop of Sens should be discussed in your own presence, so that being, as he is, obnoxious to the King, he may not seem to be a man delivered to the will of his enemies by having to answer for himself to his adversaries in the presence and power of the King; but as whatever you direct must be inviolably adhered to, so it may be firmly hoped that whatever course you decree may issue in some good. This only we demand very humbly of your bounty, with all our Religious, viz., that if it shall happen that this Prelate should be crushed by the sovereign power (as it has happened only too often) he may be permitted to seek refuge in your fatherly bosom, because hitherto we have never heard that you have refused this refuge to a person oppressed. Otherwise let Joseph, the just man, see to it, what he must do now to save the Child and his Mother, because even now in the province of Sens Christ is sought for destruction. For, to say more plainly that which is the fact, it is clear that the King persecutes in the Archbishop of Sens his new piety, because he advanced him by all possible means and dismissed him into his Diocese with the assurance of freedom from every disturbance, as long as he lived in his former worldly life and conversation. LETTER LI. (A.D. 1128.)TO HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLOR, ON THE SAME SUBJECTTo the very illustrious HAIMERIC, Chancellor of the Holy Roman See, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and all that the prayer of a sinner can avail. How long will it be true to say, All who will live piously in Christ suffer persecution (2 Tim. 3:12)? How long shall the rod of sinners be extended over the heritage of the just? Who shall enable the just to stand against those who have oppressed them? Who can bear to see so great a degree of discord between heaven and earth, that while the Angels rejoice at the amendment of the evil, the sons of Adam rage and are envious? Has not Jesus by His sufferings and His blood purified the things which are in heaven and those on earth; and was not God in Him reconciling the world unto Himself? Formerly the Archbishop had nothing but praise, when he was ruled only by the desires of his heart—nothing but approval as long as his life and conversation were worldly. But now simony is sought for under the swaddling clothes of the infancy of Jesus, and a malign curiosity searches among the rising virtues (of the prelate) for even the ashes of dead vices. You see clearly that it is Jesus Himself who is the mark for the hostility of these men. In His name I beseech you; for His sake I am a suppliant to you. He is well worthy both of your reverence and of your pity. Stand fast for Him in the defence of the Archbishop, and remember that you yourself must one day stand before Him to be judged. Farewell. LETTER LII. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAMEHe declares that the Bishop of Chartres has not projected a journey to Jerusalem. He begs to be released from the weight of public affairs. Your friend and mine, the Lord Bishop of Chartres, wished the assurance to be conveyed to you by me that he has not had either the intention or the wish to be allowed to go to Jerusalem, as we know the Pope has been made to believe. For although he would greatly have wished to make the journey, yet he was not able to leave without great scandal here to all good people, who fear that his absence would do more harm to his own flock than his presence would do good to foreigners. This is what I have to say on behalf of that Bishop. But that I may say something also on my own behalf, according to what Scripture admonishes, saying: Have pity on your own soul if you wish to please God (Ecclus. 30:23, VULG.). Does it please you that I should be loaded with burdens and occupied with business, so that I have no leisure to attend to my own duties, being entirely immersed in those which belong to others? If I have found favour in your eyes, be so good as to relieve me of all these affairs, so that I may be able to pray God for your sins and my own. It is true that I consider nothing could be safer for me than to follow the will of my lord the Pope; but if he would be so kind as to consider the limit of my powers, he would realize that I am not able to do these things, or with how much difficulty I can do them. And upon that matter sufficient is said to an intelligent person like yourself. The Bishop of Chartres asked of me some of my little treatises to send to you; but I have nothing at hand which seems to me worthy of your attention. There is, indeed, a little book concerning Grace and Free Will which I have lately put forth. This I will gladly send to you, if you wish it. Farewell. LETTER LIII. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAMEHe presents to Haimeric two religious, and in them himself. I remembér that I have written to you on behalf of many people, and by the medium of many; but now I, who have often corresponded with you, am present before you in person. Represent to yourself three persons in the two whom you behold, since without me these are not able to exist, in whose hearts I rest in close companionship, and even more safely and sweetly than in my own. I seem to exaggerate, but only to one who has never felt the power of friendship, who is ignorant of the force of affection, who does not believe that the multitude of believers were of one heart and of one soul (Acts 4:32). He, then, who sees them sees me also, though not in my own body, and what they say I say also with their tongues. I am absent in body, I confess; but the body is the least part of me. And if it is true that he who sees my face may assert with truth that he sees me and not a part of me only, when notwithstanding he sees only a part of me, and that the least considerable, how much more truly may I say that I am present, even without bodily presence, where I feel my will, my spirit, and affection, which is the greater and more worthy part of me, to be? Know, then, that we are one person in three bodies, not of equal holiness, for in this I am inferior to each of these two, but having the same will, and perfect union of souls. For why should not the bond of affection bring about the unity of several persons in one spirit, if the bond of marriage makes two to be one flesh? I could wish that you would make yourself the fourth with us, if you do not consider that unity of affection unworthy of you. This you will easily obtain, if you do not disdain it; only if you do not desire it, I beg you not to let them perceive this. Farewell. LETTER LIV. (Circa A.D. 1136.)TO THE SAMEHe recommends the Abbot Vivian, and warns Haimeric to think seriously of the salvation of his soul. I desire and entreat that you will assist in his business, for the love of God and for my sake, the bearer of this letter, the venerable Vivian, Abbot of Haute Combe, for whom I have a most intimate friendship, on account of his piety. This is what I have to say on his behalf; the remainder of the letter is for yourself. What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? (S. Matt. 16:26). Not the whole world would be sufficient. A soul, which has been redeemed with the blood of Christ, is a valuable thing. Great was the loss of the soul, which could not be repaired except by the Cross of Christ. If, again, it shall perish by sin even unto death, whence, then, shall it be restored? Is there either another Christ, or will He be crucified again for it? Upon this subject I would wish that you would never forget the counsel of the wise man: My son, remember thy latter end, and thou shalt not ever sin (Ecclus. 7:36, 40, VULG.). LETTER LV. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO GEOFFREY, BISHOP OF CHARTRESHe begs that Geoffrey would receive and assist a certain religious recluse who had deserted his calling, but was repentant. To the most faithful and prudent servant of God, GEOFFREY, Bishop of Chartres, BERNARD, of Clairvaux, servant of the poor of Christ, health and the fulness of the glory of the everlasting hills. The more fame and honour the holiness of your life procures for you, the more labour it brings you. Thus the person who brings you this letter, and on whose behalf it is written, has felt himself, like so many others, drawn to you from far, by the fragrance of your pity, and by the hope of finding in you not only counsel what he ought to do, but also aid to accomplish it. This is his case. He had for the love of God shut himself in a certain cell, intending to live as a recluse. He himself will explain to you the causes why he quitted his cell and broke his vow. Now he desires to return to his purpose; but intends to ask your help for so doing, if you will accord it to him at my request by this letter, with which he was desirous to strengthen his application. Act, therefore, in your accustomed way; give help to this unhappy man, and the more since I know you hold yourself a debtor both to the wise and to the unwise; quickly draw this wandering lamb of Christ from the jaws of the wolf, bring him back to his former pasture, and order him to be reclosed in some little cell near one of your houses; unless, perhaps, you see that some other course is the better for the man to take, and you succeed in convincing him that he ought to take it. LETTER LVI. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAMEHe is uncertain respecting the pilgrimage of Norbert to Jerusalem. He does not share his opinion about Antichrist. He also recommends Humbert. I am quite ignorant respecting the matter of which you inquire of me, namely, whether the Lord Norbert is about to go to Jerusalem. For when I saw him last, a few days ago, he said nothing of it to me, though I was honoured in being able to drink in many words from his mouth, as it were a sweet-toned flute. But when I asked what he thought concerning Antichrist, he declared himself quite convinced that Antichrist was to be revealed during this generation that is now. I begged him to tell me on what he rested his conviction, but his reply did not convince me that he was right. But at length he asserted this, that before his own death he would see a general persecution in the Church. Concerning another matter, permit me to recall to the remembrance of your Piety a poor exile named Humbert. He begged you lately when you were at Troyes to intercede for him with Count Theobald, who had deprived him of his goods. I also by this letter entreat for him, and with him, the same thing of your Piety. I have written on that subject to intercede with the Prince himself, but have not succeeded in obtaining the favour which I asked. One thing I ought to tell you, which I know you will gladly hear. Stephen, your former disciple, so runs not as uncertainly, so fights not as one that beateth the air. Pray for him that he may so run that he may obtain, may so fight that he may overcome. LETTER LVII. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAMELesser vows ought not to be a motive to hinder greater spiritual progress. This seems to be written, if I do not mistake, in the cause of the monk who is the subject of Letter 55. As this man has reported to me from you, you have declined up to the present to accede to his desire and petition, because it seems to you to make void his first vow of proceeding to Jerusalem. Upon which, if you ask my opinion, I consider that more important vows ought not to be hindered by less important; and that God will not require the fulfilment of a good vow if it has been discharged by the performance of one still better. For would you be right to complain of a debtor who owed you twelve pence if on the appointed day he paid you a silver mark? and if it is from his Bishop that you fear some objection, you may be sure that not only will you not displease him by rendering help to this man, but that he will be very grateful to you. Farewell. LETTER LVIII. (Circa A.D. 1126.)TO EBAL, BISHOP OF CHALONS-SUR-MARNEHe begs Ebal to take means for the choosing of a fit man to preside over the Abbey of All Saints. To the venerable EBAL, by the grace of God, Lord Bishop of Chalons, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and all that the prayers of a sinner can avail. 1. It is not good that you should neglect or disregard the danger of that little vessel (I speak of the Church of All Saints’) which is drifting under your eyes, being deprived of its ruler. It is a matter which belongs to your charge; therefore I wonder what motive hinders you in conscience from requiring the acceptance of the post by that ecclesiastic, a pious man, as it is said, who has been elected by religious persons to the same, even although some of the monks of that abbey show themselves unworthy of your interest by their carelessness and indifference. I have understood that they have nothing to object to him who has been chosen except that he is religious, and that they have dared to desire your Greatness to permit them to choose another who appears to them more agreeable and more affable, because he is not a stranger to them, but is as agreeable as he is well known to the citizens, and being well acquainted with the customs of the country is gratified for transacting the business of the Church. In reality that which you ask (I should reply to those very cautious advisers) is someone who will not object to your faults, and who will either consent or will not dare to oppose himself to your objectionable way of life. These are not to be listened to, but rather, whether they wish it or no, action ought to be taken by you, so as to put at the head of that unfortunate Church this man, whose reputation is unquestioned, since, if he is such as he is reported to be, God will, without doubt, be with him, will pour His grace upon him, that he may be acceptable to all and successful in all his enterprises. 2. If those people are altogether unworthy of him and he cannot by any means be obtained for the post, let another be sought out who shall seem fit, from some other religious house; not such a person as those people desire, who desire nothing but what flatters their carnal tastes, but one who, as he knows how to manage the temporal administration, so also is able to prefer the care of souls in all things. Under the Lord William, your predecessor of holy memory, the two monasteries of S. Peter and S. Urban were similarly deprived of pastoral care; he was not deterred by the length of the journey, nor by the severity of the winter, but came in person twice to Cluny, and, if I do not mistake, once to Dijon. Thence he obtained a good man, Lord Hugo, who afterwards died, and from Cluny Lord Radulf, whom he had sought with many prayers, and who still survives. These he placed one over each monastery, not judging it safe to commit that charge to any one of the monks on the spot; which I have adduced as an example, for this reason that I may impress upon your charity how it becomes you to act with no less caution and care in this matter which is now in your hands. LETTER LIX. (A.D. 1129.)TO GUILENCUS, BISHOP OF LANGRESHe counsels him, in order to take away any occasion for scandal and calumny, to abandon to the Church of S. Stephen at Dijon, certain articles which Garnier had left there on dying. To his lord and father GUILENCUS, by the Grace of God, Bishop of Langres, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and his entire devotion. On hearing of the death of the Archdeacon Dom Garnier I have thought it necessary to address a prayer to your Paternity and even to press upon you my advice, if you will deign to attend to the suggestions of one so humble. As relates to the goods which the late Abbot possessed in the Church of S. Stephen at Dijon, have the generosity to renounce the rights that you have over these things. I know well that they ought to return to you as I remember was arranged and settled in writing in the Chapter of Langres, when your son Harbert was constituted the first regular abbot of that house. But because I know that for you on any account to assert your rights over these properties which that Church has so long held would be an occasion of grave scandal to the Canons and of great reproach to the Abbot, whom they would accuse of having by coming among them established a bad precedent, since it was because of him and at his coming that their Church sustained so great a loss, I beg you, therefore, and at the same time advise and entreat you, to spare so great a scandal to so many feeble servants of Christ, and at the same time to free this vicar of Christ from such a reproach by conceding to this Church what has been theirs so long. LETTER LX. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAMEHe intercedes for the Abbey of Molesme. I hope that you will not think me an importunate meddler if I approach you to intercede on behalf of the Abbey of Molesme. There are many motives which encourage me to believe that I need not fear a refusal from you. First, because the house for which I make request is not a foreign one; it depends upon you. Next, that it asks only its right from your justice, and is not usurping that which belongs to another; and, thirdly, that our request is joined in by such a person as would be sufficient to obtain even a greater thing from your kindness. I mean Count Theobald. If I presume to add a fourth, it is with diffidence that I do so. For neither have I such distrust in my humility but that I would venture, if need were, to commit myself to your long-tried kindness in making any request that might be reasonable. Farewell. LETTER LXI. (Circa A.D. 1125.)TO RICUIN, BISHOP OF TOUL, IN LORRAINEHe sends back to the Bishop a man who had been sent to him for the purpose of undergoing penitence, and charges him with his restoration. To the Reverend Lord and Father RICUIN, by the grace of God, Bishop of Toul, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and prayers. For this sinner whom your Worthiness has thought fit to send to me, who am myself a sinner, for spiritual advice, as he says, I have no wiser counsel at the present than that he should return to the bosom of your fatherly goodness, and should learn his duty from the mouth of the priest; for I, in order to remain within the narrow limits of my powers and my office, which I ought not to transgress, am not at all accustomed to impose penance, especially for great faults, on anyone but those alone who are under my jurisdiction. For what rashness would it be in me, a sinner, and inexperienced as I am, to undertake episcopal functions and matters so important? Ought I not also, just as other men, to have recourse, as is proper, to the opinion of the bishop, as often as there presents itself among us some affair more weighty than usual, which either I know not, or dare not, or am unable to settle by myself; and am I not far from secure until I have been fortified by the opinion and advice of my bishop? Let this poor diseased sheep be provided for, then, by his own pastor, who is one who well knows the canons, with a suitable medicine of penance, that a soul for which Christ died may not (which God forbid) die in sin, and the Chief Pastor require his blood at your hand. But I have persuaded him to leave the world since God has given him a thought of so doing; if by your intercession he may obtain the favour of being received, though an old man and poor, into some monastery of holy men within your diocese. May God one day receive you, holy and venerable father, full of days and good works, into the sacred habitations in which one day is better than a thousand passed elsewhere. LETTER LXII. (Before A.D. 1129.)TO HENRY, BISHOP OF VERDUNHe recommends to the bishop a woman laden with many sins, but now penitent. To the Lord HENRY, by the grace of God, Bishop of Verdun, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and prayers. This poor woman, whom already Satan has bound, lo! these many years, with many and tangled knots of sin, has sought counsel respecting her salvation from me, though unworthy, and has been advised by me; but after many and daily wanderings this poor lost sheep should return with confidence to the fold of her own pastor. You will succour her with the more care and speed in her distress inasmuch as you know perfectly well that you will render a strict account of her safety to the Lamb who has died for her and has committed her to your care. It was our duty to correct her when wandering, it is yours not to despise her as a sinner, but to receive her as a penitent; and if her unhappy history which she has told me be true, to reconcile her to her former husband, if he still lives, or if he is unwilling to receive her, to oblige both the one and the other to live in single life. Farewell. LETTER LXIII. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE SAMEHe justifies himself respecting an imprudence of which he had been accused; he seeks his friendship, and commends to him the Abbot Guy. Respecting those matters about which it has pleased your Excellency to make inquiry of me, either I am deceived or he who has reported them to you misinforms you. If there is any foundation of truth in those reports (for I distrust my memory, which, I know, is defective, and I would not suspect such great falseness in the brother who has spoken to you about them), at least I am quite sure, and you may believe without doubt this, that I have never used a word of blame against you at any time or to any person, nor made any accusation. May such rashness be far from a humble person like myself as to dare to speak against bishops, especially in their absence, about matters which do not concern me, and of which, besides, I have no correct knowledge. I gratefully accept the honour which you have done me in deigning to wish for my acquaintance, and I desire both that I should be better known to you and that you should know me better. It is with the same confidence in the goodness of your Highness that I address to you a request, or rather a recommendation, in favour of that monastery which my reverend brother and co-abbot Dom Guy, of Trois-Fontaines, has undertaken to erect under your protection, and, as they say, at your request. I shall see in that which you do for him what is your regard for me, and I shall hold as done for myself all that you are so good as to do in his favour. Farewell. LETTER LXIV. (Circa A.D. 1129.)TO ALEXANDER, BISHOP OF LINCOLNA certain canon named Philip, on his way to Jerusalem, happening 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. 1. 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 2:19). He goes in and out with the saints, and is become as one of them, praising God and saying as they: Our conversation is in heaven (Philip, 3:20). He is become, therefore, not a curious spectator only, but a devoted inhabitant and an enrolled citizen of Jerusalem; 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. 4:25–26). 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 promises himself, his rest for ever. He has chosen her for his habitation, because with her is, although not yet the realization, at least the expectation, of true peace of which it is said: The peace of God which passes all understanding (Philip, 4:17). 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. 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 from his prebend to remain unaltered, so that he 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 inspiration 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 yourself, 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 expectation of long life it suddenly leaves you when ill-prepared, 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 (1 Thess. 5:3). Farewell. LETTER LXV. (Circa A.D. 1129.)TO ALVISUS, ABBOT OF ANCHINHe praises the fatherly gentleness of Alvisus towards Godwin. He excuses himself, and asks pardon for having admitted him. To ALVISUS, Abbot of Anchin. 1. 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 remembering 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 (1 Cor. 2:11). 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, but were concealed—charity, piety, benignity—appeared. 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. 85:10). 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 enduring longer to be concealed, and in this also like to Joseph (Gen. 45:1), 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 forget what is written, I will have mercy and not sacrifice (Hos. 6:6), and to fulfil what is ordered, Study to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3), so as to be able to count on what is promised, Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy (S. Matt. 5:7)? After all, was not that man my son? And who can rage against his son?—unless, perhaps, he was only then my son when he was with me, and not also when he deserted me. In withdrawing from me in body for a time, has he withdrawn 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 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. 3:1), 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 consolation, indeed, but none the less for a glory to you? For a wise son is the glory of his father (Prov. 10:1). Moreover, I did not make any solicitation 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 bick 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 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 LXVI. (Circa A.D. 1129.)TO GEOFFREY, ABBOT OF S. MEDARDHe begs Geoffrey’s help in reconciling him with Abbot Alvisus, and consoles him in his tribulations. To Dom GEOFFREY, Abbot of S. Medard, Brother BERNARD, unworthy superior of Clairvaux, health everlasting. In the first place, I beg that you would be so good as to forward the enclosed letter to the lord Abbot of Anchin, and that you would not fail to do what you can in favour of your absent friend, as opportunity shall serve, that he obtain that which it asks. For I ought not to conceal the cause of offence, whether just or unjust, which anyone, and especially so venerable a father has against me; which that I may not do, I should perhaps have been better able to explain my meaning better by speech than by writing, for in such matters word of mouth is wont to be more acceptable than written words, and the tongue than the pen. The expression of the eye gives confidence in the words. Nor is the hand able to express our sentiments as is the countenance. But now not being able in my absence to do as I would, I have recourse to you to give satisfaction as far as I can. I entreat you, then, again and again to take away, as far as in you lies, this offence from the kingdom of God, which is on our account, lest if this resentment endure (which may God forbid) until the day when the Angels shall be charged themselves to take away that offence, we may both be left without excuse. Concerning the tribulations of which you complained to me some time since, you know that it is said, The Lord is nigh unto them who are of a troubled spirit (Ps. 34:18). Trust in Him because He hath overcome the world. He knows among what people you are dwelling, and those who trouble you are in His sight. He who now tries you by the waters of persecution, He will grant you a refuge from the tempest. Farewell. LETTER LXVII. (Circa A.D. 1125.)TO THE MONKS OF FLAYHe justifies his reception of B., a monk, as being from a monastery entirely unknown to him, and having just causes for his departure. To Dom H., Superior of the Convent of Flay, and to the brethren who are with him, the brethren in Clairvaux wish health. 1. We learn by your letter that your Reverence is aggrieved because we have received one of your monks among us. I also am much grieved, fearing that this grief of yours be not that whereof the Apostle said: Ye were made sorry according to God (2 Cor. 7:9). For if it had been according to God it would not have so provoked you, and you would not have shown so much bitterness and violence in the reproaches which you make to us, the first time that you write to us, since although we are unknown to you, and we have never yet held communication by speech or by letter, we are none the less your brethren, and if you permit me to say so, even your friends. You wonder, as you write us, that we have received Brother Benedict among us, and you address threats to us unless we immediately send him back. You remind us that the Rule forbids a monk to be received from a known monastery, and you are no doubt persuaded that yours is not unknown. But what if it is known to others, provided that it is not known to us? Even although, as you tell me, the reputation of your community has so spread that the history of your church is known even at Rome; yet it has, I know not how, so passed over us, who are a long way this side of Rome, that we have never heard speak of you the least in the world, neither of your abbot nor of your monks, nor of the very name of your house, nor have we the least knowledge of the sanctity of your life up to the present time. Nor is that wonderful, considering that we are separated from each other by a long distance, by different provinces, and by difference of language. Not only are we not residing in the same diocese, but we do not belong to the same archbishopric. We think, then, that we are prohibited from receiving monks only from monasteries which are known to us, and not from those which others know; otherwise, since there is no monastery which is not known to somebody, not one would be left from which monks might properly be received. How, then, would that be fulfilled which was permitted and even ordered by the blessed Benedict, that a stranger monk ought not only to be received as a guest, as long as he pleases to remain, but also to be urged to remain permanently, if he is found useful to the community? 2. We, nevertheless, took another course with regard to the brother before mentioned. For when he came humbly praying to be received by us he was at first repulsed, and then bidden to return to his own monastery. But he not being willing to do this, betook himself to a hermitage near us, and there dwelt quietly almost seven months, without any evil report of him arising. But not thinking it safe for himself to live alone, he was not ashamed, after this first repulse, to ask of us again what he had asked before. We a second time admonished him about his return, and when we inquired the cause of his departure he said: “My abbot treated me not as a monk but as a physician. He obliged me to serve, or rather he himself served by means of me, not God, but the world; since, in order not to incur the ill-will of secular princes, he used to compel me to give medical care to tyrants, robbers, and excommunicate. I declared to him both in public and in private the peril which my soul incurred; but as this was to no purpose, I at length, relying on the advice of certain wise men, fled from the destruction of my soul, not from religion or from my community. Do not reject one who seeks salvation, open the door to one who knocks.” At the sight of his perseverance, having heard his reason, and knowing no ill of him, we granted him admission; we approved him after his time of probation, we admitted him to make profession, and now we consider him as one of us. We did not compel him to enter, and now we will not oblige him to depart. And if we should drive him out he would not (as he asserts) return to you, but would fly still farther from you. Cease then, brethren, to persecute unoffending people with unmerited reproaches, and to trouble them with useless letters, because we will not be provoked even by reiterated insults to reply to you otherwise than with respect; nor will we be terrified into not keeping among us a monk whom we believe that we have received according to the Rule. LETTER LXVIIITO THE SAME, UPON THE SAME SUBJECTTo the Reverend the Abbot of Flay, to the brethren of that convent, and to certain others, Brother BERNARD wishes health. MY GOOD BRETHREN,— 1. It would have been a proof of moderation on your part had you shown yourselves satisfied with my former explanation in answer to your complaint, and refrained from harassing those who do not deserve it. But as to your former attacks you have added greater ones, and have thrown among us new germs of discord (which, we trust, will no more be fruitful than the former were), and as by not replying I may seem to acknowledge fault where there is none, I reply truthfully a second time to what you angrily object. This is the whole of my fault, which you consider so great; this the vast injustice that I have done to you; that a monk, alone, a wanderer, poor, miserable, flying from peril to his soul, seeking earnestly his own salvation, at his earnest application and request we have received; or that having thus received him, we do not eject him without cause, and so make ourselves prevaricators, destroyers of what we have built. For this we are considered transgressors of the Rule, of the canons, of the law of nature itself! You demand with indignation, why we have presumed to admit among us a monk of yours, excommunicated by you, which we would not suffer ourselves. But as to the excommunication, why need we reply, when you give a sufficient reply yourselves for us, since you know without doubt that he was received by us, before he was excommunicated by you? But if he was regularly received, it is a monk under our jurisdiction and not under yours, that you have excommunicated: and you will see, whether that was rightly done. 2. It remains therefore to be ascertained, whether he was rightly received; and this is the sole question between us. You indeed, since you cannot deny that a monk may regularly be received from a monastery that is unknown, contend that yours was known to us. We deny it, and you do not believe us. But if you do not believe us in a simple denial, do so when we affirm by oath. I take God to witness that I did not know you, and do not know you; I have received the writings of unknown persons and I have replied to unknown persons. I feel indeed your violence and your attacks, but yet I am not acquainted with the assailants themselves. But you for the purpose of convincing me of pretended ignorance, employ the crushing argument that those cannot be unknown to me whose name, that of the abbot and of the monastery itself I have placed in my letters; as if when you know the names of things you know the things themselves also. Since in that case I have the pleasure to know the names of Michael and Gabriel and Raphael, by the mere hearing of these words, I am already blessed by the knowledge of those blessed spirits themselves. It is no small profit to me, I say, if because I have learned from the Apostle to call by their names Paradise and the third Heaven, I have therefore, though not rapt thither with the Apostle, learned the secrets of Heaven from their names alone, and heard unspeakable words which it is not lawful for man to utter. Foolish am I who, already knowing the name of my God, yet still groan superfluously every day, I know not why; uselessly sighing with the Prophet, and saying, Thy face O Lord will I seek (Ps. 27:8). And When shall I come to appear before God (Ps. 42:2). And: Show us Thy Face, and we shall be saved (Ps. 80:3). 3. But what is it we do towards you which we are unwilling to be done towards us? Do you suppose that we are unwilling that any monk departing from our monastery should be received in any other? Would that you might be able to save without us all those committed to us. If any monk of ours should have passed over to you for the sake of greater perfection, or from the desire of a severer life, not only are we not offended if you assist him in so good a wish, but we earnestly entreat you to do so: nor should we complain as persons offended, but confess ourselves to have received a great service. Then you deny what we had heard of you, that Brother B. as long as he was with you, practised the medical art by your consent or even by your order upon secular persons, and you accuse of falsehood him who has said this. Whether he has told the truth I know not; let him see to it; but this I know, that if he practised medicine, whether of his own accord, as you declare, or to obey you, as he testifies, he exposed his soul to great dangers. Who, then, could be so inhuman as not to help a person in such peril if he were able, or to counsel him if he were not able? And if, as you assert, that it was not compelled by obedience but by the desire of gain for himself, or a taste for wandering, that he used to travel about here and there making merchandise of his art; what cause existed for his leaving you? Was it because by the tightening of pastoral discipline, that was no longer permitted to him which had been permitted before? But in that case why did you, when he was with us, wishing to recall him, promise him that he should remain quiet in the convent, for the purpose of persuading him to return; unless that you knew that the man wished for this, and remembered that he had asked for it? but he, having already obtained among strangers what he could not obtain among his own, nor desiring to quit the certain for the uncertain, has held fast what he already enjoyed, despising what was offered to him too late. 4. Cease, then, my brethren, cease, from being careful for a brother for whom it is not at all needful that you should take care: unless, perhaps, which I hope is not the case, you seek your own interests and not those of Jesus Christ, and love more the advantage which you derive from him than his salvation. For since he was always when among you a rolling stone, and, as you write, expending for his own purposes what he acquired by his art, against the obligations of his condition and the command of his abbot; let those who love him rejoice, because by the pity of God he has, while among us, been entirely cured. For we give our testimony to him that never now does he wander abroad on any pretence, but remains quietly in the monastery; he lives without complaint as a poor man among poor men. Far from regarding, as you say, the first engagements which he made as null and void, he now considers them valid, and accomplishes them all without exception, which, when with you, he failed to do; and this with a regularity and perfect obedience without which he deceives himself who trusts in his stability of place. I entreat you, then, brethren, that your indignation may now be calmed and your inquietude cease. But if otherwise, do what you please, write as you please, persecute me as much as you please; charity endures all things, suffers all things. For I am quite resolved not to abandon on account of this matter the purest affection, the deepest respect, and a brotherly consideration towards you. LETTER LXIXTO GUY, ABBOT OF TROIS FONTAINESHe instructs Guy what to do. The latter had consecrated by mistake a Chalice, in which, by oversight of the servers, there was no wine. 1. I know, my dear friend, that you are distressed, and I praise you for being so, if your distress be not excessive; for you are, I believe, distressed, as the Apostle says, according to God (2 Cor. 7:9); nor is it doubtful that sorrow of this kind will be one day changed into joy. Therefore, be angry and sin not, for you will sin not less by too much anger than by no anger at all. For not to be angry when where is cause for anger is to be unwilling to correct what is wrong; but to be more angry than there is cause for being is to add sin to sin; and if it is wrong not to correct what is wrong, how much more would it not be to increase it? If judgment depended on the issue of actions inculpated, your sorrow, however great, could not be blamed, since, unquestionably, it rests on the fact that the fault had been great. For a fault would appear the graver the more sacred is the matter which it is concerned with. But as it is the motive and not the matter, the intention and not the result of actions which distinguishes between praise and blame, according to the word of the Lord, If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light: but if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness (S. Matt. 6:22, 23); therefore, in the examination of your act, I consider the dignity of holy things is not so much the point to be regarded as your own intention. Furthermore, our Prior and I, after thinking over the whole matter privately and consulting together about it, decided that in it there was ignorance on your part, and negligence on the part of the servers; but evidently no ill intention in either. And you know well that no work is good unless it be founded in good will. How then can an act not done with consent of the will be a great sin? Otherwise, if it were the case that without the assent of the will, a good action indeed obtains no approval, but a bad one severe punishment; that would be as much as to say, that for one and the same cause both evil is reckoned and good not credited; and whosoever thinks thus let him assert, if he will, that good does not prevail over evil, but that evil prevails over good. 2. Nevertheless, in order to set at rest your troubled conscience, and lest perhaps this lamentable occurrence should be a warning of some secret sin lurking still in the monastery, I enjoin upon you by way of penance to recite the Seven Penitential Psalms daily until Easter, seven times prostrating yourself, and to receive the discipline seven times. In this manner also let him who ministered to you at that Mass make satisfaction. But as for him who had made the preparations beforehand and had forgotten to put wine into the chalice, his fault I consider greater than that of others, and, if you agree with me, I leave him to your judgment. If a report of this has gone forth among the brethren, I think that they also should severally receive the discipline, that that may be fulfilled which is written, Bear ye one another’s burdens (Gal. 6:2). Afterwards, I greatly approve of your having poured some wine into the chalice, upon a particle of the consecrated Host, when the negligence had been found out, though it was found out too late; and I consider that the liquid, though not changed by a proper and solemn consecration into the Body and Blood of Christ, yet became hallowed by the contact with the Sacred Body. It is said, nevertheless, that some other writer, I know not whom, was of another opinion, and thought that the Sacrifice could not be without the three—bread, wine, and water; so that if either of the three should be in any case wanting, the other two were not consecrated. But on this point everyone must be satisfied in his own mind. 3. For myself, if the same thing had happened to me, I should (according to my poor opinion) proceed to repair the omission in one out of two ways: either that which you did, or I would rather have iterated the sacred words from that place where it is said, “Likewise after supper He took the cup” (simili modo postquam cœnatum est), and so have supplied what remained to do of the sacrifice. For I could not possibly doubt that the Body was already consecrated, according to the Rite of the Church, since I have learned from the Church, what she also has learned from her Lord, to present Bread and Wine together; yet (I have not learned) to be confident that the Mystery is consummated in these together. Since, then, according to the custom of the Church, the Body is perfected from bread, before the Blood from wine: if by forgetfulness, that which is to be consecrated the later, is presented too late, I do not see why that lateness of the latter should annul the preceding consecration. For I think that if it had pleased the Lord, after His Body made from bread, to intermit for a little while the consecration of the wine, or even altogether to omit it, none the less His Body which He had made would have remained, nor would things not yet done affect those done. It is not that I deny that bread and wine mixed with water ought to be presented together, on the contrary, I assert that it ought to be thus done and not otherwise; but it is one thing to blame negligence, and another to deny efficacy (as a result of it); in the one case we assert that all things are not done as they should be, in the other we deny that they are done at all. In the meantime, you have here what I think and feel about this matter, without the least unwillingness to consider either your opinion, if it be wiser than mine, or that of any other better qualified person. LETTER LXXTO THE SAMEBernard reminds him what feelings of mercy a pastor ought to have, and advises him to withdraw a sentence which he had passed upon an offending monk. To the Lord Abbot GUY, Brother BERNARD, health, with the spirit of wisdom and piety. Considering the miserable condition of this unhappy man, I feel myself touched with pity, but I fear lest it be in vain. Yet even though he should remain in his unhappy state I do not think that my pity would be altogether wasted, but would be of advantage, at least to me. The pity which I feel is not, however, prompted by any advantage to myself, but a brotherly sympathy is produced in my inmost heart by the misery of a brother. Pity is a feeling which is not governed by the will, nor subjected to the reason, nor is anyone drawn to it by deliberate purpose; but it necessarily imposes itself of its own accord on compassionate hearts at the sight of the suffering of others, so that even if it were a sin to be moved with compassion I could not help pitying, even if I wished. The reason and the will would, indeed, be able to prevent our acting upon the feeling; but could they eradicate the feeling itself? Far from me be those who would console me by saying that my prayer shall return unto my own bosom, although he for whom it is offered is not yet converted. Nor do I listen to those who flatter me by quoting: The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him (Ezek. 18:20) while the wicked still remains in his impiety. No, I say, I cannot be consoled while I see the desolation of a brother. If, then, my dear son, your pious mind is similarly affected, or rather because it is similarly affected, although that unhappy man seems to have practised shameful and repeated flight from the monastery after having returned, yet because he thinks otherwise, you ought to listen, not only patiently but also willingly to what he humbly urges (however ill-founded), if perchance any reasonable opportunity may be found for saving a man whose safety is despaired of; which (as your experience, equally with my own, teaches) is difficult to find even in congregation, but is much more difficult when he is without in the world. Do not disdain, therefore, having called an assembly of all the brethren, to recall all the censures that you have launched against him, insomuch that his contumacy shall be healed by your humility, and perhaps some means may be found, without violating the Rule, for receiving him once more. Nor need you fear that by this retractation you will displease our just and merciful God, if mercy shall be exalted above justice. Farewell. LETTER LXXI. (A.D. 1127.)TO THE MONKS OF THE SAME PLACEHe excuses himself for having hitherto put off making a visit to them, not from negligence on his part, but from waiting for a suitable opportunity; he consoles them for the death of their Abbot, Roger. Do not impute it to negligence that I have not come to you yet. I care for you indeed as for my own bowels. If a mother is able to neglect the care of her own child, then can I be suspected of neglecting you. I have been waiting, and I am waiting now, only for an opportunity, so that when I come my visit may not be without profit. In the meantime, let not your heart be troubled for the departure of your father. God, we hope, will provide him a worthy successor. Nor, indeed, is he lost to you; the Lord has translated him, not taken him entirely away. Only he, who was your own peculiar property, now belongs to us all as well. Until I come to you, work bravely, let your hearts be comforted, and let all your actions be done in charity. Farewell. LETTER LXXIITO RAINALD, ABBOT OF FOIGNYBernard declares to him how little he loves praise; that the yoke of Christ is light; that he declines the name of father, and is content with that of brother. 1. 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. 12:10), and: Submit yourselves one to another in the fear of God (Eph. 5:21), 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. 20:16), and, He that is the greater among you, let him be as the younger (S. Luke 22:26), and The greater thou art, the more humble thyself (Ecclus. 3:18), and Not because we have dominion over your faith, but are helpers of your joy (2 Cor. 1:24), and, Have they made thee the master? Be then among them as one of them (Ecclus. 32:1), and Be ye not called Rabbi; and Call no man your father upon the earth (S. Matt. 23:8, 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 distracted (Ps. 88:15), and Thou hast lifted me up and cast me down (Ps. 102:10). 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. It 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. 119:71, 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. 11:30). 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 everyone upon whom it is laid to bear? This weight was able to render fruitful the Virgin’s womb, but not to burden it. 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 themselves 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 perfection, while decreasing the difficulty. His word, it is said, runneth very swiftly (Ps. 147:15). 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 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. 102:8, 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. 9:16, cited from memory). Then I reply, Let them be soon brought to shame who say unto me, There, There! (Ps. 70:3). 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 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? (Mal. 1:6). 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 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. LETTER LXXIIITO THE SAMEHe 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. 1. 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 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 anyone is in such spiritual health that he 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 communicated to him, as far as was possible, my inmost 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 LXXIVTO THE SAMEHe 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? 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 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 LXXV. (A.D. 1127.)TO ARTAUD, ABBOT OF PRULLYTo his very dear friend and colleague, Abbot ARTAUD, Brother BERNARD wishes health. Whatever affection and heartfelt kindliness absent friends are able to bestow upon one another I feel is due both from me to you and from you to me, not only because we share the same vows and method of life, but also because we have neither of us forgotten our ancient friendship. And we are in no way better able to show to each other or to recognize how acceptable this is to each of us, and how warmly it exists in the heart of each of us, than not to conceal from each other if either should hear of anything unbecoming or unsuitable concerning his friend. Now, I have heard that you have the intention of founding an abbey in Spain to be dependent on your holy convent. The plan occasioned great surprise to me, nor could I conjecture for what end, with what design or hope of usefulness, you should wish to send some of your monks into exile to a place so distant, and which will cost you so much both in trouble and in money to reach and to build upon, when you have quite near you a house already built and well-fitted up, where you may settle any of them. For you cannot, I suppose, excuse yourself by saying that the place I refer to is not yours, when I know quite well that it may easily be yours if you wish. Do you suppose that the Lord Abbot of Pontigny, to whom it belongs, would refuse it to you if you asked him for it? On the contrary, it would be most agreeable to him if you were willing to accept it; not because it is not a good house, but because, as you know, he has no need of it. We ought both of us to take great care in our conduct, of the advice which the Apostle gives: Let no man despise thy youth (1 Tim. 4:12), because we are remarked the sooner for levity, as we are young men. But I trust that you will act with more consideration, and choose this place, as it is nearer to you and already built; which, while it will perfectly meet your wants, is only a burden to our friend the abbot, who at present holds it. Farewell. LETTER LXXVITO THE ABBOT OF THE REGULAR CANONS OF S. PIERREMONTHe considers what is to be done in the case of a man who, after a long time spent in a monastery and in the habit of a religious, has returned to the world and contracted a second marriage. To the most Reverend the Father of the Canons of S. Pierre-mont, Brother BERNARD, health and the affection which is due to him. Since it pleased your worship that this brother should consult my unworthy self, I have let him know my opinion without at all pretending that he ought to follow it, that I may not stand in the way of better advice. Not to weary you by repeating circumstances which you already know, this is the sum of my advice. It is very dangerous, perhaps unlawful, that a man who has so long dwelt in a convent and worn the religious habit, should have returned to the world; also that he who with the consent of his former wife, while she was living, had long observed absolute continence should contract a second marriage is indecent and dishonourable. Yet since the marriage was publicly and solemnly performed as others are, and without protest or opposition, it does not seem to me safe that the man should dismiss his wife against her will, unless he shall have had recourse to episcopal authority or advice, or at all events to an ecclesiastical and canonical judgment. But since, in my opinion, the great danger in which the man now is, is due, in no small degree, to you (in that you deferred too long his taking the vow, though he wished and desired to do so, and thus gave opportunity to the tempter to precipitate him into those unhappy courses), I counsel and advise you in the name of charity to employ all your efforts to rescue the unfortunate man, even at any cost. Address yourself, for instance, to the wife herself, and obtain from her a promise to dismiss her husband and live in continence, or procure that the bishop should summon them both before him and separate them, which I believe may justly be done. LETTER LXXVIITO MAGISTER HUGO, OF S. VICTORThis Letter also, on account of its importance, has been placed among the Treatises. LETTER LXXVIII. (A.D. 1127.)TO SUGER, ABBOT OF S. DENISHe praises Suger, who 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. 1. 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, but have only heard of you, what you were and what you are now, wonder and 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 heareth say, Come (Rev. 22:17), 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. 10:27). 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 recalls those who have taken flight. Nor is it rare that his splendid valour procures a safety as welcome 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 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 wanting 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, interposing 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. 32:32). 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 compassion, not by sympathy for their revolt, quitted voluntarily his native soil and his own liberty 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 from Christ Himself for his brethren (Romans 9:3). He experienced in his own heart how true is that saying, Love is as strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave (Cant. 8:6). 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 lamenting the slaughter of his people, wished to devote himself for them, and desired that the Divine vengeance should be transferred to himself and to his father’s house (2 Sam. 24:17). 3. But who made you aspire to this degree of perfection? 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, the pomp, which followed you everywhere. 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 Cæsar the things which were Cæsar’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 accessible 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 practising self-restraint and obedience, for attention to sacred reading. Consider that silence and constant 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 abstinence 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 (1 S. John 4:18). 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. 21:13). He will doubtless then have in commendation the man who has accomplished 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 anyone, but from the comparison with the old state of things to make the beauty of the new appear more sharply 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 compared 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 (1 Cor. 6:11). 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 8:18). 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. 113:1), and again, Sing praises to our God, sing praises, sing praises to our King, sing praises (Ps. 47:6). 6. When your breasts are beaten with penitent hands, and your pavements worn with your knees, your altars heaped with vows and devout prayers, 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. 50:23)? O, if anyone had his eyes opened, as were those of the prophet’s servant at his prayer! He would doubtless see (2 Kings 6:17) The princes go before, joined with the minstrels in the midst of the players on timbrels (Ps. 67:26, 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 recognize their fellow-citizens; they earnestly rejoice, comfort, instruct, 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 5:20), and so please a person to lead him into error. Sweet but perilous is the praise when the wicked is praised in the desire of his heart, and the unjust is blessed (Ps. 9:3, 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 ointment 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. 119:74); and again: Many shall show forth his wisdom (Ecclus. 39:10). 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 refers to: The sons of men are vain; they are deceitful upon the weights, so that they deceive even more than vanity (Ps. 62:10). Such are altogether to be avoided according to the counsel of the wise man: My son, if sinners entice thee consent thou not (Prov. 1:10), 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. 55:21). 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 without 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. 141:5), 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. 1:1, 2). This to their mother. But, then, having 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 up for them that fear Thee (Ps. 31:19). Now my whole desire is accomplished. Formerly when I saw with regret with what avidity you sucked in 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. 8:1)? Far from thee henceforth be those men with 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. 1:10). 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 words; fear only lest I may offend someone if I speak openly of what troubles me, since truth sometimes makes enemies. But for enmity of this kind thus incurred I hear the truth consoling me. It 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. 18:7) concern 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 the truth be compromised” (S. Greg. Magn. Hom. 7 in Ezech. near the beginning, and S. Aug. de Lib. Arbitr. et de Prædest. 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. 11. 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, against the precept of the Gospel heaping up ecclesiastical 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 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 probable, 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 ecclesiastical 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 Dapifer to H.M. the King. O, unheard of and hateful perversity! 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 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 dunghill 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. 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 head 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 humiliation of the King raised higher the dignity of the priest, or the abasement of the clerk added something to the royal honour; as it happens, for instance, 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 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 persevere? I end my letter by warning you to make a good ending of your good work. LETTER LXXIX. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO ABBOT LUKEBernard warns him that familiarity with women is to be shunned, and indicates what is to be done in regard to a brother who has fallen into sin. 1. My very dear friend, you have singularly edified me, and have shown an example only too rare of goodness, because not only have you not despised the warnings of one of less importance than yourself, but have besides this returned thanks to your adviser, wisely looking not to who or what he might be, but to what was his advice. I thank God for it, and that my presumption in advising has met with gratitude rather than indignation. Encouraged, therefore, by this striking proof of your humility I feel myself bolder in repeating my former advice. I pray you, therefore, by that Blood which was poured out for souls not to regard as a matter of small importance the peril that is incurred by souls of so great value by the meeting of persons of different sexes in familiar intercourse. This cannot be doubted by those who have long struggled against the temptations of the devil, and have learned by their own experience to say with the Apostle, We are not ignorant of his devices (2 Cor. 2:11). And if there is anything that should induce you to take into serious consideration, not my advice indeed, but that of the Apostle himself, or rather his precept about this matter, when he cries aloud Flee from fornication (1 Cor. 6:18), it is the proof of peril given by the shameful fall of the brother, about whom you have deigned to consult me. But, indeed, I wonder that it should have seemed to you expedient to seek me for an adviser, although at such a distance, when you have beside you a wise man of our Order and a special lover of your house, namely, William, Abbot of S. Thierry. And I do not doubt that there are in the Abbey of Prémontré also men of sense, who have prudence and faithfulness to show you the way out of your difficulties. 2. But since it has pleased you rather to have recourse to me, for which, no doubt, you have some good reason, the best advice I can give is at your disposal. If that brother has come of himself to confess his fault, however grave and shameful it may have been, endeavour should be made to bring about his amendment, and he should not be expelled. But as the ill odour of such a crime betrays it to others, it is needful to proceed with care, if it is possible, and in a different way from heretofore. For it is, perhaps, not expedient that he should be allowed to remain longer among you, lest, perhaps, as you have with great reason written, this sick sheep should infect your young and tender flock with his disease. On the other hand, a father ought not to close his heart entirely against his son, though a sinner; I should consider it, therefore, a course kindly in the father and salutary for the son that you should endeavour to remove him into another of the houses of Dom Norbert, but a distant one, where he may do penance under a stricter discipline, changing his abode but not his purpose, until the time when it shall seem good to you to recall him to his own monastery. As for his passing into our Order, that, perhaps, would not be of advantage to you. You wrote to me, it is true, that he had often said that he had my promise to receive him if he should come with your licence; but in my presence he denied having said any such thing. Perhaps you may not be disposed to send him to any of those places to abide which I have mentioned, or he may not be willing to go, or if both are willing, perhaps a place ready to receive him may not be found: then one of two things will be advisable in the necessity of the case; one, to dismiss him with letters of licence to travel whither he will for the good of his soul; the other to keep him among you, by special grace of forgiveness, if, that is to say, you are able to take away every occasion of his repenting or disseminating his former wickedness. But sufficient on this subject. 3. There is still one point on which with my usual presumption I will make bold to tell you what I think. I speak of that mill at which the lay brothers who are in charge are obliged to permit the resort of women. If you will follow my advice do one of three things; either forbid entirely any entrance of women to the mill; or let the mill be put into the charge of some outside person, and not left to the lay brothers; or let it be altogether given up. LETTER LXXX. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO GUY, ABBOT OF MOLÊSMESBernard 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, 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, not so much to be angry with those people who have caused you such great sufferings, although they are your own servants, as to 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 recompensed 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. 5:39). LETTER LXXXI. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO GERARD, ABBOT OF POTTIÈRESHe defends himself against a false accusation which had been made against him. I do not remember that I ever wrote anything to the Count of Nevers, to accuse you personally, nor is it true to say that I have. But if I have written a letter to that prince it is on behalf of your Church, and I consider that in this I have acted not against you, but on your behalf. I had heard that on your advice, and with your consent, he proposed to come to you on a visit of inspection, in order to ascertain whether there was any truth in the many evil reports which were going abroad concerning your house, and, if so, to whom the blame was to be laid, so that he might correct with zeal and care anything that he might find to be wrong. I do not see that you have any right to feel yourself injured or to complain because I took pains to strengthen the prince by my encouragement in a resolution so just and so pious. On the contrary, I think I did rightly and in the interests of the House of God in rousing the zeal of the man who was able to apply a remedy to the evil from which it suffered. You quote the Holy Scripture to convince me that I have done wrong because I did not begin by warning you; but know that I have absolutely no complaint against you personally, and in all that I have done for the sake of charity I have had in view only the restoration of peace in your Church. Finally, you shall be fully convinced of the truth of what I say if, as you announce to me, you come to show me the whole business. You will be sure to find me here on whatever day of the coming week you please. LETTER LXXXII. (Circa A.D. 1128.)TO THE ABBOT OF S. JOHN AT CHARTRESBernard dissuades him from resigning his charge, and undertaking a Pilgrimage to Jerusalem. 1. 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 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 considering 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, without 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. 12:1). 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, 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 advantage 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. 1:21)? And where will that principle be which the Apostle declares: No one lives to himself, and no one dies to himself (Rom. 14:7); and, Not seeking mine own profit, but the profit of many (1 Cor. 10:33); and, That he who lives should not any longer live unto himself, but unto Him who died for all (2 Cor. 5:15)? 2. But you will say: Whence comes my great desire, if it is not from God? With your permission I will say what I think. Stolen waters are sweet (Prov. 9:17); 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 sweetness 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 does not see. For when did the Truth oppose that most faithful saying, Art thou bound unto a wife? seek not to be loosed (1 Cor. 7:27)? 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, 18:7). 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. LETTER LXXXIII. (Circa A.D. 1129.)TO SIMON, ABBOT OF S. NICHOLASBernard 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. 1. 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 singing, but groaning as if she said, How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? (Ps. 137:4). 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 struggling 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. 121:2). 2. All those, indeed, who wish to live piously in Christ suffer persecution (2 Tim. 3:12). 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 constantly 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. 32). So Samuel unwillingly anointed Saul, constrained by the too eager desires of the same people for a king (1 Sam. 10). 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. 7). 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 persuaded either to bear with the weaker out of charity as far as they can without sin, or permitted to preserve the customs which they desire in the monastery itself, if that may be done without scandal to either 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 LXXXIVTO THE SAMEHe sends back an erring monk, but advises that he should be treated more gently and kindly after his return. In the first place, please to notice that your wandering sheep has been detained by us against our custom, not for ourselves, but for his own sake, and for you; not without a good result, as you see, since we have succeeded by such treatment, and by salutary counsels, in satisfying his desire for a stricter life, and in giving you at the same time full satisfaction, by his return to you with his own assent. I say this to you not to show you our kindly feeling towards you, which I could never sufficiently show, but to convince you of the truth of what I have already said to you, if I remember rightly, that the trial of a Rule somewhat more strict often suffices to calm unquiet spirits who are not content with the kind of life that they are living. You have written to say that you wish to have my advice on the subject of this very brother who is now reconciled to you; but I have thought it now unnecessary to give it, now that he has returned to you with the intention not of extorting his own will from you, but of doing yours, as it is right he should. I beg you on his behalf, and with him, kindly to soften the difficulty of his first return, which he greatly fears, and to treat him with greater kindness and condescension than is usual with other fugitives, because, although the circumstances are similar to these, yet the cause of his conduct was different, and should justify different treatment. It is evident that there is a great distinction between one who quits his monastery from fear and dislike of the religious state, and one who quits it to go to another from love of his vocation and desire to practise it better. TO WILLIAM, ABBOT OF S. THIERRYHere is inserted in some editions a Letter of S. BERNARD, which we have prefixed as a preface to the Apology of Bernard, addressed to the same WILLIAM. LETTER LXXXV. (Circa A.D. 1125.)TO THE SAME WILLIAMBernard gently reproaches him for complaining that a sufficient return was not made to him by Bernard in offices of friendship. To Dom Abbot WILLIAM, Brother BERNARD wishes health and the charity which comes of a pure heart and a good conscience and faith unfeigned. 1. If no one knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him (1 Cor. 2:11), if man sees only the face, while God reads the heart, I wonder, I cannot sufficiently wonder how and by what means you have been able to measure and distinguish between your affection for me and mine for you, so that you can judge, not only of the feelings of your own heart, but also of that of another person. It seems to be the error of the human mind, not only to think good evil and evil good, or true things false and conversely, but also to regard sure things as doubtful and doubtful things as sure. Perhaps it is true what you say, that you are loved less by me than you love me; but I am quite sure of this, that you can have no certainty about it. How, then, do you affirm as certain what you cannot possibly have any certainty of? Wonderful! Paul did not trust himself to his own judgment, saying, I judge not my own self (1 Cor. 4:3). Peter mourned for the presumption with which he had deceived himself, when he said of himself, Though I should die with Thee I will not deny Thee (S. Matt. 26:35). The disciples, not trusting their own consciences, replied one after the other concerning the denial of the Lord, Is it I, Lord? (S. Matt. 26:22). David confesses his own ignorance of himself in his prayer, Remember not my sins of ignorance (Ps. 25:7, VULG.). But you, with marvellous confidence, declare so positively, not only about your own heart, but mine, “Though I love more, I am loved less.” 2. These were, in fact, your words. I could wish they had not been, because I do not know whether they are true. But if you know, how do you know? How, I repeat, have you made proof that I am more loved by you than you by me? Is it from what you have added in your letters, that those who go and come between our houses never bring you a pledge of regard and affection from me? But what pledge, what proof of love do you require from me? Is this the trouble that disturbs you, that to none of your many letters to me have I ever replied? But how could I think that the ripeness of your wisdom could take any pleasure in the scribblings of my inexperience? For I knew who said, My little children, let us not love in word nor by tongue, but in deed and in truth (1 S. John 3:18). When have you ever had need of my help and it has failed you? O, Thou who searchest the hearts and the reins! who alone, as the Sun of Righteousness, lightenest the hearts of Thy servants with the differing rays of Thy grace; Thou knowest I feel that I love him by Thy gift, and because he merits it; but how much I love him Thou knowest and I do not. Thou, O Lord, who hast given the love that we have, I for him or he for me, knowest how much Thou hast given. And by what right does any of us, to whom Thou hast not revealed it, dare to say, “I love more, I am loved less,” unless he already sees his light in Thy light; that is, he recognizes in the light of Thy truth how bright the fire of charity may be? 3. In the meantime I am content, O Lord, to see my own darkness in Thy light, until Thou shalt visit me sitting in the darkness and the shadow of death; and by Thee the thoughts of men’s hearts shall be revealed and the secret things of darkness made manifest, and the shadows being dissipated, nothing but light shall remain in Thy light. I feel, indeed, that, by Thy gift, I love him; but I do not yet see in Thy light whether I love him sufficiently. Nor do I yet know if I have reached that degree of affection, than which there can be none greater, that one should lay down his life for his friends. For who will boast that his heart is pure, or that it is perfect? O, Lord, who hast lighted in my soul a lamp by whose light I see and shudder at my own darkness, my God! enlighten also that very darkness, that I may see and rejoice in my affections perfectly regulated within me, that I may know and love what ought to be loved, and to the right degree and for the right reason. May I not desire to be loved except in Thee, and no more than I ought to be loved. Woe to me also if (which I greatly fear) either I was more loved by him than I deserved, or he less loved by me than he was worthy to be. Nevertheless, if those who are the better ought to be loved the more (for those are the better who love the more), what else shall I say than that I do not doubt that I love him more than myself, whom I know to be better than myself; but I confess at the same time that I love him less than I ought to do, because I have less capability of doing so. 4. But, my father, the greater is your love, the less ought you to despise the imperfection of mine, because although you love more, having greater capability, yet you do not love more than your capacity enables you. It is thus with me, although I love you less than I ought, yet I love you as much as my capacity permits, and I can only do what I have received the capacity of doing. Draw me, then, in your train that I may reach unto you, and with you, receiving capacity more fully, may love more abundantly. Why, then, do you endeavour that I should attain and complain that I am not able to do so, since you have succeeded as you see and may dispose of me as you please, but such as I am, not such as you hoped to find me? Indeed, you see in me something, I know not what, which I have not, and pursue as me what is not me. Therefore you do not attain it, because I am insufficient for this, and, as you rightly complain in your letter, it is not I that fail you, but God in me. Now, if all this verbiage pleases you that I have ventured upon here, tell me, and I will repeat it, since in obeying you I shall not fear the reproach of presumption. The little Preface which you have ordered to be sent to you I have not now at hand, nor did I think it necessary as yet to draw it up. I pray that He who has given you to will may in His good pleasure accomplish to you and to your friends whatsoever you will rightly, my pious and most reverend father, who art fully worthy of all my regard. LETTER LXXXVI. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO THE SAMEBernard 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. 1. 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 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 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 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 opportunity of usefulness. LETTER LXXXVII. (Circa A.D. 1126.)TO OGER, REGULAR CANONBernard blames him for his resignation of his pastoral charge, although made from the love of a calm and pious life. None the less, 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. 1. If I seem to have been too slow in replying to your letter, ascribe it to my not having had an 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, complimentary 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, 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 despondency, 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; it must be decided also by those 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 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 obligations, 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 glory of God, whose will you, beyond doubt, resist in casting yourself 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. 4:7, lxx). 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 (1 Cor. 7:27). 4. But to what end do I strive in these arguments? 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. 28:14). But the fear which I wish to inspire is not that which falls into the nets of desperation, but which 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. 2:14); that you should be deceived, and not only think that what you have done is not wrong, but also (which, God forbid) 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 subjected 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. Beware of boastfulness and self-satisfaction; more useful 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 confidence: 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 I have done, but let the good which He had provided 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 distinguished 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 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. 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 disciple. 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 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 because 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 remembrance 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 position, 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 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 eloquent 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 require 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, 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 discourse; 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. 38:25). 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 engagements afford me no excuse, I can allege nothing, as I have often said already, but the insufficiency of my knowledge. 11. 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 good will 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 holdeth his peace is counted wise (Prov. 17:28), 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 presumption. 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 humiliation. 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, 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. 12:6). How finely he has said I spare \[restrain\] you. The arrogant, the proud, the desirous of vain glory, 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 himself. He alone who is truly humble, he restrains his own soul, who is even afraid to let the excellency 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 anyone 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. 88:15, VULG.), and this, I will play and will be yet more vile (2 Sam. 6:21, 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 on their hands, contrary to human nature, with their heads downward 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 bendings provoke the passions, but it is cheerful, honourable, 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 (1 Cor. 4:9). 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 LXXXVIII. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAMEBernard, 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. 1. 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 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 engrossed 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 requirements 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 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 charity (1 S. John 4:16), 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 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, 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 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 anyone. And I make you judge equally if that little preface 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 without 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. LETTER LXXXIX. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAMEHe excuses the brevity of his letter on the ground that Lent is a time of silence; and also that on account of his profession and his ignorance he does not dare to assume the function of teaching. 1. 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. 3:1–7). 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? 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 expressions, 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. Therefore, to teach is the business neither of the unlearned in his rashness, nor of the monk in his boldness, 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. 39:2) since, according to the same prophet, A man full of words shall not prosper upon the earth (Ps. 140:11), and to another Scripture, Death and life are in the power of the tongue (Prov. 18:21). But silence, says Isaiah, is the work of righteousness (Is. 32:17), and Jeremiah teaches us to wait in silence for the salvation of the Lord (Lam. 3:26). 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 entreat 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, 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 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, 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 XC. (Circa A.D. 1127.)TO THE SAMEA 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. 1. 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? However 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 friendship for me, I 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 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. 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 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 XCI. (Circa A.D. 1130.)TO THE ABBOTS ASSEMBLED AT SOISSONSBernard 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, 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 superstitiously observed; but diligent and humble inquiry is made what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God (Rom. 12:2). 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 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. 7:17, VULG.). I read: Be not wiser than is befitting (Rom. 12:3, 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. 3:13), 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 lukewarm and lax persons, whose memory is in execration, 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, I am not better than my fathers (1 Kings 19:4), yet he has not said that he did not wish to be. Jacob saw upon the ladder Angels ascending and descending (Gen. 28:12); 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 continuing city; nor do we yet possess, but always seek for, that which is to come. 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. 15:12). But now these new Pharisees are scandalized 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 XCII. (A.D. 1132.)TO HENRY, KING OF ENGLANDHe asks the King’s favour to the monks sent by him to construct a monastery. To the illustrious HENRY, King of England, BERNARD, 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 property 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 you. And these scouts whom you see before you I have sent beforehand on this business to investigate wisely the state of things, and bring me faithful word again. Be so kind as to assist them as messengers of your Lord, and in their persons fulfil your feudal 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 happiness and contentment to the end of your days. LETTER XCIII. (Circa A.D. 1132.)TO HENRY, BISHOP OF WINCHESTERBernard 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. 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, 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 XCIV. (A.D. 1132.)TO THE ABBOT OF A CERTAIN MONASTERY AT YORK, FROM WHICH THE PRIOR HAD DEPARTED, TAKING SEVERAL RELIGIOUS WITH HIM1. You write to me from beyond the sea to ask of me advice which I should have preferred that you 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, like that of the Apostle, did not reproach them, their peace would not have been disturbed (Rom. 14:22). But what can I do that I may be hurtful to no one neither by my silence nor by my reply to the questions asked me? Thus, perhaps, I may relieve myself 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 9:62); and he proceeds: “He who renounces a more perfect 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 judgment 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 determine and distinguish their motives, their thoughts, 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 this 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 him, it is said, who is able to do good, but if thou canst, do good also thyself (Prov. 3:27, 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. 10:1). 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 XCV. (A.D. 1132.)TO THURSTAN, ARCHBISHOP OF YORKBernard 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 experienced, has said nothing in your favour which the splendour of your good works does not justify. Your actions, in fact, show that your high reputation, 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. Once, indeed, the whole assembly of the saints used to venerate your works of mercy and alms deeds; but in doing so it narrated 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 fervour, 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 shalt visit thy kind, He says, and thou shalt not sin (Job. 5:24, 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 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. 10:41). 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 XCVI. (A.D. 1132.)TO RICHARD, ABBOT OF FOUNTAINS, AND HIS COMPANIONS, WHO HAD PASSED OVER TO THE CISTERCIAN ORDER FROM ANOTHERHe praises them for the renewal of holy discipline. How marvellous are those things which I have heard and learned, and which the two Geoffries have announced to me, that you have become newly fervent with the fire from on high, that from weakness 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 salutary, 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 exceedingly grieved that I am obliged by the pressing obligations of the day and the haste of the messenger to express the fulness of my affection with a pen so brief, and to comprise the breadth of my kindness for you within the narrow limits of this billet. But if anything is wanting, brother Geoffrey will supply it by word of mouth. LETTER XCVII. (A.D. 1132.)TO DUKE CONRADBernard urges upon him not to make war upon the Count of Geneva, lest he should draw upon himself the vengeance of God. 1. All power comes from Him, to whom the prophet says, Thine is the power, Thine the kingdom, O, Lord; Thou art over all nations (1 Chron. 29:11). Therefore I have thought it fit, O illustrious Prince, to warn your Excellency how great reverence it behoves you to show to that terrible One, who takes away the life of princes themselves. The Count of Geneva, as I know from his own mouth, offers to do you justice with respect to all the causes of complaint which you declare you have against him. If, after this, you continue to invade the country of another, to destroy churches, to set houses on fire, to plunder the poor, to perpetrate homicides, and to pour out human blood, it is certain that you will arouse against you the stern anger of Him who is the Father of orphans and the judge of widows. And if He is angry with you, neither the number nor the bravery of your soldiers will profit you at all. The Almighty Lord of Sabaoth will give the victory to whom He pleases, whether it be by many or by few. He has made, when He saw fit, one soldier put to flight a thousand, and two ten thousand (Deut. 32:30). 2. The cry of the poor which has come to me has inspired me, a poor man, to use this language to your Greatness, knowing that it is more honourable and worthy of you to yield to the entreaties of the humble than to the threats of your enemies; not that I think your enemies more powerful than you, but that I know Almighty God is far more powerful than either, and that He resists the proud while he gives grace unto the humble. If I had been able I would have come unto your presence, noble Prince, to treat of this matter, but now I have sent to you, in my place, these of my brethren to obtain from your Highness, by their prayers united with mine, either a solid peace, if that be possible, or, at least, a truce while we endeavour to settle the conditions of a definitive peace, according to the will of God, and both to your honour and the safety of your country. Otherwise, if you neither accept the satisfaction offered you, nor deign to regard our entreaties, or rather do not give ear to the salutary advice which God gives you by me, let Him look upon it and judge. For I know, nor can I reflect upon it without trembling, that such great armies can hardly meet in battle without horrible carnage and slaughter of each side. LETTER XCVIIICONCERNING THE MACCABEES, BUT TO WHOM WRITTEN IS UNKNOWN He replies to the question why the Church has decreed a festival to the Maccabees alone of all the righteous under the ancient law. 1. 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 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 righteousness, 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 because, 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. 24:7),—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 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. 23:25), and the third beheaded in prison. If you ask by whom? It was by the wicked and irreligious. 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 things. 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 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 observances of the Law, or under grace for the commandments of the Gospel. For it is recognized that each of these equally suffers for the truth, and, therefore, for Christ, who said: I am the Truth (S. John 14:6). Therefore the Maccabees are more deserving of the honours that have been conferred upon them for the kind of their martyrdom than for the valour displayed in it, since we 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, especially 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 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. 3:2, VULG.); and, seeing that the Life would immediately 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. 11:3–6). 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 salvation (S. Luke 2:29, 30), as if he had said, I go down without fear into Hades, because I feel that my redemption 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 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 consolation of a deliverer thence should come to him? Thus it was that when one of the saints heard Set thy house in order, for thou shalt 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. 38:10); and a little after added, I shall not see the Lord in the land of the living: I shall all behold man no more with the inhabitants of the world (Is. 38:11). 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 14:13). Israel also said to his sons, Ye will bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave (Gen. 42:38). 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 filled 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 delivered (Ps. 124:7). 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, distinguish, 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 difference 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. 116:15). And why he calls it precious he explains to us: When He has given sleep to His beloved, behold, children, the heritage of the Lord; His reward, the fruit of the womb (Ps. 127:3). Nor must we think that martyrs alone are beloved, since we remember that it was said of Lazarus, Our friend Lazarus sleeps (S. John 11:11), and elsewhere, Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord (Apoc. 14:13). Not those alone who die for the Lord, like the martyrs, but without doubt 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 XCIXTO A CERTAIN MONKBernard writes that he had been anxious because of the rumoured departure of this monk from his convent, and that he had been freed from such fear by his letter. The messenger by whom you say that you have been disturbed was sent by Brother William in your interest, and not in his own. He, indeed, by the grace of God, acts bravely, as he is wont, and does not merit so far that that declaration should be applied to him: A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways (S. James 1:8). He walks simply and faithfully in the ways of the Lord, and does not fear that woe that is spoken: Woe be to the sinner that goeth two ways (Ecclus. 2:12). For we had heard that you, being mixed up in a dispute, had left your convent, to the grave scandal of your abbot and your brethren, and were living alone in, I know not what unsuitable place. Being greatly distressed by this rumour, I ask myself, with anxiety, in what way I could be of service to you, and nothing occurred to me to do better than to beg you to come to see me so as to make me aware of what had passed about yourself, so that I might, without delay, counsel you by word of mouth. But since my letter and your reply have put to flight the fears and suspicions which were in the mind of each of us, let us say nothing more of the matter. It has been shown, at all events, by this false report, how true is the mutual affection between us; and I think that this affection has been not unfruitfully renewed by our mutual anxiety; I should hope that we might taste this fruit far more fully if leave and opportunity were given you to pay me a visit. Otherwise it were better that I should still be content without seeing you rather than enjoy your presence at a time when it is unsuitable or inconvenient to you. LETTER CTO A CERTAIN BISHOPBernard praises his liberality and kindness towards poor Religious. If I were less acquainted with your zeal for undertaking a work of such importance I should urge and entreat you to it. But now, since your piety has anticipated my intention, it only remains to me to give thanks to Him, from whom all good things proceed, for having put into your heart to wish this good, and to pray Him to add to it, that you may bring to perfection that which you have piously desired. Yet I cannot hide from you my joy, nor dissimulate the pleasure which your good intentions inspire in me. My soul will be delighted to the full if I could know that you are untiring in edifying and honourable pursuits. For I rejoice, not because I seek a gift, but because I require fruit. I willingly accept a benefit which profits the giver, otherwise I should not walk in that charity which seeketh not her own (1 Cor. 13:5). And, indeed, your gifts are profitable to me, but more to you, according to that declaration: It is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35). This liberality is befitting a Bishop; it is the glory of your priesthood, it adorns your crown, and ennobles your dignity. If the charge he holds forbids a person to be poor let his conduct show that he is a lover of the poor. For it is not poverty, but the love of poverty, which is counted a virtue; and it is said, Blessed are the poor, not in worldly wealth, but in spirit (S. Matt. 5:3). LETTER CITO CERTAIN MONKSBernard asks that a monk who had departed without permission should be received with kindness. I send back to you Brother Lambert, whom I received, in some respects wavering in mind, but to whom your prayers have restored calm, so that he is not, as I think, labouring any more under his former scrupulosity. I have carefully questioned him about the cause of his coming, and also about the reason and manner of his departure. He does not seem to me to have had any bad intention in acting as he has done; but his reason for leaving in such a manner, that is, without permission, was plainly insufficient. I took occasion from this to blame him as he deserved, to chide him sharply, to remove his hesitations and doubts, and to persuade him to return to you. Now that he is returning, I entreat you, my very dear brethren, to receive him kindly, and to be indulgent to the presumption of a brother in which there is more simplicity than malice, since he turned neither to the right nor left, but came straight to me, whom he knew for certain to be the devoted servant of your Holiness, a very sincere lover and faithful imitator of your piety. Receive him, therefore, you who are spiritual men, in a spirit of gentleness; let your charity be confirmed towards him, and let his good intention excuse his bad action. Therefore, receive him back with joy, whom, when lost, you grieved for; and let gladness at the return of your brother speedily chase away the grief caused by his transgression and departure. I trust that, by the mercy of God, all the bitterness which his irregular departure occasioned will be soon softened by this improvement in his life. LETTER CIITO A CERTAIN ABBOTBernard advises that all possible means should be tried to correct a refractory monk, but that, if incorrigible, he should be expelled, lest he should infect others by his company. 1. Respecting the brother who is disorderly and disorders others, nor respects the authority of his superior, I give you brief but faithful advice. It is the occupation of the devil to go about in the House of God and seek whom he may devour; on the other hand, it is the task committed to your watchfulness, never as far as you are able, to give place to the devil. The more efforts he makes then to separate from the flock a poor little sheep that he may draw it away the more easily whither there will be none to deliver it from him, the more strenuously, as far as in you lies, ought you to resist, that the enemy may not be able to snatch it from your arms, and say I have prevailed against him. Have recourse, then, in order to save that brother, to every office of charity; spare neither kindnesses, good advice, private reprimands, nor public remonstrances, even the sharp correction of words and, if necessary, blows, but, above all, what is usually more efficacious, the pious intercessions of yourself and your brethren to God for him. 2. But if, when you have done all these things you have no success, you are bound to follow the counsel of the Apostle when he says, Put away from among yourselves that wicked person (1 Cor. 5:13). Let the wicked man be taken away, that he may not make others wicked, for an evil tree can bear only evil fruit. I say that he should be taken away, but not in the manner that he himself wishes; nor should he suppose that he can be permitted to live with your license away from the community, against his profession avoiding obedience, under his own authority, and that according to the law and with conscience wrongly at ease; but he should be cut off, as a diseased sheep is parted from the flock, as a gangrened limb from the body; and in going forth he should be made to know for certain that he will be held by you as a heathen man and a publican. And do not fear that you will act against charity if you provide for the peace of many by the expulsion of one—of one whose malice may easily destroy the peace of many brethren who dwell together. Let that declaration of Solomon console you, No one can correct that person whom God leaves alone (Eccles. 7:13), and that of the Saviour, Every plantation which My Father hath not planted shall be rooted up (S. Matt. 15:13), and that of S. John the Evangelist concerning schismatics, They went out from us, because they were not of us (1 S. John 2:19), and that from the Apostle, If the unbelieving depart, let him depart (1 Cor. 7:15). Otherwise the rod of the wicked ought not to be left over the lot of the righteous, lest the righteous put forth their hand unto wickedness. For it is better that one member should perish than the whole community. LETTER CIIITO THE BROTHER OF WILLIAM, A MONK OF CLAIRVAUXBernard, after having made a striking commendation of religious 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. 1. 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 acceptance. 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 boundaries 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 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 habitations (S. Luke 16:9). 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 confidence 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 appears 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 flesh is grass, and its glory as the flower of the field (Is. 40:6). 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 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 (1 Tim. 6:7). 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 CIVTO MAGISTER WALTER DE CHAUMONTHe 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 to me, seeing how you consume in vain occupations the flower of your youth, the sharpness of your intellect, 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 endowments 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 best ower 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 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. 76:5). 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, 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 endureth unto everlasting life (S. John 6:27). But you know well that it is written that only he ascends into the hill of the Lord who hath not Lift up his mind unto vanity (Ps. 24:3). 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, I looked that he should bring forth grapes, and he hath brought forth wild grapes (Is. 5:4). 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 contrary 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 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. 15:4), Himself also said, He who loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me (S. Matt. 10:37). LETTER CVTO ROMANUS, SUB-DEACON OF THE ROMAN CURIAHe 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 excusing 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 that spirit of salvation which you have so long conceived? 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 prevent 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 with child, and they shall not escape (1 Thess. 5:3). 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 4:7) 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 which die in the Lord (Apoc. 14:13), 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; better because of its new life, best because of its safety (Ps. 34:21). 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. 116:13). Flee, I pray you, lest you stand in the way of sinners. How canst thou live where thou durst not die? LETTER CVITO MAGISTER HENRY MURDACHHe urges him to embrace the religious life, briefly describing its delights. To his beloved HENRY MURDACH, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes eternal life. 1. What wonder if you are tossed to and fro by the waves of prosperity and adversity, since you have not yet set your feet upon the rock? But if you are quite resolved to keep the righteous judgments of the Lord, can anything sever you from the love of Christ? O, if you only knew, and if I were able to convey to you! but Eye hath not seen, without Thee, O God, the things that Thou hast prepared for them that love Thee (Is. 64:4). But you, my brother, who, as I hear, read the prophets, and no doubt suppose that you understand the sense of their writings, is it not clear to you if you understand that the meaning of the prophetic declaration refers to Christ? And if you desire to lay hold on Him, I assure you that you can attain to Him sooner by following Him than by reading, merely reading of Him. Why do you seek in the Word written, the Word who is already here before your eyes, the Word made flesh? He has long quitted his hiding-place among the prophets to come forth before the eyes of Fishermen; already He has left the deep, shady hills of the ancient Law, as a bridegroom leaves his chamber, and has leapt forth to the plain of the Gospel. Now let him who hath ears to hear, hear Him crying in the Temple, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink (S. John 7:37), and Come unto Me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will refresh you (S. Matt. 11:28). Do you, then, fear to fail where Truth promises to sustain you? Surely if the storm-rain from the clouds of heaven so delights you, how much sweeter will be the draught that you may draw from the pure fountains of the Saviour? 2. If you could once for a moment taste of that bread with which Jerusalem is satisfied, how gladly you would leave your dry crusts for Jewish scholars to gnaw! How happy should I be to have you for my companion in the school of piety under the Master, Jesus! Would that it were mine first to purge the vessel of your heart that it might be filled with the unction that makes wise about all things! How willingly would I break with you those loaves, still warm and steaming, and, as it were, freshly drawn from the oven, which Christ of His heavenly bounty often breaks unto His poor! Would that, if God deigned of His sweetness to shed at any time on my poor soul some drop of the free rain which He keeps for His inheritance, ah! would that then I could pour it out upon you, and again receive from you in turn that which you had felt! Believe one who has tried: you shall find a fuller satisfaction in the woods than in books. The trees and the rocks will teach you that which you cannot hear from masters. Do you think that you cannot draw honey from the rock and oil from the hardest flint? Do not our mountains drop sweetness? the hills flow with milk and honey? and the valleys stand thick with corn? When so much occurs to me to say to you I scarce restrain myself. But inasmuch as you ask not for a lecture, but for prayers, may God open your heart in His law and in His statutes. Farewell. 3. Let William and Ivo, too, have share in this my prayer. What more shall I say to you? You know that I long to see you, and why; but how much I long neither l can tell nor you can know. So I pray God that He may grant you even to follow whither you ought to have preceded me, since in this matter I hold you to be master of so great humility as not to disdain, though a master, to follow your disciples. LETTER CVIITO THOMAS, PRIOR OF BEVERLEYThis Thomas had taken the vows of the Cistercian Order at Clairvaux. 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 salvation. BERNARD to his beloved son THOMAS, as being his son. 1. 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 faithful 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 given Me to finish, the same works bear witness of Me (S. John 5:36). 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. 7:16). Works, then, and not words, make the difference between sons of God and sons of unbelief. By works, accordingly, 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, external 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 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 (1 Cor. 2:9). 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 (1 Cor. 2:14). Blessed are they who hear His words. I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard of My Father I have made known to you (S. John 15:15). O, wicked world, which wilt not bless thy friends except thou make them enemies of God, and consequently unworthy 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 his Lord doeth, how much less the enemy? Moreover, the friend of the Bridegroom standeth, and rejoiceth with joy because of the Bridegroom’s voice; whence also it says, My soul failed when \[my beloved\] spake (Cant. 5:6). 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. I 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. 11:25, 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. 11:34). Not, indeed, no 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 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 hearing 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 8:8–10); to whom also He says: Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom (S. Luke 12:32). 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 4:2). 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: I am a companion of all them that fear Thee (Ps. 119:63). 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. 1:17), that faith, doubtless, which works by love (Gal. 5:6). 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. 103:17). From everlasting, because of predestination, to everlasting, because of glorification. The one process is without beginning, the other knows no ending. Indeed, those whom He predestines from everlasting, He glorifies to everlasting, 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 predestinated 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 glorified (Rom. 8:30). 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 continuation. Can it despair only of the consummation? 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 glorification 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. 42:9), when, with terrible judgments, that unmeasured Eternity and Eternal Immensity, whose wisdom cannot be told, leads the corrupt and inscrutable heart of man by Its own power and goodness forth into Its own marvelous 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 anyone 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 visitation of heavenly light and the sudden change accomplished 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 profoundest 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. 4:7); Lord, what is man that Thou hast such respect unto him, or the son of man that Thou so regardest him? (Ps. 144:3). 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, because he has a foretaste of Thy love he does not blush to make return of love. Now in Thy brightness it becomes clear, Oh! Light that no man can 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 everlasting, 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 bearing 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. 119:24). 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. 3:2). And hear also of predestination that it is the preparation: Come, inherit, He says, the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world (S. Matt. 25:34). 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 hast also Jesus, the faithful witness, and Him crucified. Oh! double 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. 5:5), 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. 8:32). For He that spared not His own Son, but delivered 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 twofold, 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 Himself says: It is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing (S. John 6:63). Now, what does “quickeneth” mean except “justifieth?” For as sin is the death of the soul (The soul that sinneth it shall die, Ezek. 18:4), without doubt righteousness is its life; for The just shall live by faith (Rom. 1:17). 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, who hath believed our report? (Is. 53:1). Oh! that they would be wise and understand. But except they believe they shall not understand. 11. 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 airhole 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. 2:2). For if, as the Scripture says, The fear of God, that is piety (Job 28:28), of course anyone 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. 1:6), so the impious never rise in the judgment, nor sinners in the purpose 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 confused perversity. This is a nation, he says, that obeyeth not the voice of the Lord their God (Jer. 7:28). You are not ready, oh! miserable men, to say with David, I will hearken what the Lord God will say with regard to me (Ps. 85:8), 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. 4:2). 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 which I have spoken to you (S. John 15:3). 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 (1 Sam. 3:9). 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 hearing it, if you listen with attentive ear. Once it ordered Abraham (Gen. 12:1) to get him out of his country and from his kindred, that he might see and possess the land of the living. Jacob (Gen. 32:10) left his brother and his home, and passed over Jordan with his staff, and was received in Rachel’s embrace (Gen. 29:11). Joseph was lord in Egypt (Gen. 37 and 41), having been torn by a fraudful purchase 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. 45:11, 12). The boy Jesus was sought by His parents among their kinsfolk and acquaintance, and was not found (S. Luke 2:44, 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 everyone 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. 20:28). 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 every one that believeth (Rom. 10:4). LETTER CVIIITO THOMAS OF ST. OMER, AFTER HE HAD BROKEN HIS PROMISE OF ADOPTING A CHANGE OF LIFEHe 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. 1. You do well in acknowledging the debt of your promise, and in not denying your guilt in deferring 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. 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 is the Lord (1 Cor. 4:4). 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. 34:16). Do you, then, fear reproaches 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. 10:12). 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? Perchance for the true there is being substituted that which puffeth up. You err foolishly, Spending thy money for that which is not bread, and thy labour for that which satisfieth not (Is. 55:2). 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. 3:16). 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, 23:15)—a fate which, if it may be, let the pitiful and clement Lord avert. The letter 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 (1 Cor. 13:5) 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 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 inspiration of God, so as to be able to say: His grace which was bestowed on me was not in vain (1 Cor. 15:10). 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 yourself 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 (1 Thess. 5:3). Yea, I foresee that many fearful 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 believe 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 CIXTO THE ILLUSTRIOUS YOUTH, GEOFFREY DE PERRONE, AND HIS COMRADESHe pronounces the youths noble because they purpose to lead the religious life, and exhorts them to perseverance. To his beloved sons, GEOFFREY and his companions, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes the spirit of counsel and strength. 1. 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. 96:2), and every tongue glorifies God. The earth shook and the heavens dropped at the presence of the God of Sinai (cf. Ps. 68:8, 9), raining on those days more abundantly than usual a gracious rain which God keeps for His inheritance (Ps. 67:9, 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 11:52).” 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 15:10), how great must be their joy over so 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 noble, not many wise, not many mighty hath God chosen (1 Cor. 1:26, 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 wisdom 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. 77:10 VULG., 76:11). Your conversion is a good gift and a perfect gift, without doubt descending from the Father of lights (S. James 1:17). 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 purpose 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. 1:18, 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 1:17). You also, brethren, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord (2 Cor. 3:18). Take heed with all watchfulness not to be yourselves found light, inconstant, or wavering. For it is written, A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways (S. James 1:8), and again, Woe be … to the sinner that goeth two ways (Ecclus. 2:12). And for myself, dearly beloved, I congratulate 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, 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, according 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. 21:14). 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. LETTER CXA 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. 53:5). 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. 15:5) receive him from my hands. So do not mourn; do not weep. For your Geoffrey is hastening 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 ways smooth (cf. S. Luke 3:5). 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. 138:5). LETTER CXIIN THE PERSON OF ELIAS, A MONK, TO HIS PARENTS He exhorts them not to try to hinder him in or draw him back from his wish to serve God. Such attempt would be unworthy and useless. ELIAS, a monk, but a sinner withal, to his dear parents INGORRAN and IVETTE, with his daily prayers. 1. There is only one circumstance in which it would be wrong to obey parents, and that is when God forbids it. For He Himself says: “He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me” (S. Matt. 10:37). If you love me in truth like good and affectionate parents: if you have a true and faithful affection towards your son, why are you restless at my hastening to please God, the Father of all? and why do you try to withdraw me from His service, whom to serve is to reign? Truly now I see how a man’s enemies are the men of his own house (Micah 7:6). Herein I must not obey you; herein I own you not as parents, but as foes. If you loved me, surely you would rejoice because I go to my Father and your Father, nay, to the Father of all. Besides, what is there common between me and you? What have I from you but sin and misery? It is only this corruptible body which I wear that I confess and own to have from you. Is it not enough for you unhappy ones, to have brought me unhappy into the unhappiness of this world; for you sinners, to have given birth in your sin to me a sinner; to have reared in sin a son born in sin; but you must, by grudging me the compassion which I have gained from Him who willeth not the death of a sinner, make me besides all this, a child of Hell? 2. O, stern father! O, harsh mother! O, parents cruel and void of affection—nay, not parents at all, but murderers, whose only grief is the salvation of their offspring, whose only comfort the death of their son, who would rather I should perish with them than reign without them! They are trying to call me back again to the wreck from which I at last escaped, naked; back to the fire from which with much difficulty I have emerged, half-burnt; back to the robbers by whom I was left half-dead, but from whom, through the compassion of the Good Samaritan, I have now a little recovered. Aye, and in the moment of triumph, when the soldier of Christ has almost carried the citadel of heaven—I boast not in myself but in Him who has conquered the world—they strive to bring him back to the world from the very threshold of glory, as it were a dog to his vomit, a sow to her wallowing in the mire. What monstrous treatment! The house is in flames, the fire presses on from behind. He who would flee is prevented from going out; he who would escape is persuaded to return! And that by those who are set in the midst of the conflagration, and who, out of sheer obstinate infatuation and infatuated obstinacy, will not flee from the danger! What madness! If you think nothing of your own death, why do you also wish for mine? If, I say, you neglect your own salvation, what pleasure is it to put hindrance in the way of mine? Why not rather follow me in my flight, that you may escape the flames? But, perhaps, it lightens your torment if you drag me also into your ruin; and your only fear is to perish by yourselves? What solace will the burning of one man be able to afford to others in like case? What comfort, I ask, is it to the damned to have partners in their damnation? What remedy is it to the dying to see others dying? That is not the belief that I learn from the rich man of Scripture, who, being in torments (cf. S. Luke 16:28) and despairing of freedom for himself, asked that a message might be sent to his brethren, lest they also should come to the same place of torment. Doubtless he feared that his own suffering would be increased by that of his kindred. 3. What then? Shall I go and console my sorrowing mother by a short visit in time, simply that in eternity I may sorrow both for myself and her without consolation? Shall I go, I say, and make amends to my angry father for my absence in time, and myself find comfort for a time in his presence, that afterwards each for himself and either for other we may be abandoned to an inconsolable grief? Were it not better to follow the example of the Apostle, and, Conferring not with flesh and blood (Gal. 1:16), to listen to the voice of the Lord, who commands, Let the dead bury their dead? (S. Matt. 8:22). Shall I not sing with David, My soul refused comfort (Ps. 77:2), and with Jeremiah, Neither have I desired the woeful day, thou knowest? (Jer. 17:16). For why? The lot is fallen unto me in a fair ground; yea, I have a goodly heritage (Ps. 16:7). Am I, then, tricked by an earthly promise, or charmed by some fleshly comfort? When men have tasted of spiritual dainties, needs must that those of the flesh seem tasteless. Set your affections on things above, and things below are insipid; yearn after things eternal, and you scorn things transient. Cease, then, my dear parents, cease to trouble yourselves with vain laments and to disturb me to no purpose by calling me back; lest, if you keep on sending messengers about me, you compel me to withdraw still more. But if you abandon \[me\], I shall never abandon Clairvaux: This shall be my rest for ever; here will I dwell, for I have a delight therein (Ps. 132:15). Here will I pray instantly for your sins and mine; here with constant prayers will I obtain, if I can, what you also desire, that we, who for love of Him are separated from each other for this short life, may in the happy and indissoluble fellowship of another world live in His love for ever and ever. Amen. LETTER CXIITO GEOFFREY, OF LISIEUXHe grieves at his having abandoned his purpose to enter the religious life and returned to the world. He exhorts him to be wise again. 1. 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 smell (Phil. 4:18), should now be trampled under the feet of devils, stained 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 Himself, 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. 10:36). 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 descending into the belly of hell, which is hasting to swallow you up, and to give you over as a prey to be devoured 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. 69:16); 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. 22:13); 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 conquer without you, and we do not grudge to you your share of glory. I will even gladly come to meet you and gladly welcome you with open arms, saying: It 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 15:32). LETTER CXIIITO THE VIRGIN SOPHIAHe 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. 1. Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised (Prov. 31:31). 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 1:10)—a vapour that appeareth for a little time (S. James 4:14). 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 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. Besides, see how many fail to attain that enjoyment, and yet how few despise it. Why so? Just because though many of necessity endure it \[i.e., the deprivation of pleasure\], 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 (1 Cor. 1:26–28). 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 elevated 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. 31:10). Much more “a virtuous woman” of high birth as well. Although God is not by any moans 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 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. 4:17) for you on high. And if the daughters of Belial reproach you, those who walk with stretched forth necks mincing as they go (Isaiah 3:16), decked out and adorned like the Temple, answer them: My kingdom is not of this world (S. John 18:36); answer them: My time is not yet come, but your time is always ready (S. John 7:6); answer them: My glory is hid with Christ in God (Col. 3:3); When Christ, who is my life, shall appear, then shall I also appear with Him in glory (Col. 3:4). 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. 5:27); 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. 2:6). 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 kingdom. I say nothing of that new song which you, a virgin among virgins, shall likewise sing in tones of unrivalled sweetness, rejoicing therein and making glad the city of God, singing and running and following 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 (1 Cor. 2:9) for you, and for which it behoves you to be prepared. 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. 8:23), the gifts of the Bridegroom, the earnest money of the espousals, the blessings of goodness (Ps. 21:3), 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. 3:19), have aught like Him, let them bring it forth, Though they be clothed in purple and fine linen (S. Luke 16:19). Yet their souls are in rags; they have sparkling necklaces, but tarnished minds. You, on the other hand, though ragged without, are all glorious within (Ps. 45:14), 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. 3:17). In truth, The King’s daughter is all glorious within (Ps. 45:14). Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion: shout, O daughter of Jerusalem, because the King hath desired thy beauty; if thou art clothed with confession and honour (Ps. 104:1, VULG.), and deckest thyself with light as it were with a garment—For confession and worship are before Him (Ps. 96:6, VULG.). Before whom? Him who is fairer than the sons of men (Ps. 45:3), 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 “confession,” if you desire “honour.” “Confession” is the handmaid of “honour,” the handmaid of “worship.” 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 accounted dead. Confession perisheth from the dead as from one that is not (Ecclus. 18:28). 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. 33:1). 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 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 disposed 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 graceful 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 compared 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, represses 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 adornment is best and most desirable which even an angel might envy. 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 CXIVTO ANOTHER HOLY VIRGINUnder 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. 1. 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. 46:4). 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 sweetness 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 weakness 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 overcome 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 everlasting. 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, 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, you are beginning to live again, not to sin, but to righteousness, not to the world, but to Christ, knowing 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. 14:13). 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 immoderate laughter, unreserved demeanour, and showy dress would have accorded better with the wimple 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, solate conceived, should be stifled by them, and you yourself be cast into hell fire. LETTER CXVTO ANOTHER HOLY VIRGIN OF THE CONVENT OF S. MARY OF TROYESHe dissuades her from the rash and imprudent design which she had in her mind of retiring into some solitude. 1. 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 dissuade 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 maybe 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 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. 25:1–12). 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 discredited, 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 well carried out. 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 many scoffers against you. LETTER CXVITO ERMENGARDE, FORMERLY COUNTESS OF BRITTANYHe 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 handmaid 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 affection for you! Then, indeed, you might understand, 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 CXVIITO THE SAMEHe 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; 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. Without 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 CXVIIITO BEATRICE, A NOBLE AND RELIGIOUS LADYHe commends her love and anxious care. I wonder at your zealous devotion and loving affection towards me. I ask, excellent lady, what can possibly inspire in you such great interest and solicitude for us? If we had been sons or grandsons, 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 acceptance 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 acquaintance 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 become, 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. LETTER CXIXTO THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF LORRAINEHe thanks them for having hitherto remitted customs \[or tolls\], 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 remitted to them when travelling their toll, 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 have done it unto me (S. Matt. 25:40). 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 intention in respect to us is still the same, be pleased to order it to be a firm and unshaken rule; that henceforward our brethren may never fear to be disturbed in this matter by any of your servants. But otherwise 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 Cæsar the tilings that are Cæsar’s (S. Matt. 17:26), custom to whom custom, and tribute to whom tribute is due (Rom. 13:7), especially because, according to the Apostle, we ought not to seek our gift so much as your gain (Phil. 4:17). LETTER CXXTO THE DUCHESS OF LORRAINEHe 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 virtue. For our part we are very glad to avail ourselves 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 anyone, 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 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. 9:7). 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. 16:26). LETTER CXXITO THE DUCHESS OF BURGUNDYHe 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 anyone 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 Bèse urged me with many entreaties 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 preferred to the good faith of a Christian man and your servant. For he cannot be perjured and yet at the same time keep faith with his Prince. 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. LETTER CXXII. (Circa A.D. 1130.)HILDEBERT, ARCHBISHOP OF TOURS, TO THE ABBOT BERNARD The reputation of Bernard for sanctity induces Hildebert to write to him and ask for his friendship. 1. 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 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 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 Gébuin, Archdeacon 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 CXXIII. (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 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. 3:18) 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 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 CXXIV. (Circa A.D. 1131.)TO THE SAME HILDEBERT, WHO HAD NOT YET ACKNOWLEDGED THE LORD INNOCENT AS POPEHe exhorts him to recognize 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. 1. To address you in the words of the prophet, Consolation is hid from their eyes, because death divideth between brethren (Hosea 13:14, 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. 28:15). For behold, Innocent, that anointed of the Lord, is set for the fall and rising again of many (cf. S. Luke 2:34). 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 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 fear (Amos 3:8). He flees according to the bidding of the Lord, which says, When they persecute you in one city flee ye into another (S. Matt, 10:23). 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 9:25), 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; although the rage of that Shimei, Gerard of Angoulême, 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 recognize him alone as bishop of their souls (2 Sam. 17). 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 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 4:12). The threefold 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 1:29); and Timothy was commanded to lay hands suddenly on no man (1 Tim. 5:22). 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. 12:3). 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 bridegroom standeth and rejoiceth at the bridegroom’s voice (S. John 3:29); the voice of joy and health, the voice of unity and peace. LETTER CXXV. (Circa A.D. 1131.)TO MAGISTER GEOFFREY, OF LORETTOHe asks his assistance in maintaining the Pontificate of Innocent against the schism of Peter Leonis. 1. 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 continue 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 done its own work. It is now the time for action, because they have destroyed the law. That beast of the Apocalypse (Apoc. 13:5–7), 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 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 anointed. 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 acknowledging 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 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 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 CXXVI. (A.D. 1131.)TO THE BISHOPS OF AQUITAINE, AGAINST GERARD OF ANGOULÊMEHe nobly defends the cause of Innocent as the rightful Pope, against Gerard of Angoulême, who was taking part with the Schismatic. He gives a picture of his character, and exposes his subterfuges. To his Lords and Reverend Fathers, the holy Bishops, by Divine permission, of Limoges, of Poitiers, of Périgueux, and of Saintes, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and prays that they may be steadfast in adversity. 1. It is during peace that bravery is acquired, in the struggle that it is displayed, in the victory that it triumphs. The time has come, most Reverend and honoured Fathers, to show your courage, not to hide it, nor to let it rest inactive. The hostile sword, which seems to threaten the whole Church with death, hangs most of all over your necks; and it is you whom it threatens most eagerly and most closely, so that you are obliged by the daily attacks of which you are the objects, either to resist bravely or (which may God forbid!) disgracefully to retreat. The new Diotrephes, who loves to bear the first place among you, rejects you from his communion; he refuses to recognize with you him whom the whole Church receives as coming in the name of the Lord. Not him, I say, does he receive, but the man who comes in his own name. I am not surprised at this, for he himself, even in his old age, strives and pants unweariedly to attain a great name. I am not led astray by an uncertain or false rumour in forming this opinion of the man; I judge of him from his own words. In a letter which he lately sent to the Chancellor of Rome, does he not supplicate, in terms as humble as they are unworthy of him, to be entrusted with the charge and honourable title of Legate of the Holy See? Would that he had obtained it. Perhaps if his ambition had been gratified according to his prayers it would have been less hurtful than it is, being frustrated. Then, indeed, it would be hurtful to himself alone, or, at all events, to few; but now it breathes discord over the whole world. See what the love of vain glory does! The title of Legate is a heavy burden, especially for the shoulders of the old; who is ignorant of that? And yet it is a severe punishment to this extremely aged man to live without this title for the few days that remain to him. 2. But perhaps he will accuse me of rash judgment with respect to him; perhaps he will say that I venture to judge the secret feelings of his soul on a mere suspicion which nothing authorizes me to do. It is true I am very suspicious on this matter; but I would ask, what man would be so simple as to think otherwise than I have done in a case so clear? To refer briefly to an action that was unmistakable. He is one of the first, if not the first of all, to write to Pope Innocent; he applies for the title of Legate. He does not obtain it. He is indignant, he falls away from him; he passes over to the party of the other, of whom he boasts that he is the Legate. If he had not in the first place made suit for this title, or had not afterwards accepted it from the other, one might have been able to attribute his double dealing to some other motive than ambition; but, as things stand, he has no plausible excuse to make. Let him lay down this mere empty name of Legate, for it has no functions; and I, for my part, will lay aside, if I can, this opinion of him; if not, I will at least acknowledge my reluctant suspicion as being rash. But he will, I know, be with difficulty persuaded to do it. He is not a man to strip himself voluntarily of a title which has long rendered him great among his neighbours, and without which he would appear degraded. We see in him what Scripture calls the false shame which leads to sin (Ecc. 4:25). Can there be, in fact, any worse thing, any greater offence than extreme pride in mere dust and ashes, so that it is reluctant, I do not say to be subjected to others, but not to rule over others? 3. Because of this he quitted the party of Innocent, whom he called his holy Father, and the Holy Catholic Church his mother, and attached himself to his schismatiarch, with whose vain glory he has much in common. They have made mutual alliance, and have conceived an evil design against the people of God: Scale is joined to scale, so that no air can come between them (Job 41:16). The one gives to the other the name of Pope, and the other in return styles him his Legate; and so they flatter each other’s vain glory. They console, support, and commend each other in turn; but each of them does this for his own sake, and not for that of the other, for they are men who love only themselves. With equal zeal they combine against the Lord and against His Christ; but their motives are not the same. Each one seeks to derive from the other some personal advantage, and (which is abominable) at the expense of Christ’s heritage. Are they not attempting under your eyes to ruin His realm, if you will permit it? That Legate fabricates new Bishops among you for the party of his Pope, that he may not be alone; nor does he wait until the Sees are vacant by death, but by the aid of the secular power tyrannically intrudes men into the places of Bishops yet living, taking occasion from the ill-will and relentless hatred of secular princes towards the Bishops of their cities. He sets in secret snares with the rich, that he may slay the innocent. By such a door he enters into the sheepfold. 4. Do you suppose that this Legate busies himself with such activity for the sake of his Pope only, and without any personal interest? He has added, in order that he may boast himself the more, France and Burgundy to the ancient limits of his legation; and he may add still further, if he pleases, the Medes, the Persians, and the people of the Decapolis. Wherefore should he not arrogate to himself besides the empty name of jurisdiction over the Sarmatians, and, in fact, over every place that his foot has pressed? O, man no less without modesty than without sense; mindful neither of the fear of God nor of his own honour! He thinks that he is not found out, while he is the laughingstock and amusement of all his neighbours. And rightly so. For he uses the sanctuary as if it were a market; and like a merchant seeking his gain goes here and there to the sellers, seeking to obtain at the lowest price what he wants to buy: so he seeks on all sides an ecclesiastical dignity, and decides at length in favour of that Pope who has consented to make him his Legate. And so Rome could not have had a Pope, unless he had found one to make him Legate? Whence came this privilege to you in the Church of Christ? Who has given you this prerogative over Christ’s heritage? Is the sanctuary of God become your patrimonial estate? As long as there was any hope of obtaining from the lord Innocent what you had the shameless impudence to demand of him, he was to you holy Father and Pope in your letters. Why, then, do you now accuse him as a schismatic? Was it the case that his holiness, and his legitimate tenure of the Papacy, vanished with your hopes? It was wonderful in how short a time bitter water and sweet proceeded from the same fount. Yesterday Innocent was catholic, holy, Supreme Pontiff; to-day he is schismatic, wicked, and a troubler of the peace; yesterday Innocent and Pope; to-day Gregory, simple Deacon of S. Angelo. It is from the same mouth, indeed, but from a double heart, that these contrary sentiments proceed. Deceitful thoughts are in the heart, and from the heart they have been spoken. But what can you think of the reserve or self-respect of the man whose double heart renders uncertain the voice of his conscience, and with first Yes and then No makes his tongue forked? He ill-understands how to provide, according to the saying of the Apostle, things honest both before God and before men (2 Cor. 8:21), who being an unjust judge neither respects nor fears God or men. 5. It is quite certain that ambition, when it extends into impudence, defeats its own success; and the unscrupulous man, when he makes his object apparent, renders it unlikely to be attained. Ambition is the mother of hypocrisy; it needs obscurity and shadow, and is unable to bear the light. Ambition, the lowest placed of the vices, has always an eye towards advancement; but all its fear is to be perceived. Nor is that wonderful; for it may fail in obtaining its end, unless it escape observation; and the more it pursues glory the less it can be obtained, if it is suspected of the pursuit. What is more inglorious, especially for a Bishop, than to be known for a man greedy of titles and honours, when a Christian ought not to glory, except in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ? The ambitious will be esteemed by others only as long as he shall walk in darkness; and the hypocrite will be able to seem righteous and holy to the eyes which see only the outward appearance just as long as his meddling with filthy lucre be kept concealed. But when by impudence, or some imprudence, he happens to show what is lurking in his mind, does not the unmeasured love of greatness which is shown to all eyes turn to his shame and confusion rather than to his glory, and so, in truth, verify those words of the Scripture: Whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things (Phil. 3:19); and this: If I seek my own glory, my glory is nothing (S. John 8:54); and that imprecation of the Prophet directed, as I believe, against hypocrites: Let them be as the grass upon the housetops, which withereth before it is plucked up (Ps. 128:6, VULG.). The sentiment of shame has not yet perished in men, so that naked and shameless ambition should be honoured even by them, especially when they meet with it in an old man and a priest, in whom that puerile vanity is the more unbecoming, as increased gravity and holiness are befitting to him; and if he is flattered to his face, he is turned into ridicule behind his back by all. There is an ambition more delicate and more enlightened, which proceeds at least with caution, if not with pure intention; if it succeeds in advancing its object, it takes good care to keep its measures secret; but if not, it still lies close, and does not break the reserve which it imposes upon itself. And such an ambition, if it does not fear God unto salvation, yet for innate modesty retains honourable feeling, because it stands in fear of men, and blushes at public disgrace. 6. But must not the ambition be headlong and the desire to dominate imperious which causes a man not to spare the repose of his old age nor the honour of his priesthood to obtain the precarious title of Legate, which he would not be certain of for more than a year, which makes him tear open again the side of the Saviour, whence issued forth once blood and water for the salvation of men, for joining them together in the unity of faith? But whosoever tries to divide those whom Christ has joined together for their salvation proves himself to be, not a Christian, but an Antichrist, and guilty of the Cross and death of Christ. What impatient, what unbridled desire! what unrestrained eagerness! what blind and shameful ambition! He is obliged to confess that (as I have said) he began by making a petition unworthy of him to the legitimate Pope; and, smarting at the refusal he received, he took refuge immediately with the schismatic, and accepted from his sacrilegious hand the longed-for dignity, thus cruelly and shamelessly piercing the side of the Lord of Glory. For he divides the Church, for which that Side was divided upon the Cross. But one day he shall see Him whom he has pierced, and the Lord shall pronounce judgments, who now endures injuries patiently. When the day shall come that He shall do justice to those who are oppressed, and interfere in equity on behalf of the meek of the earth, will He, think you, turn away His ear from His beloved spouse when she invokes His aid against those who have oppressed her? No! He cannot be deaf to her complaint: My neighbours and my friends approached and stood against me; and those who were beside me stood afar off. Those who sought my life used violence against me (Ps. 37:12, 13, VULG.). Why should He not recognize the bone of His bone, the flesh of His flesh, yea, rather, the spirit of His spirit? Is she not for Him that well-loved Spouse, whose beauty has drawn Him here below, whose form He has put on, whom with marvellous condescension He has embraced with tender love, so that they two should be one flesh, as hereafter they shall be one spirit? For although she had known Christ according to the flesh, yet then shall she know Him no more: because before her face shall be a spirit, Christ Jesus the Lord; and being closely united to Him, she shall be one spirit with Him; when death shall be swallowed up in victory; and that which is weak in the flesh shall overcome by the power of the Spirit; when the glorious Spouse of the Church shall have her in his sight in her glory, as His dove perfect and beautiful, not having a spot of sin, a wrinkle of corruption, or any such thing. 7. While I linger willingly upon these consoling thoughts I have become almost unmindful of my subject, so strong is my desire to redeem the time because the days are evil. The thought of more happy days transports me, but my purpose calls me back, reminds me of the facts, and plunges me into sorrow. The enemy of the cross of Christ (I relate it even weeping) carries his audacity so far as to drive from their (Episcopal) seats the holy men who entirely refuse to bend the knee before the beast of the Apocalypse, whose mouth opens wide with impious blasphemies against God and against His sanctuary (Apoc. 13:6). He endeavours to raise altar against altar, and is not ashamed to confound good and evil. He endeavours to intrude abbots into the places of abbots, Bishops into the places of Bishops, to thrust out the Catholics, to advance the schismatics. Poor creatures, and to be pitied, who consent to accept such promotion from the hands of such a man. He traverses sea and land to make one Bishop; and when he has made him, he makes of him doubly the child of hell that he is himself. What do you suppose is the cause of such furious activity? It is because that precept announced by the angels to mortals, in which glory is given to God and peace to men, is to him displeasing; and while he and his party usurp the glory they trouble the peace. He alone merits glory who alone doeth wonders, as the Apostle says, to God alone be honour and glory (1 Tim. 1:13). As for man, he ought to think himself happy, he ought to regard himself as being mercifully favoured if it is permitted him to enjoy the peace of God and peace with God; but how can it be thus if men themselves wish to usurp the glory of God? Oh, foolish sons of Adam, who, while you despise peace and desire glory, lose them both! It is because of this that the God of vengeance has now moved the land and divided it: He has shewed His people heavy things, He has given them a drink of deadly wine. 8. Whether we will or no, the truth of the Holy Ghost will necessarily one day be fulfilled, and that falling away foretold by the spirit of prophecy, as we read in the Scriptures (2 Thess. 2:3), will take place; but woe to the man by whom it comes. It would be better for that man he had not been born. But who is that man except the man of sin, who, notwithstanding that a Catholic had been elected by Catholics to the holy place, and according to canonical rules, invaded it for himself, although he desired it not because it was holy, but because it was the highest place? He invaded it, I say, by the sword, by fire, by money, not by the merit of his life or by his virtues; he has attained to that in which he remains, but he remains only by the same means that he attained it. That election of which he boasts so much was nothing but the note of a faction, a mere pretence, the occasion and the screen of his evil plan; it is impudent and false to call it an election. If there is in the Church a principle authentic and incontestable, it is that after the first election there is no second. Suppose that there has been one, after which a second is made; yet it is not a second, it is simply null and void. But even although that which preceded was conducted with too little solemnity, and not sufficiently according to ordinary formalities, as the enemies of unity contend, yet ought a second election to have been resolved upon before the manner of the former had been discussed, and it had been quashed by a deliberate judgment? It is that which obliges me to say that the factious persons are those who have hastened to lay their hands rashly upon a rash usurper, notwithstanding the prohibition of the Apostle: Lay hands suddenly upon no man (1 Tim. 5:22). They have, without doubt, the greater fault; they are the true authors of the schism, and the chiefs of this great mischief which has been done to the Church. 9. But now they demand judgment, which they ought to have waited for before acting. When that proposition was made to them in fit time they rejected it; they only do this now in order to appear to have the right on their side if you refuse it in your turn; and if you accept it they hope that during the process time may be gained by delays, and in the meantime something may happen in their favour. Or do they despair of their cause, and are they convinced that it can be made no worse than it is, whatever be the issue of the process? Whatever (they say) has been done hitherto, now we seek a hearing; we are prepared to submit to what may be decided. This is a trap. What else is left to you in your wicked undertaking, what other resource have you for seducing the simple, for arming the ill-disposed, and for hiding your own guilt? If you did not say this what could you say? But now God has already judged what man seeks too late to reopen; but He has judged by the evidence of the facts, and not by the wording of a decree. Is it possible that human rashness would dare to interpose an appeal from the judgment of God? What if God should accuse and cry by the prophet, men have taken away from me the right of judgment? No purpose can stand against the purpose of the Lord; His word runneth very quickly, and draws together the peoples and the kings into one mind, so that they serve and obey the lord Innocent as Pope. Who will appeal from this? It has been recognized and proclaimed by Walter of Ravenna, Hildegar of Tarragona, Norbert of Magdeburg, Conrad of Salzbourg, Archbishops; it has been accepted by Equipert of Munster, Hildebrand of Pistoja, Bernard of Pavia, Landulf of Asti, Hugo of Grenoble, and Bernard of Parma, Bishops. The singular merit of these prelates, their manifest sanctity, and their authority respected even by their enemies, have easily determined me, who hold a lower rank in merit as in office, to follow their leading whether it be right or wrong. I do not speak of the multitude of others, both Archbishops and Bishops of Tuscany, Campania, Lombardy, Germany, and Aquitaine, of France, also, and all the Spains, as well as of the whole Church of the East, whose names are in the Book of Life, but which the brevity of a letter cannot find space for. 10. All these with one accord, not induced by money, not led away by fallacious reasoning, not allured by considerations of worldly relationship, nor compelled by fear of the secular power, but submitting themselves to the will of God which they cannot doubt has been made plain, have frankly rejected Peter Leonis, and recognized Gregory for Pope, under the name of Innocent. Of the prelates of our province, not one, indeed, is mentioned by name in this letter; because I could not name them all, and the special mention of some of them would appear to be a kind of adulation. But I ought not to pass over those holy men, who, though dead to the world, live a better life in God; their life is hid with Christ in glory, is consecrated entirely to the knowledge of the will of God, and to the endeavour to please Him. Of these, then, the Camaldulian Religious, those of Vallombrosa, those of the Chartreuse, the Cluniacs, those of Marmoutiers, my own brethren in religion the Cistercians, those of S. Stephen of Caen, of Tiron, of Savigny, in one word, the unanimous consent of the brethren, as well secular clergy as monks, of strict life and approved conduct, following their Bishops as flocks follow their pastors, firmly adhere to Innocent, zealously defend him, humbly obey him, and recognize him faithfully as a true successor of the Apostles. 11. What of the kings and princes of the earth? Do they not receive Innocent in the same disposition, with the peoples who are subject to them, and confess him to be Pope, and the Bishop of their souls? What man is there of good family or of distinguished rank who does not think the same thing? And yet those people still protest with quarrelsome importunity and importunate argument. They make their accusation against the whole world, and, notwithstanding their small number, endeavour to dictate to the whole of Christendom, and to oblige it to confirm by a second judgment an election which has been already judged and condemned; they began by improper precipitation, and now wish to reopen the whole question. But, after all, what means have they of assembling the chiefs of each order \[secular and ecclesiastical\], I do not say of the faithful simply, so as to submit the controversy to their judgment? Who would be mighty enough to persuade so many thousands of holy men to pull down again what they had before built up, and to lend themselves to a deception? Then where could a place be found safe and spacious enough for all? For this is a business which belongs to the whole Church, not the private cause of one person. You see, then, that you \[i.e., the opponents\] are demanding a thing which is impracticable, only to bring a false accusation against your Mother Church; or rather you are digging a pit for yourselves into which you shall be thrown; you are weaving a snare in which you shall be taken and held, nor shall you return into the bosom of your Mother. A pretext will never be wanting to him who wishes to break faith with his friend. 12. But let it be so. Suppose that God should change His mind (I speak after the manner of men), should recall His decree, should assemble a Council from the ends of the earth, should allow the matter which He has judged to be submitted for a second judgment, which is not the way in which God acts, whom, I ask, will they give to Him for judges? All have taken their side in this matter, and it will be very difficult to agree upon a judgment; so that so great an assemblage of men will have the weariness to assemble for disagreement rather than for peace. And, finally, I would be glad to know into whose hands that schismatic would consent to trust the city of Rome, which he desired so eagerly and for so long a time, which he gained with so much trouble and at so great a cost, which he possesses with such pride, and which he fears to lose with so great shame, lest the whole world should be seen to have come together to no purpose, if when he loses his cause he does not at the same time lose Rome; otherwise why should he who has been despoiled enter upon the cause? Neither the civil law nor the Canons oblige him to do so. And this I say, not that I have any doubt of the justice of our cause, but because I distrust the cunning of our adversaries. God has already manifested His justice as clearly as the light and His judgment as the noon-day, although to him who is blind neither does the light appear, nor does the blaze of noon-day enlighten; to him light and darkness are the same. 13. The question is, then, of ascertaining whether of these two claimants is the rightful Pope. As for that which relates to them personally, that I may not seem either to flatter or to detract from either one or the other, I will say nothing except that which is spoken everywhere, and which, I suppose, everyone believes, namely, that the life and character of our Pope Innocent are above any attack even of his rival; while that of the other is not safe even from his friends. In the second place, if you compare the two elections, that of our candidate at once has the advantage over the other as being both purer in motive, more regular in form, and earlier in time. The last point is out of all doubt; the other two are proved by the merit and the dignity of the electors. You will find, if I do not mistake, that this election was made by the more discreet part of those to whom the election of the supreme Pontiff belongs. There were Cardinals, Bishops, Deacons, or Presbyters, and these in sufficient number, according to the decrees of the Fathers, to make a valid election. Then, as to the Consecration of the person elected, was it not performed by the Bishop of Ostia, to whom that function specially belongs? Since, then, both the person elected is maintained to be the more worthy and the election more discreetly conducted, and the formalities more regularly complied with in performing it; upon what pretext, or rather by what spirit of contention, do they try against right and justice and the voices of all good men to depose him, and to set another Pope over the reluctant and protesting Church? 14. You see, most reverend and illustrious Fathers, under what obligation you are to oppose with all your powers this attempt so malicious, so unworthy, and so rash. It is becoming to the whole Church, but most of all to you and yours, that zeal for the House of God should consume your souls. It is your duty, I say, and that of your flocks to watch and pray, that you enter not into temptation. The more boldly the adversary presses on, and the greater is the stress of battle, in that place is there surely the greater need for bravery and caution. How cruel and how cunning is the foe who has risen against you, you know, I am sure, by your own experience. Alas! what ravages has he not already committed in your neighbourhood, having recourse in turn to force and to cunning, the constant arms of his malignity! But shall his malice prevail over your wisdom? No doubt this is his hour, and the power of darkness; but the hour is his last, and his power soon passes away. Be not afraid, nor permit yourselves to be drawn away. Christ, the power of God and the wisdom of God, is with you; it is His own cause. Trust in Him; He has overcome the world; He is faithful, and will not permit you to be tempted above that ye are able. Though the deluded man appears solidly established, without doubt you will soon see his fair show of prosperity overcast by general rejection; nor will the Lord leave the rod of sinners long over the lot of the righteous. But, in the meantime, it is committed to your vigilance to provide with the care and solicitude that becomes your office, that the good people of your dioceses should not stretch out their hands towards this wickedness. Prayer for Catholics: Do good, O Lord, unto those that are good and true of heart (Ps. 125:4); and for the schismatics: Make their faces ashamed, O Lord, that they may seek Thy name (Ps. 83:17). LETTER CXXVII. (Circa A.D. 1132.)TO WILLIAM, COUNT OF POITOU AND DUKE OF AQUITAINE, IN THE NAME OF HUGH, DUKE OF BURGUNDYWilliam was of the party of the Antipope Anacletus; Bernard urges him to abandon it, and to range himself on the side of Innocent. To WILLIAM, by the grace of God, the illustrious Count of Poitou and Duke of Aquitaine, HUGH, by the same grace, Duke of Burgundy, sends greeting, bidding him fear Him who is terrible, and who takes away the spirit of princes. 1. I can no longer hold my peace about your mistaken line of action, though you are my near kinsman and dear friend. If any of the people perishes he perishes alone; but the error of a prince involves many, and ruins as many souls as he rules over. Nor are we raised on high, as you know, to destroy our subjects, but to govern them. He by whom kings reign, has put us over our subjects to protect them, not to overthrow them; we are the Church’s keepers, not her masters. But since you are known to have discharged that function laudably, and in a way befitting the greatness of your power, on other occasions, I can but wonder by what craft you have been induced to desert your mother and mistress in the time of her dire need, unless, indeed, those counsellors of yours have succeeded in persuading you that the whole Church has been led to recognize Peter Leonis. They are lying men whom, with Antichrist their head, the Truth shall destroy with the breath of His mouth. By the mouth of David He tells us that His Church is spread abroad to all the ends of the earth, and to all the nations of the Gentiles. 2. They have, it is true, the Duke of Apulia on their side; but they have no other supporter of any power, and him they secured by the ridiculous bribe of a usurper’s crown. I ask you, what goodness, or virtue, or honour do they bring forward on the part of their Pope that we should favour him? If what is commonly said of him be true, he is not fit to have the government of a single hamlet; if it is not true, it none the less is fitting that the head of the Church should be of good repute as well as of blameless life. Therefore, it is safer for you, my dear kinsman, when you acknowledge any one as universal Pope, not to depart from the common mind and agreement of the universal Church, and to receive him that the whole monastic order and all the kings have acknowledged; it is also more to your honour and more expedient to your salvation to receive Innocent as Pope. He appeals to his blameless life, his unblemished character, and his canonical election. His enemies have not a word to say against the two first of these; the third was indeed found fault with, but the unprincipled men who did so have been lately caught in their falsehood by the most Christian Emperor Lothaire. LETTER CXXVIII. (A.D. 1132.)TO THE SAMEBernard exhorts him gravely to restore to their Churches the Clerks whom he had deprived. I recollect, most excellent Prince, that I not long ago left you, wishing well with all my heart to you and yours, and ready to lend, whenever I might have an opportunity, all the help that I could to promote your honour and your salvation. These friendly feelings were inspired by my not having returned deprived of the object of my visit to you; by my return, contrary to the expectation of many, bearing a message of peace to the Church, with the rejoicing of the whole earth. But now I cannot imagine with what intent, or by whose advice, that happy disposition in you which the right hand of the Most High had so suddenly worked for the better, has now so suddenly altered for the worse. Why should you expel again from your territories, to the great injury of the Church, the clergy of S. Hilary? Why should you call down upon yourself the wrath of God more heavily than before? Who has bewitched you to depart so soon from the way of truth and safety? Surely he will bear his judgment whoever he may be. I would that they were even cut off that trouble you (Gal. 5:12). Return, I implore you, return to a better disposition, lest you, too, be cut off, which God forbid. Retrace your steps; recall the love of your friends, suffer the clergy to return, before you irrecoverably bring upon yourself a terrible foe, Him who takes away the spirit of princes, and is terrible among the kings of the earth. LETTER CXXIX. (A.D. 1133.)TO THE CITIZENS OF GENOAHe exhorts them to preserve with all possible care the peace that he had re-established among them. To the consuls, magistrates, and people of Genoa, health, peace, and eternal life. 1. That my visit to you last year was not fruitless, the Church who sent me soon afterwards experienced in her time of need. You received me honourably, and even thought my stay with you was all too short; this was, indeed, conduct worthy on your part, but quite beyond my humble deserving. At all events, I am neither forgetful of it, nor ungrateful to you. May God, who has the power, and whose cause it was, repay to you your goodness! But how can I recompense you for the honour you showed me, except by an affectionate service full of love and gratitude? Not that I take pleasure in favour shown to me, but I rejoice to see your devotion. What joyous days were those; but alas! only too few. Never will I forget thee, devoted people, honourable nation, illustrious state. At evening, and at morning, and at noon-day did I relate my news and announce my tidings, and I found that the hearers had as much charity as eagerness to hear. We took back the word of peace, and when we had found the sons of peace our peace rested upon them. I had gone out to sow seed, not mine, but God’s; and it fell on good ground and brought forth fruit a hundredfold and immediately. Wonderful was the rapidity, for great was the necessity. I met with no delay or difficulty; in one day I sowed and reaped and brought back rejoicing sheaves of peace. This was the harvest that I gathered in. To those in exile, in captivity, in chains, and in prison, I took a joyous hope of freedom and return to their native land, to the enemy I brought fear, to schismatics confusion, to the Church glory, to the world gladness. 2. And now what remains for me, dearly beloved, but to exhort you to perseverance, which alone wins for man glory, and for his virtues the crown of victory? Without perseverance the soldier does not obtain victory, nor the victor his crown. It lends vigour to the will and perfects all virtues, it is the nurse to merit and the mediator between the battle and the prize. Perseverance is sister to patience, the daughter of constancy, the bosom-friend of peace, the cementer of friendships, the bond of harmony, the bulwark of holiness. Take away perseverance, and obedience loses its reward, well-doing its grace, and fortitude its praise. It is not he who has begun, but he that has persevered unto the end that shall be saved (S. Matt. 24:13). Saul when he was little in his own sight was made King over Israel, but not persevering in humility he lost both his kingdom and his life. If the caution of Samson and the devotion of Solomon had been persevered in, the one would not have been deprived of his strength, nor the other of his wisdom. I exhort and beseech you to hold fast firmly to this gift of perseverance, the highest mark of honour, the one trusty guardian of integrity. Keep carefully what you have heard joyfully. Remember the words that are written of Herod: that he feared John and heard him gladly (S. Mark 6:20). Well would it have been for him if he had been as ready to act as to listen. It is not they that hear merely who are called blessed, but they that hear the Word of God and keep it (S. Luke 11:28). 3. Keep, therefore, peace between yourselves and your brethren at Pisa; keep your fidelity to the Pope, your loyalty to the King; guard your own honour. This is expedient, this is befitting, and this is demanded by justice. I have heard that some messengers of King Roger have come to you; I know not their object, nor their success. But I must confess with the poet that I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts (VERG., Æn. ii. 49). If anyone among you is caught (which God forbid) in the disgraceful act of stretching out his hand for filthy lucre, note him straightway, judge him to be an enemy to your name, a betrayer of his fellow-citizens, and a traitor to the common good and honour. If, again, you find any whisperer among the people assuming the devil’s occupation of sowing discords, and trying to disturb the existing peace, as he is ever the author and lover of division, then visit such a dangerous fellow the more quickly with severe judgment; such a disease is the most deadly, because the most inward. A hostile army lays waste the fields and burns your houses, but evil communications corrupt good manners, and a little leaven permeates the whole lump. Sow, plant, and exert yourselves not only not to commit your former misdoings again, but even by works of righteousness to atone for them and blot them out. It is written, as you know: The redemption of a man’s soul is his riches (Prov. 15:6), and again, Give alms and all things are clean to you (S. Luke 11:41). But if you determine to go to war, and, again, bravely and strenuously to try your strength, to make test of your arms, I, for my part, think that you ought not to proceed against your neighbours and friends; it would be more fitting for you to subdue the enemies of the Church and defend your crown that has been assailed by the Sicilians. From them, at all events, it will be more honourable for you to take possessions, and more just to keep them when taken. May the God of love and peace remain with you all always. Amen. LETTER CXXX. (A.D. 1133.)TO THE CITIZENS OF PISAHe praises their zeal for, and devotedness to, Pope Innocent, whom the Antipope Anacletus had forced to leave Rome, and who had taken refuge at Pisa. To his friends, the consuls, councillors, and citizens of Pisa, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes salvation, peace, and everlasting life. May God bless you, and remember the faithful service and pious compassion and consolation and reverence which you have shown, and still do show, towards the Bride of His Son in her evil time and in the days of her affliction. And, indeed, all this is partly fulfilled, and already there is some answer to this prayer. Conduct that deserves a reward has already met with rapid recompense. Now, God is dealing with you according to your merits, O people, whom He has chosen to Him to be His inheritance, a people wholly acceptable, given to good works. Pisa is put in the place of Rome, and out of all the cities in the world is chosen to be the home of the Apostolic See. Nor has this happened by chance or by man’s counsel, but by Divine providence and the good favour of God, who loves them that love Him, and who has said to Innocent His anointed: “Live at Pisa, and in blessing I will bless thee. Here will I dwell, for I have chosen this city.” It is because of My support that the constancy of Pisa does not yield to the malice of the Sicilian tyrant; that she is not moved by bribes, nor terrified by threats, nor deceived by stratagems. O, men of Pisa, men of Pisa, God has done to you great things, and made us to rejoice. What state is there that does not envy you? Guard well, O, faithful city, the treasure entrusted to you, acknowledge the grace of God, study to be found not ungrateful for the honour bestowed on you. Show all the honour you can to your Father, and the Father of all, and to the princes of this world, and the judges of the earth who are with you; their presence makes you illustrious, glorious, famous. But if you know not the day of your visitation, city renowned above all others, then shall you be the last of all cities. I have said enough to wise men. I commend to you the Marquis Engelbert, who has been sent to help the Pope and his friends. He is a brave and energetic young man, and, if I mistake not, faithful. Let my request win him your favour, especially as I have specially commended you to him, and advised him to pay great deference to your wishes. LETTER CXXXI. (A.D. 1135.)TO THE INHABITANTS OF MILANThe inhabitants of Milan, who had been reconciled to Pope Innocent, seemed to be wavering in fidelity to him. Bernard exhorts them to remain faithful, and reminds them of the recent benefits conferred upon them by the Roman See. To his friends, all the clergy and laity of Milan, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting in the Lord. 1. God is dealing well with you; the Roman Church is treating you well. One acts as a Father, the other as a mother. And, as a matter of fact, what has not been done that should have been done? You asked that honourable persons should be sent you from the Curia, to God’s glory and your own honour, and it has been done. You asked that your unanimous decision about the election of your venerable father should be confirmed, and that has been done. You wished for what is forbidden by the sacred canons to be done, except under great necessity, to be made lawful in your case, viz., for a bishopric to be raised to an archbishopric, and that, too, has been granted you. You asked that your fellow-citizens should be rescued from the hands of the men of Placentia, a thing which I neither can nor will pass by, and this has been done. I ask you, lastly, what reasonable request that the daughter has made has the loving mother refused or even postponed for a time? To sum up all, you will shortly have the pallium, the fulness of honour. But now listen to me, illustrious people, noble race, famous state. Listen, I say (and I speak the truth; I lie not), to one who loves you, who is zealous for your good. The Roman Church is very mild, but she is none the less powerful. Faithful is the saying and worthy of all acceptation, that he who does not wish to be crushed by her power must not abuse her kindness. 2. But someone will say, “Yes, I will pay her the reverence that is her due, but not a whit more.” By all means do so, for if you give her the reverence she deserves, you give her all, for fulness of power over all the churches of the world has been given to the Apostolic See as her special prerogative. He, therefore, who resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance of God. She can, if she see fit, appoint bishops where before there were none. Where they exist she can degrade some, exalt others, as reason bids her, so that she can make bishops into archbishops and vice versâ, where she sees necessity. From the ends of the earth she can summon the most exalted ecclesiastics and compel them to appear before her, not merely once or twice, but as often as she sees fit. Moreover, it is in her power to punish all disobedience, if by chance anyone should endeavour to resist her. This, too, you yourselves have found to your cost. What good did your last rebellion do you, and the disobedience which your false prophets wickedly enticed you into? What fruit had you in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? See what loss of power, glory, and honour you suffered in the persons of your suffragans. Who was able to stand up for you and withstand the just severity of the Apostolic authority, when, provoked by your audacity, it determined to cut off your members, and strip you of your old and illustrious honours? And you would at this moment be a hideous and headless mass if mercy rather than power had not been directed towards you. Who will have power to forbid greater disasters still if, which God forbid, you again provoke them? See, then, that you do not again fall away, for know for a certainty that you will not so easily find a remedy a second time. If anyone should say to you that in part you should obey and in part refuse to obey, although you have felt the full weight of the Apostolic power and the completeness of its authority, then I ask whether such a man has not either been deceived or wishes to deceive. But do what I bid you, for I am not leading you astray. Give yourselves rather to humility and to meekness, knowing that God giveth grace to the lowly, and that the meek shall inherit the earth. Be careful to keep the good will of your mistress and mother now that you have regained it. Study so to please her for the future, that she may be pleased, not only to keep safely for you what she has restored, but also to add what she has not yet given. LETTER CXXXII. (A.D. 1132.)TO THE CLERGY OF MILANHe congratulates the Milanese clergy, by whose endeavours the State had abandoned the Antipope Anacletus and returned to the unity of the Church. Blessed be ye of the Lord, for by your zeal and diligence your state has been set free from error, has abjured its schism, and returned to Catholic unity. The news of it has spread amongst Catholics; Sion has heard of it and rejoiced, and you are glorified before God and the people. How joyfully does your Mother, the Church, welcome back such a number of worthy sons, whom she was grieving for as lost! With how joyous and serene countenance does God, the Father, receive this sacrifice at your hands! Do now, as sons of peace, what you propose to do for the peace of the earth. And I, brethren, longing to become a sharer and companion of your joy, am coming, according to your request, with our beloved brethren, your messengers. Concerning the things you wrote to me of, I will more fully satisfy you according to reason if it be the good pleasure of God. But since I shall soon be setting out to the Council, I hope it will be no burden to you to postpone them till my return. LETTER CXXXIII. (A.D. 1134.)TO ALL THE CITIZENS OF MILANBernard had been invited to negotiate for peace on their behalf, and gladly accepts the invitation. I gather from your letter that you have some slight amount of regard for me. And since I cannot find that I deserve it, I believe it to be by the gift of God. I am far from declining the goodwill of a powerful and famous people. I welcome your kindness towards me, and with open arms receive devotedly the devotedness of your renowned State; especially now that you have abjured the error of the schismatics, and returned to the bosom of your Mother Church with the rejoicing of the whole world. Nevertheless, I think that not only to me is it a cause of rejoicing that I am invited to strive to make peace, and that I, a poor and unknown personage, am chosen by a most illustrious city to be its mediator and minister; but I think that it is also an honour to you to be desirous of peace and agreement with your neighbours, when the hostile attack of many States, as is well known to the world, has been powerless to force you to yield for a moment. And so being now hastening to the Council I shall hope to return by way of you, and make trial of your alleged goodwill. May He who giveth the goodwill cause that it be not in vain to me. LETTER CXXXIV. (A.D. 1134.)TO SOME NOVICES RECENTLY CONVERTED AT MILANBernard congratulates these Milanese novices on their conversion, and promises to visit them on his return from the Council. To his beloved brethren at Milan lately converted to God, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and prays that they may worthily carry out in the spirit of counsel and strength what they have well begun. Blessed be God who hath made the world’s glory to be of none account in your eyes that He might bestow upon you His own. How full of vanity are the children of men, how deceitful are they upon the weights, for, according to the saying of the Gospel, they receive honour one of another, and seek not the honour that cometh from God alone (S. John 5:44); surely in this they all are alike deceitful from vanity. But with you it is not so. From this reproach God’s mercy has set you free, to make you a sweet odour to God in every place, to be to His glory, to be a cause of rejoicing to the angels, and an example to men. If, indeed, there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, how much more over so many and over such men as you, and especially over those who belong to such a city as yours. And I, brethren, induced by my great joy, and also invited by you, sent you word by my dear brothers, Otto and Ambrose, whom you sent to me with your invitation, of my decision to come with them. But on second thoughts, thinking it better not to see you for a few brief moments, nor merely in passing, I postponed my visit till my return. I am now going to the Council, but by God’s help I will return by your way, and afford your holy purpose such counsel and help as reason shall enable me. LETTER CXXXV. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO PETER, BISHOP OF PAVIABernard attributes to God the praises lavished upon himself, but congratulates the Bishop on his works of mercy. If good seed, sown in good soil, seems to have brought forth fruit, His is the glory who gave the seed to the sower, fertility to the soil, increase to the seed. What have we to do with these? I certainly will not give Christ’s glory to another, much less will I claim it for myself. Surely it is the law of the Lord that converteth the soul (Ps. 19:7) and not I; it is the testimony of the Lord that is sure and giveth wisdom unto the simple, and not I. It is the hand and not the pen that is praised for the fair shape of the letters, and if I am to claim for myself what belongs to me in anything I have done, I confess that my tongue is the pen of a ready writer (Ps. 45:1). But, you say, why then are the feet of them that preach good tidings called beautiful? (Is. 52:7). What are their advantages? much every way. First, because they are the children of their Father which is in Heaven, they think that the glory which they offer to Him as tribute is none other’s, but His, and being children they are His heirs. Then also they reckon that the salvation of their neighbours is also their own, for they love them as themselves. Thirdly, the labour of their lips shall not utterly perish. For every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labour (1 Cor. 3:8). I have not prevented my lips; thou hast opened thy heart also, and therefore wilt doubtless receive more, inasmuch as thou hast laboured more. I am certain that thy reward awaits thee, for thou hast given drink to the thirsty, and met with bread those that were flying. Nor will thy kindly offices, nor the exhortations to salvation with which thou hast refreshed the bowels of Christ in His poor go unrewarded. We are both fellow-labourers, fellow-helpers of God: let us both hope for our reward in the sight of the souls of the saints saved through us. May God grant that I never forget you, nor you cease to remember me. LETTER CXXXVI. (A.D. 1134.)TO POPE INNOCENTHe asks that Dalfinus, who was prepared to give satisfaction for the injuries that he had inflicted, may receive gentler treatment. If we were always meeting with calamities, who would be able to bear them? If with prosperity, who is there that would not despise it? But Wisdom, who sweetly orders all things, so tempers with moderation and alternates for His elect the necessary vicissitudes that attend upon the course of their temporal life, that they are neither shattered by adversity nor beguiled by prosperity. The former is made more tolerable by the latter, and the latter receives a keener enjoyment from the former. Blessed be God in all things: our sorrow has been turned into joy, our wounds have been soothed first by wine, then with oil. The robbers and plunderers have been smitten with compunction and brought low. They send back with honour the priest of the Lord, on whom they dared to lay hands; the spoils which they had carried off they energetically collect again, and wholly restore. If any part of them cannot be found Dalfinus will give satisfaction for it according to your good pleasure; he has pledged me his honour to this. If he comes to the feet of your majesty, as he proposes to do, in order to fulfil his promise, I ask that the young man may be dealt with more gently than he deserves. Not that I wish so great a crime to go unpunished, but that the Church, if possible, may be honoured by due satisfaction being given; so that he who gives the satisfaction may not be exasperated beyond the limits of his patience, and may not repent him of having listened to my advice. LETTER CXXXVII. (A.D. 1134.)TO THE EMPRESS OF THE ROMANSAs Pope Innocent did not wish to restore the Milanese to his favour until they had made submission to the Emperor Lothaire, Bernard commends them to the clemency of the Empress. In bringing over the citizens of Milan I did not forget the instructions given me beforehand by your excellency. Even if I had not received them I should none the less have aimed to secure your honour and the welfare of your kingdom, as I do always and everywhere as far as I can. As a matter of fact, the Milanese were not received into favour with thy lord the Pope, nor into the unity of the Church until they had publicly abjured Conrad, and acknowledged my lord Lothaire as their king and lord, and received him, as the whole of the world does, as the august Emperor of the Romans: nor until they had taken an oath on the Holy Gospel, by the direction and command of my lord the Pope, that they would give you fitting satisfaction for the injury that they had done you. I give, therefore, hearty thanks to the divine goodness which has thus laid your enemies at your feet without the horrors of war, or the shedding of man’s blood; and I ask that, when the Milanese seek through the Pope as their mediator for your favour, we may find you as kindly disposed and merciful as we have often before experienced you to be; and so they will not repent of having listened to sound advice, and you will receive at their hands the service and honour that are your due. For it is not seemly that your faithful servants who labour for your honour should be put to shame by you, as they certainly will be if, after they have held out to others the hope of indulgence at the hands of your gracious majesty, they find you inexorable when they intervene on their own behalf. LETTER CXXXVIII. (A.D. 1133.)TO HENRY, KING OF THE ENGLISHHe asks for assistance to Pope Innocent from the King. To the most illustrious HENRY, King of England, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, prosperity, and peace. To wish to teach you, and especially about what concerns your honour, would be the part either of a fool, or of one who knows nothing at all of you. It is enough for me, therefore, to state the case simply and in as few words as possible; when a hint is enough many words are superfluous. We are on the threshold of the city, salvation is at the doors, righteousness is our companion, but the Roman military want other food than that. And so by righteousness we appease God, by our arms we terrify the foe, but we have not the bare necessaries of life. You know better than I what should be done to finish the good work that you have begun in your magnificent and honourable reception of my lord, Pope Innocent. LETTER CXXXIX. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO THE EMPEROR LOTHAIREBernard exhorts the Emperor to repress the schismatics. He recommends to him the cause of a certain Church at Toul. To LOTHAIRE, by the grace of God Roman Emperor and AUGUSTUS, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting and prayer, if the prayer of a sinner be of any avail. 1. Blessed be God who has chosen you, and set you up as the horn of our salvation, to the praise and glory of His name, to the reparation of the Imperial honour, to the support of the Church in her evil hour, and lastly to work salvation in the midst of the earth. It is His work that the glory of your crown is being daily added to and raised on high, is wonderfully increasing and advancing in all honour and magnificence before God and men. Of His doing surely it was, and of His power that you lately accomplished so successfully such a laborious and dangerous journey, undertaken on behalf of the peace of the kingdom and the liberation of the Church. Indeed, you have most gloriously attained the full height of the Imperial dignity, and, what is still greater, you did so not by a mighty hand, that so the greatness of your mind and of your faith might the more clearly shine forth. But if the earth trembled and was still before so tiny an army, what dread may we suppose will seize upon the hearts of the enemy when the King shall proceed to show the power of his arm? Moreover, the goodness of his cause will animate him, nay, a double necessity will urge him forward. It becomes not me to exhort to battle; nevertheless, I say unhesitatingly that it is the duty of the Church’s advocate to protect the Church from being attacked by the madness of schismatics, it is the prerogative of Cæsar to uphold his own crown against the Sicilian usurper. For as a Jew by descent has seized upon the See of Peter to the injury of Christ, so without doubt everyone who makes himself a king in Sicily speaketh against Cæsar. 2. But if it is incumbent upon Cæsar both to render the things that are Cæsar’s to Cæsar, and to God the things that are God’s, why are the possessions of God at Toul diminished without Cæsar getting any gain from them? It is to be feared that neglect of trifles may become a barrier to great matters. What I refer to is this. The church of S. Gengulphus in that city is being grievously oppressed, and unjustly, too, it is said; and they say that in some way or other your prudence has been beguiled into opposing my lord the Pope, when he was about to see justice done, by a request from you not to interfere. I implore and advise you to act more prudently, to recall the injurious request, to permit justice to be done before that Church is destroyed to the foundation. I am but a poor Religious, yet I am your devoted servant, and if I seem importunate, it is, perhaps, just because I am thus devoted. I salute the Lady Empress in the love of Christ. LETTER CXL. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO THE SAMEHe commends to the Emperor the Pisans, who were entirely devoted to Pope Innocent. I wonder at whose instigation, or by whose advice, it is that your vigilance has been so eluded, that men who were certainly worthy of double honour at your hands have met with quite opposite treatment. I mean the citizens of Pisa, who were the first, and, at one time, the only people to lift up their banner against your rival. How much more just would it have been had the royal indignation flamed out against those who on some pretext or other have had the audacity to attack a brave and loyal city, at a moment, too, above all things, when many thousands of its people had gone out to fight against the tyrant, to avenge the wrongs of its Lord, and to defend the imperial crown. For, that I may most fittingly apply to this city what was of old said of holy David (1 Sam. 22:14), I ask, among all States what one is so faithful as Pisa, going out and coming in, and obeying the King’s command? Is not this the people which lately raised the siege of Naples, and put to flight the one powerful enemy that the kingdom has? Is not this the people, too, which, wonderful to say, in one campaign stormed the wealthy and strongly fortified cities of Amalfi, Ravello, Scala, and Atturnia, cities which up to that time had been found impregnable by all who had attempted their capture? How meet and right, how consistent with all reason and justice, would it have been that a faithful city should have been protected against every foe, at all events while engaged in such exploits as I have mentioned; to say nothing of the presence of the Supreme Pontiff, who had lately been driven into exile, and received by the men of Pisa with the utmost honour, which they still continue to show; nor yet of the good service that they have done the Emperor, for which at that very time they themselves were under sentence of banishment. But things have gone by contraries; those who were hostile have met with favour, and those who have done their duty have incurred wrath. But perhaps you knew nothing of all this before. Now, however, that you do, it behoves you, nay, decency and good policy call upon you, to change your orders and your mind, that so men who deserve especially to be honoured by the King’s countenance and bounty may hear and receive from you for the future such things as they have merited. How great is the reward that the men of Pisa can claim; how great a reward may they still earn! I have said enough for a wise man. LETTER CXLI. (A.D. 1138.)TO HUMBERT, ABBOT OF IGNYBernard blames him severely for having suddenly and rashly abandoned his abbey and his charge. May Almighty God forgive you. What has made you act thus? Who would have believed that a man endowed with such good gifts would have so stumbled and fallen into evil? How could a good tree have brought forth such bad fruit? How terrible is God in His judgments among the children of men! I am not surprised at this token of the power of the devil, but I am surprised that God should have allowed one whom I believe to have served Him so faithfully for so many years to fall so grievously. What will He do with me, an idle and careless servant, if He hands over His faithful follower for a time unto the will of his enemies? What reason, I ask you, have you for deserting your charge? It is rather to be called an act of impiety, at which your children grieve and your adversaries rejoice. I wonder that you were not deterred by the example of Abbot Arnold, whose similar presumption was shortly afterwards punished with a well-deserved but dreadful end, as you well recollect. And he, indeed, as I know well, had some excuse, but you have none. Is it that your monks were disobedient to your commands, or the converts neglectful of their tasks, or your neighbours by any chance hostile to you and your house, or were your worldly possessions too small and insufficient, inasmuch that you were forced to leave those whom you were not able to govern or to feed? Take care, lest the words of God come to apply to you, They have hated me without a cause (S. John 15:25). For what ought He to have done more for you, that He did not do? He planted for you a choice and beautiful vineyard; He surrounded it with the hedge of vowed continency; He dug in it a winepress of the strictest discipline; and He built a tower of holy poverty, the top of which reached unto heaven. He appointed you to till it and to take care of it. He honoured you in your labours, and, if you permit Him, He will crown those labours. But you, alas! are pulling down the wall that He has built, and exposing His vine, laden with fruitful branches, to all that pass by that way. Who is to prevent the wild boar out of the wood from rooting it up, and the wild beast of the field from devouring it? You write to me that you are not afraid to die under such scandal and the anathema of our lord the Pope, but I can only wonder how you can think this a good preparation for your death. Moreover, even if you had no other course open to you, might not some other time have been chosen but that when I am kept away by the necessities of the universal Church, and so am prevented from lending any aid to that unhappy community which you are rendering easy of attack? I beseech you, by Him who was crucified for you, that you cease from tormenting those who have already enough affliction, and desist from adding sorrow to sorrow. To tell you the truth, I am so affected by this grievous rent made in the Church at large that my soul is aweary of life, even if you and yours could manage to live in peace. LETTER CXLII. (A.D. 1138.)TO THE MONKS OF THE ABBEY IN THE ALPSThese monks of the Abbey in the Alps had associated themselves with Clairvaux under the Cistercian Order. Bernard praises and consoles them for the loss of their Abbot, who has been called to a higher rank, and instructs them respecting the election of another. 1. Your good father and mine, by the will of God, has been promoted to a higher place. Let us, therefore, dearly beloved, do what the prophet speaks of when he says, The sun was raised up, and the moon stood still in her order (Habak. 3:11, VULG.). He is the sun by which your congregation in the Alps is made everywhere illustrious, just as the moon receives her light from the sun. And as He has been raised up let us stand still in our order, we who have chosen to be doorkeepers in the house of our God, rather than to dwell in the tents of ungodliness. Our Order is lowliness, humility, voluntary poverty, obedience, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. Our Order is to be under a teacher, under an Abbot, under rule and discipline. Our Order is to seek to be silent, to train ourselves by fastings, watchings, and prayers, and manual labours, and above all things to hold the more excellent way of charity; nay, more, to be progressing from day to day, and persevering in these things until our life’s end. And this I trust that you are carefully doing. 2. But you have done one work, and all men marvel. Although you were holy, you thought your holiness to be nothing; you sought to share in that of others, that you might be the more holy. Fulfilled is that which is written in the Gospel, When ye shall have done all those tilings which are commanded you say, We are unprofitable servants (S. Luke 17:10). You count yourselves unprofitable, and you have been found to be humble. To do what is right, and to think one’s self unprofitable, is found amongst very few, and therefore many wonder at it when found. This, I repeat, is what makes you more famous than those who are famed, more saintly than the saints. And wherever this rumour of you has spread, it has filled all places with the sweetness of its odour. This grace, in my judgment, is to be preferred to protracted facts and anticipated vigils, and to every kind of bodily discipline; but godliness is profitable unto all things. How joyfully has the whole Cistercian Order opened its arms to you! with what smiling faces have the angel hosts looked down upon you! They know well that, above all things, Almighty God is pleased with brotherly fellowship and union, for He says by the Prophet, It is a good thing to be joined together (Is. 41:6, VULG.); and by another, Behold how good and joyful a thing it is, brethren, to dwell together in unity (Ps. 133:1); and again, If brother helpeth brother both shall be comforted (Prov. 18:19, VULG.). 3. Moreover, this that you have done tends to foster humility. And how acceptable this is to the Divine Majesty is taught us by him who says: God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble (S. James 4:6). It is shown, too, by the Master of humility, who says: Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart (S. Luke 11:29), What need I say, of the special welcome of love given you by our little flock of Clairvaux, to which you have more specially affiliated yourselves? No words can express the mutual charity that exists between us, and which works in a marvellous way by the pouring forth of the Spirit. It only remains, brethren, that, after invoking the Holy Spirit, you hasten to elect an abbot. For if you were to wait for me, I am afraid that my arrival may be long postponed, and that delay would be fraught with danger. But call to your side my dear brother, Godfrey, Prior of Clairvaux, to fill my place in this and any other matters; and then, according to his advice, or the advice of those he may send, in case he cannot come to you himself, as well as of your father Guerin, choose such an abbot as may be able to labour for the honour of God and for your salvation. Forget me not, brethren. LETTER CXLIII. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO HIS MONKS OF CLAIRVAUXHe 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 Clairvaux, the converts, and the novices, their brother 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 sadness; 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 meantime happen to befall you be regarded as gains, for 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 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 CXLIV. (A.D. 1137.)TO THE SAMEHe 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. 1. 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. 69:26). 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 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 countenance 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 passage 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. 27:4). 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 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 misfortune 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 recompense 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 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 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—who show themselves as brothers. They who are with me—Brother Bruno and Brother Gerard—salute you and ask for your prayers. LETTER CXLV. (Circa A.D. 1137.)TO THE ABBOTS ASSEMBLED AT CÎTEAUXBernard begs them to have compassion upon his labours and sufferings, and to excuse his absence on that account. He earnestly desires to die among his brethren, and not in a foreign land. In much weakness of body and anxiety of mind, as God knows, have I dictated these words to you—a man miserable and born to suffering, yet your brother. Would that I might merit to have now the Holy Spirit, in whom ye have met together, as my advocate to your whole body, that He might impress upon your hearts the trouble that I am suffering, and bring before your brotherly affections my sad and suppliant countenance just as it now is. I do not pray Him to create new pity in you, for I know how familiar to you all is that virtue, but I do ask Him to give you a keen sense of how much loving pity I now stand in need. For I am certain that if that were given you, tears would unceasingly flow forth from the fount of your love, that groans and sobs and sighs would knock at heaven’s gate, so that God would hear and be gracious unto me, and say, “I have restored thee to thy brethren, thou shalt not die amid strangers, but amongst thine own people.” I am so worn, indeed, by my great labours and griefs that I am often awearied of life. But I speak as a man, because of my infirmity; I desire my life to be prolonged till I return to you, that I may not die away from you. For the rest, brethren, make good your ways, determining and holding to what is true, honest, and useful. Before all things endeavour to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, and the God of peace shall be with you. LIFE AND WORKS OF SAINT BERNARD: VOLUME 2NOTEThe following list of editions carries on the bibliography given by Dom. J. Mabillon in his second edition, and adds some particulars not therein contained. 1. Editions by J. M. Horst were published in 1642 (Parisiis, 5 Tom.); in 9 vols. (1667–1668); and Coloniæ Agrippinæ (Cologne) 1641, 1672. (The first and last volumes of this edition are differently dated from the others.) The Editor was J. C. Schluter; and this was the last edition founded on Horst. 2. The second edition of Dom. J. Mabillon, which has ever since been the standard, was issued in 2 vols. folio (Parisiis, 1690). A third, tertiis curis J. Mabillon, also in 2 vols. folio (Parisiis, 1719): and again in 3 vols. with additions by Dom. J. Martene (Venetiis, 1726). Lastly, in 1839, was issued in Paris in 6 vols. 4to, by Gaume Frères, a fourth edition, emendata et aucta, of which precise details are given in Vol. i., pp. 74, 75; and the text of which has been used in this translation. It is printed with remarkable correctness, a verification of the references having thus far shown but very few errors. Volume ii. contains the great bulk of S. Bernard’s Letters. The remainder, which are short and comparatively unimportant, will follow at the beginning of Vol. iii. S. J. E. NOTE ON THE SEAL OF S. BERNARDWE owe it to the kindness of M. Deville, Director of the Museum of Antiquities at Rouen, that we are able to reproduce the following note, with the exact design of S. Bernard’s seal spoken of in this note. NOTE ON THE SEAL OF S. BERNARD. Copy of a letter addressed to the Permanent Secretary of the Academy of Inscriptions. Rouen, Aug. 16, 1837. SIR,— A happy circumstance has just put into my hands the original seal of S. Bernard. The Academy will doubtless be interested at hearing that the seal of this celebrated man, who played so important a part in the religious and political events of his day, still exists; and I may, perhaps, be allowed to send it some account of this little memorial of the twelfth century—one of the most precious that it has left us. It is of yellow copper, and of oval form, about 40 millimètres long (about 1 ½ inch), 30 millimètres broad in its widest part (nearly 1 ¼ inch); its thickness is about ⅕ inch, and its weight about an ounce. The figure of S. Bernard is hollowed out, in monastic costume; his head is tonsured and bare, his chin shaven, and he is sitting on a folding chair, the arms of which terminate in a serpent’s head. The Saint holds in his right hand, which becomes the left in the impression, a very simple staff, with a crook after the style of the ancient lituus; and in his left hand, which is stretched out like the right, an object which the roughness and minuteness of the work make it difficult to recognize. I think it to be a church-door divided into two parts by a column, surmounted by a capital. \[Mabillon has taken this for a book; the owner of the seal took it for a sand-glass.\] The following inscription is traced on the margin of the seal round the figure (a cross patée is placed just above the head of the Saint): X Sigillum: Bernardi: Abbatis Clarævall. With the exception of the g of the word Sigillum, of the d of Bernardi, and of the e of Clarævall, which are of the Gothic character, the letters resemble the Roman uncials, and do not depart otherwise from the characters in use in the twelfth century. The absence of the word Saint before Bernard is enough to prove, if necessary, that this seal is contemporary with him whose name it bears, and that it really belonged to him, because we know that S. Bernard, who died in 1153, was canonized not many years after his death, viz., in 1174, by Pope Alexander III. If this seal—the use of which in that case would be inexplicable—was posterior to the canonization, they would not have failed to add the significant word Sanctus; it could scarcely have been without it. The only objection, perhaps, to a skilled eye that could be raised against the authenticity of the seal is that the style of the design, the costumes and the details, as well as the shape of the seal, seem to assign it to the latter half, or almost to the middle of the twelfth century. But S. Bernard having taken the pastoral staff A.D. 1115, the question arose why his official seal, which must have been executed at that time, had not the marks of that time; for the difference, after the long study that I had devoted to these monuments, was most apparent to my eyes. Such was the question that I had to consider. On reading again the Letters of S. Bernard I found its solution. S. Bernard, writing to Pope Eugenius III., A.D. 1151, tells him that he has been forced to change his seal because of an abuse of confidence, and that he had had a second engraved, on which were traced his figure and name (ep. 284). It is this second seal which is in my possession. The effigy and name of S. Bernard are engraved on it: its shape and execution correspond exactly with the style of the time when S. Bernard informs us that he had had it made; it has in every way all the marks of genuineness that can be wished for. It only remains for me now to inform the Academy of the way in which I became possessed of this inestimable piece of antiquity. I owe it to the generosity of a retired officer, M. Pays, of Issoudun, who wrote to me a few days ago, on sending it: “This seal was bought of a second-hand salesman, who became possessed in 1790 of the old copper articles of the Collegiate Church of S. Cyr, of Issoudun, which was affiliated to Clairvaux. How it came there I do not know.” Subjoined is an impression of the seal, which I beg you to bring under the notice of the Academy. I forgot to say that the reverse is flat and of one piece, and with no mark of handle or hook. It is evident that the seal was pressed on the wax by the finger only. Receive, etc., DEVILLE. COPY OF AN IMPRESSION OF S. BERNARD’S SEAL. DESCRIPTION OF THE POSITION AND SITE OF THE ABBEY OF CLAIRVAUXIf you wish to know the site of Clairvaux, these lines will describe it for you as if in a mirror. The abbey is built at the foot of two mountains, which are separated from each other by a narrow valley, and leave between them a distance which widens as they descend from the side of the abbey. One of these mountains has its side occupied by one half of the abbey, and the other half is on the corresponding side of the other. The one mountain is fertile with vineyards, the other with corn; and each of them offers to the eye a beautiful sight, and supplies a needful support for the inmates. So that whilst on one of the ridges rises the corn upon which the brethren live, on the other is grown the wine which they drink. The top of the mountain is the scene of numerous labours of the monks; works as pleasant as they are peaceable—to collect dry branches, and gather them in bundles to burn them; to grub up the brushwood which disfigures the ground, and to prepare it for the fire, for which alone it is fit; to uproot the brambles and destroy them; to dig the soil; to scatter (as I may say after Solomon) the “bastard slips” which choke the roots or entangle the boughs of the rising trees, so that there may be no impediment to the sturdy oak which salutes the heavens with its lofty top, to the graceful lime-tree which spreads its arms, to the ash-tree whose wood is so elastic and easily split, or to the leafy beech, as the one shoots upwards and the other spreads its lateral shade. Behind the house extends a broad plain, of which a wall shuts in no small part, and encloses the abbey with an extended boundary. Within this enclosure the trees are numerous and varied, fertile in fruit of various kinds, and form an orchard like a forest. Beside it rise the cells of the sick, and the neighbourhood of the trees is no slight alleviation of the infirmities of the brethren, to whom the orchard offers a vast space for walking, and gives a pleasant shade against the heat of the sun. The sick are wont to sit upon the green turf, and when the excessive heats of the dog-days burn the earth and dry up the rivers they sit sheltered under the trees, and defended from the heat of their shadow. Under their leafy screen the sun’s rays are softened, and their sufferings are soothed as they breathe the air fragrant with the scent of hay. The pleasant green of the trees and of the turf rests their eyes, and the fruit which hangs before them promises them delight when ripened. They might say with reason: I have sat under the shade of the tree which I desired, and its fruit was sweet to my taste (Cant. 2:3). Their ears are agreeably occupied by the sweet and harmonious concerts of birds of varied plumage. See how, in order to cure one sickness, the goodness of God multiplies remedies, causes the clear air to shine in serenity, the earth to breathe forth fruitfulness, and the sick man himself to inhale through eyes, and ears, and nostrils the delights of colours, of songs, and of odours. Where the orchard ceases begins the garden, through which run little channels of water, or rather little streams separate and divide it into squares. For although the water appears to be still, yet it has a steady current, though slow. Here, too, is a pleasing sight afforded to the eyes of the sick brethren when they go to sit on the verdant bank of a pool filled with pure and running water, where they can watch the sports of the little fish in water clear as crystal, which swim to and fro in shoals like marching armies. The water of these pools serves at the same time for nourishing the fish and for watering the vegetables in the garden; it is introduced by a constant current derived from the Aube, a river well known. This stream passes and repasses the many workshops of the abbey, and everywhere leaves a blessing behind it for its faithful service. The river climbs to this height by works laboriously constructed, and passes nowhere without rendering some service, or leaving some of its water behind. It divides the valley into two by a sinuous bed, which the labour of the brethren, and not Nature, has made, and goes on to throw half of its waters into the abbey, as if to salute the brethren, and seems to excuse itself for not coming in its whole force, the canal which receives it being too small for it. If sometimes the stream, swollen by an inundation, rushes on with violent current, it is stopped by a wall, under which it is obliged to pass, and so turned back upon itself, meets and checks the descending stream. As much, however, as the wall, like a faithful porter, allows to enter passes on at once to drive the wheels of a mill; there, lashed into foam by their motion, it grinds the meal under the weight of the mill-stones, and separates the fine from the coarse by a sieve of fine tissue. A little farther on, in the next building, it fills a boiler, and is heated for brewing, that drink may be prepared for the brethren, if it should happen that the vintage should not respond kindly to the labour of the vine-dresser; so that, in default of the juice of the vine, the want may be supplied by the extract of grain. But not even yet is its usefulness completed, for the fullers call it to their aid who labour beside the mill; sound reason requiring that, as in the mill, care is taken for the food of the brethren, so by these their clothing should be prepared. But the river does not hesitate nor refuse any who require its aid; and you may see it causing to rise and fall alternately the heavy pestles, that is to say, hammers, or wooden foot-shaped blocks (for that name seems to agree better with the treading-work, as it were, of the fullers), and so relieves them of the heaviest part of their labour. And if it is permitted to them to mix jokes with serious work, it relieves the sadness of their sins. O God, how many consolations Thou givest to Thy poor, so that they may not be entirely weighed down by the extreme stress of their labour! What alleviations of punishment to the penitent, that they may not be altogether absorbed by excessive sorrow! How many horses would this labour tire! of how many men would it weary the arms! And the kindly stream relieves us from it altogether, although without it we should have neither food to eat, nor raiment prepared to put on. It shares with us our fatigues, and for all the labour which it undertakes the whole day long it expects no other recompense than that when it has completed diligently all its tasks it may be permitted to go free upon its way. Thus, after having made to revolve in its quick movement so many wheels, rapid as itself, it emerges foaming, you would say that it is, so to speak, mealy, and that it has been made softer. From thence it passes into the workshop of the curriers, where it contributes its laborious assistance to the preparation of the sandals which are needful for the use of the Brothers. Coming from there, it is divided into numerous threads of water, and thus distributed; it penetrates all the workshops, and lends itself to everyone’s need, everywhere looking for assistance that it may be able to render. Thus it helps to cook the food, to sift the grain, to drive wheels and pestles, to damp, wash, and soak, and so to soften, objects; everywhere it stands ready to offer its help. Lastly, in order that I may not omit any thanks due to it, nor leave the catalogue of its services in any way imperfect, it carries away all dirt and uncleanness, and leaves all things clean behind it. Then, after having accomplished industriously the purpose for which it came, it returns with rapid current to the stream, and renders to it in the name of Clairvaux, thanks for all the services which it has performed, and replies to its salutation with worthy response. Immediately it receives into its bosom the waters that it had lent to us, and the two streams become only one; they are so perfectly mixed that you can find no trace of their union; only on re-entering into its bed, it hastens the course of the stream, which had been delayed, diminished, and rendered less active in its course, by the withdrawal of part of its waters. But since we have restored it to its place, let us return to the little streams which we have left behind us. They are drawn from the river, and wander in careless curves through the meadows, to penetrate into the earth and refresh it, so that it may bring forth seed for fear that at the return of spring, when the fruitful earth opens to let the new growth appear, the infant plants should be dried up for want of water; nor have they any need of the drops from the clouds because sufficiently fed by the bounty of the neighbouring river. These little streams, or rather watercourses, after they have fulfilled their office, are absorbed in the stream which had given them out, and the Aube having regained all its waters, resumes its rapid course down the valley. But as we have accompanied it so far, and it, following the word of Solomon, returns to its place, (Eccles. 1:7), let us too return to the point from whence we started, and traverse with rapid description the vast plain of meadows. That spot has much charm, it greatly soothes weary minds, relieves anxieties and cares, helps souls who seek the Lord greatly to devotion, and recalls to them the thought of the heavenly sweetness towards which they aspire. The smiling countenance of the earth is painted with varying colours, the blooming verdure of spring satisfies the eyes, and its sweet odour salutes the nostrils. But while I view the flowers, while I breathe their sweet scent, the meadows recall to me the histories of ancient times; for while I drink in the sweetness of the flowers, the thought occurs to my mind of the fragrance of the clothing of the Patriarch Jacob, which the Scripture compares to the odour which mounts from a fruitful field. When I delight my eyes with the bright colours of the flowers, I am reminded that this beauty is far above that of the purple robe of Solomon, who in all his glory, could not equal the beauty of the lilies of the field, although to him there was wanting neither richness of material, nor wisdom and taste in arrangement. In this way, while I am charmed without by the sweet influence of the beauty of the country, I have not less delight within in reflecting on the mysteries which are hidden beneath it. This, meadow, then is irrigated by the little stream which flows through it, and sends its moisture to the roots of its vegetation, so that they will not fear the heats of summer when it shall come. It is extended so far that at the time when the covering of the greensward falls under the scythe, and is dried to make hay, the gathering-in of it is a heavy task for the whole force of the Abbey during twice ten days. Yet that labour is not left wholly to the monks, but with them an unnumbered multitude of lay brothers, brothers lent from other Houses, and a crowd of hired labourers, collect the hay when dried, and clear the shorn soil with rakes. This meadow is shared between two farms, which the Aube divides equally and fairly, in order to avoid dispute, assigning to each its domain, of which it forms the boundary on either side, so that the one may not cross to encroach upon the land of the other. You would not suppose that these farm-houses only serve for the dwelling-place of lay-brothers; you would take them for cloisters of monks, if the yokes of oxen, ploughs, and other instruments fitted for the labours of countrymen did not make manifest the kind of inhabitants whom the houses shelter, and if you did not remark that no books are lying open among them. For as relates to the buildings, you would say that it was suitable for a great convent of monks, both by sight, size, and beauty. In the part of the meadow which is near to the wall, a pool of water has been made out of the solid plain; there, where previously the labourer, pouring with sweat, was cutting the hay with his sharp scythe, there the brother fisherman, borne in a light skiff, as it were upon a wooden horse, scours the watery plain; for spurs he has a light oar with which he urges his boat to speed and turns its course where he will. He unfolds his net under the waves, in which the fishy tribe are entangled, to prepare for him a prey which he loves to see placed upon the table; or he uses the secret hook, with which the imprudent fish is taken. By the example of which we may be taught to despise pleasures, because pleasure is bought with pain, and is injurious, nor can anyone be ignorant of the sad fate of those who yield to it, except those who either have not sinned, or, having sinned, have not the benefit of repentance. May God keep far from us the pleasure, at the entrance to which Death is placed; according to the description of a wise man, “like bees in their flight, who seek a drop of honey, and are pierced through with a dart” (Boethius). The banks of the lake are strengthened by a high palisade woven of flexible osiers, so that the earth may not crumble away by the percolation of the water. This lake is fed by the river which flows by, at a distance of scarcely thirty-six feet, from which the water is let through narrow passages into the lake which it feeds. Overflow pipes lead back from it, and keep the water always at the same level. But while I am carried on in this description of the meadows, while I breathlessly mount the steep slopes, or traverse the brightly-coloured surface of the meadow, painted by the hand of Wisdom, or describe the ridges of the mountains clothed with trees, I am accused of ingratitude by that sweet fountain of whose waters I have so often drunk, which has merited so well of me, and which I have repaid so ill. It reminds me in a tone of reproach that it has often quenched my thirst, that it has given me water to wash my hands and even my feet, that it has rendered to me many such offices of kindness and benevolence. It says to me that all these good offices I have repaid with ingratitude; that it has been the last mentioned of all the places I have described, and indeed that it scarcely found a place at all; whereas for the respect I owe to it, it should have been placed first. And, indeed, I am unable to deny that I remembered it too late; and that I should have thought of it earlier. But does it not roll its waters silently through subterranean channels, so that not even the lightest murmur marks its passage, like the waters of Siloah which roll in silence, as if fearing to be betrayed, and hide themselves from all eyes? Why should I not have supposed that it wished for secrecy, when I see that it does not wish to be beheld except under a roof? This fountain, then (which is said to be an indication of a good fountain), has its source opposite to the rising sun, so that at the time of the spring solstice it salutes the ruddy face of the scintillating aurora. A hut of turf, or, to speak more respectfully of it, a pavilion small and pretty, covers and protects it, that nothing unclean may fall into it on any side. But the place where the mountain permits it to issue forth is also the place where the valley engulfs it; where it is born, it also as it were dies, and is buried. But do not expect a sign like that of Jonas the prophet, that it should lie hidden three days and three nights in the soil; it seems to be raised up almost immediately from the heart of the earth, and reappears at a thousand feet distance, within the enclosure of the monastery. It might be said that it returns to life where it appears, offering itself to charm the sight and supply the wants of the brethren, as if it were not willing to have communication with any others than saints. LETTERSLETTER CXLVITO BURCHARD, ABBOT OF BALERNEBernard rejoices that his efforts to train Burchard to the Religious life have not been in vain; the happy issue is to be attributed to God alone. 1. Your style has been filled with fire and power, and with that fire, too, which the Lord has sent on the earth. I read your letter, and my heart burned within me; I blessed that furnace from whence such sparks had flown forth. Did not your heart burn within you as you dictated such words? A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth good things. If I laboured for you, as you humbly say, I rejoice at it. I ploughed, in hope, no doubt, of receiving fruit, and my hope has not deceived me. Lo, with the fruit of my works my heart is satisfied in a strange land; and I see by experience that my seed has not fallen by the wayside, nor on stony ground, nor amongst thorns, but into a good and fertile soil. And if I had sorrow when I brought them forth, yet now I remember no more the travail, for joy that a child has been born into the world. A child, I mean, in malice, not in understanding; one whom the Saviour could set forward for an example to the old, saying, Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven (S. Matt. 18:3); such a child as can say, I am wiser than the aged, because I have sought Thy commandments (Ps. 119:100); and, I am small and despised, yet do I not forget Thy precepts (Ps. 119:141). 2. I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight. By Thy will, not by their merits are they what they are. For Thou dost not come to find, but goest before to give merit. We all have sinned, and need to be prevented by grace. Do thou, then, my brother, acknowledge that thou hast been prevented, and prevented with the blessings of goodness, not by me, who am nothing, but by Him who, by His holy inspiration, prevented me, and so caused me to warn thee to save thyself. For, to attribute a great deal to myself, I planted, I watered; but without Him who giveth the increase, what am I? To Him in all humility submit thyself, to Him with utmost devotion cling. Use me as His servant, thy fellow servant, thy companion in the way, thy future co-heir in our country, that is to say, if I shall have faithfully fulfilled the ministry to which I was sent on your behalf, and if I shall have done what I could to enable you to lay hold of the inheritance of salvation. This is my answer to your complaint. I will occupy myself with your necessities as my own when I come. LETTER CXLVII. (A.D. 1138.)TO PETER, ABBOT OF CLUNYPeter had consoled Bernard, who was engaged abroad in several difficult labours for the Church, by sending him Gebuin, Archdeacon of Troyes. He gratefully acknowledges this kindness, and predicts a happier state for the Church by the extinction of the then existing schism. To dom PETER, the very Reverend Father, Abbot of Cluny, his friend BERNARD wishes health, and all that he could desire for his friend. 1. May the Dayspring from on high visit you, my excellent friend, for you have visited me in a strange land, and consoled me in the place of my pilgrimage. You have done well to think upon the poor and needy. I was absent, and absent too for a long time, and you, a great man, full of important matters, yet forgot not my name. Blessed be thy holy angel, who put loving thought for me into thy heart: blessed be our God who moved thee. Lo, I hold in my hand your letter, of which I may make my boast among strangers, and in which you have poured out your full heart to me. I rejoice that you hold me in favour as well as in memory. I rejoice in the privilege of your love, I am refreshed out of the abundant sweetness of your heart. And not only so, but I glory in tribulations also, if I have been counted worthy to endure any for the sake of the Church. This, truly, is my glory and the lifting up of my head—the Church’s triumph. For if we have been sharers of her trouble, we shall be also of her consolation. We must work and suffer with our mother, lest she complain of us, saying, My kinsmen stand afar off: they also that seek after my life lay snares for me (Ps. 38:11, 12). 2. But thanks be to God who hath given her the victory, has crowned her labours, and glorified her in them. Our sadness has been turned into rejoicing, our mourning into gladness. The winter is passed, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of pruning is here, the useless branch, the rotten member has been cut off. The wicked man who made Israel to sin, he has been swallowed up by death, and given over to the pit of hell. In the words of the Prophet, he had entered into a covenant with death, and made an agreement with hell (Is. 28:18), and therefore, as Ezekiel says, Destruction has come to him and he shall be no more for ever (Ezek. 28:19). Another enemy, too, the greatest of all and the worst of all, has none the less been cut off. And he was one of the friends of the Church, of whom she is wont to complain, saying: My lovers and my neighbours did stand looking upon my trouble, and my kinsmen stood afar off (Ps. 38:11). If any remain I hope for speedy judgment against them. I shall soon be returning to my brethren, if God preserves my life, and I shall hope to pay you a visit in passing. Meanwhile I commend myself to your holy prayers. I salute brother Hugh, the Chamberlain, and all who are with you, with the rest of your sacred congregation. LETTER CXLVIII. (A.D. 1138.)TO THE SAMEHe replies to Peter only in a few words, proposing to write at greater length later. To dom PETER, Abbot of Cluny, BERNARD sends humble and respectful salutations. When I had read your letter I was made joyful that one so great as you should trouble to prevent one so Insignificant as I with the blessings of goodness. But when shall we have an opportunity of seeing each other, and of conversing with each other? When will there be convenient place, or fitting occasion? Meanwhile I send a few words in reply to your short letter, and will gladly send more, when I know that they will not be burdensome to you. Else how could my littleness dare to write at all, were it not that you in your humility stoop to give me access to your exalted dignity? LETTER CXLIX. (A.D. 1138.)TO THE SAMEBernard advises him not to press on so eagerly the affair of the Abbey of Saint Bertin. I think that you are well aware how unwilling I am ever to do anything which may be hostile to your Reverence. And having this confidence I do not hesitate to make suggestions to you when necessary. With respect to the monastery of S. Bertin I could wish you to act less eagerly than you have done. For even if you could bring it to submit to you in peace and without any contention, I do not see how you would gain even then. For I should not suppose that you would find any pleasure in honour accompanied by such responsibilities. But now that you cannot obtain the submission of this monastery without great labour, nor hold it, they say, peacefully, you have a good excuse afforded you for retiring gracefully from the attempt, in the fear of causing trouble and strife. LETTER CL. (A.D. 1133.)TO POPE INNOCENTHe praises the Pope for various acts of authority; and then urges him to oppose strongly the ambition of Philip, who was endeavouring to obtain the Archbishopric of Tours by illegitimate means. 1. May the members share in the health of the head! May the anointing oil which descended to the beard from the head also run down to the utmost skirts of the clothing! If when the shepherd is smitten the sheep are scattered, may they return to their pasture without fear when he is strong and well! What I mean is this: Many a report of your frequent glorious successes is making glad the city of God. It is, therefore, but fitting that your prosperity should be the strengthening of the Church; and that, when God exalts him that He has chosen out of His people, she also may see herself exalted, and feel the stronger by an increase of vigour. For if she have suffered with him, she ought also to reign with him. That is at once worthy of you and necessary for us. What is it then? If in times of fear and distress the arm of justice was not shortened, nor the zeal for equity cooled, are we to give way now that we are nearing the goal? Shall the virtue which shone brightly in weakness succumb in power? 2. To come to the point, with how strong a hand has the famous monastery of Vezelay been set in order? The Apostolic majesty thought that it ought not to give way, no, not for a moment, either to the insane outbreaks of an armed populace, or to the unbridled madness of mutinous and wrathful monks, or to what was more powerful than all—the forces of mammon. What shall I say of S. Benedict? Was the indignation of a king able to repress the spirit of liberty kindled and girded to battle against flesh and blood? So in a wonderful way were the churches of S. Memmius and S. Satyrus transformed, from being synagogues of Satan to become again sanctuaries of God, whether the workers of wickedness would or no. Nor at Liege was the threatening and savage sword of a passionate and angry king able to enforce acquiescence in his urgent and wicked demands. Who can sufficiently praise the bolt that was hurled, even though it was from a distance, against the disturbers of the church of Orleans, by the same powerful hand in the last few days? Truly the bow of Jonathan turned not back, nor his sword returned empty. Nevertheless, by this word the king indeed was disturbed, but not all Jerusalem with him. He himself at last allowed his anger to cool. He was, indeed, fearful and scrupulous of taking up arms against the Lord, and against His Anointed Your majesty has been exalted above the heavens, but only in order that so good a beginning may be adorned with a fitting ending. This, indeed, is what all who love you are eagerly looking for, and they are demanding its speedy arrival. 3. With equal zeal, and with as powerful an arm, it is necessary for help to be immediately lent to the Church of Tours. Otherwise she is even now on the point to perish, unless you speedily help her. The spirit of Gislebert lives again, they say, in Philip, who is at once his nephew according to the flesh, and the heir of his ambition. With what a lust for power this youth burns is shown by the protracted and cruel tortures inflicted on his mother church, by which the unhappy man has almost disembowelled her, in order that he may be brought forth to honour. However, by the will of God an end has at last been put to his misdoings, that is to say, if only what has been done against him, as justice dictated, and his wickedness compelled, and peace called for, be ratified by Apostolic authority. But God forbid that the benign majesty of the Holy See should confound its faithful servants, to whom the settling of this matter was graciously entrusted. God forbid it that cruel ambition should find a supporter in the defender of innocence. This is what his audacity is bidding him try for, this is what he madly hopes to find. Once and again has the despiser of the Apostolic decree eluded the stroke of justice; and does he now again, with still more impudent rashness, venture none the less to present himself before the face of your equity? Is there any one who cannot see the impiety of the attempt of this man, who places no confidence whatever in righteousness, to attack the tower of strength with the forces of mammon? But we are safe; it is Innocent who is to be tempted, and the son of iniquity shall not come nigh to hurt him. 4. As to the rest, most sweet Father, while we sigh for your presence, we talk to each other of the memory of your abundant kindness; the one consoles us for the want of the other. This is never absent from our hearts; it is often in our mouths, it is salt to every speech, it soothes the ear, sweetens the mouth, refreshes and enkindles our hearts. It is foremost at the meetings of the saints, it is their chief topic of conversation; it lends wings to their petitions, and nerves them to prayer. And now I pray earnestly for you and yours that the Eternal One, for Whom and on behalf of Whom you labour in time, may count you worthy of eternal memory. Amen. LETTER CLI. (A.D. 1133.)TO PHILIP, THE INTRUDED ARCHBISHOP OF TOURSHe expresses the great grief he felt that Philip should attempt to gain the Archbishopric of Tours by illegitimate means. I am grieved for you, my dear Philip, but I beseech you mock not at my grief. For if by any chance you think that there is no cause for grief, then you are the more to be grieved for. Whatever you may think about yourself, for my part I think that a fount of tears is insufficient to lament for you. My grief is not one that calls for ridicule, but for compassion; for it is not a grief for flesh and blood, not for the loss of things that perish, but for you yourself, Philip. I cannot better describe the greatness of my grief than by saying that Philip is the cause of it. And when I say this, I declare the great lamentation of the Church, who once cherished you in her bosom, as a lily springing up, adorned with every celestial gift. Who, then, was there that did not loudly proclaim you to be a youth of good hope, a young man of good disposition? But, alas! the fair promise has disappeared. From what hope has France, who bore and nourished you, fallen! O, did you but know! But if you would apply your heart unto wisdom, you would also learn to grieve, and your grief would prevent mine from being sterile. I should go on if I were to give way to my feelings, but I do not wish to say much while in uncertainty, or to fight as one that beats the air. But I have written this that you may know my affection for you, and may learn that I am near you, if perchance God should inspire you with a desire for a conference, and if you should be willing to grant me what I greatly long for, an interview. I am at Viterbo, and I hear that you are staying at Rome. Vouchsafe to write back to me to say how you receive this letter of mine, that I may know what I ought to do, whether I am to grieve more or less. But if you despise everything, and will in no way listen to me, I for my part shall not lose the fruit of my letter, for it proceeds from charity; but you will have to give an answer for your contempt before the dread tribunal. LETTER CLII. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO POPE INNOCENT, ON BEHALF OF THE BISHOP OF TROYESThe indiscipline of the clergy increases with the slothful indulgence of the Bishops. The Bishop of Troyes is hated by a part of his clergy because he has corrected them. The evil living of the clergy, the mother of which is Episcopal negligence, is everywhere disturbing and weakening the Church. The Bishops give what is holy to dogs, and cast pearls before swine, who turn again and rend them. But it is only right that they should have to suffer from those that they foster. They do not correct those whom they enrich with the goods of the Church, and therefore they are grieved and wearied with their misconduct. The clergy are made wealthy from other men’s labours; they eat the fruit of the earth and give no money for it, and their iniquity cometh from their own fat (Ps. 73:7, VULG.). The old saying of the Scripture exactly applies to them of the present day, The people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to play (1 Cor. 10:7). A mind that has accustomed itself to delights, and that has not trained itself with the disciplinary rod, contracts many a stain. And what is more, if you attempt to rub off its long-standing rust, they will not suffer you to touch it with even the tips of your fingers; but as it is written, Jeshurun waxed fat, and kicked (Deut. 32:15). False witnesses have risen up, men whose delight is ever to carp at the lives of others and neglect their own. Your son supplicates for the Bishop, whose sole fault in this quarrel, unless I am mistaken, has been that he has rebuked the clergy for their evil lives. Thus much for the Bishop; now let me offer excuses for myself. My father knows that I did not receive before the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin his gracious letter, in which he preferred to courteously entreat me to come to him, when he might have ordered me. And so I do not say, I have bought five yoke of oxen, or I have bought a piece of ground, or I have married a wife; but I confess simply, what, indeed, you are not ignorant of, that I am feeding my children with milk, and therefore I do not see how I can leave them without running the risk of causing scandal, or leaving them exposed to danger. LETTER CLIII. (A.D. 1135.)TO BERNARD DESPORTES, OF THE CARTHUSIAN ORDERHis correspondent had asked for an Exposition of the Canticles. He replies by pleading his inability to perform so great a task, and to satisfy the expectation of others. 1. You ask importunately, but I refuse as constantly, not as despising you, but as sparing myself. I wish that I could produce something that was worthy of your eager wish, and of your intelligence. I would, if I could, give for you the light of my eyes; yea, my soul itself, my dearest friend, my brother, to be embraced in the bowels of Christ by me most of all with the fulness of spiritual love. But where is the ability, or when shall I have leisure enough to undertake what you ask for? Nor do you seem to ask for anything trifling or worthless, such as lies in my power. You would not be thus pressing for what was of little moment. For your numerous letters, and the eagerness that animates them, sufficiently show your wish. Therefore, the more ardent I see your feelings to be, the more do I shrink from gratifying them. Why is this? I am afraid of bringing forth a ridiculously insignificant mouse, while you expect great things. I am afraid of this, and this is the cause of my hesitation. And what wonder is it that I am afraid of giving what I should be ashamed to publish? I am unwilling, I confess, to give you anything, because I think I should be rather issuing some contemptible work than publishing something that would be useful. Who can wish to give what would only cause shame to the giver, without benefiting the receiver? Willingly do I give what I have, but unwillingly do I throw it away. I know that when great things are expected lesser things are generally displeasing. But what is not gratefully received is thrown away, not given. 2. It is your aim, since you have leisure and freedom, to seek from all quarters for fuel for the fire with which you burn, that you may burn the more, and fulfil the will of the Lord, who says, And what do I wish, except that it burn brightly? (S. Luke 12:49, VULG.). I praise your aim, but not if you seek to obtain it in a quarter where you are likely to complain afterwards of having been disappointed. You err if you seek it with me. I ought rather to beg for such fuel from you. I know, indeed, how much more blessed it is to give than to receive; but that is true only when what is given is honourable to the giver, expedient for the receiver, and such a gift you will in vain seek from me. But such as I have, I am afraid that if I brought it forward, you would be ashamed of having wished for it, and would repent of having asked for it. But still, will it not after all be better for you to make my excuses to yourself? Let your own eyes judge for themselves. I yield to your importunity, to take away suspicion. I am dealing with a friend. I no longer spare my modesty, and henceforth while your desire is gratified, I will not make mention of my folly. I am having transcribed for you some sermons lately delivered on the beginning of the Canticles, and I send them to you before they are made public. When I have time, according as Christ assigns me my tasks, I will endeavour to proceed with this work. Ask this for me in your prayers. I warmly salute through you my lord and father your Prior, with the rest of your brethren, and I humbly entreat them to remember me before God. LETTER CLIV. (Circa A.D. 1136.)TO THE SAMEHe excuses himself for having been unable, on account of business, to visit the Chartreuse, as he had promised. He sends some of his Sermons on the Canticles. I can no longer conceal the sorrow of my heart, nor hide my distress, from you, my very dear Bernard. I recollect my long-standing promise; it has been my purpose and strong desire to pass by your way, to visit again those whom my soul loveth, to ask for rest on my journey, some strength to bear my labours, some remedy for my sins; and in punishment of my sinfulness it has come to pass that though I have the will, yet I have not the power to visit you. Be assured, O man of God, that this is by no means due to the disinclination, or idleness, or negligence of your friend, but that a cause has intervened which might not be neglected, and that was the cause of God. None the less I am devoured by vexation as by a gnawing worm, and my heaviness is ever in my sight. And, indeed, I have more than enough of other troubles, but none so great as this. It is more than the toils of travelling, the unpleasantness of the heat, the anxieties of my affairs. Lo! I have opened my wound to a friend; it is yours now to sympathize with me, to bear with me what I suffer, that I may be relieved. I earnestly ask for your prayers, and for those of the saints who are with you. I am sending on to you the promised sermons on the beginning of the Canticles, which you asked for. And when you have read them, I beg you to give me your advice as soon as possible whether I ought to give them up or proceed with them. LETTER CLV. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO POPE INNOCENT, ON BEHALF OF THE SAME BERNARD WHEN ELECTED BISHOPBernard Desportes, who is destined for a Bishopric in Lombardy, though well worthy of that honour, is not altogether fit for such a place, and would be better reserved for a fitter place. I have heard, reverend Father, that Bernard Desportes, a man beloved of God and men, is by your irresistible call to undertake the office and work of a Bishop. It is probably true, for it well becomes your Apostleship to bring into the light a light that was hidden; lest he who is capable of drawing others to the Life should live for himself alone. For how long is one that can give light to others to lie concealed and only burn? Let it be placed, if you see good, on a candlestick, that it may be a burning and a shining light; but at the same time let it not be in a place where the force of the storms is great, lest it be perchance extinguished. Who is there that does not know of the evil-living and turbulence of the Lombards? Who knows them better than yourself? You know better than I how weakened is the episcopal power there, how rebellious a house it is. What am I to think is likely to be done by a man whose health is shattered, and who has been accustomed to a hermit’s quiet, in the midst of a barbarous, riotous, and passionate populace? When are such holiness and such iniquity likely to agree? or when will such simplicity and such hypocrisy live in concord? Let him be reserved, if you see good, for a more congenial sphere, and for another flock, that he may profit that over which he presides; and let not hasty action destroy the fruit which in due time he will be able to bring forth. LETTER CLVI. (Circa A.D. 1135 OR 1136.)TO THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE CLERGY OF ORLEANSFor how long is the unhappy Church of Orleans to knock at the heart of the Father of the fatherless and the Judge of widows? How long now has the noble virgin of Israel been lying in the dust, bereft not only of her husband, but also of the dear pledges of his affection! Alas! there is none to lift her up. How long will it be before you send away the children crying after you with their unhappy mother? I mean those who having lost their houses and their goods have only saved their lives by flight. Why hangs back the powerful hand, which never yet has shrunk from avenging the oppressed, or from smiting the haughty? Why delays it, I ask, to rescue the afflicted from the hand of the strong, and to mete out punishment to the proud? Even if it delays, let it not rest idle for ever. Help that has been withheld should, when it is given, come in greater force, and render more thorough service. Let this be the reward, if you see good, for painful waiting, that both those who in their arrogance have abused the patience of the Apostolic See, should in the end gain nothing by it; and also that those who have patiently endured, trusting in your word, should never have any cause to repent them of their patience. LETTER CLVII. (A.D. 1135.)TO HAIMERIC, ON BEHALF OF THE SAMETo his special friend HAIMERIC, by the grace of God Cardinal-deacon, and Chancellor of the Apostolic See, his Brother BERNARD, of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and his wish that he may shine ever more and more with the light of wisdom and virtue. If I did not know your sympathy with the afflicted, and your indignation against wrong-doers, I would at every opportunity importunately beseech you on behalf of Master William, of Meun, and his companions; I would stir you up against their oppressors and calumniators. But as it is, it is enough to have mentioned them to you; it is yours swiftly to act as necessity requires. LETTER CLVIII. (A.D. 1135.)TO POPE INNOCENT, ON THE MURDER OF MASTER THOMAS, PRIOR OF S. VICTOR, OF PARISTo his most loving Father and Lord, INNOCENT, Supreme Pontiff, BERNARD, unworthy Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting, with the assurance of his prayers and his feeble services. 1. The wild beast which has laid waste Joseph, unable to meet the eager attack of our dogs, is said to have fled to you for shelter. What madness has seized the wretched creature, a wanderer, and stranger, and fugitive on earth, to cause it to fly thither of all places where it should have most to fear! Most accursed one! thinkest thou that the seat of strictest justice is a cave of robbers or a lurking-place of lions? Do you dare, with jaws still foaming, and mouth yet marked with the blood of the son you have but just now slain, to flee to the breast of the mother and appear before the eyes of the father? Yet if it is penance that he seeks, let it not be denied him. If it is a hearing, let him, if you please, obtain such an one as Moses gave the people worshipping their molten image, or such as Phinehas gave the fornicating Israelite, or such as Mattathias gave to him who offered sacrifice to devils, or, to take an example from your own house, such as Ananias and Sapphira gained from blessed Peter, such an audience, lastly, as the Saviour gave those who bought and sold in the temple. Do we not know that the sins of certain men go before them to judgment? Does not the voice of your brother’s blood cry out against you from the ground? I believe that the spirit of our martyr, whom but a few days since you cruelly delivered to death, joins with the souls of the others who have been slain, in crying with a loud voice from under the altar, and in demanding vengeance, and that the more urgently as his blood has been more newly poured forth on the earth. 2. But he will reply, Was it I who actually slew him? No, not directly, but it was your friends who did, and for your sake. Whether at your instigation, may God see and judge. If you are to be excused, whose teeth are spears and arrows, whose tongue is a sharp sword, then the Jews ought not to be held guilty of the death of Christ, inasmuch as they were wary enough to withhold their hands from it. This man had been wont to abuse his office of Archdeacon, to grind the presbyters with unlawful exactions, and when this was put an end to by the zeal and diligence of the blessed Thomas, a lover and upholder of righteousness, this man held him in hatred, and was often in the habit of threatening him with death. Many, whose testimony is not to be rejected, declare that they have heard him so threaten. Lastly, let him say, if he can, what other complaint his nephews had against Thomas, that they should lay their impious hands on the saint of the Lord. If, then, the man who, as nearly all suspect, is the occasion, the instigator, and the plotter of this wickedness is to go, as he impudently presumes, unpunished by the Apostolic authority, what provocation will be given to sin in the Church without fear of punishment? One of two things must inevitably follow: either that none of the noble or powerful of this world will hereafter be admitted to ecclesiastical honours, or that the clergy will everywhere have free permission to abuse their sacred office for every unworthy end; lest, perchance, anyone kindled with zeal for God should attempt to prevent them, and for so acting be slain as a champion of righteousness by the soldier’s sword. And then what is left for the spiritual sword, for ecclesiastical censure, for the law and discipline of Christ, for the reverence due to the priesthood, and for the fear of God, if no one dares to whisper a protest against the evil lives of the clergy from dread of the secular power? For what can be more monstrous or more disgraceful to the Church than that each one should maintain his own ecclesiastical dignity by armed violence instead of by moral integrity? Wherefore, my lord and father, I pray you to give such a decision, according to your wisdom, concerning this man as shall be to the Church’s profit, so that the salvation given now may flow down to our children, and that another generation may hear not only how audacious was the crime, but also how terrible was the vengeance. Otherwise, if the poison be allowed to have full play, if no antidote is given, it will destroy many—which God forbid. LETTER CLIX. (A.D. 1133.)TO THE SAME, IN THE NAME OF STEPHEN, BISHOP OF PARIS, AND ON THE SAME SUBJECTTo his most godly father, INNOCENT, Supreme Pontiff, STEPHEN, unhappy Bishop of the Church that is at Paris, sends greeting, praying for mercy and judgment. 1. A religious man, Master Thomas, Prior of S. Victor, while engaged in an office of charity, on a journey that piety had bidden him to undertake, in a holy work, in the midst of a company of saints, on the Lord’s Day, has been cruelly murdered on my bosom, so to speak, and almost in my arms, for his righteousness, by the ungodly, and has been made obedient even unto death. There is no need for a lengthy petition, when tears flowing silently are better able to stir sympathy, and when love finds expression in sobs which interrupt my prayer. These surely, if they do not demand, at all events deserve compassion, inasmuch as they indicate and show a grief that is unfeigned, and banish all suspicion of simulation. I think, therefore, that, to touch the heart of my father with grief for the disaster that has befallen us, it will be enough for me to simply mention the circumstances. A sad and pitiful story speaks for itself, especially before you, and needs no glossing appeals for sympathy. O, my eyes! run ye down with floods of tears, for my strength and the light of my eyes has failed me, and he is no more with me. For I do not mourn for him, but for myself. How should I weep for him, who, by a quick and glorious death, has passed into life? 2.Who would not pursue with praises rather than with lamentations him to whom to live was Christ, and to die is gain? I used to bear the name of Bishop; he performed the labours. Casting aside all thought of honour, he bore the burden with all his strength. And therefore he truly, though dead, is enjoying life, while I, though living, am in the midst of death. He did not fall into the snares of death, but escaped them; and lo! the sorrows of death compass me about, and the overflowings of ungodliness make me afraid. It is I, therefore, it is I that am to be pitied, now that you are dead, my sweetest brother Thomas. I am like a weaned child, without the sweet refreshment that you gave me, bereft of your wise counsel, and left desolate by the loss of your sure protection. Better would it have been for me to die than to live without you. Therefore, my life is wasted away in grief, and my years in mourning. The Church grieves with me, but she grieves also for herself. Common is the loss, common the lamentation; the whole of the religious world deplores with me his loss, and all alike implore that they may receive consolation from their father. If Theobald Notier come before you let him feel to his cost that the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping. His nephews were the perpetrators of the crime; he was its cause; whether he instigated it is a matter to be ascertained. Do not listen to anything that he may say, till our messenger arrive, who will put you more fully in possession of the truth, and preserve you from lying lips and a deceitful tongue. LETTER CLX. (A.D. 1133.)TO HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLOR, IN THE NAME OF THE SAME BISHOPTo his dearest lord, HAIMERIC, venerable Cardinal-deacon and Chancellor of the holy Roman Church, his servant STEPHEN, of Paris, sends loving and friendly greeting. A friend is proved in time of necessity. I say this, not that I have any doubt of your holy friendship for me, but to prevent any doubt from arising. But arise it undoubtedly will if I shall now find no sign of friendly zeal in you. Further, know that it will be to me an inexcusable proof of your want of zeal if Theobald Notier does not meet with what he deserves whenever a fitting opportunity arises; for through his heartless ambition he has cut away by the hands of his nephews the half of my soul, leaving the remaining half for nothing but cruel suffering. LETTER CLXI. (A.D. 1133.)TO THE LORD POPE INNOCENTAgainst the murderers of Archembald, Subdean of Orleans. The voice of the blood of Archembald, subdean of Orleans, cries with a loud voice for vengeance. For, alas! that I should have to say it, according to the Prophet, blood toucheth blood (Hos. 4:2), and when once they are joined they call to you still more loudly from France. The blood of both calls and shouts with so loud a shout that it might even strike the palace of heaven itself, so piteously that it might soften hearts of stone. What are you doing, O friend of the bridegroom, O guardian of the Bride of Christ, O shepherd of the sheep of Christ? Do you think that it will be sufficient to ponder upon a remedy to meet this infamous and unheard of evil? Certainly one must be \[not only thought of, but\] found which may bring relief for the present to the wound lately inflicted on the Church, and may act as a caution for the future. Therefore gird thee with thy sword upon thy thigh, O thou most mighty. If Phinehas does not stand forth even now and make atonement the terror will not cease. If the Church’s vigour spare those men, John, and Theobald Notier, by whose assent, and perhaps at whose instigation, if not by whose hand, innocent blood has been poured forth on the earth, then who is there that sees not what is to follow? How many in the ranks of the clergy will the impunity of these men cause to be promoted from fear of their friends rather than from what their holy living deserves! New diseases must be met with new remedies. It seems to many that the Apostolic sword would act with most expedience and justice in cutting off these men from every ecclesiastical dignity, so that they may be both deprived of what they have, and be prevented from ever rising to any others. LETTER CLXII. (A.D. 1133.)TO HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLOR, ON THE SAME SUBJECTI have often testified to my Lord the Bishop of Paris of your frequent and kindly mention of him. Lo! now the demand is made upon you to show not in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth, both that I was not speaking, and that you have not written, anything but the truth. So this concerns you, not only for the Bishop’s sake, but also for the sake of your other friends, who would certainly be greatly concerned about you, if by any chance this cause should happen to go contrary to their expectation. LETTER CLXIII. (A.D. 1133.)TO JOHN OF CREMA, CARDINAL-PRIEST, ON THE SAME SUBJECTI shall never forget the love and consideration which you have condescended to show me, a man of no influence and no rank; and I wish continually and frequently pray that worthy fruits may follow from your repentance and conversion, which have been a source of joy and delight to me as well as to the Angels. Especially now does this Gallican Church of ours join me in looking for them, and I think not unseasonably. It concerns your reputation as well as mine that I do not count on you to my own confusion. Let it be then so clear to all that your zeal for truth and righteousness burns against the murderers of clerks, and against their instigators, that I may not be sorry for having made my boast of you. LETTER CLXIV. (A.D. 1138.)TO POPE INNOCENT IN THE MATTER OF THE CHURCH OF LANGRES1. When I was at Rome there happened to come there the Lord Archbishop of Lyons. With him came also Robert, Dean of the Church of Langres, and Odalric, Canon of the same church, seeking for themselves and the Chapter of Langres permission to elect a fresh Bishop. They had received, indeed, a command from my lord the Pope to abstain by all means from acting till they had the advice of religious men. And when they wished and asked to obtain this permission through me, I altogether refused until I knew for a certainty that they intended to elect a good and fitting person. They replied that they would subordinate their purpose and intention to my opinion, and that they would do nothing but what I advised them. And this they promised me. But as their promise did not give me sufficient confidence, the Archbishop joined his entreaties to theirs, and promised faithfully the same thing. He added, moreover, that if the clergy should attempt to act otherwise he would not confirm or give his sanction to anything that they might do. My lord the Chancellor also gave a similar pledge. Not content with this, I went also before my lord the Pope to have what we had agreed upon confirmed by his sanction and authority. Nevertheless, a conference was held daily between us on the election to be held, and, out of the many names of which mention was made, two at last were chosen, and it was agreed that we would none of us dissent from the election of either of the two. And so my lord the Pope decreed that our decision should be binding without any change, and both Archbishop and clerks promised faithfully to abide by it. When they had left I made a stay of several days longer in Rome, and when I was able to obtain permission from my lord to return I took my journey to my brethren. 2. And as I was crossing the Alps I found that the day was at hand on which the consecration to the See of Langres was to take place, of a person concerning whom I would that I had heard better reports and more honourable to him. But I am unwilling to repeat what it gave me pain to hear. I was persuaded by not a few religious who had come to salute me to turn aside to Lyons in order, if possible, to prevent the execution of the infamous act that was contemplated. For I, out of regard for my health and the weariness of my body, had determined to go home by a shorter way, especially because I had not given much credence to the rumours that had reached me. For who would have thought that so great a man would have been so fickle as to set aside his own promise so lately given, to say nothing of the command of his lord, and lay his hands without any fear on the head of one whose ill reputation was known? And so I listened to the advice of these religious, and turned my steps towards Lyons, and when I arrived I found that things were just as I had heard. The joyful (or rather unfortunate) festival had been prepared for. The Dean, however, and, unless I am mistaken, the greater part of the Canons of Lyons were in constant and open opposition. The shameful and grievous report had filled the city, too, and was hourly spreading and gaining strength. 3. What was I to do? I called on the Archbishop. With due reverence I reminded him of the agreement that he had entered into, and of the instructions that he had received. He admitted all that I said. But he said that the cause of his going from his promise was the refusal of the Duke’s son to accept what we had determined, and he said that to pacify him he had been guilty of this change of purpose, and had done as he did for the sake of peace. He went on to say that whatever he might have done before, he would do as I bade for the future. Then I said, in thanking him, “God forbid that it should be my will; nay, rather God’s will be done. And what this will is, will doubtless be known, if the matter is brought before the Council of Bishops and other religious persons who have assembled at your summons, or will soon be here. But if, after invoking the Holy Spirit, the consent of all bids you proceed in the work that you have begun, then proceed in it; but if not, then listen to the Apostle who bids you Lay hands suddenly on no man” (1 Tim. 5:22). My advice seemed to please him. Meanwhile, that man is said to have arrived; but he went to an hostel, not to the palace. He came on Friday night; he left on Saturday morning. It is not for me to say why he was loath to put in an appearance at the Court, when that was the very object of his long journey. It might have been thought to be a monk’s modesty, and a contempt for honour, were it not that what followed showed that it was otherwise. For what were we to conclude when the Archbishop returned from him, and declared before all that he could in no way induce him to acquiesce, but that he rejected wholly what had been done in the matter? 4. In short, the Archbishop soon after bade the election to take place. This is testified by some of the Canons of Langres, who were then present, as well as by a letter which can be produced. When it was brought forward and read before the Chapter of Langres, immediately another was read contrary to the first in every point, asserting that the consecration was postponed, not set aside, appointing a day and place to decide a cause which the first letter declared to have been decided already. You would think that in these letters it was not merely diverse, but adverse persons that were speaking and contradicting each other, if it were not that one and the same image was impressed on the wax, one and the same name signed at the bottom; and so it was manifestly declared, to the amazement of all that were present, that from one fountain there flowed both sweet and bitter. These contradictory letters are in our hands; whichever you determine to obey, you must be held disobedient. If you obey the first that you open, you will be condemned by the last, or if you elect to follow the latter, the former one will complain. And would that the second letter could as well protect itself against a third as it overturned the first. But lo! we have letter upon letter, so that it is not with us as with the Prophet, Line upon line (Is. 28:10), but rather line against line. 5. In the meantime the man who had shrunk from consecration, and rejected the election, hastened to the King. He obtained formal possession of the Regalia, but by what title, he must say for himself. Presently letters were sent out, changing the place which had been appointed, and anticipating the day, in order that through the inconvenience of time and place opposers might be deprived of all chance of acting, and a march might be stolen on all who might wish to appeal. But no counsel can stand against that of God, by whose providence it came to pass that neither opposers nor appellants were wanting. An appeal was lodged by Falco, Dean of Lyons; by Ponce, Archdeacon of Langres; by Bonami, priest and Canon of Langres, and also by my brethren, Bruno and Geoffrey, who knew nothing of what these men had intended in their hearts, but who happened to arrive by chance, and no doubt by the will of God, who foresees all things. So little time, indeed, was left, that when I learnt the day scarcely four days were left for our messenger to go with letters to prevent what was more a sacrilege than a sacrament from being performed. He, too, nevertheless, opposed it, and summoned the consecrators and the man they proposed to consecrate to the Apostolic See. He whom I had sent was a Canon of Langres. I say the truth; I lie not. The Truth Himself is my witness that I have said nothing out of personal hatred, but that I have truthfully set down everything out of love of the truth alone. LETTER CLXV. (A.D. 1138.)TO FALCO, DEAN, AND GUY, TREASURER, OF THE CHURCH OF LYONSGreat as you see, dearly beloved, is the plague that is threatening our Church, and great is the care needed; and not only is the plague great, but close at hand, so that we must with tears press on the heavenly Physician and say: “Lord, come down it is die.” There is one thing which makes our grief the more acute, and almost causes us to despair of a cure, and that is that the source of our tribulation is where we ought to have looked for its relief. For who is it, O, unhappy Church, that has brought this evil, of which you complain, upon you? It is no enemy, not one who hates you, but your bosom friend, your leader and metropolitan himself. Why comes this evil from the south and not from the north? Surely there is no grief like unto my grief, since it is from those, and none others, on whom I most relied, that I have suffered these things. O, Lyons! my holy Mother Church, what a monster have you now chosen for a bridegroom for your daughter! No mother do we find you in this, but a step-mother. How far has this son-in-law of yours now degenerated from the honour, weight, and integrity for which you were once so renowned? Am I to say that is an honourable marriage and an undefiled bed which has been brought about in such a way and with such a man? In defiance of all law, and order, and reason all things have been so confounded, nay, as all know, all things have been so fraudulently and rashly ordered and ventured on, that it would be most unseemly for a bailiff even, or receiver of tolls, to say nothing of a Bishop, to be appointed in this way. How can I sufficiently sing your praises, dearly beloved, who have alone mourned with your afflicted Church, and have once and again stood up in her defence when oppressed, rising on the other side, and opposing yourselves as a wall for the house of Israel? In that whole congregation not one has been found like you, to keep the law of the Most High, to obey the sacred canons, to put on the zeal of Phinehas and smite the fornicators with the sword of the tongue. And since these things redound more and more on all sides to the glory of God and your fame, it only remains for you to give a worthy ending to so good and praiseworthy a beginning, and do all you can to join the tail to the head of the victim. LETTER CLXVI. (Circa A.D. 1138.)TO POPE INNOCENT, ON THE SAME SUBJECT1. Again I call, again I knock, if not with clamorous cry, yet with tears and groanings. I am compelled to reiterate my crying by the reiterated injury inflicted on us by the wicked, and by those who prolong their iniquity. They have made themselves strong and added treachery to their evil-doing. They add sin to sin, and their pride is ever going up higher. Their phrensy has strengthened itself, while shame and the fear of God are no more. The man whom they did not hesitate to elect, my father, contrary to your wise and just arrangement, they have even dared to consecrate, or rather execrate, after an appeal had been made to you. This has been done presumptuously by the Archbishop of Lyons and the Bishops of Autun and Macon; all friends of Cluny. What a vast multitude of saints will be confounded by these men’s fraud and audacity, if they are forced to bear such a yoke imposed on them in such a way. Wicked and shameful thing! If they are to accept it, it will be as if they were being forced to bow the knees to Baal, or, as the Prophet says, to make a covenant with death and to be at agreement with hell (Is. 28:15). I ask, Where are equity, law, the authority of the sacred canons, and reverence for your majesty? That appeal which is denied to none that is oppressed was of no profit to me alone. When gold sways the throne, and silver sits at the seat of judgment, laws and canons are silent, and right and equity have no place. With the same weapons, which is still more intolerable, they threaten to storm the heights of the Apostolic citadel itself. That, however, is but vain, for it is founded upon a Rock. 2. But what am I doing? I have gone too far, I confess; it is not for me to accuse or blame any one; it is enough for me to bewail my grief. After long delay, and many toils, which I undertook in the service of the Roman Church, when at last it seemed good to your Serenity to let me return to my brethren, I rejoiced, though I was but an unprofitable servant with shattered health, because of the sheaves of peace which I was taking back with me, and I arrived safely at my monastery. I thought that I had escaped from labour to rest, that it was allowed me to repair the losses of my spiritual studies, and the ruffling of the spirit’s tranquillity which had met me outside my walls, and behold! tribulation and anguish have come upon me. As I lie upon my bed I am tortured more by the pangs of grief than by the body’s pains. I do not complain of any temporal inconvenience. It is my soul that is in my hands, and its salvation that is at stake. Would you advise me to commit the keeping of my soul to a man who has lost his own? I know that you would not. Wherefore I have said to my soul that it is better for her to take flight from hence than to consume the remainder of my days with grief, and none the less to risk my salvation. But may God guide you to the course which is best; may He bring back to your recollection, if you think me worthy, in what manner I have dealt with you, and make you cast an eye of love upon your son, and free him from the anguish with which he is afflicted. Moreover, forget not what great things God hath done for you, and as some little return for it all, annul and undo what has here been done so much amiss. LETTER CLXVII. (A.D. 1138.)TO THE SAME, ON THE SAME SUBJECTMost gracious Father, did you not strictly enjoin that in the Church of Langres some suitable and religious person should be elected, with the advice of your son? Did not my lord of Lyons receive in person this same command from your Apostolic mouth, which he was to carry out as faithfully as it had been irrevocably given and frequently impressed on him? Did he not, moreover, promise to obey? What, then, has made him endeavour to set aside what had been most wisely and prudently determined, and to presumptuously take another course which was not convenient, to make your majesty contemptible, and my littleness a laughing-stock? How is it that this good man was not ashamed to have “yea and nay” found in his mouth, and to attempt to put so base a yoke on the necks of such a large number of religious men who are your servants, contrary to your command and his own promise? Ask, my Father, ask diligently, what kind of repute this man, on whom he is eager to lay his hands, bears, both with those that are near and those that are far off. Very shame prevents me from saying what common rumour says of him, nay, what his well-known evil reputation has made known to the world. What can I say? My soul is sorrowful even unto death. Perhaps even now I should have fled away had I not been kept back by the hope of the consolation that I look for from your kindness. I had it in my mind to write to you in order the distressing story of my misery; but my hand fails for very sadness, my mind clouds over, my tongue shrinks from speaking of the iniquitous treachery, the underhand dealing, the dishonesty, the audacity, the perfidy. What is it, then? Your son, Ponce the Archdeacon, who has shown himself in this matter constant and faithful, will tell you everything, my Father, both what we grieve for as already done, and what we implore may not be done. Trust him as myself. But this one thing I must say from the midst of my pangs, that unless these men are made to desist from their wicked and audacious undertaking, I feel that, as I am now, my life will fail in grief and my years in mourning. LETTER CLXVIII. (A.D. 1138.)TO THE BISHOPS AND CARDINALS OF THE ROMAN COURT ON THE SAME SUBJECT1. You know, if you will deign to call it to your recollection, what manner of life mine was with you in the time of adversity, going out and coming in, and going forth at the King’s bidding, perseveringly remaining with you in your temptations, so much so that my bodily strength was almost exhausted, and it was with difficulty that I was able to return home after God had given peace to the Church. I recall all this not boastfully or reproachfully, but to urge and implore you, to remind you, and to demand from you the debt of pity that you owe me. My necessity now forces me to appeal to all my debtors. But for myself, even if I have done all that I ought, yet, according to the word of the Lord, I reckon myself to be nothing else on that account, than an unprofitable servant. Nevertheless, if I did what was necessary or fit to be done, did I deserve to be beaten for it? And lo! when I went from you, I found trouble and anguish, and I called on the name of the Lord, but it was to no purpose; I called, too, on your name, but it availed me nothing; in truth, they that are as mighty gods on the earth have highly exalted themselves; I mean the Archbishop of Lyons and the Abbot of Cluny. They, trusting in their strength, and boasting themselves in the multitude of their riches, have come near me, and stood against me; and not merely against me, but against a great host of the servants of God, against you also, against themselves, against all equity and honesty, against God. 2. In one word, they have placed a man over our heads, whom, shameful to say, both the good abhor and the bad laugh at. By what order, or, I should better say, how extraordinarily, they have acted, let God see and judge; let the Roman Court see; let it see and grieve, let it have compassion, and gird itself to punish the evil and show honour to the good. Is it thy pleasure, O mistress of the world, thou that hast been placed over all to execute vengeance on the proud and to judge the oppressed, is it thy pleasure that the poor should be consumed when the wicked is lifted up, and the poor man too, who, when he had no wealth to expend in thy service, spared not his blood? Do you think it right that you should enjoy your peace, and care nothing for mine, or that you should not receive the partners of your toil to some share in the reward? If I have found grace in your sight, deliver the helpless from the hand of them that are stronger than he, the poor and needy from those that are robbing him. Otherwise I for my part will labour as I can amidst my grief, and my tears shall be my meat day and night; while to you I will say that verse, He that ceases to have pity on his friend forsakes the fear of the Lord (Job 6:14), and again, All my kinsmen stood afar off: and another also, My lovers and my neighbours did stand looking upon my trouble, and they also that sought after my life laid snares for me (Ps. 38:11, 12). LETTER CLXIX. (A.D. 1138.)TO POPE INNOCENT, ON THE SAME SUBJECTBernard explains why he has detained the clergy of Langres who had been summoned to Rome; and indicates the persons to whom the election should be confided. Your condescension has admitted me to intimacy, and that intimacy has made me to presume. Let your wonted kindness rule in your heart, lest haply my presumption breed indignation. Yet hear patiently not only what I have done, but why I did it; perhaps the cause may in some way excuse the deed. I ventured to keep back the clergy of Langres who had been summoned to appear before you, since peace had been made between them, and they had been persuaded to act for the future in holding the election according to your will and the counsel of good men, even as it is written in their letters. Moreover there was great necessity for their not leaving just now, because of the lands and possessions of the Church, which are given over to be plundered and stolen, while there is none to guard or defend them. And so, if it please you, let an order be given to these men, since they are no longer under suspicion, and since they seek not the things that are their own, but those of Christ Jesus, that they elect one who may be pleasing to God, that so this long-standing and unhappy trouble of the Church may find at length its ending. What else remains to be said I have committed to Herbert, Abbot of S. Stephen’s of Dijon, and to the Archdeacon of Langres, and their companions. I add, moreover, a prayer that you would receive under your protection the Archdeacon of Langres and Bonami, presbyter of the same Church, since they have shown themselves faithful in God’s cause. For the workman is worthy of his hire (S. Luke 10:7). LETTER CLXX. (A.D. 1138.)TO LOUIS THE YOUNGER, KING OF THE FRENCHHe endeavours to defend the election of Geoffrey, Prior of Clairvaux, to the See of Langres; to which the King had appeared adverse. 1. 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. 13:2). 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 was contrary to my expectation and my intention and that of the Bishops. But there is One who knows how to gain the assent of the unwilling, and who compels, as He wills, the adverse wills of man to subserve His counsel. Why should I not fear for him whom I love as my own soul, that danger which I have ever feared for myself? Why should I not shrink from the companionship of those who bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men’s shoulders, but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers? Still, what has been done, has been done; nothing against you, very much against me. The staff of my 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, 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 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 anything otherwise, this also He will reveal to you, and will teach your heart in wisdom. This is my wish, this is my prayer night and day. Think this of me, think it of my brethren. The truth shall not be sinned against by us, nor the King’s honour and the good of his kingdom diminished. 3. We give thanks to your clemency for the kindly answer which you deigned to send us. But still we are terrified to delay, as we see the land given over to plunder and robbery. The land is yours; and we plainly see and mourn the disgrace brought on your kingdom by your orders that we should abstain from our rights, inasmuch as there is no one to defend them. For in what else that has been done can the king’s majesty be truly said to have been diminished? The election was duly held; the person elected is faithful, which he would not be if he wished to hold your lands otherwise than through you. He has not yet stretched out his hand to your lands, he has not yet entered your city, he has not yet put himself forward in any affair, though most earnestly pressed to do so by the united voice of clergy and people, by the oppression of the afflicted, and by the prayers of all good men. And since this is the state of affairs there is, you see, need for counsel to be quickly taken, not less for the sake of your honour than our necessity. And unless your Serenity give answer according to their petition, by the messengers who bring this, to your faithful people who look to you, the hearts of many religious men who are now devoted to you will be turned against you (which would not be expedient), and I fear that no little loss will accrue to the regalia belonging to the Church, which yet are yours. LETTER CLXXI. (A.D. 1139.)TO POPE INNOCENTOn 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 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 CLXXII. (A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAME, IN THE NAME OF GODFREY, BISHOP OF LANGRESHe 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 Archbishop, in the person of Falco, its Dean. I ask, my lord, that he who has been unanimously elected by his fellows, promoted for the good of all, and duly consecrated, may receive at your hands the fulness of honour that belongs to his office. And what makes me seek this is not so much consciousness of his merits, but of my duty—duty laid upon me not only by the metropolitan dignity of that Church, but because I am placed in this position in order that I may bear my testimony to the truth. LETTER CLXXIII. (A.D. 1139.)TO THE ABOVE-NAMED FALCOBernard 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 determination to stand by you with all our might, because of the good which we hope for from you for the Church. It concerns you so to act that we may not be disappointed of our hope. For the rest, if I have found favour in your sight I pray you think of those poor and needy ones at the house of Benissons Dieu. Whatsoever you do to one of them you will do to me, nay, to Christ. For they are both poor, and they live amongst the poor. I especially implore you to prevent the monks of Savigny from molesting them, for they are calumniating them unjustly, as I consider. Or if they think that they have justice on their side, judge between them. I ask also that my son, Abbot Alberic, though well deserving of your favour through his own merits, may still be in even greater regard through my recommendation. For I love him tenderly, as a mother loves her only child, and he that loveth me will love him. In fact, I shall find out whether you care for me by the way you treat him. For the farther he is away from me the more necessary is it that he should have consolation from your fatherly care. LETTER CLXXIV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE CANONS OF LYONS, ON THE CONCEPTION OF S. MARYBernard 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. 1. It is well known that among all the Churches of France that of Lyons is first in importance, whether we regard the dignity of its See, its praiseworthy regulations, or its honourable zeal for learning. Where was there ever the vigour of discipline more flourishing, a more grave and religious life, more consummate wisdom, a greater weight of authority, a more imposing antiquity? Especially in the Offices of the Church, that of Lyons has always shown itself opposed to attempts at sudden innovation, and it is a proof of her fulness of judgment that she has never suffered herself to be stained with the mark of rash and hasty levity. Wherefore I cannot but wonder that there should have been among you at this time some who wished to sully this splendid fame of your Church by introducing a new Festival, a rite which the Church knows nothing of, and which reason does not prove, nor ancient tradition hand down to us. Have we the pretension to be more learned or more devoted than the Fathers? It is a dangerous presumption to establish in such a matter what their prudence left 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 beforehand by Patriarchs and Prophets, chosen by God out of all women and raised above them all. Magnify her as the medium by whom grace was displayed, the instrument of salvation, the restorer of the ages; and finally extol her as having been exalted above the choirs of angels to the celestial realms. These things the Church sings concerning her, and has taught me to repeat the same things in her praise, and what I have learnt from the Church I both hold securely myself and teach to others; what I have not received from the Church I confess I should with great difficulty admit. I have received then from the Church that day to be reverenced with the highest veneration, when being taken up from this sinful earth, she made entry into the heavens; a festival of most honoured joy. With no less clearness have I learned in the Church to celebrate the birth of the Virgin, and from the Church undoubtedly to hold it to have been holy and joyful; holding most firmly with the Church, that she received in the womb that she should come into the world holy. And indeed I read concerning Jeremiah, that before he came forth from the womb \[ventre: otherwise de vulva\] 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 1:41). 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. 71:6); and again: I was cast upon Thee from the womb: Thou art my God from my mother’s belly (Ps. 22:10). And Jeremiah is thus addressed: Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest out of the womb I sanctified thee (Jer. 1:5). 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 object of the foreknowledge of God, but also of His predestination. 3. Let us, however, grant this in the case of Jeremiah. What shall be said of John the Baptist, of whom an angel announced beforehand that he should be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother’s womb? I cannot suppose that this is to be referred to predestination or to foreknowledge. For the words of the angel were without doubt fulfilled in their time, as he foretold; and the man (as cannot be doubted) filled with the Holy Ghost at the time and place appointed, as he predicted. But most 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 anything 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 of whom an angel singularly said, and many shall rejoice in his birth (S. Luke 1:14, 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 borne of women. This singular privilege of sanctity, to lead her life without any sin, entirely befitted the queen of virgins, who should bear the Destroyer of sin and death, who should obtain the gift of life and righteousness 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 grandparents, 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, as if anyone would not be able to bring forward another writing in which the Virgin should seem to demand the same honours to her parents also, saying, according to the commandment of the Lord, Honour thy father and thy mother (Exod. 20:12). I easily persuade myself not to be influenced by such writings, which are supported neither by reason nor by any certain authority. For how does the consequence follow that since the conception has preceded the birth, and the birth is holy, the conception should be considered holy also? Did it make the birth holy because it preceded it? Although the one came first that the other might be, yet not that it might be holy. From whence came that holiness to the conception which was to be transmitted to the birth which followed? Was it not rather because the conception preceded without holiness that it was needful for the being conceived to be sanctified, that a holy birth might then follow? Or shall we say that the birth which was later than the conception shared with it its holiness? It might be, indeed, that the sanctification which was worked in her when conceived passed over to the birth which followed; but it could not be possible that it should have a retrospective effect upon the conception which had preceded it. 6. Whence, then, was the holiness of that conception? Shall it be said that Mary was so prevented by grace that, being holy before being conceived, she was therefore conceived without sin; or that, being holy before being born, she has therefore communicated holiness to her birth? But in order to be holy it is necessary to exist, and a person does not exist before being conceived. Or perhaps, when her parents were united, holiness was mingled with the conception itself, so that she was at once conceived and sanctified. But this is not tenable in reason. For how 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 1:35). And if it is permitted to say what the Church thinks, and the Church thinks that which is true, I say that she conceived by the Holy Spirit, but not that she was conceived by Him; that she was at once Mother and Virgin, but not that she was born of a virgin. Otherwise, where will be the prerogative of the Mother of the Lord, to have united in her person the glory of maternity and that of virginity, if you give the same glory to her mother also? This is not to honour the Virgin, but to detract from her honour. If, therefore, before her conception she could not possibly be sanctified, since she did not exist, nor in the conception itself, because of the sin which inhered in it, it remains to be believed that she received sanctification when existing in the womb after conception, which, by excluding sin, made her birth holy, but not her conception. 7. Wherefore, although it has been given to some, though few, of the sons of men to be born with the gift of sanctity, yet to none has it been given to be conceived with it. So that to One alone should be reserved this privilege, to Him who should make all holy, and coming into the world, He alone, without sin should make an atonement for sinners. The Lord Jesus, then, alone was conceived by the Holy Ghost, because He alone was holy before He was conceived. He being excepted, all the children of Adam are in the same case as he who confessed of himself with great humility and truth, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin hath my mother conceived me (Ps. 51:6). 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 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, 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 CLXXV. (A.D. 1135.)TO THE PATRIARCH OF JERUSALEMHaving 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 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 salutation, 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 defenders of the Church. If you cherish those who have devoted their lives for their brethren’s sake you will do a thing acceptable to God and well-pleasing to man. Concerning the place to which you invite me, my brother Andrew will tell you my mind. LETTER CLXXVI. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO POPE INNOCENT, IN THE PERSON OF ALBERO, ARCHBISHOP OF TRÈVESBernard declares in the name of the Archbishop his own respect and obedience and that of the citramontane Churches towards Innocent. It has long been the wish of my heart, and my eager desire, to pay you a visit, and see the welcome face of your Blessedness, and to know, moreover, more certainly how things are with you, and in turn to acquaint you more closely with my own affairs; and this motive has been long pressing and ceaselessly urging me to make a journey to you. But having been hindered by the wickedness of the world and of the times, and also, besides my daily troubles, by some matter important to you, I have not yet been able, nor am I even yet able to carry out my wish. But must a purpose that is sound and righteous be altogether given up because it cannot be wholly carried out? I have determined, therefore, to satisfy in some degree in the meantime the desire I have so long felt, and to make known to you my anxiety, by means of this venerable man, Hugh, Archdeacon of the Church of Toul. Nor could anyone be more faithful, more devoted, or more cautious than he in matters of importance, whether in bringing to you what I charge him with, or in bringing back to me whatever matters you may have been pleased to entrust to him. I desire, then, and implore you to inform me more fully in your goodness, of the state of the Court, of the safety of your person, and if by the Divine goodness any more favourable breeze has perchance blown upon the Church in her struggles against the wanton but ineffectual madness of the schismatics. For the rest you know that the Church on this side of the Alps, both here and in the realm of France, is strong in the faith, peaceful in unity, devoted in its obedience to you, ready for your service. The loss of Beneventum, of Capua, nay, if God so will it, of Rome herself cannot terrify me; knowing that the position of the Church is not to be estimated by arms but by merits. Of her and of no other we recognize those words in the Psalm: Though an host should encamp against me my heart shall not fear, and though there rose up war against me yet will I put my trust in Him (Ps. 27:3). Therefore we, because we are of the Church, will not fear while the earth is troubled and the mountains removed into the midst of the sea. The Sicilian tyrant may boast himself as much as he pleases, he may boast in wickedness because he is powerful in iniquity, but our strength is made perfect in weakness. Paul has learned that the weaker the Church is the more powerful she is (2 Cor. 12:10). He has learnt directly and from Solomon that the prosperity of fools slays them (Prov. 1:32). He has learned when he sees a fool flourishing, to curse his beauty immediately (Job 5:3). Therefore with holy David he consoles himself in both ways, viz., in the fall of his enemies and in his own liberation. He says, indeed, They put their trust in chariots and in horses, but we will call on the Name of the Lord our God. They are brought down and fallen, but we are risen and stand upright (Ps. 20:7, 8). These few words on matters about which I am quite sure, I thought ought to be addressed to you by faithful testimony in the way of comfort; to relieve in some degree that anxiety which the care of all the churches incessantly brings upon you. I add this also, that the king, God strengthening him, is zealous, and is making ready for the liberation of the Church, and is collecting an exceedingly great army; and that I also am labouring for this end with all my strength, and am exhorting and stirring up every one that I can. When the time comes I will spare neither expense nor my own person. LETTER CLXXVII. (Circa A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAME, IN THE PERSON OF THE SAMEHe complains of the pastoral charge laid upon him. He is hindered in its discharge by the envy of certain persons, not without fault in the Pope himself. Did I ever seek the episcopate from you, my lord? And if ever I aspired to a bishopric it was certainly not that of Trèves. For I knew it to be an exasperating house, a stiff-necked people. I hated them because they had always wallowed in discord, and always resisted the Church. For her if I have ever undergone any labours I grieve not, but I never hoped or wished for any such fruit as this. I have laboured arduously, but willingly, and not with any hope of reward. I have been assigned for my sins a difficult province. Amongst my other troubles there is this, that my suffragans are young and nobly born. They ought to be assistants, and would that they were not opponents. But I pass this by. I prefer that their characters and pursuits be made known to you by another, if you are ignorant of them. Still, I say that law, right, integrity, and religion have perished out of our episcopates. The evil, which the duty I owe to my office will not allow me to conceal, I have briefly pointed out, that what it does not please your providence should be corrected by me may, at all events, be made known to you who can correct it, lest I seem altogether to bear in vain the name of archbishop. And, indeed, it would have been better for me not to have ascended my throne than thus shamefully to descend. But what does it matter about myself? Let me suffer what I deserve, inasmuch as I do amiss. Let me be, as I am, a scorn to my friends, who have been frustrated of the hope which they had conceived about me in wishing me to preside over them, whilst they see that the dignity of the Church is by me rather diminished, instead of its old losses being repaired, as they had expected they would be. All these things I bear patiently, if not willingly, that I may not seem to kick against the obedience I owe you, for which I confess I am willing, if need be, to lay down my life. But I wish that you would carefully consider this, that injury done to the thing created reflects on the creator. The strength which you withdraw from me you rob yourself of, and my scorn and helplessness casts disgrace on you. I have many things to complain of to you about yourself, but I leave them to be explained by the messenger, whom I know to be diligent and faithful for this purpose. I tell you also that we are in danger amongst false brethren. The ambassadors of the schismatics come and go to some of our supporters more freely than they used to, and the messages of the Sicilian tyrant are admitted frequently. LETTER CLXXVIII. (A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE SAMEHe complains that some evil-disposed persons abuse their powers to the injury of the Church, while zealous prelates are powerless. To his most loving Father and Lord, INNOCENT, Supreme Pontiff, his BERNARD writes in entire devotedness. 1. I write confidently because I love faithfully. For that is no sincere love which cherishes doubt, and retains the dregs of suspicion. The complaint of my Lord of Trèves is not his alone, but of many, and of those especially who love you with a more sincere affection. The one cry of all who faithfully preside over the flock among us is that justice in the Church is perishing, that the keys of the Church are mere ornaments, that the Episcopal authority is altogether become vile, since no one of the Bishops is able to avenge the wrongs done to God, nor is allowed to punish for misdeeds, however glaring, no, not even in his own diocese. They refer the cause to you and to the Roman Curia. You annul, they say, what they have rightly established, and establish what they have justly annulled. All the evil and quarrelsome men, whether from the clergy or the monasteries, hasten to you when they are expelled, and then return and boast, and rejoice that they have obtained as protectors those whom they ought to have felt as their chastisers. Was not the sword of Phinees most promptly and righteously unsheathed to punish the incestuous alliance of Drogo and Milis? But it returned to its sheath dulled and blunted, being met by the shield of an Apostolic defence. Alas! what ridicule has this caused, and is still causing, among the enemies of the Church, and especially among those very men who have made us wander out of the right way through fear or favour. Our friends are confounded, the faithful are insulted, the Bishops everywhere come into shame and contempt. And when their just judgments are contemned your authority is also diminished. 2. It is these very men who are zealous for your honour, who labour faithfully, if fruitlessly, for your peace and exaltation. Why do you lessen their influence?—why do you weaken their power? For how long will you blunt the weapons of those who are faithfully fighting for you, and lower the standards raised in defence of your power and safety? The Church of S. Gengulph at Toul grievously bewails her desolation, and there is none to comfort her. For who can oppose himself to the stroke of a powerful arm, to the force of a torrent, to the decision of the Supreme Power? The Church of S. Paul at Verdun complains that it suffers the same violence, as the Archbishop has now no power to defend it against the violence of the monks; and as though they were not outrageous enough, they are further supported by the Apostolic See. What fresh reason, I ask, has been found why that should again come into court and be brought under discussion which has been once granted, wisely and without question, to canons of good fame and life, then confirmed and, as they say, again renewed? Indeed, the establishment of both those places above mentioned is said to have been first sanctioned by you, and yet is now revoked. With such sacrifices God is not well-pleased. Alas! His anger is not turned away, His grace is not won, His mercy is not called forth. For these and such things the wrath of the Lord is not yet averted; but His arm is stretched out still, and the rod mentioned by Jeremiah is ever ready for our sins. 3. In truth, God is wroth with the schismatics; but He is by no means well-pleased with the Catholics. The Church of Metz is, as you have found, in danger, through a grievous quarrel between the Bishop and the clergy. You know what it may be your pleasure to decide about it; but there is there no peace yet, nor is it hoped for in the near future. I (not to conceal what seems best to my unworthiness) think that this and the troubles of the Churches of Toul and Verdun can be most safely and conveniently settled by the Metropolitan, who knows all the facts, has had great experience, and by the testimony of the Church has been found faithful. Moreover, think what evil you are inflicting on those two dioceses of Toul and Metz; for, to speak truth, they seem to be without Bishops, and I would that they were without tyrants. When such men are protected, supported, honoured, cherished, many are greatly amazed and scandalized; since they most surely know of that in their characters and lives, which in any of the laity, to say nothing of a Bishop, should be severely censured and execrated. What it is I should be ashamed to write, and it would not befit you to read. Be it so, that without an accuser they cannot be deposed, yet why should those whom common rumour accuses be honoured, and yet further exalted, with the special favour of the Apostolic See? 4. For by what merit of his own, whether of his sanctity as priest, or honour as bishop, has the Bishop of Metz obtained leave to quash, together with the liberty of the Church, at his mere bidding, an election duly made by the Canons, and to have the Primicerius elected on his recommendation against the privileges of the Church? Would it not be more just and honest, if it should seem good to your discretion, that a man worthy of greater honour should not be deprived of that which is deservedly his own? I mean the Archbishop of Trèves, whom, to the great indignation of many who fear God, you have excluded from ending these and other matters in his diocese, as though he were under suspicion, or were inexperienced. Believe your faithful servant that, as far as I have found, this is wholly injurious to that province. 5. In writing these things I should fear the charge of presumption if I knew not to whom I am writing, and who I am that write. But I know your natural gentleness, and I feel assured that you know both me and the disposition with which I venture on these matters with you, my most sweet and loving father. One word more with regard to the Archbishop; in order that you may know how his messenger ought to be regarded, I may mention to you that he holds a high position in that realm, that he is a man faithful and constant to you and the Church of God, and gives no countenance to our ill-wishers, and to those who would overturn you, by whom he is frequently and sorely tempted; and that we shall be derided if by any chance he should not be listened to by you. I wished lastly to commend the messenger to you, but the merit of his honesty sufficiently commends him, and especially his exceeding love and faithful devotion to you. Indeed, if I thought he had not this, I would by no means send by his hand such private letters. LETTER CLXXIX. (A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE SAMEHe maintains the cause of Albero, Archbishop of Trèves, against the Abbot of S. Maximin and his rebellious monks. Is it possible that wickedness can thus overcome wisdom? You know, holy Father, you know the Archbishop of Trèves. I am sure that you know him. But do you know also that unholy Abbot of the holy Maximin? I suspect that you do not. Who is worthier of honour than the first? Who more deserving of shame than the second? Yet the latter has been honoured, the former given to reproach. How has the Archbishop sinned? He has recovered the goods plundered from his Church, he has freed his captive Church from lay-hands. Why is evil returned him for his good, and hatred for his goodwill? Let your loving eye, I pray you, rest on this; lay aside for a moment your other occupations, and consider what he has been robbed of; that such a man as the one—I am ashamed to say what he is—should hold up to scorn to his neighbours and enemies such a man as yourself know the Archbishop to be. Holy Father, it is filial affection which speaks. So far I have sympathized with the unhappy and much-to-be-pitied Archbishop. But if after this, this injustice is not rectified, the grief of my heart, and my deep compassion will wholly pass over to him by whom it could have been rectified. There are other wrongs done to the same man, and in alleviating them you will undoubtedly be labouring for yourself. Whatever stains the name of my most sweet Lord pierces my heart. LETTER CLXXX. (Circa A.D. 1136.)TO THE SAME ON BEHALF OF THE SAMEHe commends to the Pontiff the cause of the Archbishop of Trèves. Again supplication and prayers, though ten times repeated, shall not cease. I desist not because I distrust not. I have a good cause and a just judge, who will not hesitate to annul whatever has been stealthily gained, when the truth is evident, so that he who wished to scoff will not be able to find cause for his malicious humour, but as it is written, His iniquity deceived himself (Ps. 26:12, VULG.). The Apostolic See is wont to have this virtue especially, that it is not ashamed to recall a grant when it has discovered it to have been extracted by fraud, and not to be truly deserved. It is most just and praiseworthy that no one should benefit by a lie, especially at the hand of the supreme and holy See. Knowing this, your son supplicates without fear on behalf of the Archbishop of Trèves, and is thus urgent, not as uncertainly. I certainly know his merits, his cause, his mind. For which of these do his monks wish to stone him? Because he has deserved ill of them? But he faithfully helped them, and served them greatly. For the injustice of his cause? But no one but an unjust man will speak of him as unjust. Because he freed them from a lay-hand? Nay, he recovered their monastery for the episcopal See, as though wringing his club out of the hand of Hercules with a stronger hand. Is it because of the wickedness of his intention? But it is a pious deed to do as he intended, viz., to reform religion in a monastery. The Lord help the heart of my lord, that it may not again be stolen away by monks, who are not so much, as they pretend, seeking liberty, but really flying from discipline. LETTER CLXXXI. (Circa A.D. 1136.)TO THE CHANCELLOR HAIMERICHe protests his gratitude for the benefits he has received. If I wished to repay you in words for the good deeds with which you overwhelm me it would be as if one, attacked with arrows, should defend himself with straws; except that this last would seem a mere game, the other deceit. Deeds ought to be repaid by deeds. But such return is difficult for me who am poor and in low station. Poor I am in goods and strength, but not in good wishes. Your kindnesses, then, which I cannot repay with good deeds I will with prayers. I am rich in good wishes, I abound in affection. And surely a true benefactor asks no more. For in what way is a man beneficent if he is not also benevolent? Besides, the benevolent man thinks nothing dearer to himself than the very benevolence from which he is called benevolent and is beneficent. Again, the fruit of beneficence is benevolence, unless perchance anyone think that to be a benefit bestowed which he has sown in hope or lost through fear. But who does not see that this last is abandoned, the other sold, neither given? A benefit, therefore, to be real must be gratuitous. And so, to be repaid anything by the receiver, cannot be so pleasing to the giver as to have gratitude felt for what he has gratuitously given. And this benevolence in the mind of the receiver springs from the benevolence in that of the giver, a beneficent act intervening. In this benevolence I confess myself rich; this I offer to my benefactor from a full heart as a worthy return; this I devoutly send up to the Creator of all as a sacrifice of praise for the salvation of my benefactor. LETTER CLXXXII. (Circa A.D. 1136.)TO HENRY, ARCHBISHOP OF SENSHe blames him for harshness in deposing his Archdeacon against rule. Often, I confess, I have been going to write to you on behalf of many, and I had determined not to do so because of your hateful harshness, but charity shall prevail. I wish to retain for you your friends, and you disdain it; I wish to reconcile your enemies, and you suffer it not. You wish not for peace, but for shame and deposition; you are hastening on your confusion with hands and feet. You are multiplying your accusers, alienating your supporters. You are stirring up against yourself quarrels long laid to rest, provoking your adversaries, offending your protectors. You do all from caprice and not from reason, all for power, nothing from the fear of God. Who is there of your enemies that does not laugh at you, who of your friends that does not complain? Why do you degrade a man who is not only not convicted after trial, but not even heard? What scandal will this cause! how many mouths will it stir to derision, how many hearts to indignation! And do you suppose that justice has perished out of the earth as it has out of your heart, that a man should lose his archdeaconry taken from him in this way? But you perhaps are better pleased to give it back after seizing it, rather than to deserve his gratitude by suffering him to retain it: but this you have lost by your way of acting. Do not, I beseech you, do not do this thing; all who hear of it will be amazed, no one will praise you. These words that I have written are more biting and more bold than you may like, but if you are willing to correct your ways, you will see that they are not unwise, nor to your disadvantage. LETTER CLXXXIII. (A.D. 1139.)TO CONRAD, KING OF THE ROMANSHe urges upon him reverence for the Apostolic See. Your letters and salutations I receive as gladly as I am unworthy of them; unworthy I mean in dignity, not in devotion. The complaints of the King are also mine, and especially those which you rightly make about the invasion of the Empire. I have never wished for the disgrace of the King, or the diminution of his kingdom; the violent my soul abhorreth. I have read indeed: Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers; he who resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance of God (Rom. 13:1, 2). Which sentence I ask and warn you to observe in every way, by showing reverence to the supreme Apostolic See, and to the Vicar of Blessed Peter, just as you wish it shown to you by the whole empire. There are some matters which I have thought it best not to write of, but which I could more suitably perhaps speak of in person. LETTER CLXXXIV. (A.D. 1140.)TO THE LORD POPE INNOCENTHe excuses himself for not being well able to send the monks asked of him. We have received again my brother Andrew safe and in good spirits, and bringing good news of your safety and glory, of the peace and prosperity of the Church, of the flourishing and powerful state of the Roman Curia, and lastly of the favour and good-will which you still have for me. God in His mercy has dealt well with me: He has made me joyful. But your wish that we should send brothers to you will be with difficulty complied with, chiefly because we have not the number of members we once had. Indeed, besides those who have been destined in twos or threes to different cells, three new monasteries have been wholly founded out of them since I left you, and others are about to be founded. Still I will take care to summon from all our houses some whom I may send you, as I desire in all things to obey your commands. LETTER CLXXXV. (A.D. 1138.)TO EUSTACE, INTRUSIVE OCCUPIER OF THE SEE OF VALENCEBernard exhorts him to think of his age and his approaching death, and not to give ear to the perfidious counsels of flatterers. To the illustrious EUSTACE, Brother BERNARD sends greeting. 1. I often wish your salvation, my illustrious brother, though I do not often write. Who shall forbid the wish? Neither laws govern, nor princes hold sway over the affections. They are free, especially if led by the Spirit, for where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty (2 Cor. 3:17). Thence it is that I am now venturing to write to your greatness as though I were some great one, though, I confess, I have neither been bidden, nor asked, nor invited by you to do so. But what if charity bid me? Another may, perhaps, take it differently; I have determined by this letter, so far as in me lies, and with true charity, to remind an illustrious man of his salvation, to arouse him from sleep, to recall him to himself, to summon him to grace. Who knows whether God will turn, and pardon, and leave a blessing behind Him? Nay, who knows not what and how great are the riches of His goodness, and long suffering, which a merciful and compassionate God has treasured up for him? In short, He is merciful, He spares, waits, and hides Himself even till now, having made Himself as a man who heareth not, and in whose mouth are no reproofs, delaying to strike, ready to pardon. But thou, my Lord, how long? Thou, I say, O good man, how long wilt thou hide thyself from Him? how long wilt thou despise Him? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks (Acts 9:5). Knowest thou not that the goodness of God is leading thee to repentance? How long wilt thou, after thy hardness and impenitent heart, heap up for thyself wrath against the day of wrath? (Rom. 2:4, 5). 2. Or is it not according to thy hardness indeed, but according to thy shame? What matters it according to what you are perishing? O, shame, void of reason, enemy of salvation, ignorant of all honour and honesty! This truly is that of which the Wise Man says, that there is a shame which bringeth sin (Ecclus. 4:21). Is it, then, a shame for a man to be overcome by God, and is it to be held a disgrace to humble one’s self under the mighty hand of the Most High? That glorious King David says thus: Against Thee only have I sinned and done this evil in Thy sight, that Thou mightest be justified in Thy sayings and mightest overcome when Thou art judged (Ps. 51:4). The highest kind of victory is to yield to the Divine Majesty; and not to strive against our mother, the Church, is the highest honour and glory. O, perversity! You are not ashamed to be polluted, and yet you are ashamed to be cleansed. There is a shame, according to the Wise Man, which brings glory (Ecclus. 4:21), viz., that which keeps from sin. But even if you are not ashamed to sin, there remains a glory, though it comes late, viz., when shame brings back that which guilt had banished. They, whose iniquities are forgiven and whose sin is covered (Ps. 32:1), hold the second place of blessedness. An honourable covering is that of which it is said, Confession and beauty are in his sight (Ps. 96:6, VULG.). Who will grant me to see you in golden apparel, so that I can say to you also: Thou hast put on confession and honour, thou hast clad thyself with light, as with a garment (Ps. 104:1, 2); Return, O Shunamite, that we may see thee (Cant. 6:13); Awake, awake, put on thy strength, put on the garment of salvation (Isa. 52:1); Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light (Eph. 5:14); Confession perisheth from the dead as from one who is not (Ecclus. 17:28). 3. How long will you forget yourself, for ever? How long will you sleep in death, O ornament of the noble, but grief of the faithful? How long will you be stubbornly opposed to your spiritual good, an exile from your honour, a rebel against your salvation? Why do you proceed to consummate your previous excellent character and actions with so different an ending? How can such an old age, which ought to be spent quietly in fruitful deeds of mercy, wipe out the punishment due to all your past days, or blot out their guilt? Why, alas! should your hoary head alone, which should be reverenced, be robbed of its accustomed veneration; why should it alone sink unhonoured into the grave, when it should have been especially respected? Have pity on thy soul by pleasing God (Ibid. 30:23); For they who please men have been put to confusion, for God hath despised them (Ps. 53:5). The time of man is short; to the old man death is at the door. You have a short, a very short time with those who say to you, Well! well! Let it be also a light thing to you to be judged by them, or by man’s little day, since you are even now ready to be brought before the scrutiny of angels; and, unhappy man that you are, are being hastened by the very failure of nature before the dread tribunal of Christ. You ought to be preparing yourself for that judgment, to be conforming yourself to that world, to be seeking the favour of that Court, and dreading rejection from it. Why are you disturbed by the opinion of those whose praise at that day will be found not to render you approved, nor their abuse to condemn you? In short, the children of men are vanity, the children of men are a lie in the scales, that they may alike deceive in their vanity (Ps. 62:9). 4. Besides, those who call you blessed lead you into error; they give you words and take back gifts. Vain both, but especially the words. And you deceive from vanity like them; but you are more deceived, they less. For you give what at all events is worth something, and you give it to the ungrateful and undeserving. Indeed, they love your goods, not you; nay, rather they love neither you nor yours, but they seek their own. Your goods, as far as they can, they will hunt after with their empty and lying flatteries. Their words are smoother than oil, and yet they are very darts (Ps. 55:21). And therefore David said: The oil of the sinner shall not anoint my head (Ps. 141:5). By them the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul and the wicked is blessed (Ps. 10:3). It is not I, then, but the Wise Man who bids you beware of them. My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not (Prov. 1:10). Attend rather to Him who judges in equity for the meek of the earth; the meek whom your pastoral care does not feed, but whom your secular power oppresses, over whom you would have no power at all except it were given you from above. But this is your hour and the power of darkness. But listen to this: Judgment is severe for those who govern, and mighty men shall be mightily tormented (Wisd. 6:6, 7). If you fear this you will take care; if you disregard it you will fall into it, and it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God (Heb. 10:31). May the one true God avert this, who wishes not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live (Ezek. 18:23, 32). My mind bids me say more, but you perchance would not listen. Rough words please not, although true and wholesome, because they are bitter and disagreeable to the taste. Therefore I will put my finger on my lip till I know how this is received; but you may believe that I will be agreeable to you if I can, yet not with pen or with tongue, but in deed and in truth. LETTER CLXXXVI. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO SIMON, SON OF THE CASTELLAN OF CAMBRAYBernard recommends to his protection the monks of Vaucelles, and begs him to ratify the donation of his father. I have heard, dearly beloved, from Ralph, Abbot of Vaucelles, that you greatly long to see and speak to me, and I was greatly pleased with your so great devotion to me, nor am I ungrateful for your goodwill. You know it is my wish to satisfy your desire; but I am hindered from carrying out my wish not only by bodily illness, but also by very many, and very important, matters of business. But though absent in the body I am present in spirit, until such a time as I may be, if God will, present with you in body and in spirit. If, however, we love not in mouth and tongue only, but in deed and in truth, the truth of our love will best appear in action. And so this is what I ask, that you will love, cherish, and whenever necessary protect the brothers of Vaucelles and their Church, so that in this you may afford a signal mark of your liberality, and that there may be a clear proof of that affection which you promise me. That affection I wish now first to make trial of in this one point: Will you ratify to me the lands of Ligecourt, which your father conferred on me in person for the support of that monastery, so as not to make void the grant of your father? I, for my part, giving thanks for past kindnesses, and hoping for the like in the future, offer up my prayers for you and yours to Him who performs the wish of those who fear him, and hears their prayer (Ps. 145:19). We pray for the welfare of you and your wife, and all who belong to you. LETTER CLXXXVII. (A.D. 1140.)TO CALL TOGETHER THE BISHOPS OF THE ARCHDIOCESE OF SENS AGAINST PETER ABAELARDHe urges the Bishops to energetic action in the cause of religion against Abaelard. The news has gone abroad amongst many, and I suppose has reached you, why we are convoked at Sens, within the Octave of Pentecost, and provoked to a contest in defence of the Faith, although the servant of the Lord must not strive, but rather be patient to all. If it were my own cause, the son of your Holiness might not undeservedly, perhaps, boast himself in your protection. But now since it is also yours, nay, more yours than mine, I bid you the more confidently, and ask you the more importunately, to show yourselves friends in need. I mean, friends not to me, but to Christ, whose Bride calls to you that she is well-nigh choked in the midst of a forest of heresies, and a crop of errors which are springing up under your care and protection. The friend of the Bridegroom will not desert Her in Her time of trouble. Nor wonder that I invite you so suddenly and within so short a time; it is because the opposite side in its wiliness and craft is preparing to attack the unprepared, and to force the unarmed to join battle. LETTER CLXXXVIII. (A.D. 1140.)TO THE BISHOPS AND CARDINALS OF THE CURIA ON THE SAME SUBJECTHe warns them to vigilance against the errors of Peter Abaelard. To the Lords and reverend Fathers, the Bishops and Cardinals who are of the Curia, the son of their holiness sends greeting. No one doubts that to you it specially belongs to remove scandals from the kingdom of God, to cut down thorns as they arise, and to allay quarrels. For so Moses enjoined when he ascended the Mount, saying, You have Aaron and Hur with you, if any question arise you shall refer it to them (Ex. 24:14). I speak of that Moses who went through water, and not through water only, but through water and blood. And He is therefore more than Moses, because He went through blood. And since in place of Aaron and Hur the zeal and authority of the Roman Church presides over the people of God, to it we rightly refer not only doubtful questions, but attacks on the faith, injuries done to Christ, scorn and contempt cast on the Fathers, the scandals of the living, the dangers to posterity. The faith of simple folk is scoffed at, the hidden things of God are exposed, questions about the most exalted truths are rashly ventilated, the Fathers are derided because they held that such things are rather to be tasted than solved. Thence it comes to pass that the Paschal Lamb, contrary to the command of God (Ex. 12:9), is either cooked with water, or is eaten of raw in a rude and bestial fashion. What is left is not burnt with fire but is trodden under foot; so human reason usurps for itself everything, and leaves nothing for faith. It tries things above it, tests things too strong for it, rushes into Divine things; holy subjects it rather forces open than unlocks, what is closed and sealed it rather plunders than opens; and whatever it finds out of its reach it holds to be of no account and disdains to believe. Read if you please the book of Peter Abaelard, which he calls a book of Theology, for it is in your hands (since, as he boasts, it is read by many at the Curia), and see what things are said about the Holy Trinity, about the generation of the Son, about the procession of the Holy Spirit, and many other things he says repugnant to Catholic ears and minds. Read too that other book which they call a book of his Sentences, and that one which is entitled Know Thyself, and notice what a crop of blasphemies and errors is there flourishing. See what he thinks about the Soul of Christ, about the Person of Christ, about the descent of Christ into Hades, about the sacrament of the altar, about the power of binding and loosing, about original sin, about concupiscence, about the sin of delight, about the sin of infirmity, about the sin of ignorance, about the work of sin, about the will to commit sin. And if you think that I have rightly stirred, bestir also yourselves; and bestir not yourselves in vain; act for the place you hold, the dignity of your office, the authority you have received, in such a way that he who has exalted himself to heaven may be cast down to hell, so that the works of darkness which have had the audacity to come forward into the light may be reproved by the light; so that while he who sins publicly is publicly reproved, others may learn to restrain themselves, putting, as they do, darkness for light, disputing at the cross roads about Divine things, speaking evil in their writings, and writing it in their books; and that so the mouth of them who speak wickedness may be stopped. LETTER CLXXXIX. (A.D. 1140.)TO POPE INNOCENT, ON THE SAME SUBJECTHe expresses his grief at the errors of Abaelard, which he warns the Pope to oppose. To his most loving Father and Lord INNOCENT, by the grace of God, Supreme Pontiff, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, writes as his humble servant. 1. It is necessary that offences come. It is necessary but not pleasant. And therefore the Prophet says, O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I flee away and be at rest (Ps. 55:6). And the Apostle wishes to be dissolved and to be with Christ. And so another of the Saints: It is enough, O Lord, take away my life, for I am not better than my fathers (1 Kings 19:4). I have now something in common with the Saints, at least in wish if not in desert. For I could wish myself now taken from the midst of this world, overcome, I confess, by the fearfulness of my spirit and by the troubles of the time. I fear lest I be found better disposed than prepared. I am weary of life, and whether it is expedient to die I know not; and so perhaps even in my prayers I differ from the Saints, because they are provoked by the desire of better things, while I am compelled to depart by scandals and anxieties. He says in fact, To be dissolved and to be with Christ is far better (Phil. 1:23). Therefore in the Saint desire prevails, and in me sense; and in this unhappy life neither is he able to have the good he desires, nor I not to have the trouble which I suffer. And for this reason we both desire indeed to depart, with the same wish, but not from the same cause. 2. I was but just now foolishly promising myself some rest, when the schism of Leo was healed and peace restored to the Church. But lo! that is at rest, but I am not. I knew not that I was in a vale of tears, or I had forgotten that I dwell in a land of forgetfulness. I paid no attention to the fact that the earth in which I dwell brings forth for me thorns and thistles, that when they are cut down others succeed, and when these are destroyed others grow ceaselessly, and spring up without intermission. I had heard these things indeed, but, as I now find out, vexation itself gives better understanding to the hearing. My grief has been renewed, not destroyed, my tears have overwhelmed me, because evil has strengthened, and when they had endured the frost, the snow fell upon them. Who hath power to resist this frost? By it charity freezes, that iniquity may abound. We have escaped the lion, Leo, to fall on the dragon (i.e., Peter Abaelard), who perhaps may do us not less injury by lurking in ambush than the former by raging on high. Although I would that his poisonous pages were still lying hid in bookcases, and not read at the cross-roads. His books fly abroad; and they who hate the light because they are evil have dashed themselves against the light, thinking light darkness. Over cities and castles is darkness cast instead of light; instead of honey, or rather in honey, his poison is on all sides eagerly drunk in. His books have passed from nation to nation, and from one kingdom to another people. A new gospel is being fashioned for peoples and nations, a new faith propounded, another foundation laid than that which is laid. Virtues and vices are discussed immorally, the Sacraments of the Church unfaithfully, the mystery of the Holy Trinity craftily and extravagantly; but everything is given in a perverse spirit, in an unprecedented manner, and beyond what we have received. 3. Goliath advances, tall in stature, clad in his armour of war, preceded by his armour-bearer, Arnold of Brescia. Scale overlaps scale, and there is no point left unguarded. Indeed, the bee which was in France has sent his murmuring to the Italian bee, and they have come together against the Lord and against His anointed. They have bent their bow, they have made ready their arrows within the quiver, that they may privily shoot at them which are true of heart. In their life and habits they have the form of godliness, but they deny its power, and they thereby deceive many, for they transform themselves into angels of light, when they are Satan’s. Goliath standing with his armour-bearer between the two lines, shouts against the armies of Israel, and curses the ranks of the Saints, and that the more boldly because he knows that no David is present. In short, he puts forward philosophers with great praise and so affronts the teachers of the Church, and prefers their imaginations and novelties to the doctrine and faith of the Catholic Fathers; and when all fly from his face he challenges me, the weakest of all, to single combat. 4. The Archbishop of Sens, at his solicitation, writes to me fixing a day for the encounter, on which he in person, and with his brother bishops, should determine, if possible, on his false opinions, against which I had ventured to lift my voice. I refused, not only because I am but a youth and he a man of war from his youth, but also because I thought it unfitting that the grounds of the faith should be handed over to human reasonings for discussion, when, as is agreed, it rests on such a sure and firm foundation. I said that his writings were enough for his condemnation, and that it was not my business, but that of the Bishops, whose office it is to decide on matters of faith. He none the less, nay, rather the more on this account, lifted his voice, called upon many, assembled his accomplices. What he wrote about me to his disciples I do not care to say. He spread everywhere the report that on a fixed day he would answer me at Sens. The report reached everyone, and I could not but hear of it. At first I held back, nor was I much moved by the popular rumour. At length I yielded to the advice of my friends (although much against my will, and with tears), who saw how all were getting ready as if for a show, and they feared lest from my absence cause of offence should be given to the people, and the horn of the adversary be exalted; and, since the error was likely to be strengthened if there were no one to answer or contradict it, I betook myself to the place appointed and at the time, unprepared, indeed, and unarmed, except that I revolved in my mind those words, Take no thought how ye shall answer, for it shall be given you in that hour what ye shall say (S. Matt. 10:19); and, again, The Lord is my helper, I will not fear what man may do unto me (Ps. 118:6). There had assembled, besides bishops and abbots, very many religious men, masters of the schools from different states, and many learned clergy; and the King, too, was present. And so in the presence of all, my adversary standing opposite, I produced certain articles taken from his books. And when I began to read them he departed, unwilling to listen, and appealed from the judges that he had himself chosen, a course I do not think allowable. Further, the articles having been examined, were found, in the judgment of all, opposed to the faith, contrary to the truth. I have written this on my own behalf, lest I should be thought to have shown levity, or at all events rashness, in so important a matter. 5. But thou, O successor of Peter, wilt determine whether he, who assails the faith of Peter, ought to have shelter at the See of Peter. Thou, I say, the friend of the bridegroom, wilt provide measures to free His Bride from lying lips and from a deceitful tongue. But that I may speak a little more boldly with my Lord, do thou, most loving Father, take heed to thyself, and to the grace of God which is in thee. Did He not, when thou wast small in thine own eyes, place thee over nations and kingdoms? For what, but that thou shouldst pull down, and destroy, and build, and plant? See what great things He, who took thee from thy father’s house, and anointed thee with the oil of His mercy, has since done for thy soul: what great things for His Church, by your means, in His vineyard, Heaven and Earth being witnesses, have been, as powerfully as wholesomely, uprooted and destroyed; what great things, again, have been well built, planted, and sown. God raised up the madness of schismatics in your time, that by your efforts they might be crushed. I have seen the fool in great prosperity, and immediately his beauty was cursed; I saw, I say, I saw the impious highly exalted and lifted up above the cedars of Lebanon, and I passed by, and lo he was gone. It is necessary, S. Paul says, that there be heresies and schisms, that they that are approved may be made manifest (1 Cor. 11:19). And, indeed, in schism, as I have just said, the Lord has proved and known you. But that nothing be wanting to your crown, lo! heresies have sprung up. And so, for the perfection of your virtues, and that you may be found to have done nothing less than the great Bishops, your predecessors, take away from us, most loving Father, the foxes which are laying waste the vineyard of the Lord while they are little ones; lest if they increase and multiply, our children despair of destroying what was not exterminated by you. Although they are not even now small or few, but imposing and numerous, and will not be exterminated save by you, and by a strong hand. Iacinctus has threatened me with many evils; but he has not done, nor could he do, what he wished. But I thought that I ought to bear patiently concerning myself what he has spared neither to your person nor to the Curia; but this my friend Nicholas, as he is also yours, will better tell in person. NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE1. The following Letter, which is the 190th 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 announced to Pope Innocent that they had condemned the errors of Abaelard, but had pronounced no sentence against him personally out of respect for the appeal which he had made to the Holy See; and they add that “the chief heads of his errors are more fully detailed in the Letter of the Bishop of Sens.” I think that the Letter of which mention is thus made can be no other than that given here, and in which we find, in fact, the chief heads of Abaelard’s errors, with a summary refutation of each. They are also the same as those which William, who had become a simple monk at Igny, after having been Abbot of Saint Thierry, had addressed to Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard, in a Letter which is inserted among those of Bernard. 2. As regards the different errors imputed to Abaelard, there are some which he complained were wrongly 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 denouncer. 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 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, acknowledges, 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, at least, he could not deny that he had fallen into various errors—a liking for new words and phrases, levity, and perhaps even pride and an excessive desire for disputation. However this may be, Pope Innocent bade the Bishops by a rescript that the man was to be imprisoned and his books burned, and Godfrey declares that the Pope himself had them thrown into the flames at Rome. But Peter Abaelard at length returned to better views. He desisted from his Appeal by the advice and request of Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, who has described his last days in pleasing terms in a Letter which he wrote to Heloïse. 5. Bernard did not attack Abaelard in his discourses and writings with impunity. Not only was Abaelard impatient of his censure, but also Berengarius, his disciple and defender, dared to accuse Bernard of having spread certain errors in his books. “You have certainly erred,” says Berengarius, addressing Bernard, “in asserting the origin of souls from Heaven” (p. 310). And on p. 315: “The origin of souls from Heaven is a fabulous thing, and this I remember that you taught in these words (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, 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 dissolved. Wherefore, neither ought God to be called Man, nor Man to be called God,” etc. Thus Abaelard shows himself a Nestorian, while petulantly accusing Bernard of error. Rightly does William of Saint Thierry reply in his 8th chapter to Abaelard with regard to this passage: “Thus we say similarly that Christ is the Son of Man in the nature of His Humanity, but not from that according to which He has union with God, and is One of the Three Persons in the Trinity; because, as God Incarnate was made the Son of Man on account of the human nature which He assumed, so the man united to the Son of God has become the Son of God on account of the Divine Nature which has united him to itself.” 6. Besides the heads of errors which Bernard refutes in these books, he groups together some others in No. 10, contenting himself with exposing them; these have been refuted by other authors, viz., by William, and by the 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, 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 et Sanguine Domini, c. 3: “In opposition to every conception and mode of reasoning in secular philosophy, the substance of bread is changed into another substance, and has carried with it certain accidents into the Eucharistic mystery, but without altering them from what they were, and in such a manner that the Body of the Lord is not either white or round, though whiteness and roundness are associated with it. And it so retains these accidents that although they are truly present with His Human Body, yet they are not in It, do not touch it, or affect it,” etc. 7. It was not only with respect to the Incarnation of Our Lord that Abaelard thought, or at least expressed himself, in an erroneous manner. He was equally in error on the subject of the grace of Christ, which he reduced simply to the reason granted to man by God, to the admonitions of the Holy Scriptures, and to good examples, and thus made it common to all men. “We may say, then,” he taught, “that man, by the reason which he has received from God, is able to embrace the grace which is offered him; nor does God do any more for a person who is saved before he has embraced the offered grace, than for one who is not saved. But just as a man who exposes precious jewels for sale, in order to excite in those who see them the wish to purchase; thus God makes His grace known before all, exhorts us 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 embrace the offer of grace.” And a little farther on he continues: “That vivification is attributed to grace: because Reason, by which man discerns between good and evil, and understands that he ought to abstain from the one and to do the other, comes from God. And therefore it is said that he does this under the inspiration of God: because God enables him by the gift of Reason which He has bestowed to recognize what is sinful.” Such were the errors William has extracted, among many others, from the writings of Abaelard, and without doubt from his Theology, which, perhaps because of these and other similar passages, was mutilated by his scholars. Nor can we refuse to credit the good faith of William, who was a learned and pious man: especially as Abaelard in his Book iv., on the Epistle to the Romans, teaches the same hurtful doctrine (p. 653 and following). We learn from all these expressions of Abaelard that he thought, or at least certainly wrote, with the same impiety concerning the grace of Christ as he did on the Incarnation, and that Bernard was perfectly correct in saying (Letter 192): “He speaks of the Trinity like Arius, of grace like Pelagius, and of the Person of Christ like Nestorius.” Proof of the truth of these words of Bernard as concerns the two last charges will be found in reading the letter given here; and as to the third, it will be sufficient to show that Bernard has in nowise exaggerated, to read the end of Book iii. of the Theology of Abaelard; there it will be found in his own words, “that those 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 things with wisdom, O Lord, and they will reply without hesitation that they do so believe. But this is to believe in the Son; as for 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 de Conches expresses himself in almost the same manner as Abaelard with respect to the mystery of the Holy Trinity, and Abbot William of S. Thierry confutes his errors also in his letter to Bernard. Nor is there anything worse that can happen to religion than that philosophers should attempt to explain the mysteries of our faith by the power of Reason alone. 8. Geoffrey, secretary of S. Bernard, gives an account of the whole business of Abaelard in a letter to Henry, Cardinal and Bishop of Albano: “I have heard also that your Diligence desires to know the entire truth respecting the condemnation of Peter Abaelard, whose books Pope Innocent II., of pious memory, condemned to be burned solemnly at Rome in the Church of S. Peter, and declared him by Apostolical authority to be a heretic. Some years before a certain venerable Cardinal, Legate of the Roman Church, by name Conon, once a Canon of the Church of S. Nicholas of Artois, had already condemned his Theology in the same way to be burned, during a council at Soissons in which he presided, the said Abaelard having been present and having been condemned of heretical pravity. If you desire it he will satisfy you by the book of 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 your curiosity will be completely satisfied in learning in what respects, how, and wherefore he was condemned.” It is thus that Geoffrey expresses himself. (Notes of Duchesne to Abaelard.) I pass over the vision related by Henry, Canon of Tours, to the Fathers of the Synod 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 Capitula Hæresum 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 ABAELARDI.—The shocking analogy made between a brazen seal, and between genus and species, and the Holy Trinity“The Wisdom of God being a certain power, as a seal of brass is a certain \[portion of\] brass; it follows clearly that the Wisdom of God has its being from His Power, similarly as the brazen is said to be what it is from its material: or the species derives what it is from its genus, which is, as it were, the material of the species, as the animal is of man. For just as, in order that there may be a brazen seal, there must be brass, and in order that there may be man, there must be the genus Animal, but not reciprocally: so, in order that there may be the Divine Wisdom, which is the power of discernment, there must be the Divine Power; but the reciprocal does not follow.” And a little further on we read: “The Beneficence, the name under which the Holy Spirit is designated, is not in God Wisdom or Power.” II.—That the Holy Spirit is not of the Substance of 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 anyone 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.” 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 goodness as He was able, since otherwise He would have yielded to envy; it is also clear that all which He does or makes, He does or makes as excellent as He is able to do; nor does He will to withhold a single good that He is capable of bestowing.” And a little farther on we read: “In everything that God does, He so proposes to Himself that which is good, that it 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.” IV.—That Christ did not assume our flesh in order to free us from the yoke of the devil“It should be known that all our Doctors who were after the Apostles agree in this, that the devil had dominion and power over man, and held him in bondage of right.” And a little farther on: “It seems to me that the devil has never had any right over man, but rightly held him in bondage as a jailer, God permitting; nor did the Son of God assume our flesh in order to free us from the yoke of the devil.” And again: “How does the Apostle say that we are justified or reconciled to God by the death of His Son, when on the contrary, He ought to have been more angry still against man, who had committed in putting His Son to death, a fault much more great than in transgressing His first precept by eating one apple; and would it not have been more just? For if that first sin of Adam was so great, that it could not be expiated except by the death of Christ; what is there which can be capable of expiating the Death of Christ itself, and all the great cruelties 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?” Again: “To whom will it not seem cruel and unjust that one should have required the innocent blood, or any price whatever, or that the slaughter of the innocent, under any name or title, should be pleasing to him? Still less that God held the death of His Son so acceptable that He would, for its sake, be reconciled to the world. These and similar considerations raise questions of great importance, not only concerning redemption, but also concerning our justification by the death of our Lord Jesus Christ. But it seems to me that we were nevertheless justified by the Blood of Christ, and reconciled with God by the special grace shown to us when His Son took upon Him our nature, and in it gave us an example both by word and deed, until His Death. He has united us so closely with Him by His love for us, that we are fired by so great benefit of Divine grace, and will hesitate at no suffering, provided it be for Him. Which benefit indeed we do not doubt aroused the ancient Fathers, who looked forward to this by faith, to an ardent love of God, as well as those of more recent time.” And below: “I think then that the cause and design of the Incarnation was to enlighten the world with the wisdom of God, and arouse it to love of Him.” V.—Neither God-and-Man, nor the Man who is Christ, is one of the three Persons in the Trinity“When I say that Christ is one of the Three Persons in the Trinity I mean this: that the Word, who was from eternity one of the Three Persons in the Trinity, is so: and I think that this expression is figurative. For if we should regard it as literal, since the name of Christ means He who is God-and-Man, then the sense would be, that God-and-Man is one of the Three Persons of the Trinity. Which is entirely false.” And a little farther on: “It should be stated that although we allow that Christ is one of the Three Persons in the Trinity, yet we do not allow that the Person who is Christ is one of the Three Persons in the Trinity.” VI.—That God does no more for a person who is saved, before he has accepted grace offered, than for one who is not saved“It is frequently asked whether it is true, as is said by some persons, that all men need to be saved by the mercy of God, and that their need is such that no one is able to have the will to do good unless by the preventing grace of God, which influences his heart and inspires in him the will to do good, and multiplies it when produced, and preserves it after having been multiplied. If it is true that man is not able to do anything good by himself, and that he is incapable of raising himself up in any way whatever by his free will for the reception of Divine grace, without the help of that grace, as is asserted, it does not appear on what ground, if he sins, he can be punished. For if he is not able to do anything good of himself, and if he is so constituted that he is more inclined to evil than to good, is he not free from blame if he sins, and is God who has given to him a nature so weak and subvertible deserving of praise for having created such a being? Or, on the contrary, does it not rather seem that He merits to be reproached?” And a little farther on: “If it were true that man is unable to raise himself up without the grace of another, in order to receive the Divine grace, there does not seem to be any reason wherefore man should be held culpable; and it would seem that if he has not the grace of God the blame should be rather reflected upon his Creator. But this is not so, but very far otherwise, according to the truth of the case, for we must lay down that man is able to embrace that grace which is offered to him by the reason which has, indeed, been bestowed upon him by God; nor does God do anything more for a person, who is saved before he has accepted the grace offered to him, than for another who is not saved. In fact, God behaves with regard to men in like manner as a merchant who has precious stones to sell, who exhibits them in the market, and offers them equally to all, so that he may excite in those who view them a desire to purchase. He who is prudent, and who knows that he has need of them, labours to obtain the means, gains money and purchases them; on the contrary, he who is slow and indolent, although he desires to have the jewels, and although he may be also more robust in body than the other, because he is indolent does not labour, and, therefore, does not purchase them, so that the blame for being without them belongs to himself. Similarly, God puts His grace before the eyes of all, and advises them in the Scriptures and by eminent doctors to avail themselves of their freedom of will to embrace this offered grace; certainly he who is prudent and provident for his future, acts according to his free will, in which he can embrace this grace. But the slothful, on the contrary, is entangled with carnal desires, and although he desires to attain blessedness, yet he is never willing to endure labour in restraining himself from evil, but neglects to do what he ought, although he would be able by his free will to embrace the grace offered him, and so he finds himself passed over by the Almighty.” VII.—That God ought not to hinder evil actions“In the first place, we must determine what it is to consent to evil, and what not to do so. He, then, is said to consent to evil who, when he can and ought to prevent it, does not do so; but if he ought to prevent it, but has not the power, or if, on the contrary, though he has the power, he ought not to do so, he is blameless. Much less if he neither has the power, nor ought, if he had, to prevent it, is he to be blamed. And, therefore, God is far from giving consent to evil actions, since He neither ought, nor has the power, to interfere with them. He ought not, since if an action develops by His goodness in a particular manner, than which none can be better, in no wise ought He to wish to interfere with it. He is, furthermore, not able, because His goodness, though it has chosen a minor good, cannot put an obstacle to that which is greater.” VIII.—That we have not contracted from Adam guilt, but penalty“It should be known that when it is said, Original sin is in infants, this is spoken of the penalty, temporal and eternal, which is incurred by them through the fault of their first parent.” And a little farther on: “Similarly it is said, In whom all have sinned (Rom. 5:12), 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, wherefore God permits such things to happen to His Body; or whether, perhaps, these things do not really happen to the Body, but are only so done in appearance, and to the species? To which I reply, that these things do not really affect the Body, but that God allows them to happen to the species in order to reprove the negligence of the ministers. As for His Body, He replaces and preserves it as it pleases Him to do.” X.—That man is made neither better nor worse by works“It is frequently asked what it is that is recompensed by the Lord: the work or the intention, or both. For authority seems to decide that what God rewards eternally are works, for the Apostle says God will render to every man according to his works (Romans 2:6). 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. 25:46, and S. John 5:29). But I say that they were eternally recompensed by God either for good or for evil; nor is man made either better or worse because of works, at least only so far as that while he is doing them his will towards either good or evil gathers force. Nor is this contrary to the Apostle, or to other authors, because when the Apostle says God will render to each, etc., he puts the effect for the cause, that is to say, the action for the will or intention”. XI.—That those who crucified Christ ignorantly committed no sin; and that whatsoever is done through ignorance ought not to be counted as a fault“There is objected to us the action of the Jews who have crucified Christ; that of the men who in persecuting the Martyrs thought that they were doing God service; and finally that of Eve, who did not act against her conscience since she was tempted, and yet it is certain that she committed sin. To which I say that in truth those Jews in their simplicity were not acting at all against their conscience, but rather persecuted Christ from zeal for their law; nor did they think that they were acting wickedly, and, therefore, they did not sin; nor were any of them eternally condemned on account of this, but because of their previous sins, because of which they rightly fell into that state of darkness. And among them were even some of the elect, for whom Christ prayed, saying: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do (S. Luke 23:34). 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 shalt bind on earth, etc. (16:19) is thus to be understood: 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 20:22, 23). But I say that this was spoken to the Apostles alone, not to their successors.” And immediately he adds: “If, however, anyone shall say that this applies also to their successors, it will be needful in that case to explain this passage also in the same manner in 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 delectation 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 CXC. (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, I have prayed for thee, Peter, that thy faith fail not? (S. Luke 22:32). 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. CHAPTER IHe explains and refutes the dogmas of Abaelard respecting the Trinity. 1. We have in France an old teacher turned into a new theologian, who in his early days amused himself with dialectics, and now gives utterance to wild imaginations upon the Holy Scriptures. He is endeavouring again to quicken false opinions, long ago condemned and put to rest, not only his own, but those of others; and is adding fresh ones as well. I know not what there is in heaven above and in the earth beneath which he deigns to confess ignorance of: he raises his eyes to Heaven, and searches the deep things of God, and then returning to us, he brings back unspeakable words which it is not lawful for a man to utter, while he is presumptuously prepared to give a reason for everything, even of those things which are above reason; he presumes against reason and against faith. For what is more against reason than by reason to attempt to transcend reason? And 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. 19:4). 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 they followed their Saviour when called but once (Hom, in Evang. 26). He knows doubtless that this word was spoken as praise: At the hearing of the ear he obeyed me (Ps. 18:44), that the Apostles were directly rebuked because they had been slow in believing (S. Mark 16:14). Again, Mary is praised because she anticipated reason by faith, and Zacharias punished because he tempted faith by reason (S. Luke 1:20, 45), and Abraham is commended in that against hope he believed in hope (Rom. 4:18). 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, as man to animal, as a brazen seal to brass. Did Arius ever go further? Who can endure this? Who would not shut his ears to such sacrilegious words? Who does not shudder at such novel profanities of words and ideas? He says also that “the Holy Spirit proceeds indeed from the Father and the Son, but not from the substance of the Father or of the Son.” Whence then? Perhaps from nothing, like 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. 11:36). Shall we say then that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son in no other way than all things do, that is, that He exists not essentially but by way of creation, and is therefore a creature like all other things. Or will this man, who is always seeking after new things, who invents what he does not find, affirms those things which are not, as though they are, will he find for himself some third way, in which he may produce Him from the Father and the Son? But, he says, “if He were of the substance of the Father, He would surely have been begotten, and so the Father would have two Sons.” As though everything which is from any substance has always as its father that from which it is. For lice and phlegm and such things, are they sons of 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 generation. And there are many instances of this kind. 3. Since he admits that the Holy Spirit is consubstantial with the Father and the Son, I wonder how an acute and learned man (as at least he thinks himself) can yet deny that He proceeds in substance from the Father and 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 consubstantiality? 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 distinction which he is endeavouring to make is a difference of substance. Moreover, if the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the substance of the Father and the Son, no Trinity remains, but a duality. For no Person is worthy to be admitted into the Trinity whose substance is not the same as that of the others. Let him, therefore, cease to separate the procession of the Holy Spirit from the substance of the Father and the Son, lest by a double impiety he both take away number from the Trinity and attribute it to the Unity, each of which the Christian faith abhors. And, lest I seem in so great a matter to depend on human reasonings only, let him read the letter of Jerome to Avitus, and he will plainly see, that amongst the other blasphemies of Origen which he confutes, he also rejects this one, that, as he said, the Holy Spirit is not of the substance of the Father. The blessed Athanasius thus speaks in his book on the Undivided Trinity: “When I spoke of God alone I meant not the Person only of the Father, because I denied not that the Son and the Holy Spirit are of this same Substance of the Father.” CHAPTER IIIn the Trinity it is not possible to admit any disparity: but equality is every way to be predicated. 4. Your holiness sees how in this man’s scheme, which is not reasoning but raving, the Trinity does not hold together and the Unity is rendered doubtful, and that this cannot be without injury to the Majesty. For whatever That is which is God, it is without doubt That than which nothing greater can be conceived. If, then, in this One and Supreme Majesty we have found anything that is insufficient or imperfect in our consideration of the Persons, or if we have found that what is assigned to one is taken from another, the whole is surely less than That, than which nothing greater can be conceived. For indubitably the greatest which is a whole is greater than that which consists of parts. That man thinks worthily, as far as man can, of the Divine Majesty who thinks of no inequality in It where the whole is supremely great; of no separation where the whole is one; of no chasm where the whole is undivided; in short, of no imperfection or deficiency where the whole is a whole. For the Father is a whole, as are the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit; the Son is a whole, as are He Himself and the Father and the Holy Spirit; the Holy Spirit is a whole, as are He Himself and the Father and the Son. And the whole Unity is a whole neither superabounding in the Three, nor diminished in Each Person. For they do not individually divide between Them that real and highest Good which they are, since they do not possess It in the way of participation, but are essentially the very Good. For those phrases which we most rightly use, as One from Another, or One to Another, are designations of the Persons, not division of the Unity. For although in this ineffable and incomprehensible essence of the Deity we can, by the requirements of the properties of the Persons, say One and Another in a sober and Catholic sense, yet there is not in the essence One and Another, but simple Unity; nor in the confession of the Trinity any derogation to the Unity, nor is the true assertion of the Unity any exclusion of the propria of the Persons. May that execrable similitude of genus and species be accordingly as far from our minds as it is from the rule of truth. It is not a similitude, but a dissimilitude, as is also that of brass and the brazen seal; for since genus and species are to each other as higher and lower, while God is One, there can never be any resemblance between equality so perfect and disparity so great. And again, with regard to his 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 between the Father and the Son. Far be it from us to agree with him who says that the Son is related to the Father as species to genus, as man to animal, as a brazen seal to brass, as force to force absolutely. For all these several things by the bond of their common nature are to each other as superiors and inferiors, and therefore no comparison is to be drawn from these things with That in which there is no inequality, no dissimilarity. You see from what unskilfulness or impiety the use of these similitudes descends. CHAPTER IIIThe 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 because He is the Father with regard to Himself, but with regard to His Son, and in like manner by the name of Son is expressed not that He is Son with regard to Himself, but to the Father. It is not so with power and many other attributes which 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 and Loving Kindness which He has in precisely the same way, as His propria also. 6. But let us now wait and see in how theoretic a manner our theologian regards the invisible things of God. He says, as I have pointed out, that omnipotence properly 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” (Abael. Theol. B. ii. p. 1083). Do you, then, mean that, like the preceding similitudes, your similitude demands that the Son to be the Son must first be the Father, 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 comparison, and with such beating about the bush, apply it to questions long ago settled and ill-fitted for debate? Why do you bring it forward with such waste of energy, impress it on us with such a useless multiplicity 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 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 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 necessarily capable of being converted in such a way that what was true of the original proposition is true of the converse; and your comparison of genus and species, or of brass and the brazen seal does not admit of this. For as it does not follow as a necessary consequence that the Son is the Father, and the Father the Son, so neither can we rightly produce a convertible consequence between man and animal, and between a brazen seal and brass. For though it be true to say, “If he is a man he is an animal,” still the converse is not true, “If he is an animal he is a man.” And again, if we have a brazen seal it necessarily follows that it is brass; but if we have brass it does not necessarily follow that it is a brazen seal. But now let us proceed to his other points. 8. Lo! according to him we have omnipotence in the Father, a certain power in the Son. Let him tell us also what he thinks of the Holy Spirit. That loving-kindness, he says, which is denoted by the name of the Holy Spirit is not in God power or wisdom (Theol. ii. 1085). I saw Satan as lightning fall from heaven (S. Luke 10:18). So ought he to fall who exercises himself in great matters, and in things that are too high for him. You see, Holy Father, what ladders, nay what dizzy heights, he has set up for his own downfall. All power, half power, no power. I shudder at the very words, and I think that very horror enough for his confutation. Still, I will bring forward a testimony which occurs to my troubled mind, so as to remove the injury done to the Holy Spirit. We read in Isaiah: The Spirit of wisdom, the Spirit of ghostly strength (Is. 11:2). By this his audacity is plainly and sufficiently answered, even if it is not crushed. Be it that blasphemy against the Father or the Son may be forgiven, will blasphemy against the Spirit? The Angel of the Lord is waiting to cut you asunder; for you have said “The Holy Spirit in God is not power or wisdom.” So the foot of pride stumbles when it intrudes \[where it ought not\]. CHAPTER IVAbaelard had defined faith as an opinion or estimate: Bernard refutes this. 9. It is no wonder if a man who is careless of what he says should, when rushing into the mysteries of the Faith, so irreverently assail and tear asunder the hidden treasures of godliness, since he has neither piety nor faith in his notions about the piety of faith. For instance, on the very threshold of his theology (I should rather say his stultology) he defines faith as private judgment; as though in these mysteries it is to be allowed to each person to think and speak as he pleases, or as though the mysteries of our faith are to hang in uncertainty amongst shifting and varying opinions, when on the contrary they rest on the solid and unshakable foundation of truth. Is not our hope baseless if our faith is subject to change? Fools then were our martyrs for bearing so cruel tortures for an uncertainty, and for entering, without hesitation, on an everlasting exile, through a bitter death, when there was a doubt as to the recompense of their reward. But far be it from us to think that in our faith or hope anything, as he supposes, depends on the fluctuating judgment of the individual, and that the whole of it does not rest on sure and solid truth, having been commended by miracles and revelations from above, founded and consecrated by the Son of the Virgin, by the Blood of the Redeemer, by the glory of the risen Christ. These infallible proofs have been given us in superabundance. 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. 1:12), cries the Apostle, and you mutter in my ears that faith is only an opinion. Do you prate to me that is ambiguous than which there is nothing more certain? But Augustine says otherwise: “Faith is not held by any one in whose heart it is, by conjectures or opinions, but it is sure knowledge and has the assent of the conscience.” Far be it from us, then, to suppose that the Christian faith has as its boundaries those opinions of the Academicians, whose boast it is that they doubt of everything, and know nothing. But I for my part walk securely, according to the saying of the teacher of the Gentiles, and I know that I shall not be confounded. I am satisfied, I confess, with his definition of faith, even though this man stealthily accuses it. Faith, he says, is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Heb. 11:1). The substance, he says, of things hoped for, not a phantasy of empty conjectures. You hear, that it is a substance; and therefore it is not allowed you in our faith, to suppose or oppose at your pleasure, nor to wander hither and thither amongst empty opinions, through devious errors. Under the name of substance something certain and fixed is put before you. You are enclosed in known bounds, shut in within fixed limits. For faith is not an opinion, but a certitude. 10. But now notice other points. I pass over his saying that the spirit of the fear of the Lord was not in the Lord; that there will be no holy fear of the Lord in the world to come; that after the consecration of the bread and of the cup, the former accidents which remain are suspended in the air; that the suggestions of devils come to us, as their sagacious wickedness knows how, by the contact of stones and herbs; and that they are able to discern in such natural objects strength suited to excite various passions; that the Holy Spirit is the anima mundi; that the world, as Plato says, is so much a more excellent animal, as it has a better soul in the Holy Spirit. Here while he exhausts his strength to make Plato a Christian, he proves himself a heathen. All these things and his other numerous silly stories of the same kind I pass by, I come to graver matters. To answer them all would require volumes. I speak only of those on which I cannot keep silence. CHAPTER VHe 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. 11. 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. 22:28). It is needful to know, he says, that all our doctors since the Apostles agree in this, that the devil had power and dominion over man, and that he rightly possessed it, because man, by an act of the free will which he had, voluntarily consented to the devil. For they say that if any one conquers another, the conquered rightly becomes the slave of his conqueror. Therefore, he says, as the doctors teach, the Son of God became incarnate under this necessity, that since man could not otherwise be freed, he might, by the death of an innocent man, be set free from the yoke of the devil. But as it seems to us, he says, neither had the devil ever any power over man, except by the permission of God, as a jailer might, nor was it to free man that the Son of God assumed flesh. Which am I to think the more intolerable in these words, the blasphemy or the arrogance? Which is the more to be condemned, his rashness or his impiety? Would not the mouth of him who speaks such things be more justly beaten with rods than confuted with reasons? Does not he whose hand is against every man, rightly provoke every man’s hand to be raised against him? All, he says, say so, but so do not I. What, then, do you say? What better statement have you? What more subtle reason have you discovered? What more secret revelation do you boast of which has passed by the Saints and escaped from the wise? He, 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 (1 Cor. 11:23). The Teacher of all confesses that His doctrine is not His own, for I do not, He says, speak of Myself (S. John 7:16 and 14:10), while you give us of your own, and what you have received from no one. He who speaketh a lie speaketh of his own (Ibid. 8:44). 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 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 speaks to His chosen people: I will save you and deliver you, fear not (Wisd. 3:16). You ask, from what power? For you do not admit that the devil has or ever has had power over man. Neither, I confess, do I. It is not, however, that he has it not because you and I wish it not. If you do not confess it, you know it not; they whom the Lord has redeemed out of the hand of the enemy, they know it and confess it. And you would by no means deny it, if you were not under the hand of the enemy. You cannot give thanks with the redeemed, because you have not been redeemed. For if you had been redeemed you would recognize your Redeemer, and would not deny your redemption. Nor does the man, who knows not himself to be a captive, seek to be redeemed. Those who knew it called unto the Lord, and the Lord heard them, and redeemed them from the hand of the enemy. And that you may understand who this enemy is, He says: Those whom He redeemed from the hand of the enemy He gathered out of all lands (Ps. 107:2, 3). But first, indeed, recognize Him Who gathered them, of Whom Caiaphas in the Gospel prophesied, saying that Jesus should die for the people, and the Evangelist proceeds thus: And not for that nation only, but that He might gather together into one all the children of God which were scattered abroad (S. John 11:51, 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 40:18). 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 them describes, speaking of certain persons: If God, peradventure, will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth, and that they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at his will (2 Tim. 2:25, 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 14:30), and the strong man armed (S. Luke 11:21), and the possessor of goods (S. Matt. 12:29), 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 22:53). That power did not escape him who said: Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of His dear Son (Col. 1:13). The Lord then neither denied the power of the devil even over Him, nor that of Pilate, who was a member of the devil. He said: Thou couldst have no power against me at all except it were given thee from above (S. John 19:11). 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, 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 subjected to it; but the Lord is just, who permitted the subjection. For anyone is called just and unjust, not from his power but from his will. This power of the devil over man though not rightly acquired, but wickedly usurped, was yet justly permitted. And in this way man was justly taken captive, viz., that the justice was neither in the devil, nor in man, but in God. CHAPTER VIIn 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? Therefore he who lacked righteousness had another’s imputed to him, and in this way: The prince of this world came and found nothing in the Saviour, and because he notwithstanding laid hands on the Innocent he lost most justly those whom he held captive; since He who 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. 5:14), so that, as One bore the sins of all, the satisfaction of One is imputed to all. It is not that one forfeited, another satisfied; the Head and body is one, viz., Christ. The Head, therefore, satisfied for the members, Christ for His children, since, according to the Gospel of Paul, by which Peter’s falsehood is refuted, He who died for us, quickened us together with Himself, forgiving us all our trespasses, blotting out the 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. 2:13, 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, he shall be told that I came to him by stealth, and therefore so left him. The secret power of sin subjected me, the hidden plan of righteousness freed me from him; or I will reply, that if I was sold for nothing shall I not be freely 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 righteousness be whose it may, it is none of yours.” Be it so. But let guilt also be whose it may, it is none of mine. Shall the righteousness of the righteous be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked not be upon him? It is not 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 (1 Cor. 15:21, 22). I attain to one and to the other in the same way: to the one by the flesh, to the other by faith. And if from the one I was infected with concupiscence from my birth, by Christ spiritual grace was infused into me. What more does this hired advocate bring against me? If he urges generation, I oppose regeneration; and add that the former is but carnal, while the latter is spiritual. Nor does equity suffer that they fight as equals, but the higher nature is the more efficacious cause, and therefore the spirit must necessarily overcome the flesh. In other words, the second birth is so much the more beneficial as the first was baneful. The offence, indeed, came to me, but so did grace; and not as the offence so also is the free gift; for the judgment was by one to condemnation, but the free gift is of many offences unto justification (Rom. 5:16). 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 justifieth, who is he that condemneth? He who had mercy on the sinner will not condemn the righteous; I mean that I am righteous, but it is in His righteousness, for Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth (Rom. 10:4). In short, He was made our righteousness by God the Father (1 Cor. 1:30). Is not that righteousness mine which was made for me? If my guilt was inherited, why should not my righteousness be accorded to me? And, truly, what is given me is safer than what was born in me. For this, indeed, has whereof to glory, but not before God; but that, since it is effectual to my salvation, has nothing whereof to glory save in the Lord. For if I be righteous, says Job, yet will I not lift up my head (Job 10:15), 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? (1 Cor. 4:7). CHAPTER VIIHe severely reproves Abaelard for scrutinizing rashly and impiously, and extenuating the power of, the secret things of God. 17. This is the righteousness of man in the blood of 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 (1 Tim. 3:16). O, incomparable doctor! he lays bare to himself the deep things of God, he makes them clear and easy to every one, and by his false teaching he so renders plain and evident the most lofty sacrament of grace, the mystery hidden from the ages, that any uncircumcised and unclean person can lightly penetrate to the heart of it: as though the wisdom of God knew not how to guard or neglected to guard against what Itself forbade, but had Itself given what is holy to the dogs and cast its pearls before swine. But it is not so. For though it was 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: I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes (S. Matt. 11:25). And the Apostle says: If our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost (2 Cor. 4:3). 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 believe what he has no power to comprehend, and would not dare to despise or tread under foot this sacred and holy mystery! It is a long task to reply to all the follies and calumnies which he charges against the Divine counsel. Yet I take a few, from which the rest may be estimated. “Since,” he says, “Christ set free the elect only, how were they more than now, whether in this world or the next, under the power of the devil?” I answer: It was just because they were under the power of the devil, by whom, says the Apostle, they were taken captive at his will (2 Tim. 2:26), that there was need of a liberator in order that the purpose of God concerning them might be fulfilled. But it behoved Him to set them free in this world, that He might have them as freeborn sons in the next. Then he rejoins: “Well, did the devil also torture the poor man who was in the bosom of Abraham as he did the rich man who was condemned, or had he power over Abraham himself and the rest of the elect?” No, but he would have had if they had not been set free by their faith in a future Deliverer, as of Abraham it is written: Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness (Gen. 15:6). Again: Abraham rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it and was glad (S. John 8:56). Therefore even then the Blood of Christ was bedewing Lazarus, that he might not feel the flames, because he had believed on Him who should suffer. So are we to think of all the saints of that time, that they were born just as ourselves under the power of darkness, because of original sin, but rescued before they died, and that by nothing else but the blood of Christ. For it is written: The multitudes that went before and that followed, cried saying, Hosanna to the Son of David, Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord (S. Matt. 21:9). 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. CHAPTER VIIIWherefore Christ undertook a method of setting us free so painful and laborious, when a word from Him, or an act of His will, would alone 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 anyone denies this; then after much more he proceeds: “And so what necessity, or what reason, or what need was there, when the Divine compassion by a simple command could have freed man from sin, for the Son of God to take flesh for our redemption, to suffer so many and such great privations, scorn, scourgings, and spittings on, in short, the pain and ignominy of the cross itself, and that with evil doers?” I reply: The necessity was ours, the hard necessity of those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death. The need, equally ours, and God’s, and the Holy Angels! Ours, that He might remove the yoke of our captivity; His own, that He might fulfil the purpose of His will; the Angels’, that their number might be filled up. Further, the reason of this deed was the good pleasure of the Doer. Who denies that there were ready for the Almighty other and yet other 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 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 sufferings of our Restorer. Beyond that no man knows, nor can know to the full, what treasures of grace, what harmony with wisdom, what increase of glory, what advantages for salvation the inscrutable depth of this holy mystery contains within itself, that mystery which the Prophet when considering trembled at, but did not penetrate (Habak. 3:2 in LXX.), and which the forerunner of the Lord thought himself unworthy to unloose (S. John 1:27). 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. \[Prov. 25:2. But the sense of the text is the reverse of this.\] Faithful is the saying and worthy of all acceptation, that while we were yet sinners we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son (Rom. 5:10). “Where there is reconciliation there is also remission of sins. For if, as the Scripture says, our sins separate between us and God” (Is. 59:2), there is no reconciliation while sin remains. In what, then, is remission of sins? This cup, He says, is the new testament in My Blood which shall be shed for you for the remission of sins (S. Matt. 26:28). Therefore where there is reconciliation there is remission of sins. And what is that but justification? Whether, therefore, we call it reconciliation, or remission of sins, or justification, or, again, redemption, or liberation from the chains of the devil, by whom we were taken captive at his will, at all events by the death of the Only Begotten, we obtain that we have been justified freely by His blood, in whom, as S. Paul says again, we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace (Eph. 1:7). 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 tasting of the apple?” As if the iniquity of the malignant were not able to displease, and the godliness of the sufferer to please God, and that in one and the same act. “But,” he replies, “if that sin of Adam was so heinous that it could not be expiated but 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 because 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 not His death alone that pleased the Father, but His voluntary surrender to death; and by that death destroying death, working salvation, restoring innocence, triumphing over principalities and powers, spoiling hell, enriching heaven, making peace between things in heaven and things on earth, and renewing all things. And since this so precious death to be voluntarily submitted to against sin could not take place except through sin, He did not indeed delight in, but He made good use of, the malice of the wrongdoers, and found the means to condemn death and sin by the death of His Son, and the sin \[of those who condemned Him\]. And the greater their iniquity, the more holy His will, and the more powerful to salvation; because, by the interposition of so great a power, that ancient sin, however great, would necessarily give way to that committed against Christ, as the less to the greater. Nor is this victory to be ascribed to the sin or to the sinners, but to Him who extracted good from their sin, and who bore bravely with the sinners, and turned to a godly purpose whatever the cruelty of the impious ventured on against Himself. 22. Thus the Blood which was shed was so powerful for pardoning that it blotted out that greatest sin of all, by which it came to pass that it was shed; and, therefore, left no doubt whatever about the blotting out of that ancient and lighter sin. Thus he rejoins: “Is there anyone to whom it does not seem cruel and unjust, that anyone should require the blood of an innocent man as the price of something, or that the death of an innocent man should in any way give him pleasure, not to say that God should hold so acceptable the death of His Son as by it to be reconciled to the whole world?” God the Father did not require the Blood of His Son, but, nevertheless, He accepted it when offered; it was not blood He thirsted for, but salvation, for salvation was in the blood. He died, in short, for our salvation, and not for the mere exhibition of charity, as this man thinks and writes. For he so concludes the numerous calumnies and reproaches, which he as impiously as ignorantly belches out against God, as to say that “the whole reason why God appeared in the flesh was for our education by His word and example, or, as he afterwards says, for our instruction; that the whole reason why He suffered and died was to exhibit or commend to us charity.” CHAPTER IXThat 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 (1 Cor. 15:22). As is the one, so is the other. If the life which Christ gives is nothing else but His instruction, the death which Adam gave is in like manner only his instruction; so that the one by his example leads men to sin, the other by His example and His Word leads them to a holy life and to love Him. But if we rest in the Christian faith, and not in the heresy of Pelagius, and confess that by generation and not by example was the sin of Adam imparted to us, and by sin death, let us also 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. 5:18). 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 weakness of their age they are not able to know of, or to love, Christ? Our redemption, he says, consists in that supreme love which is inspired in us by the passion of Christ. Therefore, infants have no redemption because they have not that supreme love. Perhaps he holds that as they have no power to love, so neither have they necessity to perish, that they have no need to be regenerated in Christ because they have received no damage from their generation from Adam. If he thinks this, he thinks foolishness with Pelagius. Whichever of these two opinions he holds, his ill-will to the sacrament of our salvation is evident; and in attributing the whole of our salvation to devotion, and nothing of it to regeneration, it is evident too that, as far as he can, he would empty of meaning the dispensation of this deep mystery; for he places the glory of our redemption and the great 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. 6:14), 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 redemption 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, 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 6:56, 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 meanwhile satisfied my own conscience. For since there was nothing that I could do against the injury to the faith, which I deplored, I thought it worth while to warn him, whose arms are the power of God, for the destruction of contrary imaginations, to 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. LETTERSLETTER CXCI. (A.D. 1140.)TO THE SAME, IN THE PERSON OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF RHEIMSThat the Pope should use his authority to repress the arrogance of Abaelard. To their most revered Lord and dear Father, INNOCENT, by the grace of God Supreme Pontiff, SAMSON, Archbishop of Rheims, JOSCELIN, Bishop of Soissons, GEOFFREY, Bishop of Chalons, and ALVISUS, Bishop of Arras, send their willing testimony of the obedience they owe. 1. As your time is occupied with many things we send a short account of a lengthy matter, and the more especially as a longer and fuller account is contained in the letters of the Bishop of Sens. Peter Abaelard is endeavouring to destroy the virtue of the Christian faith, inasmuch as he thinks that he is able to comprehend the whole that God is by his unaided human reason, he is ascending to the skies, he is descending to the depths. There is nothing which can escape him, either in the heights above or in the depths beneath. He is a man great in his own eyes, a disputer of the faith against the faith, a man who busies himself about great and wonderful matters which are out of his reach, a prier into the Majesty of God, a manufacturer of heresies. He had not long since put forth a treatise on the Trinity, which was tried by the fire under the command of the Legate of the Roman Church, because iniquity was found in it. Cursed was he who rebuilt the ruins of Jericho. That book has risen from the dead, and with it the heresies of many which had slept have arisen, and appeared unto many. Now, his heresy is spreading out its boughs unto the sea, and its branches even to Rome. It is his boast that his book has where to lay its head even in the Roman Curia. Hence his phrensy is strengthened and confirmed. Therefore, when the Abbot of Clairvaux, armed with zeal for the faith and for righteousness, was arguing about his heresies in the presence of the Bishops, he neither confessed nor denied, but in order to prolong his wickedness, though he had received neither injury nor wrong, he appealed from the place and judge which he had himself chosen to the Apostolic See. Then the Bishops who had assembled for the purpose of deciding did nothing against his person, in deference to your authority, but only censured, as a medicinal necessity, to prevent the disease spreading, the articles from his books which had already been condemned by the holy Fathers. Because, then, the man is drawing a multitude after him, and has a whole people as believers in him, it is necessary for you to meet this contagion with a swiftly-working remedy, for When ills through long delays grow strong. Too late is medicine prepared. We have advanced in this matter as far as we dared. For the rest it is your part, Blessed Father, to take care that in your days no spot of heretical depravity stains the fair beauty of the Church. To thee, O friend of the bridegroom, has the bride of Christ been entrusted; it is thine to present her, a chaste virgin, to one husband, even to Christ. LETTER CXCII. (A.D. 1140.)TO MAGISTER GUIDO DU CHATEL, WHO HAD BEEN A DISCIPLE OF PETER, ON WHICH PETER PRESUMED TOO MUCH, AND WHO WAS AFTERWARDS POPE CELESTINEHe warns him not to cherish the errors of Abaelard in his love for the man himself. To his venerable Lord and dear Father, GUIDO, by the grace of God Cardinal-priest of the holy Roman Church, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, desires that he decline neither to the right hand nor to the left. I should do you an injury if I were to suppose that when you love anyone you are in love also with his errors. Whoever so loves another knows not yet how to love as he ought. For such love is earthly, sensual, devilish, injuring alike the lover and the loved. Others may think of others as they please; I cannot yet think of you anything that is contrary to reason, or to the strict rule of equity. Some decide first and try afterwards; I will not decide whether a drink is sweet or bitter before I have tasted it. Master Peter puts forth in his books many blasphemous novelties, both of terms and senses; he disputes about the faith against the faith, and attacks the law with the words of the law. He sees nothing through a glass darkly, but beholds all things face to face, and busies himself in great and wonderful matters above him. Better would it be if (according to the title of his book) he did know himself, and did not go beyond his measure, but thought soberly. I do not accuse him before the Father; there is one who accuses him, even his book, in which he has such ill-founded pleasure. When he discourses of the Trinity he savours of Arius; when of grace, of Pelagius; when of the Person of Christ, of Nestorius. I do not question your goodness, in asking you earnestly to prefer no one to Christ in Christ’s own cause. But know this, that it is expedient for you, to whom power has been given by the Lord, it is expedient for the Church of Christ, it is expedient also for the man himself, that he be silenced, for his mouth is full of cursing, and bitterness, and guile. LETTER CXCIII. (A.D. 1140.)TO CARDINAL IVO, ON THE SAME SUBJECTThat it is an unworthy thing that Abaelard should find partizans even in the Court of Rome. To his beloved Ivo, by the grace of God Cardinal-priest of the holy Roman Church, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, desires that he love righteousness and hate iniquity. Master Peter Abaelard, a monk without a rule, a prelate without a cure, neither keeps his order, nor is kept in order by it. He is a man inconsistent with himself, within a Herod, without a John; a thorough hypocrite, having nothing of a monk but the name and habit. But this is nothing to me. Each one will bear his own burden. There is something else, which I cannot keep silence about, which belongs to all who love the name of Christ. He loudly utters iniquity, he is corrupting the integrity of the faith, and the chastity of the Church. He crosses over the boundaries which our fathers have marked out in his discussions and writings about the faith, about the Sacraments, about the Holy Trinity; at his pleasure he alters, adds to or diminishes them. In his books and works he shows himself a manufacturer of falsehood, and a worshipper of false dogmas; proving his heresy, not so much by his error as by his obstinate adherence to his error. He is a man who goes beyond his measure, and who, by his skill in words, lessens or destroys the power of the Cross of Christ. He is ignorant of nothing in heaven or in earth, except himself. He was condemned at Soissons, with his work, in the presence of the Legate of the Roman Church. But as though that condemnation were not enough for him, he is again acting so as to be again condemned, and his last error now is worse than the first. Still he feels secure, since, as he boasts, he has the Cardinals and clergy of the Curia as his disciples; and he assumes that those, whose judgment and condemnation he ought to fear, are defenders of his past and present error. If anyone has the Spirit of God, let him call to mind that verse. Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee (Ps. 139:21)? May God, by you and His other sons, free His Church from lying lips and from a deceitful tongue! LETTER CXCIV. (A.D. 1140.)RESCRIPT OF POPE INNOCENT AGAINST THE HERESIES OF PETER ABAELARD INNOCENT, Bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his venerable brothers, HENRY, Archbishop of Sens, SAMSON, Archbishop of Rheims, and their suffragans, and to his beloved brother in Christ, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and Apostolic benediction. 1. On the testimony of the Apostle, as one Lord, so one faith is to be known (Eph. 4:5), on which the inviolate firmness of the Catholic Church is built, as on an immovable foundation, beside which no man can lay another. Thence it was that Blessed Peter, the chief of the Apostles, merited, through his noble confession of faith, to hear from our Lord and Saviour the words, Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church (S. Matt. 16:18), manifestly meaning by the rock the firmness of his faith and the solidity of Catholic unity. This is the seamless robe of our Redeemer for which the soldiers cast lots, but which they could not divide. Against it in the beginning the heathen raged, and the nations imagined vain things. The kings of the earth stood up and their rulers were gathered together (Ps. 2:1, 2). But the Apostles, as leaders of the Lord’s flock, and the Apostolic men, their successors, inflamed with the ardour of charity and zeal for righteousness, did not hesitate to defend the faith, and to implant it in the hearts of others by shedding their own blood. At length the Lord gave commands to the winds; the violence of the persecutors ceased, and there was a great calm in the Church. 2. But since the enemy of the human race is ever going about seeking whom he may devour, he now stealthily uses the deceitful fallacies of heretics in order to undermine the sincerity of the faith. Against these heretics the pastors of the churches have boldly risen and condemned their evil teachings, with their authors. For in the great Council of Nicaea Arius was condemned as a heretic; the Synod at Constantinople condemned Manes as a heretic by a fitting sentence; at the Ephesine Synod Nestorius received the condemnation of his error, which he deserved. The Council of Chalcedon also justly condemned the Nestorian heresy, and the Eutychian, with Dioscorus and his accomplices. Moreover, Marcian, though a layman, yet a Christian emperor, being inflamed with love of the Catholic faith, says, among other things, when writing to our predecessor, Pope John, against those who were endeavouring to profane the sacred mysteries: “Let none of the clerical order, or of the military, or of any other rank, endeavour for the future to discourse publicly about the Christian faith. For, for anyone to take on himself to explain and again dispute of matters once determined on and rightly settled, is an injury to the decision of the most holy Council;” and he adds, as a penalty to any who should break this law, that if any clerk should dare to treat of religion in public, he should be removed from the fellowship of clerks as if guilty of sacrilege. 3. We lament, therefore, that, as we gather from your letters, and from the heads of the errors sent us by your Fraternity, in these last days when perilous times are approaching, the heresies of the aforenamed, and other perverse doctrines contrary to the Catholic faith, have begun to show their heads in the pernicious teaching of Peter Abaelard. But by one thing we are specially consoled, and we give thanks to Almighty God for it, viz., that He has raised up in your parts such worthy successors of the Fathers, and in the time of our Apostolate has granted to us such noble pastors, who study to meet the calumnies of the new heretic, and to present His spotless Bride as a chaste virgin to one Husband, even Christ. And, therefore, we who sit in the seat of Blessed Peter (to whom it was said by the Lord: And when thou art converted strengthen thy brethren) (S. Luke 22:32), however unworthily we seem to occupy it, have, by the common advice of our brethren, the Bishops and Cardinals, condemned, with their author, all the articles sent us in the exercise of your discretion, and all the perverse doctrines of Peter himself, by the authority of the sacred canons, and we have imposed perpetual silence on him as a heretic. We decree, also, that all the followers and supporters of his error be cut off from the fellowship of the faithful, and be bound with the chain of excommunication. Given at the Lateran xvii. a.d. Kal., August. LETTER CXCV. (A.D. 1140.)TO THE BISHOP OF CONSTANCE ABOUT ARNOLD OF BRESCIABernard advises him to expel Arnold of Brescia from his Diocese. 1. If the good man of the house had known in what watch the thief would come he would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to be broken up (S. Matt. 24:43). Do you know that a thief has broken into your house by night, yet not your house, but the Lord’s entrusted to your care? But there can be no doubt that you know what is taking place at your door, when news of it has penetrated even to us who are so far distant. It is no wonder that you could not foresee the hour, or perceive the night attack of the thief, but it will be a wonder if you do not recognize that he has been caught, if you do not hold him fast and prevent him from carrying off your goods, nay, rather the most precious spoils won by Christ, souls which He has stamped with His own image and redeemed with His own blood. Perhaps you are yet in the dark and wonder who it is I mean. I speak of Arnold of Brescia, and I wish he were of as sound doctrine as he is of strict life. And if you wish to know more, he is a man who comes neither eating nor drinking, but with the devil alone he is hungering and thirsting for the blood of souls. He is one of the number of those whom the watchfulness of the Apostle takes note of when he says, Having the form of godliness, but denying the power thereof (2 Tim. 3:5). And the Lord Himself says: They shall come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves (S. Matt. 7:15). Up to the present time, in whatever place he has lived, he has left such foul and destructive tracks that he dares not return to any place wherever he has imprinted his footmark. For example, he grievously stirred up and troubled the land in which he was born, and he was, therefore, accused before the Pope of grievous schism, and was banished from his native soil, and also compelled to swear that he would not return except by the Pope’s permission. For a like reason this notable schismatic has been driven out from the kingdom of France. When anathematized by Peter the Apostle he joined himself to Peter Abaelard, and with him, and for him, he endeavoured to defend vigorously and stubbornly all his errors, which had been already exposed and condemned by the Church. 2. And in all these incidents his phrensy was not abated, but his hand was stretched out still. For though he is a fugitive and wanderer on the earth, he does not cease to do amongst men of other countries what he is not allowed to do amongst his own countrymen, and goes about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. And I hear that he is now working mischief amongst you, and is eating up your people as it were bread. His mouth is full of cursing and bitterness, his feet are swift to shed blood. Destruction and unhappiness are in his ways, and the way of peace has he not known. He is an enemy of the cross of Christ, a sower of discord, a manufacturer of schisms, a disturber of peace, a divider of unity; his teeth are spears and arrows, and his tongue a sharp sword, his words are smoother than oil, and yet they are very darts. Thence it is that he is wont to entice to himself by flattering words and the pretences of virtues the rich and the powerful, according to the verse: He sitteth lurking in thievish corners with the rich that he may slay the innocent (Ps. 10:8). Depend upon it, when he feels that he has securely gained their goodwill and affection, you will see the man openly rise against the clergy; and, relying on military tyranny, he will rise against the Bishops themselves, and run a tilt against all ecclesiastical order. Knowing this, I do not know what better or more wholesome thing you can do at such a crisis than, according to the admonition of the Apostle, to remove the evil man from among you (1 Cor. 5:13), though the friend of the bridegroom will see that he is bound rather than put to flight, lest he be able to travel about again, and so do more harm. Our Lord the Pope, when he was here, gave in writing the same directions, because of the evils which he heard were being done; but there was no one to do the good action. To end, if the Scripture soundly warns us to take the little foxes which spoil the vine (Cant. 2:15), should not a powerful and fierce wolf much rather be bound fast, lest he break into the sheep-folds of Christ, and slay and destroy His sheep? LETTER CXCVI. (A.D. 1140.)TO GUIDO, THE LEGATE, ON THE SAME SUBJECTBernard warns him against familiarity with Arnold of Brescia. 1. Arnold of Brescia is said to be with you, a man whose discourse is as sweet as honey, whose doctrine is poison; whose head is that of a dove, his tail a scorpion’s; whom Brescia cast forth, Rome was horrified at, France rejected, Germany abominates, Italy is unwilling to take in. See, I beseech you, that your authority lend no protection to his further mischief; for he has both the art and the wish to do injury, and if he gain your favour he will be likely, like a threefold cord which is not easily broken, to be, I am afraid, above measure mischievous. And if it is true that you have the man with you, I suppose one of two things—either that you do not know him, or, which is more likely, that you are hoping for his repentance. Would it were not a vain hope! Who can from this stone raise up a child to Abraham? How welcome a gift would it be to our mother the Church to receive him as a vessel for honour, whom she had so long borne with as a vessel to dishonour! It is lawful to make the attempt, but a wise man will be careful not to go beyond the number laid down by the Apostle, when he says, A man that is an heretic after the first and second admonition reject, knowing that he that is such is subverted and sinneth, being condemned of himself (Tit. 3:10, 11). Otherwise, to be on intimate terms with him, and to admit him frequently to private conversation, not to say to your house, is suspiciously like showing him favour, and is a powerful weapon in the hands of the enemy. A member of the household, and a private friend of the Legate of the Apostolic See, will preach with impunity and persuade whom he will. For who can suspect any wrong to come from the side of our Lord the Pope? But although he manifestly speak perverse things, who will dare lightly to oppose himself against one who is at your side? 2. And do you know what kind of footprints he has left in every place he has dwelt in? It is not without cause that Apostolic energy has forced him to cross the Alps from Italy which gave him birth, and does not suffer him to return to his native country. What man is there amongst the foreigners to whom he was driven who does not heartily wish that they had sent him back to his home? And certainly the fact that his bearing towards all is such that he incurs the hatred of all is an approbation of the condemnation under which he labours, so that no one can say that it was obtained from our Lord the Pope by surprise. With what excuse, then, can he flout the sentence of the Supreme Pontiff when, though his tongue disclaims it, his life loudly proclaims its justice? And so to show him favour is to go against our Lord the Pope, to oppose our Lord God. For by whomsoever a righteous sentence may have been given, it is certain that it proceeds from Him who says by the mouth of the Prophet, I who speak righteousness (Is. 63:1). But I have confidence in your wisdom and honesty, and that when you have read this letter, and know the truth, you will not be led away to give your consent in this matter to anything, save what is becoming to you and expedient to the Church of God, on behalf of which you are discharging the office of legate. You have my heart, and may reckon on my obedience. LETTER CXCVII. (A.D. 1141.)TO PETER, DEAN OF BESANÇONBernard blames his injurious conduct towards the Abbot of Charlieu. I hear such an account of the pilgrimage of the Abbot of Charlieu that I look upon him as already dead. Whatever danger threatens him, whatever suffering he has to undergo, is (to my great grief) imputed to you most of all. I neither expected this, nor deserved it at your hands. I thought you one thing, I find you another. Those who were present at the affair bear their testimony against you that you have not behaved in it straightforwardly or justly. And I partly believe it. For the Venerable Abbot of Beauvais is by no means pleased with you. Do not, I implore you, do not persecute the servants of God, to whom you read that He said: He that toucheth you toucheth the apple of my eye (Zach. 2:8). Do not pluck up by the roots whatever good feeling I formerly had towards you. And I write this, not because I love you not, but to take away whatever may cause me not to love you. For I tell you, as your friend, that it is not expedient for you nor for your Church that the Pope should hear how you have acted. LETTER CXCVIII. (A.D. 1141.)TO POPE INNOCENTBernard requests that he will avenge the violence and unjust aggression which Abbot Guy has suffered. 1. In the cause which is brought before you by our dear brother Guy, Abbot of Charlieu, I have no doubt that you see plainly enough the injury of the assailant, the innocence of the sufferer, and the carelessness of the judge. The poor man, disregarding the toil of the journey, the expense and the dangers of the time, has been forced to appeal to you in person by the violence of the accuser, and by the denial of justice. He, a lover of quiet, has joined hands with death that he should not live in turmoil. I beseech you look favourably on his need and poverty, and listen to his complaint with a father’s sympathy, so that his toil and sorrow may not be productive of but small results. Before this I have testified to you by my letter once and again that the man who is now attacking the Abbot is both untrue to his monastic vows and a squanderer of the means of the monastery. But now I tell you, even weeping, that he is an enemy of the cross of Christ, a most violent oppressor of the saints who are in his neighbourhood, and a defrauder of the poor. Since he has hardly anything of his own to waste, he seizes violently, after the fashion of a tyrant, on his neighbours goods on every side. A monk in habit, though a false one, a robber in fact, he shows, himself altogether heedless of the Rules of his Order, he despises the laws and canons. He has a brazen forehead, knows no scruples, is void of godliness, is easily provoked, ready to dare any crime, and to inflict any injustice. And I wonder how the Abbot of Chaise-Dieu, a man full of religion, can either be ignorant of or conceal such vices, and such glaring vices, in his own monk. 2. But what is this to me? Let him see to it. To his own master he standeth or falleth. It is enough for me to be set free from his hands. I most earnestly implore this from you, which has been in vain attempted in other ways. I looked round and there was none to help. We now have recourse to the refuge of all, we fly to him by whom we hope to be set free. You have the power, may you have the will. And, indeed, it is one of the privileges of the apostolic see that men should in the last resource look most for help to your supreme authority and plenary power. But among the other ornaments of your sole primacy, this one thing more specially and more gloriously ennobles and makes your Apostolate famous, viz., the rescue of the poor man from the hands of those who are stronger than he. In my judgment, there is no more precious jewel in your crown than the zealous care with which you are wont to strive for the oppressed, and to prevent the rod of the sinners from coming upon the lot of the righteous. Doubtless because of that which follows—that the righteous stretch not out their hands to iniquity (Ps. 125:3); or else because of that which is said elsewhere: When the ungodly is exalted the poor man is put to rebuke (Ps. 9:23, VULG.). And what tortures the body of the one destroys the soul of the other more grievously. 3. There is also a monastery of our Order near this place, which, in a similar way, is grievously harassed by the attacks of evil men, and there is no one to redeem it, or save it. And for this also your son does not shrink from stirring your fatherly compassion with his tears and prayers. Who the men are, and the occasion of their oppression, the Abbot who brings this letter will tell you by word of mouth, and truly. May Almighty God preserve you to us for a long time, to protect us all, who are passing a life in poverty, and in the habit and purpose of repentance, in order that we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies might serve Him without fear (S. Luke 1:74.) LETTER CXCIX. (A.D. 1141.)TO THE SAMEBernard begs that the decision already given in favour of certain Religious unjustly oppressed may be ratified. How long is the ungodly to be exalted and the poor put to rebuke? How long is so great innocence to be vexed by such shamelessness, and this while Innocent lives? It is our sins doubtless which cause that my lord is so late in discovering the characters of those who lie to him, so slow in listening to those who call to him in this cause. For in other cases I know it is customary to my lord both to come to an understanding quickly and to show mercy readily For the sake of Him who chose you and placed you as a refuge of the oppressed, put now at length an end to the malice of the oppressor, and to the sufferings of the afflicted, because both have been by this time brought into the light and manifested. In short, at the command and good pleasure of my lord the cause has been discussed and ended, and it only remains that the sentence pronounced by his authority be confirmed. If, then, the man come to you with his lies shall he be heard against the testimony of such men as the Bishops of Valence and Grenoble? Again, I implore you, and I fall at the feet of my lord with the most anxious mind possible, do not suffer a religious house to be destroyed by this wicked and deceitful man. For he who has nearly destroyed his own will not spare ours. And, therefore, I add, with my wonted presumption if you believe your son, then send back to his own cell this man who abuses your loving kindness, and give orders to the Abbot of Chaise-Dieu that he promote a man full of religion to the place in the monastery which this man occupies uselessly, and that he order the convent according to the Rule. This is what is worthy of your Apostolate, this will be well-pleasing to God, this will be an honour to the Abbot of Chaise-Dieu, and to his monastery. And so, too, you may set free the soul of the aforesaid man, and the monastery itself, on which he is a burden. LETTER CC. (A.D. 1140.)TO MAGISTER ULGER, BISHOP OF ANGERS, CONCERNING THE GRIEVOUS QUARREL EXISTING BETWEEN HIM AND THE ABBESS OF FONTEVRAULT1. I am more inclined to shed tears than write a letter. But since charity is not unable to do either the one or the other, it is my duty to give the latter and not omit the former. The one is due to you, the other to me, and to the many weak ones like me who are made to stumble. You say, perhaps, that the scandal is not caused by you. Will you deny that it exists because of you? I would bear the rest easily enough if only you were not in the cause. For I do not dare to say you are in the wrong. It is not my place to discuss this; there is One who seeketh and judgcth. Woe to that man by whom the offence cometh. Whosoever is the guilty, whether it be he or she, shall surely bear the punishment. But my discourse is now with you. Bear a little with my folly. What I have once begun I will say to my Lord. I will satisfy in some degree, though imperfectly, the zeal and affection which prompt me to speak. I will not fear the age, I will not be terrified by the dignity, I will not pause at the great name of Magister Ulger. For the greater the name the greater the scandal. Therefore I will go beyond myself, and will be a fool. I will chide my senior, I will reprove a Bishop. I will endeavour to teach a teacher, to give counsel to the wise. The love and the emulation which I formerly conceived for your sanctity and the glory of your name may well excuse any kind of presumption. To me it is no light matter, nor is it to the Church of God, which used everywhere to rejoice with great joy in this noon-day sun, that the spiritual odour of this glory which was poured out everywhere should be interrupted even in a small degree by the envy of the devil. 2. But it is plain enough how utterly you despise your own glory. I praise you in this, but not if it is to the injury of God. I praise, too, the constancy with which you yield nothing of what you think your rights even to the highest powers, but I praise you not if you should seem to do this with more obstinacy than constancy. How much more to your glory, and certainly to your holiness, would it be if you were to bear bravely an injustice done to you, and so keep your good name for the glory of God. And yet I cannot think how you keep even your conscience in safety under this scandal. For it is no excuse even if you can rightly throw the blame on another. Be it that another has caused the scandal, surely it is in your power to end it. Will you be guiltless if you are unwilling to end it? or will the wish to end it be without glory? If the ill which you repress is your own it will redound to your righteousness; if another’s, to your glory. Whoever may be the author of the scandal, on all grounds it is your duty to end it; and I can only say that on one condition only are you free from blame, viz., if it is out of your power to end it. And, finally, is it not the work of angels to remove scandals from the kingdom of God (S. Matt. 13:41)? If you say, What is that to the point? the verse will answer you, The priest’s lips keep knowledge, and they ask for the law at his mouth, for he is a messenger of the Lord (Matt. 2:7). If, then, you do not, when you can, end this scandal, you simply do not fulfil your ministry. And you shall judge for yourself whether that be no fault. But I do not mean to say this alone is enough; you must show it honour by acting on it. 3. There is another thing also I would add if I were not, I confess, more timid than I professed myself. But I bring forward with more safety as a teacher a Bishop who is not afraid to speak the plain truth to a Bishop. There is utterly a fault among you, he says, because ye go to law one with another. Why do ye not rather suffer wrong (1 Cor. 6:7)? He has set up the mirror, the Sun of righteousness has shone forth, truth has shone, the spot has been made apparent. Of what importance is that little, trivial possession that it should have power any longer to cast a shade over such manifest truth, or hinder so longed-for an ending of strife? May God inspire you so as to yield to this counsel, which is not so much mine, as the counsel of all who are jealous for you with a godly jealousy, reverend father, who art worthy to attain all honour. LETTER CCITO BALDWIN, ABBOT OF THE MONASTERY OF RIÉTIBernard begs him to apply himself strenuously to the duties of his charge. 1. The letter which you have sent me is full of your affection; it stirs mine. And I am grieved that I cannot reply as I feel. Nor will I waste time in making excuses, knowing that I speak to one who knows me. You are aware under what a load I groan, and my groaning is not hid from you. But do not judge my affection by the shortness of my letter, for no speech would be able to express it by its length. And the trouble of my many occupations, indeed, is able to bring it about that I write in few words, but not to diminish my love. It may exclude action, or impede it, but never affection. As a mother loves her son, so did I love you when you were with me, and delighted my heart. Let me love you when absent, lest I seem to have loved you for the pleasure I received from you, and not for yourself. You were very necessary to me; and from this it may most clearly be seen how sincere is my love. I mean that I should not be this day feeling your loss if in you I had sought merely my own good. But now you see that, disregarding my own advantage, I envied not your gain when I placed you in a position from whence at some time you may be placed over all the goods of your Lord. 2. But do you see that you are found a faithful and prudent servant. See that you give their heavenly bread to your fellow servant without grudging, and that you pray without ceasing; and do not make any empty excuse about your being new to the office, and inexperienced, for this, perhaps, you feel or put on. For a barren modesty is unpleasing, and humility beyond the bounds of truth is not praiseworthy. Attend then to your office. Drive away false shame by considering the dignity of your office. Act as a teacher. You are a novice, but you are a debtor; and recognize that you became a debtor from the time you bound yourself. Will inexperience be any excuse to the creditor for the loss of his gains? Does the usurer suffer the first part of the time to go unreckoned? But I am not, you will say, sufficient for these things. As though your devotion were not accepted from what you have, and not from what you have not! Prepare to give an answer about the one talent entrusted to you, and be easy about the rest. If you have received much, give much, but if little, then give that little. For he that is not faithful in the least will not be faithful in the greatest. Give all, because all will be asked for again from you, even to the last farthing, but only what you have, not what you have not. 3. Remember also to give to your voice the utterance of power. What is that, do you say? That your works harmonize with your words; nay, rather your words with your works; that is to say, that you take care to do first, and then to teach. It is a most beautiful and most wholesome order of things that you should first bear yourself what you impose as a burden on another, and so learn from yourself how you ought to rule others. Otherwise the Wise Man will address you as the sluggard, to whom it is a labour to lift up his hand to his mouth (Prov. 26:15). The Apostle, too, will reprove you: Thou that teachest others, dost thou not teach thyself? (Rom. 2:21). Moreover, you will be stamped with the fault of the Pharisees, who bind heavy burdens, and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men’s shoulders, but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers (S. Matt. 23:4). The example set by actual work is indeed a speech that is living and efficacious, easily making that which is said persuasive, by showing that which is ordered can be done. On these two kinds of commands, viz., of word and example, understand that there hang the whole of your duty, and the safety of your conscience. Yet if you are wise you will add a third, viz., devotion to prayer, as a kind of complement of that threefold repetition in the Gospel concerning feeding the sheep (S. John 21:15–17). In this way you will find that the Sacrament of this Trinity is in nothing made void by you if you feed by word, by example, and by the fruit of holy prayers. And now abideth these three—word, example, prayer; but the greatest of these is prayer. For although, as I said, work is the life of the word spoken, yet prayer gives both to work and word grace and efficacy. Alas! I am called away; I must go; I cannot write more. Let me, however, briefly implore you to take care to free me as soon as you can from one heavy care, and forget not to say more plainly what you mean when you complain, among other things, that you have received a wound from one from whom you did not expect it. For that gives me much anxiety. LETTER CCII. (A.D. 1144.)TO THE CLERGY OF THE ARCHDIOCESE OF SENSHe warns them that the election of a new Prelate should not be entered upon rashly or precipitately. Now that you have been deprived of your blessed pastor it is your duty, dearly beloved, to take great care in the selection of a successor to him. It must not be taken in hand hastily, confusedly, or inconsiderately, lest perchance what is done presumptuously against reason and due order be annulled, and so you begin to enter on the same weary round as some of your neighbours have done. Take an example, if you please, from the neighbouring churches, and let their troubles be a warning to you in the present case. It is a great matter that you are engaged on, this of supplying a pastor to the renowned Church of Sens. It is truly a great matter, and not one to be lightly undertaken. Wait for the advice of the suffragan bishops, wait for the assenting voice of all the faithful in the diocese, and transact in common this matter which is of importance to all in common. Otherwise, dearly beloved, believe me, we shall to our grief behold your Church under tribulation. To our grief we shall have to look upon your confusion. Both of which will readily take place if such action take place as will have to be recalled. Therefore, let a fast be proclaimed, let the Bishops be assembled, let the Religious be invited to be present, so that the election of so exalted a priest may be duly celebrated, and may not be deprived of its proper solemnity, which God forbid. We believe that so the Holy Spirit will assist your prayers; that honour will be added to you if you honour your ministry, provided you diligently seek, with prayer and common counsel, alike what is most for the glory of God, and the good of the people. LETTER CCIII. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE BISHOP AND CLERGY OF TROYESBernard presses them to forbid marriage and a military career to a clerk named Anselle. We read: If any of you do err from the truth, and one convert him, let him know that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his ways shall save a soul from death and shall hide a multitude of sins (S. James 5:19, 20). Our friend Anselle is erring, is erring. Who doubts it? If we dismiss him thus, he will not err alone. How many will the illustrious youth not draw after him by his example? And we judge to be involved in the same error not only those who follow him, but also all who may be able to call him back and do not. I am clean from his blood. I have both told him before by letter, and I now tell you that he is presumptuously undertaking what is forbidden. It is not the part of a clerk to fight in worldly warfare, nor of a subdeacon to marry. Tell the sinner his duty, lest he die in his sins, and He who redeemed him with His own precious blood require his blood at your hands. Lo He cries from Heaven: The Virgin of Israel is fallen; there is none to raise her up (Amos 5:2). How long is gold to lie in the mire? Remove this pearl, remove, take up this most splendid and precious jewel from the dunghill. Take it up before it be trodden under foot by swine, that is by unclean spirits, and be no more a vessel for honour but for dishonour. LETTER CCIV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE ABBOT OF S. AUBINBernard declares his affection for him and his wish to see him. Though you are unknown to me by face, yet you are not by renown; and it is very precious to me to know you thus. For such an image of you has stolen into my heart through this report, that though I am occupied with many things, yet, my dear brother, that pleasing thought of you often calls me from them all, so that I dwell on it willingly and with pleasure. But the more I cherish the thought of you, the more eagerly do I long to see you. But when will that be? or will it ever be? Certainly if not before, at all events we shall meet in the city of our God, if here we have no abiding city, but seek one above. There, there shall I see you, and my heart shall rejoice. In the meanwhile I shall be delighted and pleased none the less with what I hear from you, hoping and expecting to see you face to face in the day of the Lord, that my joy may be full. Add, I pray you, to those good things which are always coming to me from you and about you, my dear and longed-for brother, your own prayers and those of your brethren for me. LETTER CCV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE BISHOP OF ROCHESTERBernard complains of the severity of his letter, which he has done nothing to deserve. You write severely to one who does not deserve it. What have I done wrong? If I advised Master Robert Pullen to spend some time at Paris, because of the sound learning which is known to be gained there, it was because I thought it necessary for him, and I still think so. If I asked your Highness to permit it, I would again make the same request, if I were not aware that you had rejected my former petition. If I said that the man is supported by the kindness of his friends, whose influence at the Curia is by no means small, I said it because I had fears for you, and I still have. For in that after appeal was made, you, as I hear, stretched out your hand to the property of the appellant; I neither praised you in this, nor do I now. But certainly I never advised him, nor do I now, to go against your wish in any way. For the rest I am your servant, ready always to hold and honour your crown in due and worthy veneration. I venture again on the strength of this consciousness to pray and advise you that Master Robert with your full goodwill may be allowed to spend some time at Paris. May the Lord repay you in eternal life the good you have done to my offspring, I mean my sons whom I have sent into Ireland. LETTER CCVITO THE QUEEN OF JERUSALEMBernard recommends to her one of his relatives; and exhorts the Queen so to live that she may reign for ever. Men tell me that I have some influence with you, and many who are about to set out for Jerusalem ask for a recommendation from me to your Excellency. Amongst whom is this young relation of mine, a youth, they say, bold in arms, and of polished manners. And I rejoice that at his age he has chosen to fight for God rather than for the world. And so do according to your custom, and let it be well with him for my sake, as it has always been with all my other relations who have been able by my means to make themselves known to you. As to the rest, see that the pleasure of the flesh and worldly glory do not block up your road to the heavenly kingdom. For what advantage is it to reign for a few days over the earth and to lose the eternal kingdom in the Heavens? But I trust in the Lord that you will do better; and if the testimony is true which my dear uncle Andrew bears concerning you, and I place great reliance on him, you will, by the mercy of God, reign both here and in eternity. Bestow care on pilgrims, the needy, and prisoners, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased. Write to me more often for it will not hurt you, and will help me if I know more fully and more certainly of your state and of your good dispositions. LETTER CCVII. (A.D. 1139.)TO ROGER, KING OF SICILYBernard begs him to be kind and liberal towards poor Religious. Far and wide the renown of your magnificence has spread over the earth. For what lands are there to which the glory of your name has not reached? But listen to the advice of me who loves you. Endeavour as much as in you lies to refer this same glory to Him from whom it comes, if you do not wish to destroy it, or to be destroyed by it. This certainly will happen if you open the eye of discretion upon those whom the well-known report of your magnificence calls to you from afar, and if you stretch out your hand not so much to the greedy as to the poor. Truly, Blessed is he that considereth not the greedy, but the poor and needy (Ps. 41:1). The poor, I repeat, who asks unwillingly, receives modestly, and when he receives glorifies his Father which is in Heaven. Since, then, His own glory will be so faithfully given to God from the mouth of the needy because of your gift, that fount of glory must flow for you with more fruitful stream, for He loves those who love Him, and glorifies those who glorify Him; just as he who sows blessings shall reap blessings (2 Cor. 9:6). For this reason I beseech you cast your eyes on the bearer of this letter, for most certainly it is not greed that has drawn him to your presence, but necessity that has forced him to come. Necessity, I say, not his own, but of his brethren, viz., the many faithful servants of God by whom he has been sent. Hear patiently what they have to be patient under; hear and suffer with them; for if you suffer with them you shall reign with them. To reign with such is not to be scorned, even by a king. For the kingdom of heaven is theirs who have despised the life of the world. Make to yourself friends of the mammon of unrighteousness, that when you fail out of your earthly kingdom they may receive you into their heavenly kingdom (S. Luke 16:9). LETTER CCVIII. (A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAMEThe King had desired to see him; he sends some of his brethren in his place. If you ask for me, here am I, and my children which God has given to me. For my humility is said to have found favour with the King’s majesty, so that he seeks to see me. And who am I that I should go against the good pleasure of the King? I hasten and say to him who sought me: Lo! here I am, not in the weak bodily presence which Herod mocked in the Lord (S. Luke 23:11), but in my children. For who shall separate me from them? I will follow them wherever they go; even if they dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, they shall not be without me. You have, O King, the light of my eyes, you have my heart and my soul. What if my meanest part is absent? I mean my worthless body, that vile possession, which necessity retains, though the will would gladly give it up. It is not able to follow the will, since it is weak, and almost the only thing awaiting it is the tomb. But why need this be a care? My soul shall dwell among the good, when my seed shall inherit the earth. My seed, my good seed shall spring up, that is if it falls into good soil. My soul shall rejoice and delight herself in fatness, because, I trust, there shall be given to her of the fruit of her hands. This hope of mine is laid up in my heart, so that I can patiently bear to be separated from them in body. Do not wonder, O King. I would rather have been absent from the body, than to send them away, if the cause had not been God’s alone. Receive them as strangers and pilgrims, as fellow citizens with the saints and of the household of God; nay, not citizens, they are kings. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven by the right and merit of poverty. It is not fitting that they should have been summoned from afar to no purpose, and wander as exiles from their home in a useless pilgrimage. Do you suppose they will be able to sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? But perhaps I am wrong in calling it a strange land, for it has opened its heart of its own accord to receive the good seed, and has taken in the precious deposit to be piously fostered in its kindly bosom. It has fallen, I see, the good seed has fallen into a good, nay, an excellent, soil; I hope in the Lord that it will take root, spring up, multiply, and bring forth fruit with patience (S. Luke 8:15). Then will I share this with the King, and each one shall receive according to his labour (1 Cor. 3:8). LETTER CCIXTO THE SAMEBernard praises the King’s munificence in receiving and maintaining the Religious sent to him. You have what you asked for, you have done what you promised. Those whom, according to your word, we selected and sent abroad to you have been received with princely generosity. You have met them with bread, you have brought them into a pleasant place, you have placed them on a lofty spot, that they may eat the fruits of the fields, suck honey out of the rock, and oil from the hard stone; may have butter and milk from the herd, and from the sheep, and honey with the flour of wheat, and may drink the choicest blood of the grape. These, indeed, are earthly blessings, but they purchase heavenly. Such is the way to heaven; with such sacrifices God is well pleased. For the kingdom of heaven is theirs who in the land of the living will have power to render to the earthly king for these earthly benefits life and everlasting glory, I have sent you Master Bruno, formerly for a long time the companion of my solitude, but now the father of many souls who rejoice in Christ indeed, but are poor in this world’s goods. Let him, too, experience the generous hand of the King that the number of those may be increased who may receive him into everlasting habitations. What you do for him, you do for me; for what he lacks has to be supplied by me. But, as my purse is not very full, I have directed Christ’s poor monk to look to yours, which, as everyone knows, is somewhat more full than mine. LETTER CCX. (Circa A.D. 1139.)TO POPE INNOCENTHe recommends to the Pontiff the Archbishop of Rheims. I recommend the Lord Bishop of Rheims to your Holiness, not merely as one of many, but as one above the rest. And I do so the more confidently as I am confident of his faithful devotion to you, his sincere love, his submissive and obedient disposition. Let him be honoured, since he is a vessel made to honour. Let him be made to feel, as much as in you lies, that he does not honour his ministry in vain, that it is not in vain that he excels in those virtues by which God is honoured and the Church adorned, which, in short, become the priest of the Lord. LETTER CCXI. (Circa A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAMEHe recommends the cause of the Archbishop of Canterbury and of the Bishop of London. My Lord of Canterbury, a good man, and one who has the testimony of good men, is unjustly dragged into a dispute, and violently held back from acting. He was preparing to start (for in your presence the dispute was to be settled), when he was stopped by a hurricane and tempest of wars. Please excuse him, for the necessity of excusing himself is a trouble to him, not only because he is sure of getting justice at your hands, but also because he greatly desired to see your face. Your son adds also this, that if the venerable priest should make any other request of you, please grant it the more quickly, as he who makes it is the more worthy. As I have begun, I venture to say one thing more to my lord. Your old friend, faithful servant, and devoted son, Robert, Bishop of London, appeals to you, because he who preceded him in the See to which God has called him has appropriated the goods and lands of his Church, and refuses to make restitution. And how injurious this is, and how it is to be corrected it ill would become my humility to dictate to so great wisdom. LETTER CCXII. (A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAMEHe pleads pathetically with the Pontiff the cause of the Bishop of Salamanca, praising his remarkable humility. That illustrious man who was formerly Bishop of Salamanca, when returning from Rome, did not think it too much trouble to turn aside to your son, nor thought it beneath him to ask help from one so feeble as I am. And when I had heard him I called to mind the words of the prophet: Every mountain and hill shall be made low before God, and the crooked places shall be made straight, and the rough places plain (Is. 40:4). Even so you know how to make sport of and repress the lofty, to abase the proud, and to reduce to their measure those who go beyond their rule. But when the man had told me in detail the history of his troubles, I commended the judge, I approved the verdict, but, I confess to you, I also felt compassion for the man, though condemned. And so, as it was, indeed, through the whole of that tearful account, he finished as one who would say with the prophet: Having been exalted, I was humbled and put to confusion (Ps. 87:16, VULG.); and, Thou hast raised me up only to cast me down (Ps. 102:10). And when I thought of your justice, and the nobility of mind which I know you to have, I began to think at the same time of the riches of your mercy, which in many cases I have made trial of, and I said, Who knows whether the Lord will turn and pardon, and leave a blessing behind Him? Certainly, I repeat, he has been taught, in all things, and in all ways, both to be jealous, and to pardon, both to tame the haughty, and by no means to spare the conquered; except that, following his Master, he is also accustomed to let mercy triumph over justice. And I, who am dust and ashes, consented to write with that wonted presumption of mine to my lord. And I found ground for hope, confidence for my request, reason for my doing him this kindness, in the fact that the man is not, as is usual, departing in indignation, filled with anger, and going back to his native land to cause scandals, to excite seditions; but he has given place to wrath, and has put on the spirit of meekness; he has turned aside to your monks of Cluny, and prostrated himself before the knees of the humble, and has joined them in their prayers as arms that are powerful from God. He has resolved to contend with you with these weapons, and he will endeavour to undermine with these engines of devotion, as he boasts, the wall of your severity which now stands in his way. He trusts also that you will regard the prayer of the humble, and not despise their petition, and that piety will overcome him before whom the powers of the world tremble. I, too, with confidence stretch out my hands with them, bend my knees, supplicate for the suppliant, boldly declare that his humility ought to help the unhappy man, since his pride has so injured him, and say that it is unbecoming for virtue to be surpassed by vice in receiving recompense. LETTER CCXIII. (A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAMEHe expostulates that the reconciliation of Peter of Pisa, made by him with the Pope’s own authority, has been held invalid. Who will do me justice against you? If I had a judge before whom I could take you I would quickly show you what you deserve—I speak as one in travail. There is, indeed, the tribunal of Christ; but far be it from me to summon you there, for if it were necessary for you and possible to me, I would far rather stand there and answer for you with all my strength. And so I appeal to him to whom, for the present, power has been given to judge all things, i.e., to you yourself. I summon you before yourself, to judge between us. In what, I ask, has your son deserved so ill from his father, that it has seemed good to you to brand and stamp him with the mark and the name of traitor? Did you not think it good to constitute me your Vicar in the matter of reconciling Peter of Pisa, if perchance God should vouchsafe to recall him by my means from the mire of schism? If you deny it I will prove it by the many witnesses that were in your Curia at the time. Was he not after this, according to the instructions of my lord, restored to his rank and honour? Who is it, then, who by his advice, or rather his craft, has stealthily undone what your indulgence granted, and made void the words which proceeded out of your lips? And I say this, not to blame your apostolic severity, and your zeal kindled from the fire of God against schismatics, which with a mighty wind breaks the ships of Tarshish, and like Phinehas slays the fornicators, according to the verse, Do not I hate them, O Lord, which hate Thee, and am not I grieved with them that rise up against Thee (Ps. 139:21)? But where the guilt is not equal, the punishment clearly should not be equal; nor ought he who has forsaken his sin to be under the same sentence as he whose sin has forsaken him. For the sake of Him who to spare sinners spared not Himself, take away my reproach; and, by re-establishing what you first established, consult the credit of your first sound and perfect opinion. I wrote to you before on this matter; but as I have received no reply, I presume that the letter did not reach you. LETTER CCXIV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE SAMEHe recommends Nicholas, Bishop of Cambray, and Abbot Gottschalk. If any regard for me, any recollection, however slight, of me, still remains in the heart of my lord, and if his child finds any small portion of the grace he once found in his sight, let him now experience it on behalf of that illustrious and humble man, Nicholas, Bishop of Cambray. I confess that I am under obligation to him, and that I am in debt for all that I can do, not only because he honours me and mine, whenever he can, but also for his uprightness, meekness, and justice, virtues which can recommend him also to you. And, if I mistake not, those who trouble him are false men, and truth is not in their mouth. In short, you are sure to approve of him, and there is no need for me to multiply words about him. He has, too, with him a religious and holy man, Abbot Gottschalk,’ on behalf of whom, in like manner, I earnestly ask a hearing for his requests, if my intervention can lend any power to his merits. For I believe that he will make no petition which is unworthy of being granted. LETTER CCXV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE SAMEHe intercedes on behalf of the Bishop of Auxerre. I write to you very often, I, a worthless little worm; and I am impelled to this boldness by the entreaties of my friends. I confess I am bold, but not false. Let not my lord suspect that falsehood will be found in the words of his child in any letter he sends him. I wish to comply with the wishes of my friends, but not to my death. For I do not forget what I have read: A mouth that belieth slayeth the soul (Wisd. 1:11). I deny, then, falsehood, I confess importunity; this will find pardon, the rest I fear not. The Bishop of Auxerre is a special friend of mine. Who does not know him? He is able to communicate anxiety to his friend, but not falsehood. We bring before you a trustworthy defence of his dean, and we ask for absolution for him. I speak with my wonted presumption when I say that we are sons of the same father, viz., of yourself. I hope that my father will not reject his sons, but will do the will of them that fear him, and will hear their cry, and will make them joyful (Ps. 145:19). LETTER CCXVI. (A.D. 1142.)TO THE SAMEHe complains that Count Ralph, who had repudiated his wife and taken another, finds supporters in the Curia. It is written: Whom God hath joined together let not man put asunder (S. Matt. 19:6). Audacious men have arisen, and have not shrunk from disjoining those whom God has joined together. Nor is that all; they have gone farther, and joined together persons whom it is forbidden to unite, thus adding sin to sin. The sacred rites of the Church are violated, and alas! the robe of Christ is rent, and that, to crown the sorrow, by the hands of those who ought to have kept it whole. Thy friends and thy neighbours, O God, have come near and stood against Thee (Ps. 37:12, VULG.). For they who are transgressing Thy command are not foreigners, not strangers to Thy sanctuary, but they hold the place of those to whom was said: If ye love me keep My commandments (S. John 14:15). Count Ralph and his wife had been joined together by God through the ministers of the Church, and by the Church through God who had given such power unto men. Why did the Court disjoin those whom God had joined? And in so doing provision was made as was fitting for one thing only, viz., that the works of darkness should be done in darkness. For he who does wrong hates the light, and does not come into the light, that his works may be reproved by the light. What has Count Theobald deserved, what wrong has he done? If to love righteousness and hate iniquity be a sin, he cannot be excused. If it be a sin to render to the King the things which are the King’s, and to God the things which are God’s, he cannot be excused. If at your command he received the Archbishop of Bourges, this is his first and greatest sin. Lo! this is the crime which is laid at his door. They who render evil for good calumniate him because he follows the thing that good is. Many are calling to you from the depths of their hearts to visit with fitting punishment the wrong done to your son, and the oppression the Church is subjected to, and to restrain the workers of this wickedness with their leader, with whatever Apostolic force you wish and are able to put forth, that so their wickedness may descend upon their own head. LETTER CCXVII. (A.D. 1142.)TO THE SAMEHe complains that Count Theobald is suffering for the cause of justice, and for his fidelity to the Apostolic See. Tribulation and anguish have found us out. The earth trembles and quakes at the deaths of men, at the banishment of the poor, at the arrest and imprisonment of the rich. Even religion itself has come into shame and contempt. Only to make mention of peace is counted a disgrace amongst us. Nowhere are faith and innocence safe. Count Theobald, a lover of innocence, and a seeker after holiness, has been almost delivered over to the will of his enemies. He was struck at that he might fall, but the Lord sustained him; and it is a consolation to him that justice and obedience to you are at stake, because of the Apostle’s words: If ye suffer for righteousness sake, happy are ye (1 S. Peter 3:14). And again it is written in the Gospel: Blessed are they who endure persecution for righteousness (S. Matt. 5:10). Woe to us! we have been able to foresee, but not to take precautions against these evils. What more can I say? In order that the land might not be wholly laid desolate, and the whole kingdom, divided against itself, fall, that most devoted son of yours, and defender of the Church’s liberty, has been compelled to promise under an oath that he would do what he could to induce you to remove the sentence of excommunication pronounced against the land and person of the adulterous tyrant, who has been the head and originator of all these evils and sorrows, by your legate Ivo of good memory, as also against the adulteress herself, which the aforesaid prince did at the entreaty and advice of some faithful and wise men. For they said that without any injury to the Church it would be easy to obtain from you a renewal of the decree, and an irrevocable confirmation of the same sentence which had been justly pronounced; so would artifice be eluded by artifice and peace obtained; and he who boasts himself in wickedness and is powerful in iniquity would gain no advantage. I have many things to say to you, but there is no need to write about everything, when there is one present who knows all, and can acquaint you with them more plainly and completely by word of mouth. LETTER CCXVIII. (A.D. 1143.)HIS LAST LETTER TO INNOCENT II.; IN SELF DEFENCE Bernard having remarked that he had lost the favour of Pope Innocent, on account of the will of Cardinal Ivo, humbly justifies himself. To his lord and most reverend Father INNOCENT, BERNARD, a thing of nought, wishes health. 1. I used to think at one time that I was of some account, though of small; but now I feel I have simply been reduced to nothing while I knew it not. For I would never have said that I was nothing at all while the eyes of my lord were over his child, and his ears open to my prayers, whilst all that I wrote he received with open hands, read with smiling face, and while he answered most graciously and fully all my demands. But now I do not say that I am of small account, I am of none; because since yesterday and the day before his face has been turned away from me. Why is this? what wrong have I done? Much, I admit, if the money of Cardinal Ivo, of good memory, was distributed according to my will, and not according to his directions, for I am told that this has been brought before the notice of my lord. But I trust that by this time you know the truth of this matter, and the truth shall make me free. I am not so dull as not to know that whatever he left no directions about becomes the property of the Church. 2. But now hear the simple truth. If falsehood is found in my mouth, my own mouth shall condemn me. When the man put off his mortal frame I was absent, nay, at a long distance. But I heard from those who were present that he made his will, and had what he wanted written down; and of his property he divided what he would to whom he would, and whatever was over he entrusted to the two Abbots who were assisting him, and to me who was absent, with a view to its distribution; because the poorer places of the saints were known to us. Then the Abbots returned home, and not finding me (for I was kept at that time in accordance with your orders by the negotiations for peace), they nevertheless divided the money as seemed good to them, I not only not conniving, but not even knowing what they had done. Let now, if you please, your indignation give place to this manifest truth, and henceforward look upon me not frowningly or in displeasure; but let your wonted serenity return to your kind and gracious countenance, and let your face once more assume its brightness and joy. 3. As to your complaint that you have found much in my letters to displease you, I shall not have to fear it any longer, for it is a fault which I will soon cure. I know it, I know it, I have presumed more than I ought to have done; not thinking sufficiently who I was and to whom I was presuming to scribble; but you will not deny that your kindness had armed me with that boldness. And then the love of my friends urged me to it; for I wrote very little on my own account, if I recollect aright. But enough of this. I will for the future put a rein on my zeal, be more wise, and put my finger to my lips. For it will be more tolerable to offend some of my friends than to weary with many prayers the Lord’s anointed. And at this time too I have not ventured to write to you about the dangers overhanging the Church, and about the grievous schism which I fear, and the many evils we are suffering from. But I have written to the holy Bishops around your person; you can, if you wish it, hear from them what I have written. LETTER CCXIX. (A.D. 1143.)TO THREE BISHOPS OF THE CURIA; ALBERIC OF OSTIA, STEPHEN OF PRÆNESTE, IGMARUS OF TUSCULUM, AND TO THE CHANCELLOR GERARDRespecting the interdict laid on the realm of France on account of the Archbishop of Bourges. 1. How great an evil is schism in the Church, and how it is to be detested and in every way avoided, is plainly shown by the well known dreadful death of those men whom the earth swallowed up and sent down alive into hell because of this very pest. It has been shown too by the persecution of Guibert, and the rashness of Bourdin, whom our times have seen separating between the kingdom and the priesthood, and so inflicting on them both an almost incurable wound and a cruel chastisement. It has been shown too by the mad schism of Leo, which after grievous and manifold trouble and loss to the Church has lately by the mercy of God received its death blow. Well then does the Saviour say in the Gospel: Woe to that man by whom the offence cometh (S. Matt. 18:7). Woe to us who live bewailing what we have endured, grieving for what we feel, and fearing what we expect. And what is worse, human affairs are come to such an evil pass that the guilty are not willing to be humbled, nor the judges to show mercy. We say to the wicked: Deal not so wickedly; and to the sinners: Lift not up your horn (Ps. 75:5), and they will not listen to us, for it is a rebellious house (Ezek. 2:5). We beseech those whose office it is to rebuke the sin to save the sinner, not to break the bruised reed, and not quench the smoking flax, and they all the more break the ships of Tarshish with a violent wind. 2. When, with the Apostle, we bid sons obey their parents in all things, we may as well beat the air. When we tell parents not to provoke their children to anger, we only call down their anger on our own heads. Sinners no longer will consent to give satisfaction, nor those who bear the rule or the rod in any wise to condescend. All follow their own pride and passion; and, pulling a rope with all their might in different directions, they break it. Alas! the scar of the wound so recently given to the Church has hardly healed over, when they are again doing all they can to tear it open, to nail the Body of Christ to the cross, to pierce again His unoffending side, to divide His garments, and, though in vain, as far as in them lies, to rend asunder His robe which is woven without seam. If you have any feelings of piety, set yourselves against such evils, lest a schism take place on that soil where, as you well know, other schisms are wont to be healed. For if the author of a scandal is stricken specially by a tremendous curse from the mouth of his Judge, of what blessings may we suppose that they are worthy who conquer and put to flight this wickedness? 3. Of two wrongs I cannot acquit the King. For he both took an unlawful oath and perseveres in it contrary to justice. But he does so not so much from his own will as from a sense of honour ill-directed. For it is reckoned disgraceful, as you know, among the French, to break an oath, however much the oath may be against the public good, although no wise man doubts that unlawful oaths ought not to be kept. But not even so can I admit that he is to be excused. For I have not undertaken to excuse him, but to ask pardon. See whether passion, his age, or his high rank can in any degree be his excuse. It will avail him, no doubt, if you decide that mercy is to be exalted above judgment, viz., in so far as such excuse is to be taken into consideration in the case of a king, who is but a lad; so that for this time perhaps he may be spared, but on this understanding, that he does not count on similar leniency for the future. I mean that he may be dealt lightly with, if it can be done without endangering the liberty of the Church in any way; and if at the same time the honour that is due to an Archbishop consecrated by Apostolic hands is preserved. The King himself humbly asks this, this the whole Church on this side of the Alps suppliantly implores after her too long affliction. Otherwise we join hands with death, we pine and wither away for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the whole world. Indeed this has been my prayer since last year; and since my sins called for it, I received not a favourable answer but anger, and desolation over nearly the whole earth followed on the anger. If my zeal has caused anything to escape me which ought not to have been said, or ought to have been said otherwise than it was, let it be, I beg you, as if unsaid. But let not that be in vain which I have said as I ought, and when I ought. LETTER CCXXTO LOUIS, KING OF FRANCEHe repulses the unjust demand of the King on behalf of Count Ralph, and warns him not to oppress the innocent, and arouse against himself the anger of the King Supreme. 1. I ever readily strive and will strive to the utmost of my little power for the things which make for your honour and the good of your kingdom; and this you deign to admit, and your own conscience bears me witness. But with regard to your complaint to your humble servant about the anathema to be shortly renewed against Count Ralph, and your wish that I should in every possible way endeavour to prevent it, because of the many evils which you think will ensue, to be plain with you I do not see how I can do this, and go against the Apostolic decree. Even if I had the power I do not see how I could do so reasonably. I shall be sorry certainly if evils ensue, but still we ought not therefore to do evil that good may come. It is better and safer to leave all this to the will and providence of Almighty God, who is able to bring to pass and confirm the good that He wishes, and either to prevent the evils which evil men contrive, or else bring on themselves the evils which they desire and seek for. 2. But I am very distressed by one thing which is contained in your Majesty’s letter, viz., that this anathema must militate against the peace made between you and Count Theobald. Do you not know that it was a grievous offence that Count Theobald was obliged by the violence of your inroad to take an oath against God and against righteousness, not only because it sought, but also because it brought about the absolution of the aforesaid Count Ralph and his land, an absolution as little deserved as lawful. Do you wish again to add sin to sin, and to heap up the wrath of God against you?—which may He forbid. How has Count Theobald done wrong, that he deserves to incur your anger again, when with so much toil and trouble he obtained the absolution of Count Ralph, though an unjust one, as you know, and has neither striven, nor is now striving for the renewal of the excommunication, though it is returning most justly, inasmuch as from fear of you he has even protested against it. Do not, my lord King, do not, I pray you, dare to resist so plainly your King, nay, the Creator of all, in His kingdom and territory, and with frequent and rash audacity to lift your hand against that terrible Being who takes away the breath of princes, and is terrible among the kings of the earth. I speak sharply, because I fear sharp things for you; and I should not fear for you so much if my affection for you were not so great. LETTER CCXXI. (A.D. 1142.)TO THE SAMEHe gravely reproves King Louis, because he listens to bad advice and rejects counsels of peace. 1. God knows how great has been my affection for you from the time I first knew you, and how ardently I have wished for your honour; you too know with what toil and anxiety I throughout the past year strove together with your other faithful servants to obtain peace for you. But I am afraid that our labour in your cause has been fruitless. For you evidently are kicking with too much haste and fickleness against the good and wholesome advice you had received; and I hear that you are hurrying, under I know now what counsel of the devil, to those former evils, which you were but now bewailing, and properly bewailing, that you had been guilty of committing, and this while those wounds are still fresh. For from whom except from the devil can I say that this counsel proceeds which makes us add fires to fires and slaughter to slaughter? which causes the cry of the poor, the groanings of the captives, and the blood of the slain, to strike a second time the ears of the Father of the fatherless, and the Judge of widows? (Ps. 68:5.) Doubtless that old victimiser (hostis, enemy) of our race, is pleased with these victims (hostiis), for he is a murderer from the beginning (S. John 8:44). And do not take occasion from Count Theobald to pile up excuses for your sins; it is useless; for he says he is prepared, and in every way he begs, to come to the terms arranged between you when peace was made, and he is willing to make satisfaction in all points, according to the decision of all who love your name, i.e., those who acted as mediators between you; so that if he can be convicted of any wrong, and he is confident he cannot, he will not hesitate to make immediate amends to your honour. 2. But you neither entertain proposals for peace, nor keep to your agreements, nor listen to good advice; but by some judgment of God you so turn everything round that you consider disgrace honour and honour disgrace. You fear for what is safe, and neglect what should be feared, and you incur the rebuke which Joab is recorded to have given to the holy and glorious King David, Thou lovest thine enemies and hatest thy friends (2 Sam. 19:6). For it is not your honour but their own advantage which they seek, who are instigating you to renew your former evil-doing against an innocent person. Nay, it is not so much their own advantage as the will of the devil, in order that they may have (which God forbid) the power of the king as an effectual worker of their hot-headed purpose, which they know that they cannot accomplish by their own strength. They are enemies to your crown, and manifest disturbers of the kingdom. 3. But whatever it may please you to do in a matter which concerns your crown, your soul, and your kingdom, we sons of the Church cannot wholly keep silence about the injuries done to our mother, and the way in which she is despised and trodden under foot; for we perceive that these evils, besides those which we lament piteously have already fallen upon her, are again partly inflicted afresh and partly threatened. We will certainly make a stand, and fight even to death, if need be, for our mother with the weapons allowed us, not with shield and sword, but with prayers and lamentations to God. And I for my part recollect that, besides the daily prayers, which I call my Lord to witness, I humbly poured forth for your peace and salvation and for your kindgom, I also pleaded your cause by messengers and letters to the Apostolic See (I confess it), even to the damage of my own conscience, and (which I ought not to deny) to the anger of the supreme Pontiff himself against me. Now, I tell you, that provoked by your constant outrages, which you do not cease to renew daily, I begin to repent of my former folly, which made me more indulgent to your youth than I ought to have been. For the future, to the best of my little power, I will not hold back the truth. 4. I will not conceal the fact that you are doing all you can to again enter into alliance and fellowship with the excommunicated, that you are keeping company (so I am told) with robbers and freebooters for the murder of men, the burning of houses, the destruction of churches, and the dispersion of the poor, according to the saying of the Psalmist, When thou sawest a thief then thou consentedst unto him, and hast been partaker with adulterers (Ps. 50:18), as though you had not enough power of your own to work mischief. I will not hold back the fact that unlawful and accursed oath foolishly taken by you against the Church of Bourges (through which so many and so great misfortunes have already deservedly followed) is still, notwithstanding all this, uncorrected by you; that you do not allow a pastor to be set over the sheep of Christ at Chalons; and moreover that you have the audacity to throw open Episcopal houses for the use of your brother and his archers and cross-bowmen, against law and justice, and so expose the property of the Church to be squandered in nefarious uses of this kind. I tell you plainly that if you proceed in this way the wrong will not be unavenged, and, therefore, my lord king, I warn you as a friend and advise you as a faithful servant to desist quickly from this wickedness, so that if \[God\] is now preparing His hand to strike, you may, like the King of Nineveh, prevent Him with penitence and humility. I speak severely, because I fear severe things for you; but remember that the Wise Man says, Better are the wounds of a friend than the fraudulent kisses of an enemy (Prov. 27:6.) LETTER CCXXII. (A.D. 1142.)TO JOSCELYN, BISHOP OF SOISSONS, AND SUGER, ABBOT OF S. DENYSHe complains to them, as the King’s counsellors, of his unjust attacks upon Count Theobald. 1. I had written to the King, rebuking him for the wrongs done in his kingdom, which are said to be done by his consent, and I have thought it fit to bring his reply before you who are of his council. For I wonder if he believes what he says, and if he does not, I wonder how he expects to make me believe it, when, as you know, I am aware of everything which took place with a view to making peace. For he says, as you can see in his letters, when he was trying to prove that the agreement had not been well kept by the Count, “Our Bishops still remain suspended, our land is still under an interdict,” as though it belonged to Count Theobald to put an end to any ecclesiastical interdict whatever, or as if he ever promised that he would. He says, “Count Ralph was mocked and his excommunication renewed.” And what has this to do with Count Theobald? Did he not faithfully carry out and effectually perform whatever promise he made about this matter? Rather, was not the King caught in his own craftiness, and did he not fall into the pit which he made? Was this the sole reason why the King made void the agreement which he had made and which your lips pronounced? Was it right for this that the anger of the King should be kindled against God and against His Church, against himself and his kingdom? Because of this ought he to have so forgotten his honour as to send his brother to overcome his vassal, whom he had not even declared war against, much less warned privately or reasoned with, and that, too, through Chalons, and you know the agreement come to between the King and Count about this state especially. 2. But the King makes it a further complaint that the Count, contrary to the allegiance due to him, is endeavouring to ally himself by marriage with the Count of Flanders and Soissons. Well, a suspicion about his fidelity is not a certitude; moreover, you can see the morality of setting aside fixed agreements because of empty suspicions. Nor ought suspicion of such a man as the Count to be entertained at all. Are, then, those to whom the Count allies himself necessarily the King’s enemies, and not his vassals or his friends? Is not the Count of Flanders a relation of the King by blood, and, as he says himself, the staff of his kingdom? In what way, then, does his vassal and faithful servant act against the allegiance that he owes the King, if he allies himself by the marriage of those of his own house, to the King’s friends? If any one were to consider the matter with an unprejudiced eye, would he not rather see that it greatly adds to the peace, strength, and security of the kingdom? 3. But I do wonder how the King can dare to say that he had ascertained that I knew that Count Theobald had endeavoured to draw over Count Ralph to his side against the King. For he said more to my messenger than he wrote; that I had very often told Count Ralph that I would take on myself the greatest part of his sins if he would join himself to Count Theobald. If the man exists by whom I sent such messages, let him come forward and accuse me openly. If I wrote it in letters, let them be produced. Let the King see whom he has believed. I am certain that I have never known anything of what he alleges. I think the same, too, about Count Theobald, for he denies it in every way. May God look upon and judge the King for accusing Count Theobald on suspicion, when he himself, against his agreements, against the precepts of God, and the sentence of the Supreme Pontiff, is keeping Count Ralph close by him, and is communicating with one that is an adulterer and excommunicate. 4. The King also says: “I have almost had upon my hands two bitter assailants.” And the prophet answers in scorn: They feared where no fear was (Ps. 14:5). Lo! he says, I am assailed, I, who did not assail any one; I, who persecuted not, suffer persecution. Who, I ask, who is assailing him? Or who is persecuting him? Is not the Count entreating him, and that humbly? Is he not ready to honour the King, to serve and obey him as his liege-lord? Is he not earnestly praying for peace, and doing all he can to win the King’s good will? Suppose that it is not so, but that it is the Count rather who is doing all this wrong to the King; should he not have had recourse to that which you know was determined on? For they agreed between them that, if any controversy or difference should arise about any of the articles agreed upon they would neither do nor seek any injury to each other until the matter had been ventilated and discussed between us three and the Bishop of Auxerre, for we were then the mediators; and if any quarrel arose we ought to have been called on to settle it. And that the Count in every way asks for, but the King refuses. 5. In short, even if the Count has deserved punishment, why has the Church of God deserved it? I mean not only the Church of Bourges, but also that of Châlons, and even of Rheims, and of Paris. Suppose that the King has right on his side against the Count, by what right, I ask, by what right does he presume to lay waste the possessions and lands of the Church, to prevent pastors being set over the sheep of Christ, to forbid those elected to be promoted to their head? By what right does he bring about the postponement of an election (a thing hitherto unheard of) until he has swallowed up all the revenues, carried off the goods of the poor, and until the land is wholly made desolate? Do you advise him to this? It is wonderful, indeed, if it is done against your advice; still more wonderful and mischievous if it is by your advice. For to advise to this is manifestly to create a schism, to resist God, to make a tool of the Church, and to reduce to slavery our ecclesiastical liberty. If any one is a faithful servant of God and His Church, he will certainly stand up and oppose himself as a wall as far as he can in defence of the house of God. For how can you yourselves, if you desire the peace of the Church, as behoves children of peace, I do not say give such evil counsel, but even have any part in it? For whatever evil is done is rightly imputed, not to the King, but to his aged advisers. LETTER CCXXIII. (A.D. 1143.)TO THE BISHOP OF SOISSONSBernard excuses himself courteously to the Bishop, who had replied to his former letter in such a way that this was the salutation, “Health in the Lord and not the spirit of calumny.” 1. I do not think that I have in me anything of the spirit of calumny, but I know certainly that I have never wished nor wish now to curse anyone, especially a prince of my people. But whatever that may be by which your dignity thinks itself wronged, for it I ask pardon, for I know who said, Being defamed we entreat (1 Cor. 4:13). I say, then, with blessed Job, Would that I had not said what I have, and I will say no more (Job 40:5). When I lately wrote to my lord the Abbot of S. Denys about your common complaint I answered both of you, and I thought that I had done enough, and since I see that your anger is not yet appeased, which more justly, perhaps, would have been kindled against the oppressors of the Church, I also say to you that I never said, wrote, or believed that you were schismatics or promoters of scandal, and I say so with an easy mind, for I am not afraid that my letter will convict me of falsehood. Examine it, if you please, and if you find that I said so I will confess that I have been guilty of great profanity, and that what you say is true, that I wrote the letter impelled by a spirit of calumny. 2. But lest my humble explanation seem to exclude the spirit of liberty, let me say that I grieved, and I do still, to find that you do not yet avenge the wrongs of Christ or defend the liberty of the Church with the liberty that is fitting. That grief compelled me to write severe things, but they were not of the spirit that you complained of. I thought certainly, and I would still think if I were not afraid that this would offend you, that it is by no means enough for you not to be the authors of the schism. You should, with all your strength, freely restrain those who are the authors, whatever their rank may be, and condemn their counsel and society. I should think it an honour to you if you too could say, I have hated the congregation of the wicked, and will not sit among the ungodly (Ps. 26:5). Was it that prophet alone that zeal befitted, and is it not as much required now from a priest of the Lord to say with him, Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee? (Ps. 139:21). I much wish (and with no wish to anger your Serenity I will say it) that you had exercised this zeal against the young King, who, more like a cruel tyrant than a boy, has gone against your advice and his own promises, who, without cause, is disturbing his kingdom, stirring up all round him wars in heaven and earth, laying waste the churches, laying an impious hand on sacred things, exalting the wicked, persecuting the good, and destroying the innocent. I repeat that I wish you were sorry for these things, that you would withstand and resist them to the best of your power. But it is not my place to teach such an one as Magister Joscelyn, much less to rebuke a Bishop, who should rather punish me and other sinners and correct those who err. You see how much I fear you. Since you thought ill of my last letter being open I send you this one sealed, for certainly I meant nothing else by it than to follow the usual practice of not sealing with wax a letter sent to different people. I now ask your pardon for so doing also. LETTER CCXXIV. (A.D. 1143.)TO STEPHEN, BISHOP OF PRAENESTEBernard details the ill-doings of King Louis, and his injuries to the Church. 1. Jeremiah when addressing God for his enemies speaks in this way: Remember that I stood before Thee to speak good for them, and to turn away Thy wrath from them; and he goes on to say, therefore deliver up their children to the famine, and give them into the power of the sword (Jer. 18:20, 21). And he calls down on them other imprecations of this sort, and quite as grievous. I thought that I might now remind your Reverence of this passage, because I find that I am in a condition like that of the Prophet. For you know how I too stood up for the King in the sight of my Lord, being, indeed, absent in body, but present in spirit, that I might speak good for him. He, indeed, promised well. But now that he returns evil for good I am compelled to write differently. I am ashamed of my mistake, and of the groundless hope which I entertained of him; and I am thankful that the prayer which I put up in my simplicity was not answered. I thought that I was serving a peaceful king, and I find that I was helping a bitter enemy to the Church. Our holy things are trodden under his feet, and the Church is shamefully enslaved. For not only is it forbidden to hold elections of Bishops, but if the clergy anywhere have ventured to do so, the prelate of their choice is not allowed to exercise his episcopal functions. In short, the Church of Paris is sitting in sadness, deprived of her own pastor, and no one dares so much as to whisper about finding another. 2. It is not enough for him that the episcopal residences are spoiled of the goods now in them; his sacrilegious hand is raging against men and lands everywhere, for he claims from each for himself the revenues of the whole year as well. The Church of Châlons has, indeed, held an election, but he who was elected has been now for a long time deprived of his honour, and you know that this cannot take place without grievous loss to the Lord’s flock. The King has charged his brother Robert to administer the Bishopric, and he, exercising his power over all the lands and goods of the Church, and being not slothful in the execution of his office, is offering daily sacrifices to heaven, not, indeed, sacrifices of peace, but the cries of the poor, the tears of widows, the wailing of orphans, the groans of captives, and the blood of the slain. But that episcopate is too narrow for his wickedness, so he is now attacking Rheims, and carrying on his ill-deeds in the land of the saints, sparing neither clerks, nor monks nor nuns. In short, he has laid waste with the edge of the sword the fruitful fields and populous villages of S. Mary, S. Remigius, S. Nicasius, S. Thierry in such a way that he has reduced them all to almost a wilderness. The cry is frequently heard by all, Let us take to ourselves the houses of God in possession (Ps. 88:12). So does the King improve upon the wrong he has done to the Church of Bourges under an oath like Herod’s. 3. Moreover, when, after we had expended no little labour on the matter, he had made peace with Count Theobald, and as we thought, had entered on a treaty of firm friendship: but now he seeks occasion to withdraw from his friend. This is brought as a heinous charge against the Count, that he is making matrimonial alliances for his children with the King’s barons. A loosening of friendship is suspected by the King in this, and he does not think himself a king if his chieftains love each other. Your wisdom may conjecture what kind of disposition he bears towards his subjects when he thinks himself the stronger, if there is hatred and discord between them. You may see and determine whether this man is of God, who trusts more in the mutual rivalry of his barons than their mutual love, when God is love (1 S. John 4:8). He would hold this if he had the wisdom of him who said, Love is strong as death, Jealousy is cruel as the grave (Cant. 8:6). Besides, he openly breaks his conventions and terms of peace agreed on, and does not hold himself to the promises which his own lips have uttered. Lastly, he has recalled to his palace and to his Council an adulterous and excommunicate man \[Ralph\] whom he had agreed to banish, and in order to work greater wickedness, the King, and official guardian of the Church, is a second time leagued with many other like worthless characters, excommunicated and perjured men, incendiaries, murderers, and this against one of whose love for the Church and willingness to defend her there is no doubt, according to the saying of the Prophet, When thou sawest a thief thou consentedst unto him, and hast been partaker with the adulterers (Ps. 50:18). 4. In addition to all this, he compels bishops, after his custom, to curse those who should be blessed, and to bless those who should be cursed. And since he sets no bounds to what it may please him to do, he compasses sea and land to find perjurers by whose means those whom God has joined together may be by man put asunder. With what face, I ask, can he endeavour so hard to lay down laws to others about consanguinity when, as is well known, he is living with his cousins within the third degree? I do not know (for I have never to my knowledge praised, nor do I now, any forbidden marriages) whether there is any consanguinity between the son of Count Theobald and the daughter of the Count of Flanders, and also between the Count of Soissons and the daughter of Count Theobald: but you know, and my lord knows, that their nuptials are forbidden. If it is lawful for them to be united, then their being forbidden is the disarming of the Church, and the withdrawal of strength from her. Nor do I suppose that the object of those who oppose him is anything else but to prevent those who venture to withstand the schism which is threatened, from finding refuge in the territories of the aforenamed princes. So far my zeal carries me. For I have no power to redress the faults which I have been able to point out. I have, however, been able to warn him who can. The zeal of my lord will do this. I thought it necessary that he should be informed of the great suffering and danger of the Church, and no one can do it so well as you, who share his counsels and spirit. And I pray you have me excused with him for writing with altered pen now that the King has altered, for you know that the Prophet of God said to God, With the innocent thou shall be innocent, and with the perverse man Thou shalt show Thyself perverse (Ps. 18:26). LETTER CCXXV. (A.D. 1143.)TO THE BISHOP OF SOISSONSBernard urges him to promote peace. We have worked hard, but it is a question whether we have made much progress. We have sown much, but reaped little. We want, I must tell you, your help and presence. You will hear from our common friend, the Abbot of S. Denys, why we did not seek your help before in our great strait. But now I appeal to your holy watchfulness to dissemble no more, but to labour for the things which make for peace according to the wisdom given you by God. For you ought not to need entreaty to take such action, since it is evident that by it your ministry is not only greatly honoured, but also that if you neglect it, it is greatly disgraced. I hope to see you at the festival announced to be held at S. Denys. LETTER CCXXVI. (A.D. 1143.)TO LOUIS, KING OF THE FRENCHBernard and Hugo complain of the King’s persistence in ill-doing. To Louis, by the grace of God illustrious King of the French, and Duke of Aquitaine, HUGH, Bishop of Auxerre, his humble servant, and BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wish health, and desire that he should love righteousness, and judge his land in wisdom. 1. It is a long time since we left our homes and set aside our private interests in order to labour, as God is our witness, for your peace, and the peace of your realm. We lament that so far we have reaped no fruit, or very little, in return for all our labour. Still the poor are crying after us, still the land is daily going to ruin. Do you ask what land? Yours, none other. For it is within your realm, and against your realm that all these evils are being perpetrated. For whether it be your friends or your enemies who are being impoverished, taken prisoners, and crushed by that war, they are from nowhere else than your kingdom. In it the saying of the Saviour seems to be daily coming true, that every kingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desolation (S. Luke 11:17). To this there is added the fact that these dividers and desolators themselves have made you the head and leader of this wickedness, when they ought to have feared you especially as their opponent, and felt you most of all as their punisher. Still, we hoped that you, touched and illuminated by God, had perceived their great wickedness, had recognized your error, and were desirous under wiser counsels to withdraw your foot from this snare. 2. But the conference lately held between us at Corbeil, has dispelled any such hope. For you know how, and how unreasonably (by your leave be it said) you then left us. Whence it happened that your displeasure with us did not allow us to give you any clear explanation of that passage in our discourse which displeased you. But if you had deigned to await it with undisturbed mind you might, perhaps, have learnt that nothing was said by us that was an insult to your majesty, or unendurable in the present position of your affairs. But, as it is, since you have been provoked without any cause, you have disturbed and confused us, and you also keep us, being men who desire and seek your good, in doubt and anxiety as to what we are to do. What has disturbed you is nothing but the fraud of the wicked, and the idle talk of men who know little, who call evil good and good evil. But though we have been troubled, yet we do not altogether despair of the help of the Spirit, who, we see, has wholesomely smitten your mind for your past evil deeds, and we still stand and wait till your better nature return, and you effectually accomplish what you have wisely begun. For this reason we have sent to you our dear brother Andrew of Baudiment, who will tell you of these things more fully, and will faithfully bring back word to us of whatever reply you may have been pleased to give. But if (which God forbid) you persist in withstanding good advice, we are clean from your blood; God will not any longer suffer His Church to be trodden down either by you or yours. LETTER CCXXVII. (A.D. 1143.)TO THE BISHOP OF SOISSONSBernard earnestly implores the help of the Bishop. I have always stood in need of my friends’ good offices, for I am a man greatly to be pitied in mind and body; but now especially is the need and time for pity when my conscience is troubling me, when the hand of the Lord is heavy upon me, when I have sold myself into a hard prison, and am a severe judge against myself. If you are still my father (for I confess you have been hitherto) let your son feel it, that son whose filial affection has not grown cool to this day. I know, I know how difficult it is to wrest his club from the hand of Hercules, and I am on that account the more urgent, because I seek a difficult thing. But the more difficult it is the more earnestly do I entreat the bestowal of it. If I obtain it I shall confess myself a debtor for a great, a very great kindness. And I am not ignorant that it is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35); but I yield to necessity, I go to meet dangers, I take counsel in my difficulties, and for the time being I either put aside or forget my selfishness. And so yielding to you, as is fitting, the more honourable place I take for myself the more modest; I show my modesty not only in being indecorously ready to receive, but also more importunate in asking. I ask, then, suppliantly, instantly, opportunely, importunately. For I do not ask anything which it does not become you to grant, or which will bring me shame afterwards for having accepted, even if it does not become me now to seek it in this way. For if you set free the poor man from the hand of the powerful in this you will benefit me very much, but most of all yourself. I have made known my wish, you know the affair, the afflicted now await the result to them. LETTER CCXXVIII. (A.D. 1143.)TO PETER, ABBOT OF CLUNYBernard complains that he did not reply to him. To the Reverend father and lord PETER, by the grace of God Abbot of the Cluniacs, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends his humble greetings. 1. I should wish to think that you are pleased to joke in your letter; if such is the fact, and if I ought not to see anything unkind in what you say, then I allow that you are treating me well and like a friend. Do not wonder at this. For your sudden and unexpected condescension makes me doubtful about this. For it is not long ago, when writing to you, I saluted your Greatness with due reverence, and you answered me not a word. Not long before that I again wrote to you from Rome, and not even then did I get a single word in reply. Do you now wonder that when you lately returned from Spain I did not presume again to trouble you with my chatter? For if it is a fault not to have written for some cause or other, to have had no mind to write, nay, more, to have despised writing, you will surely not be altogether without blame. You see what I might urge with justice (since you require it of me); but I prefer to go and meet goodwill when returning than to delay its return while I try needlessly to excuse myself or to accuse another. I have merely said this so that I might not keep anything in my mind without giving it utterance, for this true friendship forbids. For the future, let all suspicion be now removed, for charity believeth all things (1 Cor. 13:7). I rejoice that you have been stirred to a recollection of our former friendship, and to recall the friend that you had wronged. Now that I am recalled I gladly return. I am happy to be recalled. Henceforward I remember no wrongs. Here am I, now as then, the devoted servant of your Holiness. I give thanks that the lines are fallen to me in a pleasant place, inasmuch as I am again admitted to your intimacy, as you kindly write that I am. If by any chance I had grown lukewarm, as you complain, no doubt I should quickly become hot again when nourished by the warmth of your charity. 2. And now I must say that what you have been pleased to write I have received with outstretched hands. I have read it eagerly; I read it again with pleasure, and the oftener I read it the more pleasure it gives me. I must say that I like your pleasantry. For it is at once agreeable from its gaiety, and serious from its gravity. I do not know how it is that you manage to mingle grave and gay in such a way that your pleasantry does not savour of lightness, and, while you preserve your dignity, the pleasantness of your mirth is not lessened. Further, you so preserve your dignity that the saying of holy Job can be applied to you: If I laughed on them they believed it not (Job 29:24). Well, you see that I have replied, and I think that now I may rightly demand more than you promised. It is right that you should know how things are here. I have determined not to leave the monastery again except for the annual meeting of Abbots at Cîteaux. Here, supported by your prayers and good offices, I will wait for the few remaining days of my warfare, till my change comes. May God be gracious to me, and not withdraw from me your prayers or His mercy. I am broken in strength, and I have a valid excuse for not travelling about as I used to do. I will sit still and be silent, to see if perchance I may experience what from the fulness of his sweetness the holy Prophet says, It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord (Lam. 3:26). And, that you may not seem the only one to joke, I suppose that you will not again venture to chide me for my silence, and, after your manner, to call that sloth, which I think the Prophet Isaiah more fittingly and more properly calls the cultivation of righteousness (Isaiah 32:17), about which you read in his Prophecy, where he says from the Lord: In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength (Isaiah 30:15). Commend me to the prayers of your sacred Convent of Cluny; salute it first from me, the servant of all, if you think fit. LETTER CCXXIX. (A.D. 1143.)PETER THE VENERABLE, TO ABBOT BERNARD He courteously answers Bernard’s letter, and at the same time explains the causes of the strife between the Cluniacs and Cistercians. To him who is to be honoured with special veneration, to be embraced closely with the arms of entire affection, the inseparable guest of my heart, my Lord BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, his brother PETER, humble Abbot of the Cluniacs, wishes the eternal salvation which he longs for. 1. Since I am found to be long in replying to the sweet and pleasant letter of my friend, to which I ought to have sent an answer directly with equal good will, your Holiness will perhaps wonder why I have not done so, and will, I am afraid, put it down to indolence or contempt. But do not think that it is either, for both are absent; for I have hardly ever been so glad to receive anything in the way of a letter, or so careful in reading it. The cause of my long silence was partly the bearer of it, who, when he came to Cluny, and did not find me there, though I was not very far away, being at Marigny, neither brought it nor sent it on to me but left it at Cluny. But I do not wish to accuse the good man; I believe that he was hindered from going to me by some business which he had to do, or by the severity of the winter, which was then upon us. I, too, was kept in that place for a month, partly by the snow, partly by business, and returned home with difficulty at the beginning of Lent. Then at length I received your letter from the Sub-Prior, to whom it had been given. My heart was drawn to you immediately; and though my affection for you was great before, it was kindled into a flame by the loving breath that came through your letter, and no room was then left for coldness or lukewarmness. I was drawn, I say, and so drawn to you, that I did what I cannot recollect that I have before done, except to the Sacred Books, I kissed affectionately your letter as soon as I had read it. And then I read again to some of the brethren what I had before read to myself, and I exhorted them with all my heart to greater love for you. I would stir up those whom I can influence, and I wish I could influence all to imitate your charity; I always endeavour to do this. Then I laid it by, and placed it among the gold and silver which, after the custom handed down to me by my fathers, I am in the habit of carrying with me to distribute in alms. Nor was it unfitting. For your favour to me, your charity is precious to me above all gold and silver. 2. I wished to write to you on the next day all that was in my mind; but I was prevented by business which made other claims on me daily, nay, continuously, and I kept silence. My hard taskmaster, whom I had no power to resist, imposed silence on me, and the care of an infinite number of matters forced me to hold my peace not for one day, but for many. And so a fortnight passed by, then a whole month, then several months in succession, during which I was always making attempts to write but was not allowed by the said taskmaster. At length I broke the galling chain, and though with difficulty, I threw aside the yoke of my burden, and the sceptre of my tyrant, by writing stealthily. And lest I seem to labour too much in making excuse for my tardiness in replying I must say that you yourself have forced me to make my excuse when you said, “It is not long since I wrote to you, and saluted your Crown with fitting veneration, and you answered me not a word; and not long before I wrote to you from Rome, and not even then did I get a syllable. Do you now wonder that when you lately returned from Spain I did not presume to trouble you again with my chatter? But if it is a fault to have not written for some reason or other, to have been unwilling to write, not to say to have disdained to write, you will surely not be altogether without blame.” 3. But what shall I say? Simply this: I would never make any excuse for the fault which you charge me with, if it had been from contempt that I had not answered your letter. For I admit that, if you had written first, I ought to have answered you; but as far as I can recollect, while you were at Rome I wrote first and you answered. It was not then my turn to write in answer, inasmuch I had been the first to write, but yours. Certainly I might have written in reply to your answer, but your answer was so full and completely satisfactory that it freed me from any necessity to write further. And if this is the state of the case, the fault that you speak of seems to be deserting me and looking towards you; for you have been endeavouring to lay blame on one that is blameless, and to lay on the shoulders of an unoffending brother other people’s burdens, not to say your own. But to what you say about my having done the same thing on another occasion I have no answer, for I have no recollection of it. If by some chance it did happen I have no doubt that there was a reasonable cause, or if not I will make you my humble apologies. But you went on to say, “You see what I might urge with justice.” I answer: At present, according to the reasons given above, justice rather makes for me, because no fault at all is found in me. Now, if I were not inclined to spare you, and if I were to apply to myself the name of an injured friend which you say you can claim, I should have good cause to exact a penalty for the wrong or injury that you have done me. But after my custom I spare you, and even though not asked, I freely forgive you everything. “I keep in mind,” as you said, “no injuries.” For this is but a fitting introduction to what I am going to say: I am about to endeavour to banish from the hearts of many their well-known feelings of resentment against each other, and I am going to do this not in jest, but in sober earnestness; and I intend to induce you to banish all such feelings. Let me be the first to extend forgiveness to everyone, and set the example of doing what I endeavour to press on others. 4. But perhaps you will say again, “I should wish to believe that you are pleased to joke?” Yes, I do please; but only with you. I do not jest like this with others. For with some, to pass the limits of dignified gravity is to run the risk of being thought frivolous; but I am not afraid of this from you; I seek after charity, lest haply I lose her. And, therefore, it is always pleasant for me to talk with you, and by friendly words to preserve the sweet honey of charity. I do my best to prevent myself being in the number of those brethren who hated Joseph in their hearts, and could speak no peaceful word to him (Gen. 37:4). Would that all your brethren and mine would do so (I do not speak boastfully), and would not deviate from the line of charity, by which alone after faith and the Sacrament of Baptism, they are entitled to the name of brethren, and by which they are united to each other in a close relationship; and that they would fear what the Apostle speaks of when he says, Peril amongst false brethren (2 Cor. 11:26). Would that they would all do this, and would keep their heart from the deceitful thought, and their tongue from the bitter word, according to the Psalm which is so often in their mouth. What I have said seems to make large promises, and as if it were a preparation for great achievements. But lest the well-known verse, “What will this man, lavish in promises, produce worthy of so pretentious an opening?” (Horace, Ars Poetica v. 138) be applied to me, I must confess that I not only have no urgent cause for writing, but not even an important or moderately good one; still I am speaking of those things which worldly men think great and even most important, and from which the children of this world hope to become great and powerful. Yet my cause is a great one, and so far surpassing all others, that by the Apostle it is called more excellent than all. If you ask its name he calls it charity (1 Cor. 12:31 and 13.). 5. This is my whole and sole cause of writing; I fully trust that I have it entirely as far as you are concerned, and I do not despair of seeing your brethren and mine preserve it towards each other, better than they have been wont to do, especially if you give your assistance to effect this. For as far as that charity goes which for many a year I have had stored up for you in the secret recesses of my heart, it seems to me that, as it is written, many waters cannot quench it, nor the floods drown it (Cant. 8:7). This I think has often been proved in different cases. For when will my sincere love for you be ever quenched, or the warm affection of my heart be drowned by any rivulets of evil report, when neither the many waters of the tithe question could quench it, nor the floods of the troubles at Langres drown it. You know what I mean, and I only say this in order that your wisdom may be sure, when it recollects the proofs of my constant love for you in the past, that I am likely to be equally constant in the future. I feel sure of the same in you, and I trust that no power will ever banish me from the innermost depths of your heart. But since each of us is called a pastor; since our folds are filled with no small number of Christ’s sheep; since to both the precept applies, Be thou diligent to know well the countenance of the flock (Prov. 27:23), we have to see if our flock is known to us, if it is well, if it languishes, if it is feeble, if it is robust, if it is living or dead. For since the beloved disciple says, He that loveth not abideth in death (1 S. John 3:14), why am I anxious about the weakness of my flock, when I see that it is already dead? For if he who loveth not abideth in death, in what death does he abide who hates? if he who loveth not abideth in death, in what death is he who is given to detraction? For what purpose do I say this? 6. I see that certain persons, as well from my folds as yours, have engaged in deadly warfare against each other; and that those who ought to live in the house of the Lord as friends, have fallen from mutual charity. I see that they are of the family of the same Lord, soldiers of the same King, that they bear the same name of Christians, and are alike called monks. I perceive that they are bound to till their Master’s field, not only by the yoke of a common faith, but beyond that by the yoke of the same monastic rule, and this under many different forms of toil. Yet, though, as I said, they are joined by a common name, united by the monastic profession, some hidden and accursed difference separates them, and splits up that sincere unity of hearts, to which they seem to have been called. And, O lamentable event! not to be worthily atoned for by any founts of tears, the haughty archangel, who was once cast down from heaven, has again seized heavenly places, and he, who could not establish his seat in the north, has strengthened it in the south, that is, in the more splendid part of the sky. Truly it is so, he may boast that he has done so, when, after driving out Him who dwells in the heavens, whose abiding place was made, not for mutual hatred, but for brotherly concord, he lords it, after the fashion of a tyrant, over the minds of men whose profession is heavenly, whose example is conspicuous. And since the Stronger Man has come and overcome the strong man who had been long guarding his palace in peace; since the prince of this world was cast out; since his throne, who is the King of the children of pride, has been overturned even amongst Christian laymen; with what lamentations must we mourn, I pray you, if Satan, after having the throne of his wickedness overturned in others, should again erect it in the hearts of monks? God forbid that he, who is said to have been rendered so helpless by the Saviour as to suffer himself to be bound by His handmaidens, and to be a laughing stock to His servants, should mock at His servants and handmaidens, and bring them once more under vile bondage to him. 7. But why do they oppose each other? why do they rail at each other? why are they consumed the one by the other? Let them bring forward the ground of their strife, and if they can bring any just cause of complaint against each other let it be ended by being entrusted to the decision of just arbitrators. What do you demand, I ask, my brother, from your brother? and to comprehend in two words all who are at variance, What do you demand, O Cluniac brother, from your Cistercian brother, and vice versâ? If it is cities, camps, farmhouses, farms, if the possession of any land whether small or great; if, in short, it is gold, silver, or any quantity or quality of money that the quarrel is about, come, I say, bring forward the claim. There are judges not of iniquity, but of equity ready to put an end at once to all strifes of this kind. Peace will easily be restored, and the wounds of charity healed, as soon as we know that such a separation of hearts has been brought about by these things or others like them. But I recollect that both of you have cast off all such things, that you have kept for yourselves no earthly goods, that, enriched with a blessed poverty, you have determined to follow the poverty of Christ. This, then, cannot be the ground of your quarrel. But I will not give over, I will not weary, I will not rest until I come to the bottom of the truth that I am in search of. 8. Perhaps the cause of your strife is the difference in your customs, in the observance of the monastic rule. But if this, dearly beloved, is the cause of so great an evil, it is, let me say it with the permission of both of you, very unreasonable, very childish and foolish. For does not that which is destitute of all reason, and whose soundness every wise man denies, seem to you unreasonable, childish, and foolish? For if a difference in customs, if manifold variety in an infinite number of things ought to rob the servants of Christ of mutual charity, what peace, or concord, or unity, or how much of the law of Christ will be left, not only to monks, but to any Christians, about which a great Apostle says, Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ? If, I say, the law of Christ, that is charity, is to be abandoned by all who follow different uses, it will simply be found nowhere any more. For when it shall have been rejected by all who follow a different custom it will be nowhere to be found. Has not, dearly beloved, the whole earth long since been filled with the Churches of Christ? And since the Churches which serve God in the same faith and the same charity are almost numberless, almost as great a variety of uses is found amongst them as there are churches. You will find this in the canticles, in the lections, in all the Church offices, in the different vestments; you will find it, too, in different fasts which are observed in addition to the authorized ones which cannot be changed; you will find it in all similar things, which according to differences of times, places, nations, and countries, have been instituted by the prelates of the Church, to whom, according to the Apostle, it belongs to give orders in such things as they may see fit (Rom. 14:5). Have all those churches abandoned charity because they have changed their custom? Will they cease to be Christians because they seem to differ in their uses? Will the great gift of peace be lost by all because each one works what is good in a way different from the rest? Not so thought Ambrose, a Doctor of the Church, in word and in life, who, speaking of the Saturday fast which he had seen kept at Rome, and which he had found was not observed at Milan when he was made Bishop, says: “When I am at Rome I observe the fast kept by the Church at Rome; when at Milan I follow the custom of its Church and do not fast” (Apud Aug. cp. 54). Hence, also, our father Augustine, in describing the devotion of his good mother, relates that she, according to the custom which she had seen observed in the African Churches, wished to offer her oblations at Milan contrary to the custom of the Churches of Italy, but was forbidden by Ambrose (S. Aug. Confess, lib. vi. c. 2). 9. But why labour this point? To no purpose is it to surround what is so evident with manifold testimonies and examples, especially since neither in ancient times a difference in the time of observing Easter, nor in modern a well-known variation between Greek and Latin in the way of offering the Christian sacrifice, had any power to wound charity, or to produce any breach of unity. The Holy Fathers are witnesses to this, and their received writings which they left to the Church, that the East in former times kept Easter at one time, the West at another, the Angles in Britain at another, and the Scots at another. We, too, witness the same thing in our own time, for we see the Roman Church and the whole Latin race offer to God the life-giving sacrifice with unleavened bread; while the Greek Church and the greatest part of the East and barbarian nations who are Christians are said to sacrifice with leavened bread. But in spite of this neither ancients nor moderns have departed from mutual charity because of these well-known varieties of customs, for they found nothing in all this to wound faith or charity. But why do I say this? In order that, if your minds, brethren, have been alienated because of the variety in your uses, if they have grown weak in their love of peace and unity because of this or that custom handed down by the founders of the Churches, that by so venerable examples of such holy Fathers they may become one again, and after the way of the saints, who out of weakness were made strong, and became brave in the battle, may become too strong for any disease by shrinking from all weakening of charity. 10. But you will say: “Variety of uses must be understood in a different sense in the case of different Churches than in men of the same Order. If the customs of many Churches vary without any damage to faith or charity, it is nothing wonderful; but it is wonderful if men of the same purpose and profession do not preserve the same kind of rules.” Is this all, dearly beloved, that divides you from each other? Is this the only blow to charity amongst yourselves? Is this the only thing which prevents the children of peace from being at peace with each other? If even a layman made for peace with those who hated peace (Ps. 120:7), shall monk strive with monk in an accursed war? The child of the light loves the children of darkness to prevent the gift of peace being disturbed, and shall the child of the light fight against the child of the light? I refer this to the purpose, not to the monk. If, indeed, it is only this that is troubling your minds, if this is the sole cause of the wound of charity, it will be soon healed, if only there be no obstinacy. See, then, that love of your own opinion do not darken the light of your understanding, for no one deserves to attain to unity who does not seek her for herself, but rather seeks to have his own way. I therefore ask you to consider whether the cause of your disunion is a just one, without any desire to defend your own side or your own opinions, and when you find it to be an unjust one I ask you to become once more of one heart and of one soul. For each of you is fighting under the same rule, and under that particular rule each hopes to be able to attain to everlasting salvation. But if neither is to be disappointed of his hope I know not what place can now be left for discord, division, or reproaches. 11. For you said that it is a wonderful thing if men of the same purpose and profession do not observe the same kind of rules. My answer is: What does it matter if men of the same purpose and profession do not observe the same rules, if by their different observances they alike attain to the same salvation and everlasting life? What does it matter, what is the objection, if they come to the same Jerusalem which is above, which is the mother of us all, by a different path, if a different road leads to the same land, if the same life is attained by manifold ways? For if thou, O Cluniac, knewest that the Cistercian, or thou, O Cistercian, knewest that the Cluniac was making a mistake in the object that he had put before him, or if, according to the Scripture, you saw that he was proceeding to his ruin along a road which seemed to men to be right, you would be justified, I admit, in correcting or calling back your brother, and even, if he refused to listen to you, in reproaching him and invoking God against him. Then, indeed, if you were to reproach him, to withstand him, to hate him, I would admit that you were judging justly, that you were acting rightly, especially when I hear a great prophet saying of such even to God, Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee? Yea, I hate them right sore, even as though they were mine enemies (Ps. 139:21, 22.) I should do more, I should rejoice that you were not a deaf hearer of the Scripture, which says: Go, hasten thyself, rouse thy friend, give not sleep to thine eyes, nor slumber to thine eyelids (Prov. 6:3, 4.) And of another: Cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood (Jer. 48:10). Then I would readily admit that you had just causes for hatred, and I myself, girt with the sword of zeal, would accompany you in your outgoings to subdue the enemies of God, and those who, according to the Apostle, work a lie in hypocrisy (1 Tim. 4:2). But, as it is, I see that both of you are striving to rise from earth to heaven under the same rule, under different but yet holy observances, and so running by different courses for the same prize in order that you may obtain it; and so, it seems to me, you have no cause of anger, hatred, or reproach left you. 12. But you further ask me to prove what I have said, and to show how, under the same Rule, or profession of the same Rule, a monk can safely travel by diverse paths. I have an answer ready enough for this, and there is not wanting either authority or reason. Thou, O Cluniac, in thy way, thou, O Cistercian, in thine, canst alike travel happily along the road of God’s commandments, and still more happily attain to the due end of thy course. And because I have already appealed to the authority which in such things is to be first consulted, in what follows I will show that reason is not absent, though she follow at a moderate distance. 13. But what is your objection, my brother? “I say that those who have professed the same rule do not observe alike the commands of that rule.” What you say is true, that in some chapters the commands of the same Rule are differently observed by the professed. But do not suppose that, therefore, monks of this class are to be blamed; do not for this dare to accuse them of unfaithfulness. Listen to a heavenly authority, that of the King of the heavens: If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light (S. Luke 11:34.) Hear, too, the Apostle: Let all your things be done with charity (1 Cor. 16:14.) Hear, too, S. Augustine: “Have charity and do what you will.” Hear, too, him who drew up your rule, or rather the Holy Spirit who inspired it: “Let the Abbot order and arrange everything so that souls may be saved; and whatever the brethren do, let them do it without murmuring” (Reg. S. Bened. c. 41.) What can be more clear, more open, more lucid? Does not the very flow of the words themselves show that they are altogether without cloud, and show to mortals the clear light of truth, without any intervening veil of clouds? Behold, the Heavenly Teacher says that all your body, my brother, depends for its light on the singleness of your eye; that is, that all your works must have purity of intention. After Him, the greatest doctor of the Church bids all your works to be done in charity; lo, the greatest instructor of the Church, after the Apostles, says that you may do what you will so long as charity remains; lo, your father Benedict himself, on whom you rely, orders the Abbot to direct all things so that souls may be saved, and that there may be no murmuring; and are you afraid for the salvation of those who follow different paths under the same Rule? Do you not see that those are safest from every danger whose precepts find their defence, according to the Rule itself, against every shade of variety or blame because of difference, in the intention of saving souls? 14. But now, that you may see that reason also is entirely on the side of the authorities above given, and clings to them inseparably, I must mention some points bearing on the question before us, in which some things are shown to have been changed because of the single eye, through love unfeigned, and from the intention of saving souls. For when I have shown these I shall leave nothing, I think, for you to ask further, so far as this matter goes. For you use a single eye in not opening the gate of the cloister to a novice till after a year’s probation; because, according to the words of the Apostle (1 S. John 4:1) and of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 58), you test for the space of a year the spirit of the new-comer, whether it be of God. You use, too, the single eye when you admit a novice within the year from the fear that through so long delay he may return to his mire again, and to the detestable evil of his former life. You use, too, the single eye when you content yourself with two tunics, or two cowls, or with the addition of one or two garments of this sort, because you prefer to follow, if not the precept (Reg. S. Ben. 100:55), at all events the mind and intention of the founder of the Rule, than to add or assume other garments. You use, too, the single eye when you allow the use of a few skins, because you make provision for the sickly, the infirm, the delicate, for all who live in colder climates, so as to prevent their murmuring, or growing remiss, or having reasonable cause to retire from their purpose. You use, too, the single eye when you receive back all fugitives who have not fled three times, because you wish both to obey the words of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. 100:29), and to deter foolish or unstable monks from repeated desertion, by fixing a limit beyond which there is no return. You use, too, the single eye when you receive back a monk who returns after deserting more than three times, from a fear lest by refusing forgiveness he be exposed to the enemy and perish, and so the wolf kill the wandering sheep, just as he is wont to carry off and scatter those within the fold. 15. You use, too, the single eye when you observe, without making any exception, all the usual fasts both in the summer and winter, from your wish to observe the rules imposed, and to bring forth more fruit from a longer abstinence. But, and I say it out of pure charity, I do not altogether recommend that fasts should be observed by everyone during the octaves of Christmas, Epiphany, and the Purification, which in all respects are Lord’s Days. You use, too, the single eye when you except from the ordinary observance of fasting days the days which I have just named, and every authorized feast day of twelve lections, from a desire to imitate the custom of nearly all Religious who so observe them, and thus you endeavour to honour the Lord Himself, the Apostles, and other saints. You use, too, the single eye in engaging in manual labour, according to the precept of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 48), from your wish both to obey the Rule and, by such holy exercises enjoined by monastic and apostolic commands, to avoid sloth, the enemy of the soul, as the same Rule says; and moreover, as far as you have opportunity, it is your wish to provide yourself with the necessaries of life, after the manner of the fathers of old. You use, too, the single eye in partly giving up this manual labour, for you may be placed, not in woods or in desert places, but in the midst of cities and camps, and be surrounded by people, and be unable, without more or less danger, to go backwards and forwards so often to your work through a promiscuous crowd of both sexes, and besides you often have not suitable places where you can engage in such works. But lest leisure, the foe of religious, find opportunity to harm you when you have nothing to do, either you do manual work when and where you can, or when you cannot, you make up for it by giving up the extra time to the Divine Offices, and so the evil spirit can claim for himself no empty corner in your heart, seeing that you fill up all your time with what holy pursuits are in your power. 16. You use, too, the single eye in reverencing Christ in every guest who comes or goes, with bowed head or with body prostrate on the ground, and in washing the feet of all, and so you do, as is fitting, all that you can to carry out carefully the good precept of hospitality, enjoined alike by the Gospel and the decrees of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 53), and you strive to win for yourself the reward due to such a proof of holy brotherly love. You use, too, the single eye in not prostrating yourself before all guests, in not washing the feet of all, because it would be simply impossible for you to be always prostrating yourself before so great crowds of guests as are constantly coming and going, or to be always washing their feet, so much so that, even if you wished to be always engaged in such duties and were to leave out all the other offices of your Order, you would not have enough time. And because you see it is out of your power to do it, you omit it. What is necessary for the reception of guests you give them to the best of your power, and you show them all the honour in your power, but you excuse yourself from the above duties, which it is physically impossible for you to fulfil; but yet you do this in all singleness of eye. You use, too, the single eye in your wish that the Abbot’s table should be always filled with guests and pilgrims, because you at once obey the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 56) and show yourself hospitable to guests. You use, too, the single eye when you determine that the Abbot’s table should not be always with the guests, but that he should have his meals always with the brethren, and by recalling him to the common table you thus apply a remedy to the profusion (to use a mild term) of many an Abbot who, when he has guests, is generous to himself but heedless of his brethren. 17. You use the single eye when, like Ezra, who restored the Law, or like the Maccabees, who raised up the temple of God which was in ruins, you labour to make good the great losses of the Monastic Order, and to repair the many rents in many monasteries and in their customs, and, while rejecting what is more of luxury than of necessity, you endeavour, after the manner of the old and original fervour, to banish the lukewarmness of our times. And you use the single eye when you so modify the commands both of the Order and of the Rule, that, according to the words of the same Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 64), what the strong want is not distasteful to the weak, as, e.g., when he who cannot live on bread is allowed to have at least milk, so as to preserve life, and when he who has not breath enough to obtain the prize set before him by running at great speed, is taught to win it at least by the slower walking pace, because he who returns to his country after a year is called as much an inhabitant of it as he who returns after a month. And I say this without meaning to prejudice the different kinds of toil of the wayfarers, because, according to the Apostle, Every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labour (1 Cor. 3:8). You have S. Benedict himself as your authority in this, although, as he himself says, you are not bound to follow his written precepts when charity bids otherwise. Still you find pleasure in showing your devotion to so great a man by following his directions merely because they are his. You have him, too, as the authority for your bye-laws, inasmuch as he directs all his precepts to be carried out according to the rule of charity, and to be made subservient in some way or other to the salvation of souls. You have S. Maur also, his principal disciple, who was sent by him into Gaul, and is said to have altered many points in his rule, following the single eye of which I have said so much. You have, besides, very many fathers of monasteries after him, whose holy life and numerous miracles worked by them through the power of God show more clearly than daylight that they have been moved by the Spirit of God to modify the written words of the above-named Rule to suit times, places, and persons. 18. And what can I say more? If you go in a similar way through all the points on which there seems to be difference, you will find everywhere the single eye, which one will call charity, another the desire of saving souls; and you will see that in this way there is no difference, no discord, because all those points which seem to be differently treated become one through charity. To this I add what is yet evident to all, that there is no precept about such matters in the Rule, which has not conditions attached, and which is not left to the discretion of the Abbot. But even if it had been given imperatively, it could not in any way prejudice the single eye, i.e., evangelical charity. For such precepts, as you know, belong to the class of things changeable, and when charity bids, they are to be changed without any fear of transgressing. Nor in this respect ought those who profess the rule to be suspected of unfaithfulness to it; because this rule of the holy father depends on that sublime and general rule, from which and on which according to the words of the Truth, hang all the Law and the Prophets (S. Matt. 22:40). But if the whole Law so hangs, then so does the monastic Rule. Therefore, a monk professing the rule of S. Benedict keeps it aright when he everywhere observes the law of charity, whether in obeying or in changing any of its articles. 19. Well, then, if this was the sole cause of your strife, brethren, does it not seem to you entirely excluded? Ought not the hearts of monks to be united again in brotherly concord when a single-eyed charity harmonizes all those differences which caused your discord? Does it not make many to be one, since it brings to their promised end, viz., their chief good, which is everlasting life, all who follow what good is under the one purpose of the Monastic Order, or of the same Rule, even though it be by different paths. Let there be then, O Jerusalem, peace in thy strength, that there may also follow abundance in thy towers. But lest, perchance, I be found of the number of those who say, Peace, peace, when there is no peace (Jer. 6:14), let us see if there is still remaining any cause for quarrelling, lest a snake dart suddenly from its hiding place while we are asleep and off our guard, and sting some one of our brethren or yours while we are resting too carelessly. 20. For perhaps the different colours of your habits furnish an incentive to discord, and a manifold variety of garments produces a like difference in your minds. For, as I see too clearly, and as anyone can easily perceive, a black monk looks askance at a white monk when he happens to meet one; and a white monk cannot look a black one straight in the face. I have seen very many black monks, I will not say how often, who, when a white monk meets them, laugh at him as if he were a chimæra or a centaur, or some monster from a foreign country, and signify their amazement in words or by some gesture of the body. On the other hand, I have seen white monks, who before had been talking loudly, and discussing with each other current events, suddenly become dumb on the advent of some black monk, and lay on themselves the necessity of silence, lest they should disclose their secrets to their enemies. I have seen, too, the tongues of both orders silent, but their eyes, hands, and feet eloquent, and I have seen them proclaiming very clearly by their gestures what they were unwilling to make known by words. I have seen the voice silent, the members talkative, and, by a perversion of the order of nature, men, who were taciturn before their fellow men, communicative to stones. On seeing such things I have often been reminded of the words of Solomon, who says of such men: He winketh with his eye, he he striketh with his feet, he teacheth with his fingers; frowardness is in his heart, he deviseth mischief continually, he soweth discord (Prov. 6:13, 14). O wicked and stubborn device of the evil angel cast out by God! who, unwilling to lose eternal peace alone, gathers to him from wheresoever he can companions of his fall, and, that he may rejoice in a more glorious triumph, he endeavours by the violence of his wickedness to uproot the cedars and firs of the Paradise of God, where he once lived a happy citizen. He is grieved that the crown of heresies has fallen from his head, under which he was wont in early times to divide the Church of God; and seeing no way left to him to damage the faith, now that the Holy Spirit fills the whole earth with belief in it, he turns all his efforts to inflict a wound on mutual charity. For since he cannot now persuade Christians to become infidels, he tries with all his might to prevent them from loving each other. The sect of Arius, of Sabellius, of Novatian, of Donatus, of Pelagius, of the accursed Manes, older than them all, has now perished. Now the clouds of innumerable heresies which darkened the light of the faith have disappeared under the breath of the Spirit of God, and, every mist having been dispersed, have left us the clear light of day. But a hurricane from the south has succeeded these, and is suddenly endeavouring to throw everything into confusion; and, because the enemy knows that the faith has prevailed, he is trying to make good his earlier losses by injuring charity. 21. But, putting aside lamentation, I will bring back my pen to the matters that I began on. Why, O white monk, does the black colour of your brother’s habit, not of his soul, seem hateful to you? Why, O black monk, does the white colour of your brother’s habit, not of his soul, seem marvellous to you? Are not you both sheep of the Shepherd who says, My sheep hear My voice, and I know them and they follow Me; and I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand (S. John 10:27, 28)? And what shepherd, to say nothing of God, but what man ever quarrelled about the different colours of his sheep’s wool? Who ever thought about it? Who ever thought that the black were more his sheep than the white, or the white than the black? Who ever cares whether they are black or white, so long as they are of the same flock? But see the wickedness of men, the innocence of the sheep. See the constancy of the brute creation to the nature first given them. See the perversity of nature in the rational creature? Did ever any white ram scorn a black one? Did ever any black ewe loathe a white one? Do they not fill the shepherd’s folds in common, peacefully, without any disturbance, without any quarrel about the difference of their colour, without giving him any anxiety? Sometimes, indeed, one ram butts another with his horns, one ewe will thrust at another, but it is not any difference of colour that provokes them to fight, but the kindling of the hasty resentment which is natural to all animals. But now I see that man, being in honour, hath no understanding, but is more foolish than the beast; and, what is more pitiful still, a monk cuts himself off from the unity of charity because of some variation of colour. Do not, my brother, do not, if you wish to be a sheep of Christ, quarrel about a difference of clothing, for the Good Shepherd casts out of His fold none except him whom, not difference of colour, but a rupture of faith or charity separates from the Hock of His sheep. He does not, I say, cut off anyone from His flock because of his colour. From widely-separated countries, from diverse religions, He has gathered together Jew and Gentile alike in the one fold of the Christian faith. 22. This, perhaps, has been taught you by the patience of the holy patriarch Jacob, who, without repining, allowed Laban to change his wages ten times. He has shown us how to make no difference between black and white or different kinds of cattle by showing the good disposition and care which a good shepherd shows for all parts of his many-coloured flock (Gen. 30.). And the Apostle says, In Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature (Gal. 6:15). And in another place, Where there is neither Jew nor Gentile, circumcision nor uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free, but Christ is all and in all (Col. 3:11). Who, then, can have so childish a mind as to think that it matters anything to salvation what the colour of different dresses is, or what diversity of customs there may be, as long as there is a new creature in Christ? But if it matters nothing to salvation, why does a difference of habit divide monks? Why does it breed schisms? Why separate their hearts? Why wound charity? There is no cause or reason for taking notice of it, much less for dividing, and still less for complaining of such things. You have, O white monk, a powerful defender enough of your habit in the single eye of your conscience. It has caused you to don a white cowl and tunic, to prevent the black monk supposing, through a long-existing custom, that no one can be a monk who is not dressed in black. Moreover, you have noticed, too, that an innumerable number of monks of this Order have become lukewarm, and, therefore, with praiseworthy intention you have endeavoured to stir them up to a fresh and greater fervour of monastic life by adopting an unusual colour for your habit. You too, \[O black monk\], in the same way have good authority for the black colour of your habit in the long-standing custom handed down by your fathers. You feel yourselves more safe in following the old than in introducing what is new. Both of you can appeal to the words of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 55) as an unimpeachable authority for both colours. It enjoins monks not to quarrel about the colour or the thickness of their habits, but to use garments of that colour and quality which are most easily obtainable in the country where they are living. Let, then, the reason I have given be sufficient defence for your white garments, or perhaps some still stronger reason than I have found. Let, on the other hand, the authority of your fathers be the defender of your black habit. That authority is of equal force with any reason, and should not be reckoned as inferior by anyone who thinks aright. 23. And what farther shall I be able to adduce as setting an example in this matter? Can I bring anyone greater than S. Martin? The great Martin, monk and bishop, chose black as the colour of his garments, as we read in his life. “And when the beasts close to his side saw him enveloped in a black and flowing cloak, they retired terror-stricken to another place.” That he was a monk is shown by his founding a monastery not far from Poictiers, another at Milan, and another for himself at Tours. You see that Martin was a monk, and that he wore black. But what does S. Jerome say about this in the letter that he wrote to Nepotian? He says, “Avoid alike black and white garments.” This was meant to warn him to beware of pride and ostentation, not only in white garments, which men of the world then wore, but also in black, which professors of religion at that time were accustomed to use. About this, too, Paulinus, the famous Bishop of Nola, contemporary and intimate friend of the same Martin before mentioned, of Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, and often named with praise by them and by Pope Gregory, in describing the journey of a noble lady who had lately been converted to the monastic life, speaks as follows in a letter addressed to Sulpicius Severus:—“We saw the glory of the Lord in that journey of the mother and her sons; the same journey, indeed, but of very different degree of luxury. We saw her sitting upon a miserable hackney, beside which an ass would be thought valuable, with senators all around her, and following her, with all the pomp of this world that men of position and wealth could display, with horses in rich trappings, nodding plumes, gilded cars, and with many chariots filling and making resplendent the Appian Way. But the grace of Christian humility outshone these empty splendours. The rich were filled with wonder at our holy poverty, but our poverty laughed them to scorn. We saw the confusion worthy of the deity of this world, its purple, its silk, and golden furniture doing obeisance to worn-out and black garments. We blessed the Lord, Who exalteth the humble, filleth the hungry with good things, and sendeth the rich empty away.” You see from this that not only in old times did men, but also women, in taking upon them the religious life wear black garments. 24. For if I may say what I think, it seems to me that those great fathers thought that black was more suitable to humility, repentance, and mourning, and since the whole monastic life ought especially to be given up to these things, they determined that the outward and inward should be united as closely as possible, the colour to the character, the dress to the virtues, for white garments have from of old represented glory rather than shame, joy more than sorrow. And this was shown more clearly to the Church, as is well known to all, by the Angel of the Resurrection, and by the Angels who acted as heralds of the ascending Lord, and by the Saviour Himself in the glory of His Transfiguration, when He showed Himself bright in white garments. Thence it was that good and learned man Sidonius, Bishop of Clermont Ferrand, when ridiculing in bitter condemnation the faults of certain men, said, “They go in white to funerals, in black to weddings,” declaring them to be so confused in their ideas as to pervert the usual order of things, and to go in wedding garb to funerals, and in funeral to weddings. For those who observed the common custom of that age did not go in white to funerals, in black to weddings, but in white to weddings, in black to funerals, that white garments might agree with nuptial joy, black with funeral grief. When I was lately in Spain I saw and wondered at this old custom being still observed by all the Spaniards. For when a wife, husband, children, parent, any relation, or a friend dies, then the husband, wife, parents, children, relations, or friends at once lay aside their arms, their silk garments, their furs, their many-coloured and costly dresses, and wear nothing but sordid and black clothes. They also cut off their own hair and the tails of their horses, and stain themselves and their animals with black. With such marks of mourning and grief they bewail the dead that they have lost, and spend a year, at least, by the rule of society, in such public mourning. 25. By such authority and reason as this I defend you and your colour, black monk, but still I do not condemn the white monk for his colour. I praise you for not wishing to depart from the holy custom of your fathers; I praise him, too, for stirring up by this uncommon colour in dress his mind to more and more fervour of devotion. He to some degree separates himself, not from charity, which would be impious, but from the well-known lukewarmness of many of this Order. Since, then, you are under one Shepherd, Jesus Christ, since you dwell in one sheepfold of the Church, since you live by the same faith and hope in eternity, you, white monk, as well as you, black monk, why, to speak a little more severely, O foolish sheep, do you quarrel about the difference in your wool? Why do you proceed against each other for no reason, or for so foolish a one? Why for so childish a thing do you rend that first robe of charity? Why do you separate between your very dwellings? Why do you devour one another with the teeth of wolves rather than of sheep? Why do you rob each other and tear each other? See, take care, that this name of innocence by which you get your name of sheep do not prevent you from being of those whom the great Shepherd will place on His right hand, and of whom He says Himself, My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me, and I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish (S. John 10:27, 28). But beware, lest it place you amongst those of whom it is said and sung, Like sheep they are laid in the grave; death shall feed on them (Ps. 49:4). Do you now see how foolish it is to dispute about a colour? How damnable to hate a brother for a colour? How wicked to calumniate a brother for a colour? If this were the sole cause of your discord, if this the sole ground for such a division, if, I say, this was the whole and sole cause of the monastic schism, now that its folly has been shown, shall not this old severance of hearts be repaired?—shall not the wounds of love be healed?—shall not evangelic peace return to the children of peace? Make agreement with peace, therefore, ye sons of peace, and enter into a perpetual covenant with her; if not, perchance at some time there may be directed against you that saying of the Prophet, There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked (Isa. 48:22). And now, thanks to God, I think that I have penetrated into the ancient causes and lurking-places of the hatreds of some men of our Order, and I do not suppose that I need now seek any farther for any remaining cause. And if I am right, you, O white monk, will no longer attack the black, nor you, black monk, the white, if you wish to obey the precepts of your Order, nor will you be moved from the state of a most exalted charity, in hostility to your brother, because of some difference in your customs or some variation in the colour of your habit. 26. But what have I said? How have I lost myself? Where is my understanding? How has the keenness of my sight become clouded over? I thought that I had found the whole ground of offence. I supposed that I had disclosed all the lurking-places of hatred. I was under the impression, as I said, that diversity of customs alone, that only variety of colours, the quality or quantity of clothes or of food had wounded charity among monks, and that this alone was the cause of so great an evil. I saw the mote in my brother’s eye, but I could not see the huge beam, a very oak, in my own eye. But now my eye has been purged, the sky is clear, and the sun in the meridian suffers nothing to lie hid, and I see what it is given me to say, with the leave of everyone, at all events of every good man. For whoever shall feel aggrieved will thereby confess that it has been said of him, as Jerome says. The sound part of the body does not shrink from the physician’s hand, but that which quivers and withdraws itself from the finger that would touch it shows, without doubt, that disease is lurking within. What is it, then, that had escaped me? 27. Come, tell me (I will first address the man of my own Order), tell me, black monk; give glory to God, and lay bare whatever lies hid in the depths of your heart against your brother. Who, you say, can endure to have new men preferred to old, to have their intentions set before our actions, to have them regarded as more dear our brethren as inferior? Who can see unmoved the world for the most part turn away from our older Order, and run after this new foundation, and look upon the well-trodden paths now abandoned, and crowds hurrying on the paths which till now were unknown? Who can bear to see the new preferred to the old, the younger to the older, white monks to black? This, black monk, is what you say. But you, white monk, what do you put forward? We, you say, are happy, because we are recommended by a system far more approved, because the world declares that we are more blessed than other monks, because our fame overshadows the reputation of others, our daylight their lantern, our sun their star. We are they who have restored religion which was lost, the Order which was dead; we are most justly they who condemn all half-hearted, lukewarm, and worldly monks; we prove the fresh fervour of our members to excel all others by our characters, our actions, our customs, our habit, all of which are different to others; and we have exposed to the world the tepidity of the older Orders. Now—now, we have the real secret cause, one far more hostile to charity than the rest, which has destroyed the unity of your hearts, separated your houses from each other, and often, as the Prophet says, sharpened your tongues like a sword (Ps. 140:3) to calumnious or cursing words. 28. But let this deadly sword be met by the sword of the Divine Word, and if you are wise you will do all that you can to prevent the fruits that have been stored up with so much labour from being scattered by an empty breath of vain glory. O, loss accursed, and never to be lamented enough! If one hiss of the wicked serpent is to undo the pure continence of your long life, your unconquerable obedience, your unbroken fasts, your constant vigils, your heavy yoke of discipline, so many palms won by your patience, and, to sum up all, your great and numerous toils, both of the earthly and the heavenly life, stored up for so long against your reward in eternity, performed through the grace of God in you; if he is to empty you of everything at one breath, if the old dragon is to cause you to go empty before the sight of the Great Judge, then where is that which the Saviour said to his disciples when labouring under this disease, I saw Satan as lightning fall from heaven? (S. Luke 10:18). Where is that which he said in another place when a contention like this rose among them which of them should be the greater, But ye shall not be so; but he that is greatest among you let him be as the younger, and he that is chief as he that doth serve? (S. Luke 22:26). Where does that verse lie hidden from the eyes of our memory which the High and Lofty One, of whose greatness, the Psalmist says, there is no end (Ps. 145:3), and Who, according to the Apostle, is above all, God blessed for ever (Rom. 9:5), and Who, not preferring Himself to, or even equalizing Himself with, but submitting Himself to His servants, uttered, when He said, But I am among you as he that serveth? (S. Luke 22:27). The Apostle is rebuked for putting himself before his brother Apostle, and shall not the monk for preferring himself to his brother monk? Christ, the Master, puts the greater under the lesser disciple, the superior under the inferior, and shall I, a Cluniac, endeavour to elevate myself above the Cistercian? Christ submits Himself to His disciples, and shall a Christian and a monk raise his neck, swollen with pride, above his brother, who is, perhaps, far better than he? Is majesty to abase itself, and infirmity to exalt itself? Is loftiness to humble itself, and the worm to be raised aloft? Is God to serve, and earth try to rule? And, my brother, how have you fallen from the height of your Rule, from whence you used to boast that you stooped! It bids “that the monk not only say in word that he is lower and viler than all, but that he believe it also inwardly in his heart” (Reg. S. Ben. c. 7). But why labour further? There is no need to say more to pious, wise, and learned men, and, as the proverb goes, to teach Minerva, or to bring trees to the wood, water to the rivers or the sea. The wisdom of you both sees and knows that it is impossible to please God without faith, and also without charity, and that no one, if he throw away humility, can by any efforts keep that charity. For pride of necessity steps into any place vacated by humility; where pride comes there immediately comes envy; where envy arises charity at once dies. For the envious man cannot love him whom he envies, nor can charity in any way remain in one who does not love. 29. Therefore, where there is no charity there is no humility, and where there is no humility there is no charity. This the Apostle declares most plainly when he says, Charity envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. And because she is not greedy of other’s goods he goes on to say: Seeketh not her own (1 Cor. 13:5). Therefore, charity excludes all vain-glory, all ambition, all greediness, all avarice, nay, by charity, according to the Apostle, all iniquity is at once driven out. Now, if you wish to preserve this charity, which the Apostle says is the same as the law of Christ (Gal. 6:2), my brother of Cluny, my brother of Cîteaux, if you wish to lay up for yourself by it great treasures in heaven, and to keep them when you have laid them up, do your utmost to drive from you all the causes, not only of the departure of charity, not only of her destruction, but even of any injury, no matter how small. If they wish to return after you have driven them out, close the door of your heart against them, and hold fast charity and keep her as an ever present guest. Charity, if she be firmly held, will lift you to the Kingdom in the heavens, for by her sweetly irresistible force she brought down to earth the King of Heaven. The Apostle is a faithful witness of this when he says that because of His great love God sent His Son in the likeness of sinful flesh (Rom. 8:3). You will rejoice evermore in charity before God, and your joy, as He Himself has promised, no one shall take from you, when God shall be all in all, when your long thirst shall be satisfied, when His glory shall be made manifest; when He shall appear and you will be like Him, and being united to Him for ever by this charity, you will see Him as He is. 30. Now at length let my pen come back to you, my dearest friend, to whom I send this letter. It began with you, and with you let it at last end. I call to witness my conscience that, as I said before, the sole cause of my writing is charity. My endeavour has been to fan it into a flame by the breath of our conference, and to force it to burst out into its wonted flames, if not into greater ones. It now remains for you, whom Divine Providence has given us to be the milk-white and strong column on which the edifice of the Monastic Order is supported, and to be, as it were a bright star, not only to the monks, but also to the whole Latin Church of our day, it now remains for you to throw your whole strength into this Divine work, and to prevent such great companies of one Name and one Order from quarrelling any further. I have always been zealous to commend to my brethren the holy monks of your congregation, and I would, if I could, unite them to each other in the bond of a perfect charity. I have never neglected to do this in public, in private, and in the great assemblies of our Order; and I have laboured to rub off the rust of passion and of quarrelsome zeal which is wont secretly to gnaw at our vitals. 31. Do you, too, labour hard, in proportion to the grace given you by God, in our common field; for no one since you in our time, it has been shown, has planted so usefully; and so with praiseworthy zeal and industry everything that is opposed to what is useful will be rooted up. Banish from their hearts by that eloquence which is from above, and which is set on fire by the Spirit of God, that childish rivalry, that back-biting, and instead of them, whether the brethren like it or not, sow the seeds of brotherly love. Let no diversity of custom, no difference of colours, any longer divide your flocks from ours; but let universal charity unite what is derived from the Divine Unity, repair what is decayed, join again what has been sundered, give life to what has been cut off. So is it fitting that there should be one heart and one soul (Acts 4:32) in those who have one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, who are contained in one Church, and who look for the same everlasting life of bliss. I have sent a morsel of crystallized salt to my friend who has no need of jewels, but to whom, as I have heard, its material use was once advantageous, and I thought that a special understanding of it was necessary as an introduction to what I have said above. For whatever the number and the value of the array of virtues on the table of the Eternal King, if they lack the salt of brotherly love they will be rejected as tasteless. But if they are seasoned with this salt the dainties are now acceptable, and will be received with them that offer them. For He Who in His law accepts no sacrifice without salt, shows that He is pleased with no gift of virtue which lacks this condiment. LETTER CCXXXTO THE BISHOPS OF OSTIA, TUSCULUM, AND PRÆNESTEBernard warns them to do their duty in driving the wolves from the flock in the Diocese of Metz. God has raised you to an exalted position, in order that the more eminent the dignity you possess, the more you may use it for the good of His Church. Otherwise the great Father will put clown from their seat the mighty whose usefulness has not been equal to the power that they have received. I do not think that you can be ignorant of how great loss the Spouse of Christ is suffering in the Diocese of Metz, though we here are the more horrified because we are nearer. See how great a wolf is daily endeavouring, not only by craft, but also by open assaults, to break through into the fold of Christ, and to scatter the sheep which have been brought together by the blood of Christ. And it is not of yesterday or the day before yesterday, but ever since the time that he was a little wolf he has not ceased with all his might to assail and to harass that flock of the Lord with robberies, fires, and murders. Therefore I, so far as in me lies, point out the wolf, urge on the dogs. What your duty is you will see. It is not my place to teach my teachers. LETTER CCXXXITO THE SAME THREE BISHOPS ON BEHALF OF THE ABBOT OF LAGNYHe asserts the innocence of tin’s Abbot. 1. I dare to say to you whatever comes uppermost. For if it behoved you to bear a little with my folly, your good-will will, no doubt, bear with my manner, for you are debtor both to the wise and to the foolish. And I say this not because I am thinking of thoughtlessly saying a word not pertinent to the matter, or of using levity, or taking pleasure in trifles, especially before you, who are seen to be pillars of the Church; but out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, and, when grief is urgent within, truth is impatient of repression, and bursts out into speech. For my feet, I tell you, had almost gone, my treadings had wellnigh slipped, because by what appears an accursed inversion of things wickedness so often overcomes wisdom. The ungodly are lifting their horn higher, the zeal of righteousness is being disarmed, and there is no one who will or can do good. The proud do wickedly on every side, and no one dares whisper against them. And I would that innocence were safe, and that righteousness were enough for its own defence. What sin has the Abbot of Lagny committed? Is it that he is both good as a monk, and better as an abbot—that he is of good report and of better life? Or is it that he has adorned by his pity, and enriched with worldly goods, and increased in numbers of good brothers, the monastery over which he presides? Behold, this crime is laid to his charge. If it is a crime to have been approved by God and men, let him be lifted up and crucified. For heaven and earth are witnesses that it cannot be denied that he has been. If it is a crime to be hospitable, kind, sober, chaste, humble, let him deservedly come empty out of the hands of his enemies. For he is really all these, and in these he cannot be accused; the sanctity of his life and the glory of his renown prove him to be these. 2. But it is alleged against him that he refused to receive the messenger of my lord. That would certainly be a grave offence if it were so. The Abbot does not deny that the man who was sent into England, after being honourably entertained by him, asked to speak with him, but Humbert, the Provost, interposed, since the Abbot was getting ready to go out, and said that he, in the Abbot’s place, would see the man. I leave you to determine if any want of respect was shown to the man, and whose fault it was. He is also accused of having taken a letter of my lord the Pope from Humbert by force and of having opened it; but the letter exists, still unopened and sealed; he did not lay hands on it, but Humbert, by the advice of Count Theobald and myself, handed it to him of his own accord. The charge, therefore, is false. He is said also to have imprisoned some monks. That, too, is false. But if he did divide into different cells some who were mutinous and conspirators, lest they should do more harm by being thrown together, who that can judge rightly can possibly blame this? Then as to the charge that he has squandered and alienated the lands and goods of the Church and given them to his relations, sufficient reply was given before in the presence of the venerable Bishops of Soissons and Auxerre, and of Count Theobald, who acted as advocate of the monastery; and I give it again, that he gave to his own as to others, i.e., according to the same scale and custom. 3. Moreover, since the beginning of the world, it was never heard that a mutinous, haughty, and ambitious monk merited from the apostolic See the privilege of his liberty. From the time of Judas Iscariot none has been found like him, to rise in this way against his master, and betray innocent blood. Happy is the master to whom the words of the prophet are common with the Master of all, Mine own familiar friend in whom I trusted, who did also eat of my bread, hath laid great wait for me (Ps. 41:9). Before, indeed, you were lording it over the clergy against Peter the Apostle (1 S. Pet. 5:3), nay, against his co-apostle Paul, you were lording it over the faith of the whole earth (2 Cor. 1:23). But now you have added a new sin in taking upon you too much against religion itself. What remains but that you should proceed to lord it over the holy angels themselves? Except that in this, the last Judas seems to have surpassed the first in craftiness and cunning, inasmuch as while all his fellow-disciples shuddered at the infamous deed of the one, the other has had the craft to entrap, not any undistinguished person, but the very leaders of the Apostles, to connive at, nay, even to favour his wickedness. I do not impute sin to my lord, from whom, being but man, \[a decision\] could be snatched by fraud, and I pray that God will not impute it. But God forbid that, when he knows the truth, the accursed and sacrilegious attempts of this evil man should prevail. And I would have written about this to my lord himself (Innocent) with my usual venturesomeness, if I had not perceived that he receives with less than his wonted favour whatever I write to him. Do you, I beseech you, who are monks, mourn the fortune of your master of S. Benedict, who, as you see, is in danger of being opposed on all sides; so will all the vigour of monastic discipline perish, if monks are to use the strong hand, and to lift up their horns against their abbots. LETTER CCXXXIITO THE SAME BISHOPSAgainst the Abbot of S. Theofred. If those things which you hear about the Abbot of S. Theofred are true, you cannot pass them over without danger to yourselves, both because of your office and your conscience. Conscience, I say, not only your own, but also of others. The things are likely, I believe them also to be true. For the bearer of this who also bears his testimony about these matters is trustworthy. You ask how I know all this? I hold a bundle of letters sent by holy men, whom I know to be both holy and truthful, and they all alike contain as loud-tongued praises of the bearer as they do dreadful accusations of the abbot. LETTER CCXXXIIITO JOHN, ABBOT OF BUZAY, WHO HAD LEFT HIS ABBEY AND BETAKEN HIMSELF TO SOLITUDEBernard kindly recalls hint from his retirement. To his beloved son JOHN, Brother BERNARD entreats that he walk in the Spirit, and not lay aside fear of the Lord. 1. I cannot say with what bitterness of soul, and sorrow of heart I write to you, dear John, now that I see that I gain nothing by all that I have written, and that my words have no effect upon you. I have written once and again, if I mistake not; and because of my sins my labour has brought me no answer. Now a third time I sow my seed, with prayer to Almighty God, that it may not return to me empty, but may prosper, do that for which I send it forth, and rejoice me at some time or other with the fruit of your obedience and salvation. If you listen to me, nay, rather, if God listen to me, I shall have gained my son. If not I will turn me again to my wonted arms, viz., prayers and tears, not against you, but for you. I have mourned, I still mourn, and draw deep sighs from the bottom of my heart for my offspring. Who will grant to me that you as my brother shall again suck the breasts of my mother? Who will recall you for me into that quietness of mind, that community of life, that fellowship of spirit, and tranquillity of conscience which once kept you fast bound to us? 2. And, if anything on my side is causing you loss or keeping you back, I ask you not to doubt that report is false, which I hear you have been made to believe by some false tongues or other; viz., that I, without any reason or trial, was thinking of removing you from the care of the souls of your brethren that I had entrusted to you. This is not true; but in a word or two hear what is. Even if I had wished to do this, it would not have been lawful; and if it had been lawful (I speak on my conscience) I should never have wished it. This is the truth. If, then, this was the only reason why your heart has been turned, now that the truth has been made known, what remains but that you regain your wisdom, return to yourself, return to me, and moreover condemn yourself for your hastiness and thoughtless cruelty? For if one accursed suspicion had such power to alienate you, and cast you down headlong, how much more power now ought absolute certainty to have to set you up again, and bring you back to us! It would be disgraceful to you if you could be seduced by falsehood, and could not be brought back by truth. You may perhaps be forgiven for having yielded for a time to a disguised falsehood, but now that it has been found out and laid bare, it would be to your shame if you are not greatly angry at it, to say nothing of still giving it credence. Therefore, be angry and sin not, unless you wish me, or rather God, to be angry. For as to that which you have lost, it deserves our pity rather than our indignation. Of course you are a man, making your own way, like the whole human race, across this great and wide sea wherein are things creeping innumerable. Who can boast that while on it he is never driven by winds, nor tossed by the waves? You know that you have been shipwrecked by them, that you have fallen amongst false brethren. I repeat it, this is the truth. You have been deceived, and a lying spirit in the mouth of false prophets has beguiled you. 3. But now falsehood has been dispersed by the bright beams of the risen truth. If, which God forbid, you still persist in your obstinacy, I will not in the meanwhile judge you; there is One that seeketh and judgeth. But I spare you, hiding my indignation, and delaying to come to you with a rod. Further, I will endeavour, if I can, to draw you by compassion and a spirit of meekness; for I feel that I am more familiar with that, and I do not doubt that it will more easily gain you. I will not indeed delay to unsheath against you that sword which lies hidden in my well-nigh motherly breast, viz., a continuous sorrow in my heart, and frequent lamentations to God for you until you come back. But if, according to your hardness and impenitent heart, you turn aside all the blows of this sword so lovingly striking you, yet it cannot be but that at some time or other your soul will say, “I am wounded with love.” For now it is not only truth, but also charity, which shall set me free. But what am I saying? How, unhappy that I am, how shall I be free when my heart is bleeding from the loss of my son? My affection shall not rest though no effect follow; my grief shall not be appeased; my tears shall not cease. I will show myself to you while I live like another Samuel; be not to me another Saul. I will pray you, I will pray for you, that you return. Come to me, come before I die, that I, who loved you in life, in death may not be separated from you. LETTER CCXXXIVTO HERBERT, ABBOT OF S. STEPHEN OF DIJONBernard begs his forgiveness for a religious named John, who had attacked him in writing. If brother John has said or written anything unbecoming against me, or in an unbecoming way, it is not so much I whom he has injured as himself; for by writing in that way he rather betrays his own hastiness than proves me guilty of wrong; though even if he had in any point injured me it was not my intention to repay him with evil. And so looking to what becomes me rather than what he deserves, I ask and supplicate that you will also forgive the young man this fault, which seems to savour more of boastfulness than malice; on condition, however, that for the future he keep himself from writing or treating of matters which clearly are above him. For as plainly enough appears, in this little thing that he has been presumptuous enough to put forth, there was need of a maturer style and spirit. For you must see, even in this brief pamphlet, that the man either did not write what he thought, or did not think what he ought. LETTER CCXXXV. (A.D. 1143.)TO POPE CELESTINE IN THE CASE OF THE DISPUTED ELECTION AT YORKBernard begs the intervention of the Pope against the odious and Simoniacal intrusion at York. 1. It behoves you according to the righteousness which is of the law to raise up seed to your dead brother. This you will worthily fulfil if you maintain the good actions and perfect the incomplete works of Pope Innocent, to whose place in the heritage of the Lord you have succeeded. You have a case before you in which you may do this. Is there anyone who knows not that the cause of the Church of York was settled by him? I wish that no one knew how the order which went from his lips has been executed. Who can prevent it from being told in Gath, from being published in the streets of Askelon? (2 Sam. 1:20). But to make a short story for one who is much occupied, let my Lord hear briefly what was said and what has so far been done. When the man who impiously sought his election to the primacy of the Church of York was accused of many faults the whole controversy was at length ordered to cease according to the testimony of the illustrious William, Dean of the same Church, so that his ambition might fail of all its attempts unless the Dean should remove by his oath the charge of intrusion which, amongst other charges, was made against him. But this was done, not by way of sentence, but from mercy, for he himself had asked for it. Surely a most mild sentence, when he was charged with very many grievous faults, which he utterly refused to rebut. But it were well if matters had remained there, for even if justice was not satisfied, at all events the Church was set free from scandal. I do not speak of the remission of the sentence; that did no harm. But this indulgence, though too great, yet availed the adversary nothing, inasmuch as he was unable to carry out what he had himself come forward to promise, for the Dean, on whose support he seemed to reckon, failed him and refused to perjure himself. For when would a good man act as sponsor for a man whom common rumour and his well-known actions alike held up to detestation? What then happened? The one refused to swear, and the other is Bishop. 2. Oh! it is a matter to be kept from the knowledge of everyone, and, if it were possible, it should be condemned to perpetual silence. But that is too late. The triumph of the devil, alas! has become known to the world. The shouts of the uncircumcised mingle on all sides with the lamentations of good men, because wickedness seems to have overcome wisdom. The shame of our mother Church is pointed at by the finger. Our father Innocent still lives in you, though a worthless servant thinks him dead, and exposes and scoffs at that in him which decency would cover. If this was to be the end of it all, why was this most detestable cause dragged from so far to Rome, when it was more worthy of darkness and a corner? Why was so toilsome a journey over sea and land undertaken by many? Why were the religious summoned from the ends of the earth to accuse him, and why were the purses of Christ’s poor drained by the expenses of the long journey? Could not so base and infamous a man have been made Bishop (with unwillingness and grief I say it) without Rome having to know the things at which England was horrified, and for which France abominated him? How much better would it have been if his case had never been brought before the Roman Curia, and if this horrible polluter of everything had never reached even its sacred threshold. How much more tolerable it would have been if the Apostolic see had never heard of this intolerable evil, which now, that it has been manifested, it tolerates. With what rashness was it brought about! The man was publicly spoken against, accused before the judge, not cleared—nay, convicted: and yet consecrated. Let him who after all this laid hands on him see whether I should not say, execrated, rather than consecrated. For he will not deny that these things are so; he will not deny that he found them so stated in the Apostolic letters directed to him on the very subject. Some one, perhaps, may say that since sentence was not given he was not convicted. But I say that he confessed. For to escape judgment he of his own accord elected to have recourse to the testimony of William the Dean, and then since he failed him, what is this but giving judgment against himself, and being condemned by his own mouth? 3. Since these things are so, see, my lord and father, that your heart lean not to any work of wickedness, for, as the Prophet says, As for such as turn aside to their crooked ways, the Lord shall lead them with the workers of iniquity (Ps. 125:5). Otherwise do you advise those unhappy Abbots whom the Apostolic command dragged to Rome for the purpose of accusing him, as well as the very numerous Religious in that diocese, that they are to obey him and receive the sacraments from a man twice intruded on them—first, by the King, secondly, by the legate? When he could not enter by the door he forced his way in with a silver axe, as they say, and so was impudently intruded by the legate into the sanctuary of God, against right and justice, against the command of the Supreme Pontiff, to the injury of the highest See and of the whole Roman Curia. If I mistake not, they will resign their posts rather than pay homage to this idol, unless your authority forcibly intervene. But with how much more holy zeal and how much more worthy of your apostleship would it be for you to draw the sword of Phinehas against the two who are so disgracefully committing fornication rather than to allow so many holy men to leave their posts, or to force them to remain against their consciences? LETTER CCXXXVI. (A.D. 1143.)TO THE WHOLE ROMAN CURIA, ON THE SAME SUBJECTTo my lords and reverend fathers, the Bishops and Cardinals of the Curia, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health, and the assurance of his poor prayers. 1. What concerns all must be written to all. Nor am I afraid of being charged with presumption because, though I am least of all, I do not think that any injury done to the Roman Curia is no affair of mine. I am, I assure you, continually being consumed, so much so that I am even weary of life. In the House of God I see dreadful things. And since I have no power to correct them, I, at all events, bring them before those whose business it is to correct them. If they amend them, well. If not, I have liberated my soul: you have no excuse for your sin. You are not unaware that a sentence was pronounced by our lord, Pope Innocent of good memory, with the general consent of the Roman Curia and of yourselves, making void the election, or rather the intrusion, of William of York, unless the other William, who was at that time Dean, should deny on oath what was charged against his namesake. And it did not escape you that this was not a judicial sentence but one of mercy, and undoubtedly so, because William had himself asked for this. Would that may be adhered to, and that what has been done against it may not stand. For the one did not swear, and the other sits in the chair, which I now call a chair of pestilence. Who is there to send against this fornication the sword of Phinehas, or to make Peter exercise his power, and with the breath of his lips slay the wicked? Many are calling on me with all their heart to urge you to punish this sacrilege as it deserves. Otherwise I am bound to tell you that there will be an exceeding great scandal in the Church of God, and I am afraid that the authority of the Roman See will receive heavy loss and great damage, if punishment is not inflicted on the man who has perverted its general sentence, and in such a way, too, that others may fear to do the like. 2. What am I to say of his boast that he has secret letters, truly letters of darkness? I would that they were from the princes of darkness, and not from the princes of the Apostles. Behold the children of the uncircumcised have heard; they whisper it about that the Roman Curia, after having given so outspoken a sentence, now sends contrary letters privately. What am I to say to you? If this grievous scandal which is scandalizing not only babes, but also the mighty and the perfect, does not rouse you; if you have no compassion for the poor abbots whom the Apostolic summons has dragged from the ends of the earth, if you feel no pity for the great and godly monasteries, which are threatened with destruction under the burden of this man, if (which I ought to have said first) zeal for the House of God is not eating you up, is the craft of so deadly a foe to be allowed so to prevail that the princes of the Church bear with equanimity her infamy and their own shame? What matters it though the man did obtain sacrilegious consecration? Surely it will be far more glorious to overthrow Simon when he has been elevated than to frustrate his efforts to rise. Moreover, what will you do for the religious men who do not see how with a safe conscience they can receive even the ordinary sacraments from the leprous hand? If I am not mistaken they will rather flee than join hands with death. They will prefer exile to eating things offered to idols. But if the Roman Curia compels them against their consciences to bend the knee to Baal, God will see it and judge. So, too, will that heavenly court in which no ambition can subvert judgment. Lastly, your son beseeches you by the bowels of mercy of our God that, if you have any zeal for God, you, as friends of God, will have pity on His Holy Church, and, as far as you can, prevent any countenance being given to so detestable an affair. LETTER CCXXXVII. (A.D. 1145.)TO THE WHOLE ROMAN CURIA, WHEN THEY CHOSE THE ABBOT OF S. ANASTASIUS FOR POPE (EUGENIUS)Bernard expresses his surprise and apprehension at this election. He begs the attendance and faithful help of the Cardinals for the Pope Elect. To the lords and reverend fathers, all the Cardinals and Bishops of the Curia, the son of their holiness wishes health. 1. May God forgive you what you have done! You have recalled to the world a man who was buried; you have again involved in cares and thrown amongst crowds a man who had fled from both. You have made the last first, and lo! his last state is more dangerous than the first. He was crucified to the world; through you he now lives again to the world, and you have chosen him to be lord of all, who had chosen to be a door-keeper in the house of his God. Why have you confounded the counsel of the poor? Why have you destroyed the resolve of one who was poor and needy and stricken in heart? He was running well. What made you block up his roads, turn aside his paths, and entangle his footsteps? He will fall among robbers just as though he were going down from Jerusalem, instead of ascending from Jericho. And so he who had powerfully shaken off from himself the hands of the devil, however violent the lusts of the flesh, and the glory of the world, could not yet escape from your hands. Did he leave Pisa only that he should be taken to Rome? Did he, who shrank from being the second in command in one church, require the supreme command over the whole Church? 2. What reason or counsel made you, when the supreme Pontiff was dead, rush upon a mere rustic, lay hands on him in his concealment, wrest from his hands the axe, pickaxe, or hoe, drag him to the palace, lift him to a throne, clothe him with purple and fine linen, gird him with a sword to execute vengeance on nations, to rebuke peoples, to bind their kings in chains and their nobles with links of iron? Was there no wise and experienced man amongst you more fitted for such things? It certainly seems absurd that a man humble and ragged should be taken to preside over Kings, to rule Bishops, to dispose of kingdoms and empires. Is it ridiculous or miraculous? Certainly one of these. I do not deny, I do not doubt, that even this may have been the work of God, who alone worketh great marvels, especially when I hear constantly from the mouths of many that this has been done by the Lord. Nor do I forget either the judgments of God in olden time or the Scripture which tells us that by the will of God very many have been at different times called from a private, or even a rustic life, to rule His people. For example, to mention but one out of many, did He not choose His servant David in this way, and take him from the sheepfolds, from following the ewes great with young? So I say it may have happened by the good pleasure of God with our Eugenius. 3. Yet I am not sure; but I fear for my son, who is of delicate nature, and whose tender modesty is accustomed rather to leisure and quiet than to managing those things which are without: and it is to be feared that he will not execute the offices of his Apostleship with the dignity that is fitting. What sort of disposition do you think a man is likely to have who sees himself dragged into the midst from the depths of spiritual contemplation, and from the pleasing solitude of the heart, and led like a sheep appointed to be slain to such strange and unwelcome duties. Unless the Lord support him with his hand he must, alas! be cast down and crushed under the unusual and excessive burden, which seems a heavy load for the shoulders of a giant, so to speak, or even of an angel. But it has now been done, and, as many say, from the Lord; it is your duty, therefore, dearly beloved, to anxiously help forward by your earnest efforts and faithful services what we see has been the work of your own hands. If there be any consolation in you, if any power of love in the Lord, if any godly pity, if any bowels of compassion, assist and co-operate with him in the work to which he has been called through you by God. Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, suggest them to him, urge him to them, do them with him; do this, and the God of peace shall be with you. LETTER CCXXXVIII. (A.D. 1145.)TO POPE EUGENIUS: HIS FIRST LETTERBernard at once congratulates and condoles with the newly-elevated Pope. To his loving father and Lord, EUGENIUS, by the grace of God, supreme Pontiff, his humble servant BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting. 1. We have heard in this our country, and it is on the tongues of all, what the Lord has done with respect to you. Till now I have forborne to write, I considered the matter in silence. For I expected to hear from you, and to be prevented with the blessings of sweetness. I was waiting for some faithful man to come from your side to tell me everything in order, what was done, by what means, and in what manner. I was waiting to see if by any chance one of my sons should return to soothe the grief of his father, and to say: Joseph, thy son, is alive, and is ruler over all the land of Egypt (Gen. 45:26). Hence it is that this letter is not of free will, but of necessity, and is extorted by the requests of my friends, to whom I cannot deny the short remaining portion of my life. But as I have once begun, I will speak to my lord. For I dare not call you any longer my son, because the son has been changed into father and the father into son. He who came after me is preferred before me; but I feel no envy, because I am confident that what was lacking to me he will supply, who came not only after me, but also through me; for if you will let me say so, I begot you in one sense through the Gospel. What, then, is my hope and joy, and crown of rejoicing? Is it not you before God? A wise son is the glory of his father (Prov. 10:1). But henceforward you will not be called a son, but a new name will be given you which the mouth of the Lord has spoken (Is. 62:2). This change is of the right hand of the Most High, and many shall rejoice in this change. For as formerly Abram was changed to Abraham (Gen. 17:5), Jacob to Israel (Gen. 32:28), and, to mention your predecessors, Simon was changed to Cephas (S. John 1:42), Saul to Paul (Acts 13:9), so my son Bernard, by what I hope is a joyous and beneficial translation, has been promoted to my Father Eugenius. This is the finger of God raising up the poor out of the dust, and lifting up the beggar from the dunghill, that he may sit with princes and may inherit the throne of glory. 2. It now remains that, since this change has taken place in you, the bride of your Lord who has been entrusted to your care may be changed for the better, and that no longer Sarai but Sarah shall she be called (Gen. 17:15). Understand what I say; for God shall give you understanding. If you are the friend of the Bridegroom, do not say, “His beloved is my princess,” but “His beloved is a princess.” Claim nothing of hers as your own, except that for her, if need be, you ought to lay down your life. If Christ has sent you, you will feel that you have come not to be ministered unto, but to minister; and to minister not only of your substance, but, as I said before, your life itself. A true successor of Paul will say with Paul, Not because we have dominion over your faith, but are helpers of your joy (2 Cor. 1:23). The heir of Peter will listen to Peter, who says: Neither as being lords over God’s heritage, but being ensamples to the flock (1 S. Peter 5:3). For by so doing it will no longer be as a handmaiden but as a freewoman, full of beauty, that the Bride will be admitted into the welcome embrace of her most glorious Bridegroom. By whom else if not by you is this freedom that is her due to be hoped for? By none, if you too (which God forbid), seek in the heritage of God the things which are your own, after having long ago learnt not to call anything your own which belongs to you, no, not even yourself. 3. Therefore, having such confidence in you as she seems to have had for a long time in none of your predecessors, the whole assembly of the saints everywhere rightly rejoices, and boasts herself in the Lord; and specially she whose womb bore you, and whose breasts you sucked. May I not, too, rejoice with them that do rejoice? Shall I not be one of the number of those who are glad? I rejoiced, but it was, I confess, with trembling. I rejoiced, but in the very moment of my rejoicing fear and trembling came upon me. For though I have laid aside the name of father, I have not laid aside a father’s fear, or anxiety, least of all the affection and heart of a father. I look at the height and I fear a fall. I look at the height of your dignity, and I see the mouth of the abyss that lies beneath you. I notice the loftiness of your honour, and I shudder at the danger close at hand, because of that which is written: Man being in honour hath no understanding (Ps. 49:12). Which saying, I think, is to be referred rather to the cause than the time, so that we are to understand it to mean that when he is in honour he has no understanding, because the consciousness of his honour has swallowed up his understanding. 4. And, indeed, you had chosen to be a doorkeeper in the house of God, and to sit in the lowest room at his banquet, but it has pleased Him Who invited you to say: Friend, come up higher (S. Luke 14:10). And as you have ascended on high, be not high-minded, but fear, lest perchance it happen to you to utter at last that piteous cry, From the face of Thy indignation and wrath Thou hast lifted me up and cast me down (Ps. 102:10). You have obtained, it is true, a higher place, but not a safer; a loftier, not a more secure. Terrible, indeed, a terrible position is it. The place, I mean, where you are standing is holy ground, it is the place of Peter, it is the place of the Prince of the Apostles, where his feet have stood. It is the place of him whom the Lord made lord of His house, and chief of all His possession. And if you should turn aside from the way of the Lord, recollect that he was buried in the same place that he may be for a testimony against you. Deservedly was the Church entrusted to such a shepherd, to such a foster-father; for while she was still tender, still in her swaddling clothes, she was taught by his precept and educated by his example to tread under foot all earthly things, for he had kept his hands clean from every gift, and could say with pure heart and good conscience: Silver and gold have I none (Acts 3:6). But enough of this. 5. The reason why I am writing to you before the time is this. The Bishop of Winchester and the Archbishop of York do not walk with the same mind as the Archbishop of Canterbury; but they go contrary to him, and this is an old quarrel about the office of legate. But who is he, and who are they? Is not York the same man who, while you were one of us, your brothers withstood to his face in your presence because he was to be blamed. But he has trusted to the multitude of his riches, and has obtained his way in his vanity. Yet it is certain that he has not entered into the sheepfold by the door, but climbed in some other way. If he had been a shepherd he was one to love; if a hireling to be borne with; but, as it is, he is to be avoided and rejected as a thief and a robber. What shall I say about my lord of Winchester? The works which he does himself they bear testimony to him. Moreover, the Archbishop of Canterbury, whom they are opposing, is a man of true piety and of mild character. On his behalf, I ask that his righteousness may answer for him, and that their iniquity may be upon them, as it is written: The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him (Ezek. 18:20). When you have an opportunity, recompense them after the works of their hands that they may know that there is a prophet in Israel. 6. Who will grant me to see before I die, the Church of God as in the days of old when the Apostles let down their nets for a draught, not of silver and gold, but of souls? How do I long that you may inherit the voice of him whose seat you have obtained! Thy money perish with thee (Acts 8:20), he said. O voice of thunder! O voice of magnificence and power! at whose terror all who hate Sion are driven back and put to confusion. This voice your mother anxiously expects and demands from you; the children of your mother, both old and young, ask for it, sigh for it, in order that every plant which our heavenly Father has not planted may be uprooted by you. For you have been set over nations and kingdoms to uproot and destroy, to build and to plant. When they heard of your election many said: Now is the axe laid to the root of the trees (S. Matt. 3:10). Many are still saying to themselves, “The flowers have appeared in our land, the time for purging is come, when the dead branches shall be cut away, so that those which remain may bring forth more fruit.” 7. Be strong, then, and of a good courage; your hand is on the neck of your enemies. By constancy of mind and vigour of spirit show your right to the portion which the Almighty Father has given you above your brethren, which, too, he took from the Amorite with His sword and with His bow. Still, in all that you do, recollect that you are a man, and keep before your eyes the fear of Him who takes away the spirit of princes. How many Roman Pontiffs have you seen with your own eyes carried off in a short time by death! Let your predecessors ever put you in mind of your own most sure and speedy death, and inform you of the short space you have to rule in, of the fewness of the days that you have to live. Amongst all the seductions of this transitory glory meditate constantly on your latter end, for, as you have succeeded others in the Apostolic See, so will you certainly follow them in death. LETTER CCXXXIX. (A.D. 1145.)TO THE SAMEBernard urges upon him the deposition of William, Archbishop of York. I am troublesome, I know, but I have a good excuse, viz., the Apostleship of Eugenius. They say that it is I, who am pope, not you, and all who have business come to me from every side. And amongst so great a number of friends there are some whom I cannot refuse to help without causing scandal, or even committing sin. And now I have another excuse no less pertinent in the goodness of my cause. My pen is now directed against that idol at York, impelled by the very fact that though I have often aimed at him with this weapon, yet I have never stricken him through. And why is this? Perhaps because none of my darts was wielded like the sword of Jonathan, which never returned empty; but that was not the fault of the javelin but of him who hurls it. For it is evident that it has not been hurled with the necessary strength. And no wonder; for who save a son of the archers can shoot the arrows with a powerful hand? He who holds the place of Peter can at one blow destroy Ananias, at one blow Simon Magus. And to make what I say more plain, it is known to be the prerogative of the Roman Pontiff alone to peremptorily order the deposition of a Bishop, no doubt because, though many others have been called to a share of responsibility, yet he alone has the fulness of power. So, if I may be so bold as to say it, he alone is in fault, whenever a fault which deserves correction is not corrected, or is corrected with insufficient force. With what force the fault of the above-named intruder at York ought to be corrected, nay, destroyed as by a lightning stroke, I leave to your conscience. But I believe that what has not been done has been reserved for you, that in settling this scandal the Church of God, over which He has called you to preside, may see the fervour of your zeal, the power of your arm, and the wisdom of your mind; so that all people may fear the priest of the Lord, when they hear that the wisdom of God is in him to execute judgment. LETTER CCXL. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE SAME, ON THE SAME SUBJECT1. How much do I always desire to hear of you that by which God may be glorified, your ministry honoured, and my soul made joyful. This is why I rejoiced so greatly when I heard of your answer in the case of some who seemed to be filled with an extravagant ambition for the office of legate, and to hope for it with impudence, even more than I can say. And not only I but all who love your name rejoiced with exceeding great joy. Moreover, when I read your letter written in the cause of the Church of Rodez, then was my mouth filled with laughter and my tongue with joy. Such things as these are worthy of your Apostleship, they honour the highest See, they are just what is becoming to the Bishop of the world. Whence, also, I bow my knees to the Author of your unique Primacy, that he will give you so to think and so to act in pulling up and planting, in destroying and building. In truth, you have been raised to this chair for the fall and rising again of many. Let those fall who stand to others’ harm, let them fall; but let the worthy be raised. The axe is being laid to the root of the barren trees, the fruitful are being purged that they may bring forth more fruit. With the humble Eugenius at the head of all may the mighty be put down from their seat, and the humble exalted; let the hungry be filled with good things, and the rich sent empty away. Lately, for example, this was exemplified in the case of a certain poor bishop, to the delight of the whole earth. 2. Come, then, let your holy zeal for religion cross over to that unhappy church on the other side of the sea, for it is time to have pity on her. This vineyard of the Lord of hosts, this choice, this most beautiful vineyard is, alas! almost reduced to a wilderness, for a ravening wild beast is devouring it. Why do they say among the heathen “where is its God?” Where is he whom they have placed as guardian over the vineyards? Where is the hand that prunes, where is the knife of the gardener? How long is the ground to be cumbered with a useless tree, and the fruit choked? And certainly the time for purging it has come. Indeed, the man who was to make his peace, by whose means he hoped to clear himself, testifies that there is more need of cutting off than of purging. Letters written by him to the legate of the Apostolic See are in existence, in which he openly asserts that there was an open intrusion, and denies the validity of the election. So therefore he finds that the witness that he had himself brought forward is his accuser. And these charges which are in the mouth of everyone would be enough to rightly deprive a knight of his military belt. 3. How, then, shall he be able to stand when you have many reasons for casting him down, and have moreover the will? I have read in your letters of your zeal for the Church, and I now ask you to show it. It is not my place to dictate to you as a wise man how you should proceed to overthrow him; there seems to be more than one way. Nor do I much care on which side the unfruitful tree falls, as long as it does fall. Still, I say that he who claims to be allowed to take possession on the ground that private letters have passed between him and the Pope, is he not a thief and a robber? Again, when he asserts that he had private letters authorizing his “execration,” he says what is either true or false. If it is true, he is guilty of theft, and is an accuser of the Supreme Pontiff. If it is false, he ought to listen to the words, Hast thou killed and also taken possession? For the mouth that lies slays the soul (Wisd. 1:11). But God forbid that we should believe so great a man guilty of such duplicity, as by this man is alleged against him. If Innocent were here to answer for himself he would no doubt say to him, “I gave sentence against you openly, and in secret have I said nothing.” LETTER CCXLI. (A.D. 1147.)TO HILDEFONSUS, COUNT OF S. ELOY, ABOUT THE HERETIC HENRYHe describes the impious teachings of the heretic Henry, successor of Peter de Bruys, and blames the Count for permitting such a man to teach undisturbed in his dominions. 1. How great are the evils which I have heard and known that the heretic Henry has done and is daily doing in the Churches of God! A ravening wolf in sheep’s clothing is busy in your land, but by our Lord’s direction I know him by his fruits (S. Matt. 7:15, 16). The churches are without congregations, congregations without priests, priests without their due reverence, and, worst of all, Christians without Christ. Churches are regarded as synagogues, the sanctuary of God is said to have no sanctity, the sacraments are not thought to be sacred, feast days are deprived of their wonted solemnities. Men are dying in their sins, souls being dragged everywhere before the dread Tribunal, neither reconciled by repentance nor fortified by Holy Communion. The way of Christ is shut to the children of Christians, and they are not allowed to enter the way of salvation, although the Saviour lovingly calls on their behalf, Suffer little children to come unto me (S. Matt. 19:14). Does God, then, who, as He has multiplied His mercy, has saved both man and beast, debar innocent little children alone from this His so great mercy? Why, I ask, why does he begrudge to little ones their Infant Saviour, who was born for them? This envy is of the devil. By this envy death entered into the whole world. Or does he suppose that little children have no need of a Saviour, because they are children? If so the great Lord was made small for no reason, to say nothing of His being scourged, spitted on, nailed to the cross, and put to death. 2. This man, who says and does things contrary to God, is not from God. Yet, O sad to say, he is listened to by many, and he has a following which believes in him. O, most unhappy people! The voice of one heretic has put to silence all the Prophets and Apostles, who in one spirit of truth have joined in calling together in the faith of Christ the Church out of all nations. Therefore the divine oracles have been deceived; the eyes and minds of all are deceived when they see fulfilled what they read was predicted. How certain is it rather that this man alone with a dull and altogether Jewish blindness, either does not see the truth which is manifest to everybody else, or envies its fulfilment, and so by some devilish art or other he has persuaded a stupid and foolish populace not to trust their own eyes in a plain matter of fact, and to believe that our ancestors were deceived, that their descendants are in error, that the whole world, even after Christ’s blood has been shed, is going to perdition, and that the full riches of the mercy of God and His grace which saves the world have come to those only whom he is leading astray. And now, because of this, though in much weakness of body, I have set out on a journey to those parts which this ravening wild beast is most laying waste, since there is none to resist him or to save them. Since he has been expelled from the whole of France for similar wickedness, he finds those parts alone opened to him where, under your protection, he is with all his might raging against the flock of Christ. How this is consistent with your good name I must leave you, as an illustrious prince, to judge. Still it is no wonder if that crafty serpent has deceived you, since he has the form of godliness, though within he has denied its power. 3. But now hear who he is. He is an apostate; he was once a monk, but has abandoned the religious habit, and has returned, like a dog to its vomit, to the abominations of the flesh and of the world. Being unable to live a life of shame among his kindred and those who knew him, or, rather, not being allowed to do so because of the greatness of his crime, he has girded up his loins, and has entered on a road of which he is ignorant, and has become a wanderer and a fugitive on the earth. When he began to go about begging he put a price on the Gospel (for he was well-educated), divided the word of God for sale, and preached the Gospel that he might earn his bread. If he was able to extract more than enough to live on from the more simple of the populace or from any of the matrons he would basely squander it at dice, or even on baser objects. Often, indeed, after being applauded by the people in the day, has this famous preacher been found at night with prostitutes, and sometimes even with married women. Ask, if you please, noble sir, why he left Lausanne, why Le Mans, why Poictiers, why Bordeaux, and there is no way of return to any of them open to him, because he has in all left foul traces behind him. Did you, pray, expect good fruit from such a tree? He makes the land in which he is to stink in the nostrils of the whole earth, because, according to the saying of the Lord, an evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit (S. Matt. 7:18). 4. This, then, as I said, is the cause of my coming. Nor do I come of myself, but I am drawn thither alike by the summons and evil condition of the Church, to see if those thorns and their little seeds while they are little, can be rooted up from the land of my Lord, not by my hand, for I have no power, but by the hand of the holy Bishops with whom I am, and with the assistance of your strong right-hand. Amongst whom the chief is the venerable Bishop of Ostia, sent for this very purpose by the Apostolical See, a man who has done great things in Israel, and by whom the Almighty Lord has often given victory to His Church. It is your duty, illustrious Prince, to receive him honourably, as well as those with him; and also to take care according to the power given you from above that the great labour of these great men undertaken most of all for the salvation of you and yours be not rendered inefficacious and to no purpose. LETTER CCXLII. (A.D. 1147.)TO THE PEOPLE OF TOULOUSE AFTER HIS RETURNBernard exhorts them not only to avoid heretics, but also to drive them away; also to exercise hospitality and not to listen to unknown preachers. 1. On the arrival of our dear brother and fellow-abbot Bernard of Grandselve, I was glad and rejoiced greatly to hear what he told me of the constancy and sincerity of your faith in God, of the perseverance of your love, and of your devotion to me, of your zeal and hatred of heretics, so that every one of you is well able to say, “Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee? (Ps. 139:21). I hate them with perfect hatred; I count them mine enemies.” I thank God that my coming to you was not useless; and that my stay with you, though short, was not unfruitful. When I had made plain the truth not only by word, but also in power, they were seen to be wolves who had come to you in sheep’s clothing, and were eating up your people as though they were bread or as sheep appointed to be slain; the foxes which were spoiling your state, that most precious vineyard of the Lord, were seen; they were seen but not seized. Therefore, beloved, follow after them and seize them, and stop not till they utterly perish, and flee from all your territories, for it is not safe to sleep close to serpents. They sit lurking with the rich in secret places that they may slay the innocent. They are thieves and robbers (S. John 10:8), such as our Lord points out in the Gospel. They have themselves been subverted, and they are ready to subvert others, they utterly blemish your good name, and are corrupters of your faith. Evil communications corrupt good manners (1 Cor. 15:33). The word of such, as the blessed Apostle says, eats like a canker (2 Tim. 2:17). 2. Will anyone give me an opportunity to come to you once more? For my desire is, if in any way by the will of God I may be able, to see you again; though I am feeble and sick in body, I should think nothing of the labour since it would be for your exhortation and salvation. But in the meanwhile, beloved, so stand in the Lord as ye have begun, and as ye have heard of me. Obey your Bishops and the other rulers of the Church placed over you. Give diligence to show hospitality, for by this many have pleased God. Your father Abraham, through the holy care that he was wont to take in entertaining strangers, merited to receive Angels as his guests (Gen. 18.). In the same way his nephew Lot, for similar devotion and pious custom in receiving them, was made to rejoice (Gen. 19.). And so do you, in like manner, receive not Angels, but the Lord of Angels, in the person of strangers, feed Him in the poor, clothe Him in the naked, visit Him in the sick, redeem Him in the captives. With such sacrifices God is well pleased. Who, at the judgment, will say: “What you have done to one of the least of these My brethren, you have done to Me” (S. Matt. 25:40). 3. I give you also the same advice which I gave you when I was with you, that you receive no strange or unknown preacher, unless he be sent to preach by the Pope, or have permission from your Bishop. How, he says, shall they preach unless they be sent? (Rom. 10:15). These are they who put on the form of godliness, but within deny its power, who intermingle, like poison with honey, their profane novelties of terms and ideas with words from Heaven. Beware of them henceforward as pestilential, and know them to be ravening wolves in sheep’s clothing. Let the bearer of this letter, the venerable Abbot of Grandselve, be kindly received by you, as also his house, which is also ours, having been lately handed over to us and our order by him, and specially affiliated to the church of Clairvaux. Show to us in the person of him and the saints with him how far you have profited by our admonitions in works of mercy, and give by your treatment of them a proof of your charity, and of the love which you have for me. Whatever you do for them, think it done for me. The grace of God and His peace be with you. Amen. LETTER CCXLIII. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE ROMANS WHEN THEY REVOLTED AGAINST POPE EUGENIUSAt the instigation of Arnold of Brescia, the Romans tried to establish the ancient Republican liberty in place of the Pope’s authority, leaving him only tithes and freewill offerings. Bernard reproves them sharply for ingratitude. To the nobles and chief men, and to all the people of Rome, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, writes, desiring that they may eschew evil and do good. 1. My speech is to you, O great and famous people, though I am mean and of no reputation, of small stature, and smaller influence. And, indeed, when I consider who I am that write, to whom I am writing, and, at the same time, how differently another may judge my action, I am held back by very shame. But it is a smaller thing to endure shame before men than to be condemned before God for silence, withholding of the truth, and concealment of righteousness. For He Himself says: Tell my people their sins (Is. 58:1). It will be, moreover, for a testimony to me before God if I shall be able to speak. I have not hid Thy righteousness within my heart; I have declared Thy faithfulness and Thy salvation (Ps. 40:10). Therefore I am not afraid, though my modesty recoils from it, to write from afar to a glorious people, and by these letters from over the Alps from an obscure person, to warn the Romans of their danger and sin, if perchance they will listen to me and cease from their evil ways. Who knows whether they will be converted at the prayer of a poor man, though they will not give up their power for threats, nor for the whole armed force of the strong? Did not once in Babylon a whole people at the words of one person, and he a youth, return to a just judgment, after they had been seduced by old men, but unjust judges, and so innocent blood was saved on that day (Susannah i.)? So also now, though I am but a youth, and of no reputation, a youth, I mean, not by the small number of my years, but of my merits, yet God is able to give such power to my words that it may come to pass that a people which has been confessedly led astray may return to a better judgment. This, then, is my answer to those who may think that they ought to be angry with me or indignant at my interference. 2. If this is not enough, I add another consideration, The cause is common to all, and there is no distinction of small or great. There is pain in the head, and therefore it is not a matter of no concern to the smallest or the most extreme members of the body. Nor does it pass one by. This great pain, because it is so great, has reached even to me, though I am the least of all, and because it is of the head it cannot but affect also the body, of which I am a member. When the head suffers, does not the tongue exclaim for all the members of the body that it, too, suffers with the head, and do they not all confess by it that the head is theirs, and its pain is theirs too? Suffer, me then, a little to bewail before you my grief, which is not only mine, but that of the whole Church. Is it not her voice which to-day is heard crying throughout the world: “My head suffers, my head is ill?” Is there any one Christian in the whole world, even though he be the last, who is not proud of this head, which has been exalted by the triumph, adorned by the blood of those two princes of the earth who bent their heads, the one to the axe, the other to the Cross? And, therefore, any wrong done to the Apostles affects every Christian, and as their sound went out into all lands (Ps. 19:4) so their wrong is felt by all everywhere, everywhere it is bewailed and wept. 3. What has made you, O Romans, offend the princes of the world, who are, too, your own special patrons? Why do you provoke against yourselves, by a madness which is as unbearable as irrational, the King of the Earth and the Lord of Heaven, by audaciously and sacrilegiously attacking the holy Apostolic See, which has been raised on high above all others by its sacred and regal privileges, and why are you striving to lessen its honour when, if need were, you should defend it alone against the world? Are you, O Romans, so foolish as not to judge and discern what is good, and, instead, to defile as much as you can the head of all as well as of yourselves, for which you should not shrink from laying down your own lives if necessity demanded it? your fathers brought the world under the rule of your City; you are hastening to make your City the derision of the world. See, the heir of Peter has been driven by you from the seat and city of Peter. See, by your hands the Cardinals and Bishops, ministers of the Lord, have been robbed of their goods and houses. O dull and foolish people! O silly dove without heart! Was not he your head, and were not his eyes yours? What, then, is Rome now but a body deprived of its head, a face without eyes, a darkened countenance? Open, unhappy nation, open your eyes, and see your desolation even now close at hand. How in a short time has her beauteous colour been changed (Lam. 4:1); how is she become as a widow, she that was great among the nations and princess among the provinces (Lam. 1:1). 4. But these are but the beginnings of evils, I fear worse. If you persist, are you not on the point of perishing? Return, return, O Shunamite! return to a better disposition; recognize now, though it be late, the ills, the great ills, which you have suffered, or are still suffering. Bethink you for what cause and reason, by what agents, and to what uses you have, not long ago, squandered all the ornaments and revenues of all the churches belonging to you; think how, by impious hands, all the gold and silver which could be found on the altars or in the \[form of\] altar vessels, or in the sacred images themselves, has been stolen and carried off. Of all this how much do you now find in your purses? Further, the beauty of the house of God has irrecoverably perished. And what has made you now repeat this evil-doing, to call down on you again those evil days? What ampler gain or more sure hope is there now to rouse you? There is only this, that your latest doings are seen to be more heedless than the former, because then not only many of the common people, but also some of the clergy and princes in different parts of the world took your part in that schism. But now your hand is against all, and the hand of all against you. The whole world is wholly clear from your blood, except you yourself alone, and your children within you. Woe then to you now, O wretched people, and double woe, and this not now as before from foreign nations, not from the ferocity of barbarians, not from thousands of armed soldiers. Woe to you only from the face of your own people! Woe to you from your servants and friends, from civil war, from cruel searchings of heart, from the sufferings of your children. 5. Do you now recognize that all are not peaceably disposed who are of your own house, nor all friendly who seem to be so? And even if we had known it before, we are now taught more plainly by your example the full truth of that saying of the Lord which He spake—that a man’s enemies, shall be those of his own household (S. Matt. 10:36). Woe to brother from the brother in his midst, and to children from their parents. Woe to them, not from the sword, but from lying lips and a deceitful tongue. How long will you so evilly encourage each other in your evil-doing? How long will you lay one another low with the swords of your lips, ruin one another, be consumed one by another? Assemble yourselves, ye scattered sheep, return to your pastures, and to the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls. Return, ye wanderers, to your first love. I say this not as an enemy to revile you, but as a friend to rebuke you. True friendship brings sometimes rebuke, never flattery. 6. But I add to it entreaty. For Christ’s sake, I beseech you, be reconciled to God, be reconciled to your princes (I mean Peter and Paul), and to him their vicar and successor, Eugenius, whom you have driven from his house and home. Be reconciled to the princes of the world, lest haply the world begin to take up arms on their behalf against your folly. Know you not that when they are offended you can do nothing, that when they are favourable you have nothing whatever to fear? Under their protection you need not fear, O renowned city, home of the brave, for thousands of the people that set themselves round about you. Be reconciled, then, to them, and at the same time to the thousands of martyrs, who, indeed, are with you, but yet against you, because of the grievous sin which you have committed, and to which you obstinately cling. Be reconciled to the whole Church of the Saints, who are everywhere scandalized when they hear of your evil doings. Else will this very page be a witness against you. And the Apostles and Martyrs themselves will make a firm stand against those who have dishonoured them and deprived them of the glory of their labours. But let us all now alike hear an end of talking. I have pointed out what is right, pointed out beforehand to you your danger, not concealed the truth, exhorted you to better things. There now remains, either that I be delighted by your speedy amendment, or grieve inconsolably at the sure knowledge of the righteous punishment ready to fall on you, that I wither and pine away for fear and looking after those things which shall come on the whole city. LETTER CCXLIV. (A.D. 1146.)TO CONRAD, KING OF THE ROMANSHe urges the King to defend the Papal authority against the rebellious Romans. 1. Never more sweetly, more harmoniously, or more closely could kingship and priesthood have been united or planted together than when they both alike met in the person of the Lord, since He was made for us out of both tribes according to the flesh, at once High Priest and King. And not only so, but he also mingled them and united them in His Body, which is the whole Christian people, Himself being their Head; so that the Apostle calls this race of men, A chosen generation, a royal priesthood (1 S. Pet. 2:9). In another Scripture are not all as many as were predestinated to life called kings and priests? (Rev. 1:6 and 5:10). Therefore, what God hath joined together let not man put asunder. What Divine authority has sanctioned let man’s will be the more diligent to fulfil, and let those whom precepts have united be united in their minds. Let them help each other, defend each other, bear each other’s burdens. The Wise Man says, If a brother help his brother, both shall receive consolation (Prov 18:19). But shall they not both receive desolation if, which God forbid, they bite and devour each other? May my soul never come into the counsel of those who say that either the peace and liberty of the Churches is injurious to the Empire, or that the prosperity and exaltation of the Empire are harmful to the Churches. For God, the Founder of both, has not joined them for destruction, but for edification. 2. If you know this, how long do you continue to pass over their common reproach, their common wrongs? Is not Rome at once the Apostolic See and the capital of the Empire? To say nothing, then, of the Church, is it to the King’s honour to hold in his hands a broken sceptre? I know not, indeed, what advice your wise men and the heads of your kingdom may give you on this matter, but I; speaking in my folly, will not keep back what I think. The Church of God has from the beginning down to the present time many times suffered tribulations, and many times been set free. Listen to what she says about herself in the Psalm, Many a time have they fought against me from my youth up, but they have not prevailed against me. The sinners built upon my back, and made long their iniquity (Ps. 129:2, 3). The Lord, certainly, O King, will not now let the rod of sinners come into the lot of the righteous. The Lord’s hand is not shortened or weakened that it cannot save. He will at this time again without doubt set free His Spouse, whom He redeemed with His own Blood, endowed with His Spirit, adorned with Heavenly gifts, and enriched none the less with earthly bounties. He will set her free, I repeat. He will set her free, but if by the hand of another, even the princes of the realm can see whether that would be to the King’s honour or to the benefit of the kingdom. It would not be to either. 3. Therefore gird thee with thy sword upon thy thigh. O, most mighty, and let Cæsar restore to himself the things which are Cæsar’s, and to God the things which are God’s. It is well known that both are in the charge of Cæsar, viz., to guard his own crown and to defend the Church. One befits the King; the other the defender of the Church. The victory, I trust in God, is in your hands. The haughtiness and arrogance of the Romans are greater than their courage. How is it? Would any Emperor or King, no matter how great and powerful, presume to offer such an insult at once to the Empire and the priesthood? But this accursed and turbulent people, which knows not how to measure its strength, to think of its object, to consider the issue, has in its folly had the audacity to attempt this great sacrilege. God forbid that popular violence and the rashness of the vulgar should for a moment be able to stand before the face of the King. I have become as a fool, in that, though a mean and unknown person, I have thrust myself like some great one into the counsels of such greatness and such wisdom, and in a matter, too, of such importance. But the more unknown and humble I am, the freer I am to say what charity suggests. And therefore I add also this in my folly: I do not suppose that anyone will, but if anyone should attempt to persuade you to anything else but what I have urged upon you, it is certain that either he does not love the King or has but little perception of what befits the royal majesty, or else he seeks his own advantage, and does not thoroughly care either for what is God’s or for what is the King’s. LETTER CCXLV. (A.D. 1146.)TO POPE EUGENIUS, ON BEHALF OF THE BISHOP OF ORLEANSHe praises the zeal of the Pope in this matter. Thus act always, I pray you. Always look at the petition, not at the petitioner. The King’s intercession for the Bishop of Orleans was not listened to, yet he was not offended, because his heart is in the hand of God. But even if he had been, you would have had to bear it, lest God should be offended, Who will be the more propitiated, and more quickly give us deliverance from the evils that we suffer and from our grief, if righteousness be held fast and truth not given up. It is not easy to say how much my heart is gladdened by such actions as these of yours, which are daily being noised abroad, to the great joy of all. So much for this. For the future, if anyone suggests to you that more might be put upon me, know that my strength is unequal to what I now bear. Inasmuch as you spare me you will also spare yourself. I think that you know that it is my determination not to leave my monastery again. In the matter of brother Balditius, though he is beloved by and is useful to me, I have obeyed you without delay. With regard to sending an Abbot to S. Anastasius, if it has not been done it shall be directly I know that it has not. Further, as to sending someone else, as in your last letter you said nothing about it, I did not presume to do it. But this shall be done as quickly as you see fit to hasten it. My lord of Auxerre and brother Balditius will give you an answer about everything more at length and more plainly. What Baldwin, Archbishop of Pisa, did in Sardinia in the matter of the excommunication of the judge of Arvora, I ask that you will uphold, ratified and unshaken by your authority, because I believe that so good a man would not have done this except justly. Lastly, let the judge of Torre, since he is said to be a good prince, find favour with you and receive a welcoming hand. LETTER CCXLVI. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE SAME BISHOP OF ORLEANS, AFTER HIS DEPOSITIONHe commends to the Pope the Bishop of Orleans, who had voluntarily resigned his See. 1. It is now time for me to write, not as before, on behalf of a Bishop, but for a poor and lowly monk, which is a more distressing task than if it were for one who is rich and in good position. Hence there is no room now for flattery, but only for mercy. Many wrote on his behalf to ask that he might remain Bishop, but this was too much to ask. I could not be induced to venture on that. But now if the affair is looked at more gently, humanity demands now, what before I avoided asking. The man had hope until now, and the reason of his hope was of this kind. He said: “The state of affairs has been greatly changed since the sentence that I should purge myself was pronounced against me. And, indeed, the sentence that I received was severe enough, and one that could hardly be fulfilled by the most innocent. But how can it now when everything has made it impossible?” There is no Bishop at Nevers, nor yet even at Troyes. The Bishop of Auxerre has crossed the Alps. These three form a great part of the number of comprovincials by whom I was to purge myself. Those who can purge me are certainly not lacking, but the Bishops are either non-existent or absent. Can, then, that be rightly exacted from me which cannot be found? If the judge finds the case thus, is it wonderful if he relieve me from an impossible sentence? Or if it is not wholly impossible, he will, of his own accord, pass lightly over or not scrutinize too severely acts which are of small importance. Surely he wishes for mercy and not sacrifice. For what advantage is there in my blood that he should search out my iniquity and examine into my sin? But because he is kind and merciful, something he will forgive, something he will pass over, and will add somewhat of his own. He is the lord; is it not lawful for him to do what he will? Even if the Pope, as a man of apostolic gentleness and authority, does not care to supply me with an excuse, as, indeed, he need not, why should he not use the liberty he enjoys, and promptly let mercy triumph over justice? 2. When, then, this hope was allowed him in the midst of his fear, and not in vain, as it seemed to him and his friends, yet he gave way, and trusted himself entirely to my judgment. And in order that he might not trouble the Church too long with his case, on my advice he anticipated the end, and the descent of the axe, and resigned his bishopric. There is one source of consolation, most merciful father, which this noble and repentant man has in the midst of his sad fortune. Do you ask what that is? Certainly he does not exercise himself in great matters, nor in things too high for him. It is enough for him if by your indulgence he, who was once a bishop, may remain a priest; if only the shield of your favour may be held before him to save him from the mark of infamy, and from being branded for ever with disgrace. A prayer, surely, that is worthy of being listened to. He does not ask this from pride, but lest he who was once so high should sink lower than the lowest. He will be contented with any position mid-way. Let him as he falls from on high stay himself on whatever honourable step he can lay hold of in his fall, and not descend to the lowest step of shame. He is young, of noble birth, has been placed in a high position, and yet he does not shrink from a lowly place, but from one of shame. Shall not even his humility gain him somewhat? The impious Ahab humbled himself and was profited by it (1 Kings 21:27–29); and shall not humility bring its reward to one who is faithful and noble? Far be it from the highest See, and far from your holy mind, to despise a humble and contrite heart. 3. If I should say, “He has humbled himself, let him be lifted up,” this would not be too rash or presumptuous for me to say for him; I should only be invoking a rule that you know (S. Matt. 23:12). But as it is, I do not ask that he be lifted up, but that he be not trodden under foot, and that I be not disappointed of my hope. Nay indeed, if we have received evil at the hand of the Lord, shall we not also receive good? For have you not the power to put down the mighty from their seat, and to exalt the humble and meek? Further, when we have received power, to prefer to use it against evil rather than for good, is to abuse it. Besides, he is worried by many debts, since he is now poor and needy. Let your authority order them to be paid from the episcopal revenues. It is hard to be at once deprived of honour, and to be burdened with a load of debts. LETTER CCXLVII. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE SAME, FOR THE ARCHBISHOP OF RHEIMSBernard is displeased at the severity shown towards the Archbishop of Rheims, in withdrawing from him the use of the pallium. To his loving father and lord EUGENIUS, by the grace of God Supreme Pontiff, his humble servant BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, sends humble greeting. 1. May God forgive you! What have you done? You have shamed the face of one of the most conscientious of men, and humiliated in the face of the Church one whose praise is in the Church. You have made all his adversaries to rejoice, but how many do you suppose you have grieved? There is no measure to the sympathy that he receives, because his friends are numberless. A man beloved by God and men is suffering the punishment due to a great crime, though it has not been brought home to him, nor confessed. We hold, we feel, the zeal of Phinehas; the Israelite is thrust through, but not with the Midianitish woman. It is charged against him that he crowned the King, but he does not think that in so doing he has exceeded the tenor of his privileges. It is objected against him that he knowingly presumed to celebrate in a church lying under an interdict. He denies it. In good time that will be brought to the test, and he be cleared. But be it so, let us suppose that all that his adversary has been allowed, or has cared, to say against him in his absence is true. Is it right that one whose other actions have been so praiseworthy should for this single excess be so hardly dealt with, so severely punished? To have exceeded this once only, might have been thought even a virtue, if the judgment on his action had proceeded from you and not from his enemies. What ought he to have done in such difficult circumstances? The day had been fixed, the court was solemnly assembled, the young King was there, and, above all, the business for which they had assembled was God’s business, viz., the expedition to Jerusalem. All these things plainly forbade that the solemn crowning of the King should be put off, or that it should be deprived of the wonted masses, and of its due honour. Neither was it expedient for the Archbishop of Bourges to prevent this honour being shown to the King. 2. And since this is how the case stands, I think that it is not one without an opportunity for mercy, since great necessity can excuse any appearance of contumacy. Have you power to strike only, and not to heal? You know who said, I will wound and I will heal (Deut. 32:39). Far be it from you not to use the words of Him Whose place you hold, especially His words of fatherly love. Therefore, for this time only let the arrow of Jonathan speed quickly back, and if need be let it be shot at me instead. I should think it more tolerable, I confess, for me to be forbidden to celebrate mass than for the Archbishop to be deprived of his pall. There is also another reason of no small weight which stands in the way of your godly severity here, and that is, that it may give great occasion of offence and irritation to your son, King Louis, since he will seem the whole cause of all this trouble; and this plainly is unadvisable just now, for the good work which under your exhortation he has set about zealously and earnestly may fail of a worthy ending if he does it while angry and offended. As to the rest, you have ordered, I have obeyed; and your authority has caused a ready obedience to be paid to the injunctions. I have declared and spoken, they are more than I can number. Cities and castles are made empty; and now they find with difficulty one man that seven women can lay hold of, so many widows are there everywhere, and their husbands still living. LETTER CCXLVIII. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE SAMEBernard forewarns the Pontiff not to lend an ear to the Bishop of Seéz, who is endeavouring to be reinstated in his diocese. 1. It is not my custom, as it is with many, to use any preface, any roundabout phrases with you. I begin at once with the matter itself. A deceitful man is on his way to you, to deceive you, I believe, but I hope that he will not succeed. For this could not happen except with very great danger to many. It is always an evil to deceive anyone; it is commonly also an evil to be deceived by anyone. But it makes a difference who it is that is deceived, and in what he is deceived. The greater your power and dignity is, the more dangerous and more disgraceful is it to take any advantage of you, especially in ecclesiastical matters. For example, this deceitful fox of Seéz is craftily laying his snares for you, hoping by his craft to catch you, and you can imagine with what malignity he will rage against the vineyard of the Lord of hosts, no small part of which he has in a short time laid waste, if he is allowed to return to it fortified by your authority. Alas! what is left he will speedily devour. He who came a fox will return a lion, and he will no longer use cunning but cruelty against some of the clergy, as well as some of the laity. You must, then, be on your guard against his cunning, so that his violence may not break out a second time. 2. Be not moved by the piteous face of the man, his mean dress, his suppliant look, his downcast eyes, the humility of his words, nor yet by his crocodile’s tears, running, they say, at will, and practised to further his lies. All these are but the appearance, and you know Who said, Judge not according to the appearance (S. John 7:24). In such things as these consists the form of godliness, but not always its power. These are sheep’s clothing, often put on, as the Lord warned us, by wolves for the greatest destruction of the sheep. The sheep do not hide themselves, for the wolves come to them disguised (S. Matt. 7:15). Thence it is that some of my friends, taken in by his falsehoods, have written on his behalf, not paying attention to what was wisely and truly said by the Wise Man, There is one who wickedly humbles himself, and his inward parts are full of deceit (Ecclus. 19:23). Pay no attention, then, to his words, or to the gestures of his body; examine his deeds. By his fruits you will know him. Many grievous things are said of him; they will also be said against him if there is one that seeketh and judgeth. I am unwilling to tell you all that I have heard. For everything is not to be believed; but neither is everything to be disbelieved. I briefly mention one conjecture of mine; you will judge if there is any thing in it. Why did he refuse the judges given him? If he objects to them personally, they were under no suspicion. If he objects to the place, it was in his own land, amongst his own kindred, where the whole matter could be investigated easily, and without trouble, at small expense, and without a long journey. We can clearly only conclude that he appealed to you as an expedient to escape from the great number of his accusers who would be unable to pursue him outside his native land because of the expense. We must thank the Bishop of Lisieux, whose zeal for the House of God has made him spare neither his purse nor his individual trouble. He is a good brother, whose desire it is to raise up seed to his dead brother. Do you, too, thank him, because this diligent care of his will shed no small lustre on your name, for by it the wicked is made manifest, and so overthrown, which is your glory. LETTER CCXLIX. (A.D. 1145.)TO THE SAMEHe commends as worthy the Prior of Chaise Dieu, elected to the See of Valence. If rarity gives value to things, nothing in the Church is more precious, nothing more to be wished for, than a good and useful pastor. Truly such is a rare bird. Accordingly, whenever such is found, and an occasion is given, immediately men’s hands are laid upon him, and they strive with all their might, using every possible violence and act of wickedness to prevent his promotion and the good fruit that it promises. I have heard that in the Church of Valence the Prior of Chaise Dieu has been elected by the vote of both clergy and laity. I should be greatly surprised if he were not a good and useful man in the work to which he has been called. Do you wish to know why I think so? Good men wish it, and one who pleases good men cannot but be good. And it is, it seems to me, no less a real proof of his goodness if he is displeasing to the bad in the neighbourhood. It becomes your holiness to confirm the election of these good men, lest if their choice be rejected you receive, by the efforts and conspiracy of the wicked, some other whom you would not wish. LETTER CCLTO BERNARD, PRIOR OF PORTESBernard thinks that the refusal of the Pope to raise Brother Noel on account of his youth to the Episcopate ought not to be resented by the brethren. To the most reverend fathers and loving lords, BERNARD, Prior of Portes, and the saints with him, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting in the Lord. 1. From a passage in the reply of your Beatitude I find that I wrote something which made you think that I was troubled, and that you fear that not a little. But if so it is without cause. For there is no reason why you, most reverend fathers, should fear anything from your child who loves you in truth as friends and holds you as saints. Unless, perchance, you feared not me, but for me, with a fatherly love, because I seemed to you to be troubled without reason, or if with reason, more, perhaps, than I ought. I was troubled, I admit, not against you, but for you, and that but little. If this, too, was hastiness, then without hastiness I confess against myself my unrighteousness, and you will forgive the hastiness of my sin. Pardon me, such is my nature; the zeal of your house eats me up. I will not allow, so far as in me lies, such an example of sanctity to lose its lustre, for God forbid that I should be afraid of its being corrupted. In exactly the same way in a beautiful body not only disease, but even a mole is distressing. Evidently the colour is not good if any one of the saints seems to be vexed at his lowly position; he is far from perfect if he does not rejoice and even glory in it. Moreover, for any imperfection to appear in one who purposes to aim at perfection is as a mole. This colour, then, in our Brother Noel displeased me. For even if he is pure in the sight of God; what then? We must also provide things honest in the sight of all men. 2. But you say, “It is we who were vexed, not he.” We come back to the same question. Again, I say what I think. I do not see why you should be vexed, unless you yourselves think that the matter is serious enough to be vexed about. Judge for yourselves whether this feeling was becoming to him, especially in newness of life. For before he took the vows, let me by his leave say it, this blot was seen in him, whether rightly must be left to his own conscience. And, perhaps, the Pope thought the same about him, since you say he has refused to confirm his election. I suppose that he was afraid of the tongues of traducers, and, therefore, withheld a too speedy promotion from a novice, lest slanderous tongues should say that this was the reward he aimed at when he took the cowl. But whatever the mind of the Pope may have been, whether this or something else, I must tell you that I knew nothing of his intention, lest anyone should say that it was done at my instigation. For, as far as I am concerned, it was my resolution that whenever I had an opportunity I would not only not hinder, but even with all my might, and, as they say, with both hands, help him whenever he should by the grace which is in him be in a position to bring forth fruit to God. Who will give me the happiness of seeing learned and holy men set over the Church of God as pastors, if not in all places, yet in many, or at all events in some? For what matters it if a youth declares that once he behaved in a youthful way? Old things are passed away, all things are become new. Shall I a second time rake up his buried vices when he has a second time been buried with Christ by the baptism of the wilderness \[i.e., monasticism\]? 3. I was very much displeased when I heard of the hard things which the Abbot of Chézy, or he of Troyes, is said to have written to you, and when I have an opportunity I will tell him so, as far as I may consistently with charity and with the brotherly intimacy that exists between us. I thank God, who has enabled you not to be overcome with evil, but to overcome evil with good, inasmuch as you have not returned him evil for evil, or cursing for cursing. Further, you must know that the letters which you had before written to me against the above-named Abbots did not come to their knowledge by any efforts or wish of mine. But enough of these matters. 4. I must now forget not myself. My burdened conscience, and my life, which resembles some fabled monster, cry aloud to you. For I am a kind of chimæra of the age, acting neither as a clerk nor as a layman, for I have long since put off the life of a monk, but not the habit. I do not like to write to you what I daresay you have heard from others, what I am so busy about, what I am striving for, through what pitfalls my walk lies, down what precipices, I should rather say, I am hurled. If you have not heard, then I pray you to make inquiries, and according to what you hear, give me your counsel and the benefit of your prayers. LETTER CCLI. (A.D. 1147.)TO POPE EUGENIUSBernard prays him to pardon the monks of Baume, whom he had rightly punished, and to reconcile them with those of Autun. To his loving father and lord, EUGENIUS, by the grace of God Supreme Pontiff, his humble servant BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends his humble greeting. The monks of Baume have sinned grievously, but not with impunity. To you, therefore, there are praise and thanksgiving due from the whole Church, because you have not kept silence, not passed it over, not been inactive. You rightly roused yourself; you struck, but it was to heal. But if my lord forgets to have mercy, and shuts up his pity in wrath, where will the healing come from? Therefore, I confidently wait for mercy after judgment, that I may sing to the Lord of mercy and judgment. I know well that you will not depart from the footsteps of Him whose vicar you are, especially because he says: If any man will serve Me let him follow Me (S. John 12:26). But the Prophet says of Him: Who knoweth if God will turn, and pardon, and leave a blessing behind Him? (Joel 2:14). And this blessing I boldly ask from you who have come after Him. Besides, it is not right to destroy the innocent with the guilty. For those who did the evil have been removed. What remains but that those who remain may be saved? Why should not they who obeyed both you and your predecessor be saved? I speak with Paul, who said: Put away from among yourselves that wicked person (1 Cor. 5:13). Therefore, have pity on them; and let not the iniquity of the wicked prejudice the righteousness of the innocent. I say this because their cause comes before the presence of your majesty together with that of the monks of Autun, and they are afraid that the iniquity of these others may injure them. I beseech you most of all to strive for their harmony and peace; indeed, I wish well to both, and so I think it is expedient for both. LETTER CCLII. (A.D. 1147.)TO THE SAME, ABOUT THE DISPUTED ELECTION AT YORKBernard begs him to cause the sentence of Pope Innocent against the Archbishop to be executed. Ambition frustrated is furious, nay, it is desperate, even to madness. The man of perdition is running his head into the noose, and accelerating the sentence of condemnation that he has so long deserved. Truly, his sins are now manifest going before unto judgment. The accursed and thorn bearing tree is anticipating the hand which is to cut it down, and calling down on itself the axe which was delaying to strike. Alas! how much more just would it have been if it had long ago fallen, rather than those saints whom, against right and justice, he has by his attacks cast down. For if he had not been standing he would never have overthrown those who were standing fast. And they who were standing to much more good than he have perished in their innocence, and for their innocence; but their innocent blood will be required at the hands of those who, by giving this mischievous tree their secret support, have prevented its immediate downfall. The blood of the saints cries from the earth against them; the saints whose souls are in the hand of the Lord, and whom no torment of wickedness can touch. Still they were my children; they have been scattered abroad, and I get no consolation from words. And even if these could afford me any solace or remedy, yet they fail me because of my grief; sorrow shuts them in, sighs interrupt them. Yet, listen, or rather read, one last word which I can better write than speak. If he is still standing, alas! that I should say it, there is great fear that his standing is your fall; and his continued ill-doing, like an evil tree which cannot but bring forth evil fruit, will be deservedly imputed not to him, but to you. LETTER CCLIII. (A.D. 1150.)TO THE ABBOT OF PRÉMONTRÉBernard replies with gentleness to their bitter complaints against him, and reminds them of the benefits they have received from him. 1. I have read what you have heard of me, and I fear. For you write against me bitter things, but I hope with more severity than truth. What wrong have I done? Is it that I have ever loved your person, been kindly disposed to your Order, and helped it whenever I could? If you believe not my words, let my deeds be my witness. Indeed, my conscience tells me that I ought to have been commended by you. But since you have seen fit to speak and write against me, I will lend power to my words from the testimony of my actions. It goes, indeed, against the grain. I may seem to be boasting of my good deeds, and this is not seemly. But you compel me to act as a fool. Whenever have you or yours wanted my help and failed to receive it? In the very first place, the land of Prémontré, in which you are living, was formerly mine, and you had it as a gift from me. For our brother Wido (so the first inhabitants of the place called him) had given it to me through the Bishop. Next, it was principally through my efforts that the monks of Beaulieu affiliated themselves to you. When King Baldwin was alive he gave me the place of the holy Samuel at Jerusalem. and at the same time a thousand crowns with which to build; I gave you both the site and the money. Many know how hard I laboured that you might have the church of S. Paul at Verdun; and you enjoy the fruit of my labour. If you do not admit this fact against you, my letters to Pope Innocent of blessed memory are in existence, as true judges and living witnesses to the truth of what I say. Your brothers of Sept-Fontaines hold from me the place which they occupy, which the first inhabitants called Francs-Vals. 2. For which of these acts do you wish to leave your friends? Are you not rewarding evil for good? For you threaten to break your compact, to dismiss the peace that there is between us, to give up fellowship, to break our unity. But suppose that it is not for a good work that you stone me, but for injury done you, in that I received brother Robert, who was once of your Order, and gave him the monk’s habit. I do not deny it; he is with us. But I thought that I sufficiently satisfied you about this when I truly told you by word of mouth, and not once only, the reason, method, and necessity of receiving him. But since you are not yet contented I shall not be displeased to repeat my former reply, as you do not hesitate to repeat the charge to which I had given my defence. 3. I never at any time urged brother Robert to leave you; nay, rather, for many years—not once, but often—I checked his desire to do so. Again, how can I be suspected of having enticed him from you when you have Magister Otho as the adviser and encourager of his withdrawal? If you do not know this, ask him. If I know the man well he will not deny it. I could also, perhaps, give you the names of others; many others, too, who had either turned to you or returned to you, whom you would not have now if I had not either persuaded or even compelled them to remain with you. But I spare you, not because I am short of matter, but because I am rich in modesty. I have known men within your walls who had been touched and converted by my preaching and disposed to join us, but who afterwards, on the solicitations of your members, altered their minds, and were received and kept in your order and habit. Then, again, their consciences began to prick them, and they wished to leave you, and would have done so, unless I make a mistake, if they had not been held back, not only by my refusal to receive them, but by my exhortations to remain where they were. 4. But since you wish it again, listen how it was that I received brother Robert. The Pope, on his own soliciation and that of his friends, enjoined it. He said that his request had been granted by you and also by his Abbot, so that no one might say that he extracted it from you by the Papal injunction. If you deny this, what is that to me? Let him see to it. If you think fit to charge the supreme and holy Pontiff with falsehood you must pardon me for thinking it impious not to believe so great holiness and not to obey so great majesty. Moreover, the venerable Abbot Gottschalk, who is one of your confraternity and had been specially named to you by the Pope to see to this matter, has clearly not denied that he had brought back from you both a free emancipation of the brother and your spontaneous avowal of it. 5. Again, in the matter of brother Fromund you have no ground for attacking me, since I did not receive him without the voluntary permission of his Abbot. And that you were not ignorant of this is shown by that bitter letter in which you bring a calumnious charge against me on the single point of the unexpected connivance of the Chapter, as if, indeed, that had been forbidden by our mutual agreement, or as though the emancipation of a monk was the privilege of the Chapter and not of the Abbot alone. 6. You add as another complaint that I removed a house of your brethren at Basse-Font, although you omit to say that it was built outside the boundaries assigned you. I wish that before you condemned me you would ask the brothers themselves not only who removed it, but also the cause of its being removed. I do not think that they would have concealed the truth from you. But hear it now from me, and then, if you like, ask them. They had begun to build a place, where they placed some of their sisters, a long way from their Abbey, but close to two farmhouses of our house, and near the pastures where we feed our sheep. We asked them as friends, and as those who might be useful to them, not to sow the seeds of a scandal, and prepare a ground of quarrels to be left as a legacy both to their posterity and ours. But they, nevertheless, went on with the building. This was all the violence that I used, this was the way that I removed them. If to make a request is to use violence, then I am inexcusable. 7. As a matter of fact, which cannot be denied, the Bishop, who was indignant that they had ventured, without consulting him, to erect an oratory in his diocese, and a monastery on the land of the Church, and on the estate of his vassal, tried to put a stop, though in vain, to the work that they had begun. For they did not give it up even when forbidden to proceed. Afterwards, as I was passing through that district, I met the then Abbot of Basse-Font, who told me that they had stopped building. But I gathered from what he said that they had done this not so much on my account, but because of the Knight who seems to have given them the land, and who in many ways was harassing them so much that they complained bitterly of his treatment of them. But even if they had abandoned the work of their own accord, and from love of us, it would but have been becoming to their religion, and would have seemed perhaps a kindness to those who had some small claims on them. I can only wonder where this complaint originated, for, if I mistake not, the Abbot ended this present life with devoted goodwill towards us, and his successor, who often consults me intimately about his needs, has never made any mention of this complaint, and, besides, I have since been very hospitably received in the same monastery, but I have never heard there from the Abbot or anyone else anything about it. Moreover, the Abbot was with us afterwards at Clairvaux, and also very recently when a chapter of your Order was held at Bar, whence came those letters of yours, which are rather calumnies than complaints; and yet I cannot recollect that either at the one place or the other, either by him or by you, was the slightest mention made of this matter. 8. You say, besides, that the monastery at Igny has burnt a little house of your brethren at Braine. Do you call it a house? It was nothing but a hut of boughs which gave shelter to the brother whose duty it was to keep watch over the standing corn. Nor was it burnt by malice, as I am told on good authority, but because it was placed in a field of the brethren of Igny, and occupied land which had to be cultivated. In short, the house, as you call it, was hardly worth a penny; and I believe that such satisfaction has already been given to the Abbot of Braine that he makes no complaint, and has no ground for it either. But if not, I am ready to give every satisfaction as soon as you let me know. And so with regard to the Abbot of Long-Pont; as soon as I heard of your complaint that he wished to build a cell within your lands I prohibited him, and, what is more, I believe that he desisted even from laying the foundations. But if not, it shall be done as soon as I know that it has not been done. You complain especially that our Abbot of Villars has been the means of an interdict being placed on the Church of S. Foillan, which belongs to your Order. But it would be more just if you were to complain of the incredible obstinacy of your brother and co-Abbot of the aforesaid house, rather than find fault with the punishment inflicted by the supreme Pontiff. I know for a certainty that the quarrelsomeness of the Abbot is strongly condemned by many of your brethren, so it is a great wonder that you do not also condemn it. And, therefore, I say to you that this is the cause of your indignation. Indeed, it is this man’s covetousness or stubbornness which has brought the interdict on your brethren. It is a tedious business, and it would be difficult to set down all his subterfuges within the compass of a letter. Still, I will state in as few words as I can the cause of the interdict. After two or more agreements of peace, after a definite sentence issued by your abbots and ours, according to the determination of your Chapter, the Bishop of Cambray, in whose diocese the house of S. Foillan is well-known to be, was at length called in, and when he saw that the Abbot was obstinately bent on breaking through all agreements, he meant, as he said, to proceed against him by an ecclesiastical sentence. Then the Abbot, to gain time, appealed to the supreme Pontiff. The case came before him. And when he knew for a certainty, on the testimony of your own abbots, as well as of other religious, that the Abbot of S. Foillan not only refused to stand by any engagements, but that he also was withstanding a judicial sentence, he ordered the Church to be laid under an interdict until he should give satisfaction. At length, in the presence of the Bishop, who had received an order to pronounce the interdict, the lord (Abbot) of Cîteaux was asked by you, by the Abbot himself, and by us, to see that some form of peace was provided, and this was gained by the entreaties both of your members and of yourselves. In the absence of the Abbot of Villars an agreement was drawn up, and the Bishop said that if the Abbot of S. Foillan would keep it he would refrain from publishing the interdict. However, when he left the meeting he did not keep it, and what is more, that house which a judicial sentence and all the agreements drawn up had commanded to be pulled down, so much so that once even it had been destroyed, was again in the meanwhile, contrary to his promise and the judicial sentence, rebuilt; and this, I say, he held and still holds, he has besides built another. Why should not the Bishop execute the order to issue the sentence of interdict which he had received from the Apostolic See, especially when the Abbot has been guilty of double-dealing? I, however, was still hoping to overcome evil with good, and I caused the sentence to be postponed till the Octave of Epiphany, in order to see in the meanwhile if the man would either determine to obey the sentence or observe some mode of compromise. And I hope that this may still happen; may the God of peace grant that our peace may rest upon him. 9. And since this is the true state of things you have no cause to complain of me; it rather seems that I might more justly complain of you. It only remains that you love those who love you, and especially endeavour to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. That is the bond between us and you, which has strengthened the cause of peace and charity, and no less beneficially for you, perhaps, than for us. You must decide if it is to be broken, it is certainly not expedient for you that it should be. And I do not think that it is in any way right for you break it. For since the cause is common to us both it ought but not to be prejudiced by the fault of an individual, even if those things were true which you say against me. But whatever you may do, brethren, I have made up my mind to love you always, even though my love is not returned. Let him who wishes to abandon his friend seek occasion for it; my desire is, and always will be, not to give any of my friends a just cause to leave me, nor to look for it in another; for the one is the mark of a feigned, the other of an injured friendship. And since the prophet says that it is a good thing to be joined together (Is. 41:7) you will be able to loosen, or even to cut off, yourselves, but not me. I will cling to you, even if you wish it not; I will cling to you, even if I do not wish it myself. Formerly I bound myself by the strong bond of charity unfeigned, which never faileth. When you quarrel I will be peaceful; and lest I give place to the devil, I will give place to the wrath of those who quarrel with me. I will be overcome by revilings, I will be overcome by kindnesses; I will help those who wish not for it, I will heap benefits on the ungrateful, and I will honour those who despise me. And now is my soul sorrowful because in some way I have offended you, and it will be sorrowful until your kindness relieve it. If you delay I will go and make excuses, I will keep knocking at your doors, I will be urgent opportunely, importunately, until I either merit or extort a blessing. The winter is more than half over, and I am still, to no purpose, it seems, waiting for my tunic. LETTER CCLIV. (A.D. 1136.)TO WARREN, ABBOT OF S. MARY OF THE ALPSBernard praises in this aged Abbot the zeal with which he undertakes the reformation of his house. To his reverend father, worthy of all veneration, WARREN, Abbot of the Alps, and to all his brethren in the same place, Brother BERNARD, the servant of their holiness, desires that they may ever advance from good to better. 1. I find that to be true of you, my father, which I recollect that I have read in Holy Scripture: When a man has been perfected, then only he begins (Ecclus. 18:6). Rest is due to you in your old age, you have won your crown, and, lo! like some new soldier in Christ you are stirring up opposition to yourself afresh, you are provoking the adversary, and though a weary old man you are taking on you the part of the strong by compelling your old enemy to renew the conflict, and that in some degree against his will. For in relinquishing churches and ecclesiastical benefices under an inspiration from heaven, contrary to your usual custom and the traditions of your predecessors, you are destroying synagogues of Satan, i.e., cells under no parent house, in which three or four brothers are wont to live with no rule and no discipline, and in banishing women from the monastery, and in being more than ever vigilant in other good deeds of piety and sound learning, you are making the first and greatest sinner fulfil the verse: He shall see it, and be wrath, he shall gnash with his teeth and consume away. But what matters it? You, on the other hand, amid his confusion are solaced, and can sing to your God, They that fear Thee shall see me, and rejoice because I have put my trust in Thy word (Ps. 119:74). And there is no fear that the enemy will overcome one who has not yielded to old age. The mind is stronger than time, and even while the body is growing cold in death a holy zeal glows in the heart, and while the limbs grow helpless the vigour of the will remains unimpaired, and the ardent spirit feels not the weakness of the wrinkled flesh. And this is no wonder. For why should it fear the destruction of its old home when it sees a spiritual building daily rising on high and growing for eternity? For we know that if this earthly house is dissolved we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens (2 Cor. 5:1). 2. But someone will say, “What if a man is cut off by death before the spiritual building is finished?” I answer, that the perfect can advance no further. And he who is advancing shows by the very fact that he is advancing that he is not yet perfect. We can with all confidence give an unhesitating reply to that question. We will say, He, being made perfect in a short time, fulfilled a long time (Wisd. 4:13). He who embraces eternity may well be said to embrace a long time. For has not he who passes into eternity fulfilled a long time? And, therefore, he rightly claims for himself a reward proportioned to the time he has spent here, if it be measured not by length of years, but by greatness of mind, that is, not by the flight of time, or number of days, but by devotion of the soul to God, or by its inextinguishable desire of ever advancing further. For he retains by virtue what he loses by time. Moreover, real virtue knows no end, is not bounded by time. Thence it is that the verse says, Charity never faileth (1 Cor. 13:8). And, again, The patient abiding of the meek shall not perish for ever (Ps. 9:18); and, The fear of the Lord is clean and abideth for ever (Ps. 19:9). The righteous never thinks that he has attained (Phil. 3:13), he never says, It is enough; but he is always hungering and thirsting after righteousness, always striving as much as he can to be more righteous, always endeavouring with all his might to advance from good to better. For he gives himself up to the service of God, not, like a mercenary, for a year or for a fixed time, but for ever. Hear again the voice of the righteous as he says, I will never forget Thy precepts, for with them Thou hast quickened me (Ps. 119:93). It is not, then, for a time only. Therefore his righteousness remains, not for some little space, but for ever (Ps. 112:3). And so the everlasting hunger of the righteous deserves an everlasting satisfaction. And though he is made perfect in a short time, yet he is reckoned to have fulfilled a long time because of the endlessness of his virtue. 3. How, again, can shortness of time be a hindrance to the devotion of the good if it is not enough to excuse the obstinate wickedness of the lost? For, undoubtedly, the evil of an impenitent and obstinate mind, even though worked out in a short time, is visited with eternal punishment, because what was short in time, or in deed, was made up for by obstinacy of will; so much so, that if he were never to die he would never cease to wish to sin; nay, he would wish to live always that he might sin always. Therefore the same thing in another way can be said of him Being perfected in a short time, he fulfilled a long time, inasmuch as he deserved to receive the reward of many ages, nay, of all ages, who never wished to change his mind. And so an unwearied desire for progress, and a ceaseless striving for perfection is reckoned to be perfection. 4. But if to be anxious to be perfect is to be perfect, evidently not to wish to go forward is to fall back. Where, then, are they who are wont to say, “It is enough for us, we do not wish to be better than our fathers?” O, monk! do you not wish to go forward? “No.” Do you wish then to go back? “Certainly not.” What do you wish, then? “I wish so to live, and to remain in what I have attained to, as never to suffer myself to become worse, nor wish myself to become better.” Then you wish for what is impossible. For what is there that stands still in this world? And certainly of man it has been specially said, He fleeth as a shadow, and never continueth in one stay (Job 14:2). Again, did the Maker Himself of man and of the world stand still as long as He was seen on the earth and dwelt with men? On the testimony of Scripture, He went about doing good and healing all (Acts 10:38). He went about, then, not unfruitfully, not carelessly, not idly, not with slow foot, but as it was written of Him, He rejoiced as a giant to run His course (Ps. 19:5). Moreover, no one catches a runner if he does not run himself. What avails it to follow Christ with the feet if we do not succeed in laying hold of Him with the hand? Therefore Paul said, So run that ye may obtain (1 Cor. 9:24). Do you, O Christian, place the goal of your course and of your race where Christ placed His. For however far you may have run, if you do not persevere even unto death (Phil 2:8) you do not obtain the prize. The prize is Christ. But if while He runs you stop still, you do not make Christ yours, but you rather put Him at a distance, and you will have to fear what David speaks of when he says, Lo! they that are far from Thee, O Lord, shall perish (Ps. 73:27). And so, if to advance is to run, when you cease to advance you cease to run. And when you begin to leave off running, then you begin to go back. Hence, we plainly see that not to wish to advance is nothing but to go back. 5. Jacob saw a ladder, and on it angels, where none was seen sitting down or standing still, but all seemed either to ascend or descend (Gen. 28:12); whence we are plainly given to understand that in the state of this mortal life no half way between going forward and going back can be found; but in the same way as our body is always either increasing or decreasing, so also must our spirit be either advancing or retreating. We must notice, however, that the spirit does not receive its increase or suffer its loss from the changes of the body. For in a robust and active body there always dwells a more effeminate and lukewarm soul; and, again, in a weak and infirm body a stronger and more vigorous soul flourishes. And this the Apostle testifies that he found true in his own case: When I am weak, he says, then am I strong. And he also gladly glories in his infirmities, in order, he says, that the power of Christ may dwell in me (2 Cor. 12:9, 10). 6. And what I thus show by example I can also prove by sight, whilst in you, my father, is manifested to us the truth of the saying, Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day (2 Cor. 4:16). For whence springs your zeal to renew your Order if it is not from a renewed mind? So does a good man out of the good treasure of his heart bring forth good things (S. Matt. 12:35). So does a tree bring forth good fruit (S. Matt. 7:17). Your fruit is the first and purest. But what tree but purity of heart bore it? Did ever an impure mind seek after and choose purity with such zeal for the monastic rule? Pure water does not flow from a muddy spring, nor does a pure thought from an unclean mind. It is undoubtedly from within that this delightful fount arises; and from that inward fulness there bursts forth that plenteous supply; so that which is beautiful in the mind is also pleasing in action. 7. Follow your father, my sons; be imitators of him, as he is of Christ. Say: We will run in the savour of thy ointments (Cant. 1:3). In truth, he is a good savour of Christ in every place (2 Cor. 2:14). For to say nothing of you, who, being with him, perceive his fragrance around you, there has come to us, who are so far away, such a plenteous and pleasant odour from his zealous efforts, that it is to us most certainly an odour of life unto life. I think that in heavenly places also they have perceived this pleasant odour, and that they sing with more festive joy than usual: Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like a pillar of smoke perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant? (Cant. 3:6). And again another: Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates with pleasant fruits (Cant. 4:13). If any of you does not hear this joyous strain in heaven he is envious. If any one does not perceive this odour, let him (by your leave I say it), let him imagine that it exists. LETTER CCLV. (A.D. 1134.)TO LOUIS, KING OF FRANCEBernard advises the King not to hinder the assembling of a Council, which was become needful both for the Church and for the Realm. To the most illustrious LOUIS, by the grace of God King of France, and to his beloved wife and children, his faithful servant, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health from the King of kings and Lord of lords. 1. The kingdoms of the earth, and the rights of kingdoms remain, surely, sure and unharmed in obedience to their lords when they do not resist the ordinances and commandments of God. Why is my lord’s anger kindled against the chosen of God whom his Highness also welcomed and chose for himself as father, for his son as Samuel? The royal indignation is in arms, not against foreigners, but against himself and his own house. It is no wonder if the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God (S. Jas. 1:20), when it makes you neither see the danger nor feel the loss to your own advantage, to your own honour and safety, although all can plainly see it. A council is called together. How does this derogate from the honour of the King, or the good of the kingdom? There a ready and special devotion will be both felt and shown by the whole Church to your exalted position; especially because you were the first king, or among the first, to go to the defence of your mother Church in a most energetic and Christian spirit against the violence of those who were persecuting her. There well-deserved thanks will be given to you in glorious fashion by that large multitude, there will prayers be offered for you and yours by thousands of saints. 2. Beyond this, every one knows how necessary at the present juncture is an assembly of Bishops, except any one who is hard-hearted enough to pay no attention to the troubles of his mother Church. But, they say, heat is excessive, and our bodies are not of ice. It is true, but our hearts are frozen certainly, and that there is no one, as the Prophet says, who is grieved for the affliction of Joseph (Amos 6:6). But of this at another time. Now I, who am the least in your kingdom in dignity, though not in loyalty, tell you that it is inexpedient for you to wish to hinder so great and so necessary a good. And there are not wanting either reasons by which I could make that plain to you, which are ready to my hand to bring before you if I did not think that what I have said is enough for a wise man. Still, if anything has come from the severity of the apostolic power to make your Highness think that you have reason to be angry, your faithful servants, who support you, will strive with all their might to have it in some way recalled, or moderated, as may be suitable to your honour. In the meanwhile, if I can do anything I will not omit it. LETTER CCLVI. (A.D. 1146.)TO POPE EUGENIUSBernard urges upon the Pope to come to the succour of the Eastern Church, and not to be discouraged at the loss of Edessa. 1. It is no light news which we have heard; it is very sad and grievous. And to whom is it sad? To whom is it not? The children of wrath alone do not see God’s wrath, they do not mourn with those that mourn, but they rejoice and exult in the worst evils. Besides, the sorrow is common, because the cause is common to all. You have done well in praising the most righteous zeal of our Gallican Church, and in strengthening it by the authority of your letter. I must say that we must not in such a general and grievous matter act without zeal, much less timidly. I have read in some wise man or other: “He is not a brave man whose courage does not rise in the midst of difficulties” (Seneca, ep. 22 to Lucillus). But I say that one who is faithful may be trusted even more in disaster. The waters have come in even unto the soul of Christ, the apple of His eye has been touched. In this, the second Passion of Christ both the swords must be drawn which He allowed on the first occasion. And who should draw them but you? Both swords of Peter must be unsheathed as often as necessary, the one at his command, the other by his hand. And, indeed, of the one of which it seemed that he ought not to make use it was said: Put up thy sword into its sheath. Therefore that, too, was his, but not to be drawn by his own hand. 2. I think that now is the time, when necessity bids both be drawn in defence of the Eastern Church. You must not fall below the zeal of him whose place you occupy. What shall we say of one who holds the primacy and shrinks from its ministry? There is the voice of One crying, “I go to Jerusalem to be again crucified” (Hegesippus de Excid. lib. iii. c. 2). Though some be lukewarm, some deaf to those words, yet the successor of Peter may not neglect them. He himself will say, Though all shall be offended yet will not I (S. Matt. 26:33). Nor will he be deterred by the losses of the former army, but will do his best to repair them. Is not man bound to do his duty, because God does what He pleases? I, for my part, as a faithful Christian, will hope for better things in place of such misfortunes, and will think it all joy that we are falling into divers temptations (S. Jas. 1:2). Truly we have eaten the bread of affliction, and have drunk of the wine of sorrow. Why, O friend of the Bridegroom, are you cast down, as though it were not that the kind and wise Bridegroom has, according to His custom, kept the good wine until now? Who knows if God will return and forgive, and leave a blessing behind Him? (Joel 2:14). And certainly the Wisdom that is above is wont so to work, so to determine; I speak to a wise man. When has great good ever come to men which has not been preceded by great evil? For, to speak of nothing else, did not the death of the Saviour precede the supreme and unparalleled gift of our salvation? 3. Do thou, then, O friend of the Bridegroom, prove thyself a friend in His need. If thou lovest, as thou oughtest, Christ with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, with that triple love of which thy predecessor was asked (S. John 21:15–17), then thou wilt withhold nothing, thou wilt leave nothing undone in this danger of His bride; but thou wilt devote to Her whatever strength thou hast, whatever zeal, whatever watchfulness, whatever authority, whatever power. A great danger demands a great effort. The foundation is shaken, and we must put forth all our strength as though the building were now ready to fall. And these things I have said to you with full trust in you, as well as loyalty. 4. I suppose you have heard the news that at the assembly at Chartres, by some strange caprice, I was chosen as general and leader of the expedition. Be assured that this was not of my seeking, and was and is against my will; and that, as I gauge my strength, it is altogether beyond my powers. Who am I that I should have charge of a camp and go out before the faces of armed men? Is there anything more inconsistent with my profession, even if I had the necessary strength and skill? But it is not my place to teach you wisdom; you know all these things. Only I implore you, by that love which you specially owe me, give me not over to the will of man, but, as is peculiarly incumbent on you, seek for counsel from God, and endeavour that His will may be done on earth as it is in Heaven. LETTER CCLVII. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE SAME, FOR BROTHER PHILIP1. There is a matter which I do not mingle with other things, because it affects others and troubles me, and needs more than usually urgent prayers on my part. Our brother Philip, when he exalted himself was humbled, when he humbled himself he was not exalted, as though the Lord had not spoken equally of both (S. Matt. 23:12). There is rigour, but no relaxation. There is judgment, but without mercy. It cannot be denied that many have given this measure, but no one has ever wished this measure to be given to himself. But if with what measure we mete it shall be measured to us again (S. Matt. 7:2), certainly he who shows no mercy will have judgment without mercy. Your Apostolic authority is capable of showing both righteous zeal and mercy. The honour of majesty, it is true, loves judgment; but God forbid that this should banish gentleness. That steward, too, whose praise is in the Gospel, chose to inflict loss on his Lord rather than not show mercy to his neighbour. For a hundred in one case he took eighty, in another fifty. And justly was he praised for preferring that his master should rather lose his goods than his men. And because he who so works is worthy of his reward, by one such deed he both kept them as his master’s servants and made them his own friends (S. Luke 16:1–8). 2. But what am I doing? I seem to be arguing the case rather than offering my prayer. This is not good. If I go on saying such things I shall provoke judgment, not mercy. I have no more confidence in such arguments than in spiders’ webs. In vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird (Prov. 1:17). I know how much more convincing arguments can be brought in reply, and especially by such ability as yours. Wherefore my weapons are the prayers of the poor, and in them I am rich. To these engines that tower of strength, no matter how impregnable else, must needs yield. The father of the poor, the lover of poverty, will not reject the prayers of the poor. Who are they? I am not alone, and even if I were I might presume still to make my petition. All your sons who are with me, and those who are not with me too, join me in this supplication. Who can number them? Of course brother Philip is excepted, who neither asks nor seeks that others should ask, and I do not know if he even wishes it; for, as far as he is concerned, he would rather be a door-keeper in the house of his God. But not even I ask only for the man, but on behalf of our Order, believing that a dispensation in this case will be highly beneficial to it. LETTER CCLVIII. (A.D. 1145.)TO THE SAME, FOR BROTHER RUALENEBernard begs that Brother Rualene, who had become Abbot of S. Anastasius, might be allowed to resign his post. In truth, I find that our Brother Rualene has not yet learnt to acquiesce in his position, and I cannot hope that he ever will. Therefore, both for him and for me, there is need of a speedy remedy. I tell you that I am even consumed so long as he is made to offend. Do not be surprised at this; we are of one soul, except that I am the mother, he the son; for the name and authority of father I have yielded to you. That alone which could not be transferred, the affection which is torturing me, that remains to me still. A mother cannot forget the child that she bore (Is. 49:15). The sadness of my breast, and the grief of my heart for him, proclaim me his mother. You ask what I complain of? About myself I complain to you, about you I complain to myself. I, a cruel yet loving mother, spared not my own child, that I might purify my heart by loving obedience. I have offered a dear pledge of my bosom as a sacrifice, not of constraint, I admit, but willingly did I obey that will which constrains whom it will. But he thought not so. When constrained by me as well as by you he struggled, though in vain. Had I, then, any reason to fear that he would always resist so obstinately? It is the mark of a loving heart to yield to stubbornness which will not allow itself to be placed in its proper position. Besides, to hold one against his will to a position in which he was placed against his will is hard for him, beneficial to no one. Again, to occupy the ground and not to bring forth fruit is not good for the ground, and is not becoming to you or to me. No one, as blessed Ambrose says, does good under compulsion, even if what he does is good, because the spirit of fear avails nothing when the spirit of charity is absent (S. Ambr. in Ps. 1.). And so I beseech you by the bowels of mercies of our God to show the love of a father and send back to his mother’s breasts the child, while he lives, whose whole weakness is, perhaps, caused by his having been weaned too soon. It is better to suffer him to live than to divide him. What profit is there in his blood? One thing I know, and that is that it is not a lather’s or a mother’s voice which says, Let it be neither mine nor thine, but let it be divided (1 Kings 3:26). Perhaps you are not afraid of this, because you do not believe that it is likely to happen. But his letters and murmurings which frequently come to me fill me with fear of such an issue, for he is threatening to fly and to divide himself, or rather to tear himself asunder both from you and me. LETTER CCLIX. (A.D. 1145.)TO THE SAME, FOR THE SAMEAlthough I at one time wished what you wished me not to, your condescending gentleness provokes me now not only to wish, but to wish eagerly for what you do. It is your pleasure that Brother Rualene should be Abbot of S. Anastasius, and this had been my wish before, but because he was much opposed to it I gave way. Again, since your will does not concur with mine I again, as is right, give way and return to my first mind. We can make the experiment. What you ordered has been done, not because you ordered it, but because you wished it. The speedy execution of your command, of free will, and not grudgingly or of necessity, proves our obedience, and let my pen be examined as to my good-will. If I had not been content to execute your command should I not, according to the word of the Lord, have been an unprofitable servant in doing what I was bound to do? (S. Luke 17:10). But now, since I have acted with willingness also, I am no longer a servant but a son. LETTER CCLX. (A.D. 1145.)TO ABBOT RUALENEBernard sympathizes with Rualene in his unhappiness, but declares that he must remain at his post. Your absence, my dear Rualene, has affected me enough, and more than enough, but I am far more troubled to hear of your sadness. For I seem to myself to lament more properly for you than for our losing or being deprived of you, although that loss is by no means small, and causes no small discomfort, since it is for so dear a son, so useful a brother, so necessary a fellow-helper. But the more vividly I call to mind your love ableness, the more deeply do I sympathize with your grief, holding your discomfort of more importance than my loss, and being more distressed at it. But I have not been negligent, not been idle, not held my peace, and have tempted God in this matter, almost even to the point of angering the supreme and holy Pontiff, that in some way or other, even though it were to my own danger, I might be allowed to recall you. But since I have so far failed in all my plans and efforts for you, I have at last, from very weariness, given way to higher judgment, and yielding to power, am forced to be content with what I can get, since I cannot have what I would. Do you, too, my dear brother, greatly longed for, be strong in the Lord, and do not kick against the pricks, lest when you are hurt, very many, who greatly love you in the Lord, be equally hurt. Spare yourself, spare me, who from love of you have not spared myself. But the rather put on strength, trusting and knowing that your strength is the joy of your Lord. Put on the joy of salvation that I, too, rejoice in your joy, and may give thanks and praise to God, who loves a cheerful giver, for your peace of mind, and for my own comfort in you. LETTER CCLXITO POPE EUGENIUSBernard prays the Pope to absolve the Abbot of S. Urbain, who had been subjected to censure. One of the Knights of the Temple wished to become a monk of our Order, and found amongst us some to join him in his wish. But since they dared not, contrary to Rules, receive him within their walls, they took him secretly to a certain Abbey which is called Vaux, telling and suggesting to the Abbot to cause to be given to the man a black habit of some other Order of monks, and then they would receive him and give him ours. And so it was done. The matter became known to me, and was brought by me before the Chapter, and by the decision of the Chapter that brother was expelled. But the Templars, not content with this, brought letters from your Majesty to the Bishop of Châlons by which he was to suspend the Abbot of S. Urbain, who had given the soldier the habit, from entering the Church till he should have presented himself before you. Thence it is that the Abbot of Vaux, at whose request he did this without suspecting anything wrong, was forced in great trouble of mind to send to implore your mercy the brother who bears this letter, in order that he who was entangled by him might by him be set free, if that is to say he as well as we, your children, may win this boon from your Paternity. LETTER CCLXIITO THE SAME, FOR THE MONKS OF S. MARIE-SUR-MEUSEI cannot but again support the Bishop of Rheims in his petition, especially since it is one which deserves to be listened to. I pray, therefore, and earnestly supplicate on behalf of the poor monks of S. Marie-sur-Meuse, that they may be quickly set free from the oppression under which they suffer, and that by your powerful hand the injuries and accusations of the malignant may be warded off from them; of these the bearer of this letter will inform you. It is for this that these poor men have sent messengers from afar to cry to you. And what answer you should send back by them you may learn from the righteousness and poverty of these men who love you, and from the honour due to the above Bishop, who has intervened on their behalf, and who loves you not a little. LETTER CCLXIIITO THE BISHOP OF SOISSONS, FOR THE ABBOT OF CHÉZYI besought you, when I might, perhaps, have enjoined you, and I thought that my prayer had been granted. But since I find that it has not, it seems that I shall not have now to ask simply and in common with others, but to cry aloud. For I cannot bear a refusal, lightly or with equanimity, and hitherto I have not met with one. Do, then, what you ought; do what you are wont to do; for custom has made you my debtor; do it, I repeat, if not because you are asked, yet because you are enjoined. Return, therefore, to judgment, for it does not seem just that the Abbot of Chézy, who is a pious man, a friend of mine, and your son, should lose the rights of his monastery because of a word spoken by him incautiously and inconsiderately, and without the assent of his church. And although his accuser sticks obstinately to that word, being one who has no confidence in the righteousness of his cause, it ought not, I think, to prevent the Abbot from receiving a just decision; especially when those by whose dissimulation the matter has been brought before you know very well that he did not mean what he said, nay, rather was opposed to it. I hope that you will not be put out with me because of this, nor be vexed. May God so rejoice your soul, and may He so preserve you free from all troubled feelings, O father, greatly to be loved and honoured, as by all the servants of Christ, so in particular by me. LETTER CCLXIV. (A.D. 1149.)PETER, ABBOT OF CLUNY, TO BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX He expresses his friendship towards Bernard, and asks that a monk named Nicholas may be sent to him. To BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, the strong and splendid pillar of the monastic order, nay, of the whole Church of God, PETER, the humble Abbot of Cluny, wishes the salvation which God has promised to those that love Him. If it were allowed me, if the Providence of God did not forbid it, if man’s path through life were in his own power, I should have preferred to be united by an indissoluble bond to your dear and blessed self, rather than reign anywhere, or be a prince amongst men. Ought not your dwelling, which is pleasing not only to men, but to the angels themselves, to be preferred by me before all earthly kingdoms? If I were to say that you were a fellow-citizen with them, though hope has not yet passed into possession, by the mercy of God I shall not be found a liar. If it had been given me to be here with you, even to my last breath, it would, perhaps, be given me after death to be for ever where you might be. Whither should I run save after you, drawn by the savour of your ointments? But since this is not given always I wish that it could be, at all events, given often. And since even this cannot be, I wish at least that I could often see those sent by you. And since this also happens but seldom, I wish next that your Holiness in the person of your messenger, Nicholas, who loves you, would come and stay with me till the Octave of the Lord; and in this request I think your heart partly joins my heart wholly. I shall see you, holy brother, in him, I shall hear of you through him, and I will entrust to him whatever I wish to make known secretly to your wisdom. To your holy soul, and to all the Saints who serve Almighty God under your rule, I commend myself and mine with all possible prayer, with all possible devotion. LETTER CCLXV. (A.D. 1149.)TO PETER, ABBOT OF CLUNY (REPLY TO THE ABOVE)He disclaims praises as being unworthy. What are you doing, my dear friend? You are praising a sinner, you are beatifying a wretched man. You must now pray that I may not be led into error. I shall certainly be led into it, if I begin to be ignorant of myself from the delight I might take in your praises. That did well-nigh happen to me when I saw the letters of your Beatitude which beatified me. How happy should I now be if words could effect it! Still let me call myself happy, not, however, because of my own merit, but your good-will. I am happy in being loved by you, and in loving you. However, I do not think that this sweet morsel which you offer me ought to be swallowed whole, nor, as they say, even admitted even into the mouth. You wonder why, perhaps. Because I cannot see anything in myself which makes me worthy of love, especially such as yours. I know, too, that a righteous man will never wish to be loved more than is right. Would that I could as easily imitate as admire so great an example of humility! Would that I might enjoy what I so greatly long for, your holy conversation—I do not say always, I do not say often, but even once in a year! I think that I should never return from it empty. It would not be in vain that I beheld a model of virtue, a perfection of discipline, a mirror of sanctity. Nor would it be fruitless for one to see with the eye of faith how well you have learnt from Christ what I have not yet learnt—his meekness and lowliness of heart. But if I go on to do to you what I complain that you have done to me, though I speak the truth, yet I shall not agree with the law of truth, which says, What you do not wish done to yourself do not to another (Tob. 4:15). And in answer to the little request with which you ended your letter I have to say that the brother whom you asked me to send you is not just now with me, but with the Bishop of Auxerre, and he is so ill that I am told that he cannot yet come to us without the greatest risk. LETTER CCLXVI. (A.D. 1151.)TO SUGER, ABBOT OF S. DENYS, TO COMFORT HIM ON HIS DEATH-BEDBernard encourages him to meet death bravely, and expresses a great desire to see him before he dies. To his dear and intimate friend SUGER, by the grace of God Abbot of S. Denys, Brother BERNARD wishes the glory which is within and the grace which cometh down from above. 1. Fear not, O man of God, to put off that man which is of the earth, which weighs you down to the earth and tries to sink you to hell. He it is that vexes, burdens, attacks you. What have you to do with earthly coverings, who art about to go to heaven to be clad with the robe of glory? It is near, but it will not be given to one that is clothed. It is able to clothe you, but not if you are already clothed upon. Be not distressed, then—nay, rejoice to be found naked and unclothed. God Himself wishes man to be clothed, but only when He is naked and unclothed. The man of God, then, will not return to God unless that which is of the earth first return to the earth, for these two are at enmity with each other, and there will be no peace till they are separated. And if peace do come it will not be the peace of the Lord nor with the Lord. You are not one of those who say, Peace, when there is no peace (Ezek. 13:10). The peace which passeth all understanding awaits you, the righteous wait for this peace to be given you, the joy of your Lord awaits you. 2. And I, my dearest friend, greatly long to see you once more that I may receive a dying man’s blessing. But since it is not in man’s power to choose his path I dare not, since I cannot be certain, promise certainly to come, but though I do not at present see how I can, I shall do all that I can to come. Perhaps I may come, perhaps I may not; but whichever it is I have loved you from the first, I will love you without end. I say with all confidence that I cannot lose one so loved to the end. He is not lost to me, but he goes before, for my soul clings to his with a force which nothing can destroy, and is united by a bond which can never be broken. Only forget not me when you arrive where I hope to follow you, so that it may be granted me to come quickly to you. In the meanwhile never think that the sweetness of the thought of you can ever leave me, though the loss of your presence leave us grieving. Yet we must not doubt the power of God to give you even now to our prayers and to preserve you to us who have such need of you. LETTER CCLXVIITO THE ABBOT OF CLUNYYour son, Brother Gaucher, has also become ours according to the rule, All mine are thine, and thine are mine (S. John 17:10). Let him be not less loved because he is common to us both, but, if possible, let him be more loved and held in greater favour; as he is mine because yours, so let him be yours because mine. LETTER CCLXVIIITO POPE EUGENIUSBernard warns him of the promotion of a certain unworthy person which had been surreptitiously made. Let others fear your majesty and scarce come with trembling lips and fingers, by long windings and many turnings, to the business in hand. I, however, only look to your good and your honour, and, therefore, plainly and openly state my case, and am not afraid to say, as though to one of ourselves, without any hesitation or circumlocution, what it is necessary for the Apostolic See to do. I say without any hesitation that you have been grievously imposed upon. Who has induced you to thrust into an ecclesiastical dignity a man stamped with ambition, convicted of it, and condemned because of it? As though it were not enough by itself that the man should have wished to heap honours on himself! Is he not the same man that Bishop Lambert, of holy memory, caught in detestable wickednesses which his ambition had urged him to, and whom he, therefore, solemnly degraded, not only from the rank that he then held, but also, as was fitting, from hope of all future promotion? You are simply revoking his sentence. And because of the anxiety of the holy brethren of “The Crown,” who call to you for this, because of the respect due to the holy and learned Bishop, who was the prime mover in this matter, and also for conscience sake (conscience, I say, your own, not another’s), there only remains that to satisfy my own conscience, I remind you of the saying, Be angry and sin not (Ps. 4:5). For you sin if you are not angry with the man that suggested such a fraud and stole from you such an unworthy sentence. LETTER CCLXIXTO THE SAMEBernard begs the Pope to regard as null and of no value a letter obtained from him by surprise. The serpent beguiled me. The crafty, chameleon-coloured man, destitute of righteousness, afraid of an interview, the enemy of his own conscience, guilty of a wrong done to his brother, got from me unawares letters in his own favour through the Bishop of Beauvais. For what is there that I would not do for him? If you do not wish to burden my conscience beyond measure let this cunning man gain nothing by his imposition, and let him not by any letters oppress the innocent. And not even this will satisfy me, if this most malignant pilferer and most greedy extortioner is not made to suffer the punishment that he deserves. LETTER CCLXX. (A.D. 1151.)TO THE SAMEBernard writes on behalf of the Prior of Chartreux against certain malcontents. He reports the death of the Abbot of Citeaux and recommends his successor. 1. Our tempters neither slumber nor sleep. They have laid their snares in the desert, even as they but lately persecuted openly in the mountains. The Carthusians have been put to confusion. They have been put to confusion and made to stagger like a drunken man, and all their wisdom has been well-nigh swallowed up. Know, my lord, that an enemy hath done this, and is still doing it. He still has confidence that the fruits of their holiness will fall into his mouth. He has chosen them as his food, as you know well. He has raised up traitors against those whom he could not drive out himself, and by their means he attacks them with domestic and civil war. From the first founding of the place and of the Order it has never been heard that anyone who went away was to be taken back without giving satisfaction. Those who did wrong in leaving have done worse in their return, inasmuch as they have added treachery to their misdoing. What do you think, Holy Father, that they are likely to do, who went out with transgression, and came back in pride? And now their pride is ever going higher (Ps. 74:23). They exult in their evil doing, they insult those who suffer wrong. They have conquered, they are triumphing. The Prior is now no longer Prior. “When the wicked is lifted up the poor is consumed.” He even wishes to leave the Order, for he cannot bear to see its destruction. And he would have left ere now if he could have left alone. And the Prior must be a good man, for I hear from good men that those on whose advice he leans are good. 2. Do you see, most gracious father, how you have been imposed on? Shall not the author of this deception receive what he deserves? If I know you well, he will bear his judgment, whoever he is. They came to you in sheep’s clothing, and their sacred habit deceived you, for you are but a man. But now that the fraud has been discovered, let your zeal show itself, and boldly do its duty against the wicked. Let not your soul come into their council, let the counsel of Ahithophel be confounded. Watch over yourself. To be imposed on through ignorance, and to let zeal sleep are not alike in their guilt. Ignorance is the excuse for the one, negligence makes the other inexcusable. He will, perhaps, take another ground, and try to persuade you of something else. Let his iniquity lie against himself and not against my lord, for the truth of the case is as I have stated it. Nothing is pleasanter, nothing more just in your judgments, than when an occasion of this sort presents itself, when a man is endeavouring to injure others, that he should fall into the pit that he himself made, and that his mischief should come upon his own head, and his wickedness fall on his own pate (Ps. 7:16, 17). The zeal of the Lord will do this. And the Prior will again be made Prior, I hope, so that iniquity may not altogether boast itself; else (and this is no empty fear) the Order will not long remain safe if the Prior be not restored to his office. May God give you the grace to receive this as a father, and to give a good answer for our comfort, for we have been greatly harassed and afflicted beyond our strength. 3. My Lord Abbot of Citeaux has gone from us, to the great loss of the Order. And now we have as head in his place, Goswin, Abbot of Bonneval. Let it be your pleasure to strengthen him with letters from the Apostolic See, and by your favour to confirm his election. You know him, and there is no need to commend him to you, for his life and the wisdom given him by God are a sufficient recommendation. My lord of Valence is better, and when he is able he performs good works. Besides, all lovers of good love him, and he them. From this his goodness is plain. It is yours to love and cherish such men. Your son is more feeble than usual, his life is ebbing drop by drop, perhaps because he is not worthy of being killed at a blow, and so coming quickly to life. LETTER CCLXXI. (A.D. 1151.)TO THEOBALD, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNEBernard warns him that he ought not to advance his young son to dignities in the Church. You know how much I love you, but how much God knows better than you. I do not doubt also that for the sake of God I am beloved by you. And if I should offend Him you ought no longer to love me, for God would not be on my side. For who am I that so great a prince as you should care for one so small as I, unless it is that you believe God to be in me? Therefore to offend Him will not be good for you. And this I shall certainly do, if I do what you ask. For I am not unaware that honours and ecclesiastical dignities are the due of those who have both the will and the power to administer them worthily, and for God. Moreover, you must know that it is neither right for you, nor safe for me, that those should be acquired for your little boy by my prayers, or by yours. And, moreover, in most churches it is unlawful even for an adult to hold pluralities, except under dispensation given, either because of some great necessity of the Church, or great individual benefit. Wherefore, if this reply seem to you ungracious, and you are determined to carry out what you have in your mind, spare me in this matter, for, unless I mistake, you can easily obtain what you want by yourself and by your other friends. And so you will none the less gain what you wish, and I shall not have sinned. Assuredly, I wish well in all things to our little William, but, above all, that he may have the favour of God. Thence it is that I am unwilling that he should have anything against the law of God, lest he lose God’s favour. And if another wish differently, I am unwilling that he should gain it through me, lest I, too, lose God. But when he wants anything which he can have according to God’s will, I will prove myself a friend, and, if need be, will not withhold my efforts. I need not labour much to excuse my righteous dealing before a lover of righteousness. Please excuse me to your Countess, in accordance with this reply of mine. LETTER CCLXXII. (A.D. 1152.)TO THE BISHOP OF LAONBernard presses him to show pious liberality. I am yours. If you know this, nay, because you know it, the bearer of this can be effectually and surely reconciled by me to you, and through you to everyone else that he may have offended. Otherwise you offend one whom you admit to be your friend, and this, surely, you dare not do. Since you first became a Bishop till now, I have received no blessing from you, neither purse, nor scrip, nor sandals for the feet. A LETTER OF POPE EUGENIUS TO THE CISTERCIAN CHAPTER(TO WHICH EP. CCLXXIII. WAS AN ANSWER). EUGENTIUS, Bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his beloved children G., and all the Abbots assembled at Cîteaux, in the Name of the Lord, health and Apostolic benediction. 1. We should much like, dearly beloved, to be present in person at the meeting of your holy brotherhood, because, as we walk with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, so would we discuss together His life-giving power, and His advances in the soul. But since we have been, by the Divine will, placed in the midst of the ocean to guide the ark of the Church, and as we are tossed about by a succession of raging storms, so that we have to do, not what we would wish, but what we wish not; and as we are tied by the duties of the government entrusted to us, and cannot, therefore, turn our steps wheresoever we will, we come to you in spirit and by letter, and, so far as is possible, are present in your assembly in charity and earnest desire for you; we desire, indeed, and pray you with our whole heart to be of one mind with us, and to implore by your common prayers a greater gift of God’s grace for us. Though stationed on the top of a mountain, and beaten by the winds that blow from every quarter, yet we hope by God’s help to be able to withstand the tempest, if we merit to obtain God’s help through your prayers. But that we may be able to have confidence that your prayers for us are heard, and that we may obtain by your intercessions what we cannot obtain by our merits, we wish you of your charity, in those things which belong to God, such as the obedience due to the Order, and the maintenance of discipline, to be anxiously looking forward to those things which are before, neglecting what is behind, so that no cloud may show itself in your works, to prevent your prayers at any time from rising to the throne of God. 2. And, therefore, as you come together, dearly beloved, take common counsel to correct whatever amongst some of you needs correction, and to enact whatever may need enactment for the salvation of souls and the good of your Order, because he who despises little things, by little and little decays (Ecclus. 19:1), and do not leave uncorrected any lesser faults you may find among yourselves. For to no purpose are the gates of the city guarded if a single opening is left to the enemy, as the Scripture says, A leak neglected is as bad as a violent wind, and You have escaped great perils; see that you do not perish on the beach. Look, I beseech you, to the ancient fathers who founded our sacred Order, and notice how they left the world, despised all earthly things, let the dead bury their dead, fled into solitude, and sat with Mary at the feet of Jesus (S. Luke 10:39), while others were busying themselves in their various ministries; and so the further they had fled from Egypt the more copious showers of heavenly manna did they receive. They truly went forth from their land and from their kindred; they forgat their own people and their father’s house; and since their King greatly desired their beauty He made them to increase into a great nation, and He sent out their shoots to the ends of the earth, so that the brightness of their charity filled the whole body of the Church, and the woman of Zarephath (1 Kings 17:10–16) at their words filled numberless vessels with the little oil which she had in a cruse. Truly they received the first fruits of the Spirit, and their pleasant ointment has run down even to us. 3. See, then, in thought and deed that you do not fall below their virtues, but that you be in the bough what you were in the seed, and bring forth the same seed and fruit as did they from whom you received your life. Take notice how they whose lamps are extinguished desire to receive oil from you, and how many, who have become filthy by wallowing, like sows, in their own mire, ask to be placed under your rule and to be commended to your prayers, that they may receive grace from above. And since the children of this world are always endeavouring to drag you against your will into obedience to them, and sometimes wish to call you from the quiet of contemplation and the silence of the desert to take part in their affairs, recall to your memory the institutions of your fathers, and, looking upon them as examples for all time, prefer to be doorkeepers in the house of God than to dwell In the tents of ungodliness (Ps. 84:11). And because you have nothing which you did not receive, think of the goodness of the Lord, of your own unworthiness, so as to follow in the footsteps of Him who said, When ye have done all that is commanded you, say we are unprofitable servants (S. Luke 17:10). If you have received diversities of tongues, grace for working healings, knowledge of prophesying, if your words are more fragrant than the most costly ointments, if the world honours you and takes pleasure in running in the odour of your ointments, it is all nothing but the work of Him who says, My Father worketh hitherto, and I work (S. John 5:17). LETTER CCLXXIII. (A.D. 1150.)TO POPE EUGENIUSBernard thanks the Pope for the affectionate letter he had sent to the Chapter of Cîteaux. To his loving father and lord, EUGENIUS, by the grace of God Supreme Pontiff, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends humble greeting. 1. The voice of the turtle has been heard in our Chapter; we have exulted and rejoiced. Your words are pure, burning with zeal, prudent and discerning. The spirit of life breathes in your letters, a spirit mighty, thundering, chiding, and provoking us with a godly jealousy. I cannot say which pleased me most, your graciousness or our benefit; the condescension of your majesty, or the exaltation of our humility; the sharpness of your severity, or the soothing sweetness of your fatherly love. Those amongst us who in any small degree were hungering after righteousness were refreshed; those who cared little for it were moved; those who cared nothing were confounded. I beseech you to act in this way always. That care which you are bound to take for all, is not to be withdrawn, nay, rather it is the more anxiously to be given to those whose special due it is. Charity is kind and can spread itself abroad, but not diminish aught. Let her call together others, then, but let it be in our company. It specially becomes your Apostleship to cherish all who can say with the Apostles, Lo! we have left all and followed Thee (S. Matt. 19:27). They ought not to be left who have left themselves. They are the Lord’s little ones, and put their trust in Him; they will not be abandoned by a faithful and wise servant, least of all by Him to whom the whole has been entrusted. This little flock is a part of the whole, little, indeed, but, unless I am mistaken, they have merited to have God for their Father, and they will receive a crown of glory from the hand of their Lord, and a diadem from Him in the Kingdom of their God. For they do not think it robbery to be heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ. They have heard the words: Fear not little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom (S. Luke. 12:32). Enough of this. 2. The Abbot of Trois-Fontaines had been planted well beside the streams of waters. But I am afraid that a good tree bringing forth good fruit may, when taken up, bring forth none. I have sometimes seen a vine fruitful when first planted, then barren. I have seen a tree when well planted flourish, and when transplanted wither away. And, therefore, if you do not send him back to me you will wound my feelings grievously, for we are one heart and one soul. As long as that heart is divided, each part must necessarily be stained with its own blood. How shall I, having lost the prop of my old age, be able to bear alone the burden which we found it heavy to bear together? If my trouble is of little account let the no small loss of the whole Order touch you, and do not wish, from the hope of some uncertain good, to bring about in the meanwhile evils that are certain. But if, finally, you determine to keep him, I beseech you, hold him in great esteem, and lift up your hands to God that He would vouchsafe to provide that house with a suitable man in his place. As to the rest, I earnestly ask for a speedy answer from your Benignity, and one of deed, not word, to those matters concerning the whole Order, and the other businesses which I thought it good to entrust to the above-named Abbot to convey to you. LETTER CCLXXIV. (A.D. 1151.)TO HUGH, ABBOT OF TROIS-FONTAINES, WHEN HE WAS AT ROMEBernard regrets to have recommended the nephew of the Bishop of Auxerre. I am sorry that I wrote on behalf of that youth, and I wish, if possible, my prayer to be recalled, for by it I seem to have approved the decision of my friend about the office of provost conferred by him, and badly assigned, too. And this I do not approve, nor have ever done so. But I was induced, I admit, by the great affection with which I was bound to the youth’s uncle, an affection very great indeed, but in this case not spiritual enough. I was urged on, too, by my sorrow for his recent death. I may seem to have acted carelessly, but I would rather be thought by my lord to have written too hastily than be suspected before God of having been guilty of falsehood. Although indeed, it would be no excuse even if I had written with caution and foresight, for I knew for a certainty that his two predecessors had ordered it otherwise, and had confirmed it otherwise by their authority. But if you have any influence with him you will do a good work if you can restore her privileges to the Church, and give force to those privileges. Would that we could purge the holy Bishop from this blot on his line, and provide for the youth in other ways. LETTER CCLXXV. (A.D. 1151.)TO POPE EUGENIUS, ABOUT THE ELECTION OF A BISHOP AT AUXERREHe makes the Pope aware of the bad faith which had been shown in this election. When I first wrote to you about the church at Auxerre I had heard of the first election, but not of the second. And lo! just as if I were a prophet, the scandal which I suspected has followed, and the fear which I feared has come. Recollect what took place at Nevers, and see if it is not in like manner, by a very similar artifice, by double-dealing, and, as they say, with the very same person as promoter, that a second election has now been ventured on: when, after one candidate was nominated, both were rejected, and finally a third, whom they wished to elect, craftily brought forward. They sent to me to ask me to write to you on their behalf, and I thought it good to send a brother from my side, to learn something more certain about both actions, and to acquaint me with the facts. When he had entered the church, and made diligent inquiries about everything, he found on the testimony of all who had come together that there were on that side none of the presbyters except one, viz., Hugh, the brother of Brother Geoffrey, and none of the deacons except Stephen only; I must except, of course, those officials of the church who had been the chief agents in the matter, the precentor, the archdeacon, and, as it seemed, the treasurer, for he was not himself present at the time. Further, he found that there were on the other side, besides others of the lower order, nine deacons and eleven presbyters. The twelfth, who is also arch-priest, declared that he had not subscribed, and would not subscribe, for either side, although he was in favour of the first. The above-named Hugh held the seal of the church, a man not of peace, but of discord, and one who in giving his account paid more attention to his own wishes than to the truth. So the matter stands. And with my usual presumption I say one thing: wickedness ought not to be allowed to boast itself, it is unseemly for wisdom to be deceived, inexpedient for a church to have its functions longer suspended. LETTER CCLXXVI. (A.D. 1151.)TO THE SAME, AFTER THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF AUXERREHe informs the Pope of a strange will made by the Bishop. 1. I have a point to mention, which I would have brought before you earlier, if I had known what I now know. There is a man who has made Israel to sin. He, I mean, who, when the holy Bishop was somewhat dull and confused in the presence of death, made him die almost intestate. For on the suggestion and entreaty of Stephen he left to his nephew according to the flesh, a young man, and a secular, incapable of being of service to the Church, almost all that he had got together for the episcopal table, and left little or nothing for the poor and the churches. They say that he has left him seven churches, tithes, and the meadows in the Bishop’s own forest, besides, which is a blot on all religion, of his moveables, all his vessels of gold, and his own equipages, and since these would not be enough to enable him to complete a journey to you to get these bequests confirmed, they say that he has left orders for the equipages of a monastery to be handed over to him. There are some, indeed, who think that the Bishop knew nothing of these bequests, but that Stephen did all and set his seal to what he liked, and it is very likely; for only last year, when the Bishop was, as was thought, at the point of death, they made him give a church to this same nephew; but when he afterwards recovered he declared, as I have found out, that he knew nothing of having made the donation. Again, who can believe that a holy and spiritual man, if he had his understanding, and was in his right mind, would have made a will like this? What man of the world is there who would say that this was the will of a priest? Is this the disposition of that sober and spiritual man who adjudges all things and is himself judged by none? Who in heaven or in earth would not sit in judgment on him if this is to remain so? 2. Do thou, then, O servant of God who holdest the sword of Peter, cut off this shameful confusion from religion, this scandal from the Church, this crime from the Bishop, and from all spiritually-minded men who loved him in the spirit and not according to the flesh, and take bitterness and grief from your own heart. Arise, Phinehas, stand and make propitiation that the plague may cease. Stand, I say, inflexible against flesh and blood, the battering ram by which undoubtedly the children of this world attempt to shake the wall of your constancy. You will show true affection for the uncle if in a matter of this kind you oppose the nephew. 3. Know this also, that the holy men, the Dean of S. Peter at Auxerre and the Prior of S. Eusebius, acting for himself as well as for the Abbot of S. Laurence, when ready to set out to you to lay before you the first election of the Church of Auxerre, were prevented by the opposite party through the Count of Nevers, and deterred from coming. Indeed, the Count himself summoned them to him, and commanded them not to think of it, and prohibited them with grievous and open threatenings, and this the Prior made known to me and complained of by the above-named abbot, and his brother according to the flesh, and by the Dean sent to us about this same matter, and he asks me by them to bring it before you. I said before, and I repeat it, recollect what took place at Nevers. The law is sometimes best observed when something is done contrary to law. Those who discourse wisely about your Keys, place the one in discretion, but the other in power. LETTER CCLXXVII. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE ABBOT OF CLUNYHe asks that the Abbot of Cluny may be received honourably and kindly. It seems a foolish thing to write to you on behalf of the Abbot of Cluny, and to seem to wish to act as patron for a man whom all wish to have as their patron. But I write, not because it is necessary for him, but to satisfy my own affection for him; my own, I say, not another’s, for as I cannot be with him in person I follow my friend on his journey by letter. Who shall separate us? Neither the height of the Alps, nor the cold of the snows, nor the length of the journey. And now I am present with him to help him by my letters. He shall never be without me. I am a debtor to his worth, by which I have been counted worthy to be admitted to such a degree of grace. But grace itself has freed me from the debt, for necessity has passed into will. Honour the man as one who is truly an honourable member of Christ; unless I am mistaken he is a vessel for honour, full of grace and truth, filled with all good works. Send him back with joy, that he may rejoice very many by his return. Hold him worthy of more grace, as indeed he is, so that when he returns we may all receive of his fulness. If he asks anything of you in the name of the Lord Jesus he ought not to meet with any difficulty. For if you do not know it, let me say that he it is who is always stretching out a helping hand to the poor of our Order; he cheerfully and frequently distributes for food the goods of his church, as far as he can by the consent of his brethren. Notice why I say “in the Name of Jesus.” For if, as I suspect and fear, he seeks to be set free from the government of his Order, who that knows him can think that he asks in the name of Jesus? I am mistaken if he is not oppressed by fear more than usual, if he has not become better than himself since you saw him. Moreover, almost from the time that he entered on his office he is known to have improved the Order in many ways, e.g., in the observance of fasting and of silence, and in the care he takes for precious and curious vestments. LETTER CCLXXVIII. (A.D. 1150.)TO THE SAME, FOR THE BISHOP OF BEAUVAISThere is no need that one should teach you how worthy is the Bishop of Beauvais, your son, to obtain his petitions, He himself will easily enough persuade your fatherly affection what it is meet and right to do. Still I plead for him. He is a devoted young man, fit to be honoured by his father’s favour, and the righteous zeal which he displays for his church should be not only approved, but also assisted. So will he daily become more devoted, more fervent, and more strong, as he feels that the vexations and tribulations which are always harassing his church from evil men are directly lessened by the unfailing help of your right hand. I ask, too, that the petition of Arnulph of Maïole be granted. Master G.—, this is the messenger’s name, will tell you what it is. As to the petition of the Abbess of the Paraclete, you can ascertain for yourself if it is a fitting one, and if it is fitting to grant it. LETTER CCLXXIX. (A.D. 1152.)TO COUNT HENRYHe entreats the Count to enforce restitution for an injury. The Abbot of Châtillon, a man of piety, when setting out for Rome, committed all his goods to the custody of me under God. And lo! the servants of Simon de Belfort have stolen his pigs. I would rather that they had taken mine. I require them at your hands. The Prince of the Kings of the earth has made you a prince on the earth, in order that under Him, and for Him, you may cherish the good, restrain the evil, defend the poor, help them to right that suffer wrong. If you do these things you do the work of a prince, and my hope is that God will extend and establish your power. If you do them not, it is to be feared that He will take from you the honour and power which you seem to have. LETTER CCLXXX. (Circa A.D. 1152.)TO POPE EUGENIUS ABOUT THE TROUBLE AT AUXERREBernard complains that the Pope’s decision in this matter has been disregarded. 1. You do well in strengthening one who is weak-hearted, and comforting one who is weary of the time that he has yet to spend here, by so often listening to him graciously. I, indeed, do not deserve it, but it becomes you. Do not suppose that I take any pleasure in abusing your kindness so as to use it merely to get my own way; my conscience is my witness that I am ready to accept as gladly what you think it right to refuse as what you grant. I like to have my wishes gratified, as every man does, but not if they are opposed to righteousness, prejudicial to the truth, or displeasing to you. I say this lest you should think either that I do not notice a kindness, or that I have no gratitude for it. Now let your Holiness hear what the case demands. As far as I am concerned the loss is very small, and such as can be easily repaired. I think that there is no medicine better suited to allay the stings of my conscience than insults and revilings. It is certainly not for myself that I am moved, being as I am a man of no worth, deserving shame and contempt. But if ever the injuries of the wicked touch the anointed of the Lord my patience, I confess, gives way, and almost all my meekness disappears. Have I ever sought from my lord the ordering of Churches, the disposing of Bishoprics, the making of Bishops? A fitting instrument truly should I be, an ant dragging a waggon. You wished the promotion of a man against whom not even those who wished otherwise could find a word to say. 2. The decision of your good pleasure was made known to all whom it concerned. It was publicly announced, but so far we are deprived of any fruit or benefit from it. You ask who is the cause of this? It is the man of your peace in whom you trusted. He is a man to whom religion is hateful, to whom wisdom is burdensome, righteousness terrible, who has no scruples to prevent him from disclosing his master’s secret, and nullifying his decree. It is no wonder, then, that he was not ashamed to show himself in his true colours. He has yielded to his own envy and malice, and, therefore, he is not likely to show much consideration for you. I have been put to shame, but what matters that? I do not shrink from the shame which zeal has allied to obedience. The cup, indeed, has not passed from me, but through me it has passed on to you. When the decision that you have given is affronted, not to say perverted, it must be evident to everyone that it is the author rather than the promulgator that is affected. Ought the promotion to have been rendered uncertain of a man against whom no ill could be said? One of two things is certain: either the word which I have testified has gone out of your lips will stand fast, or I shall be thought a liar, as, indeed, I am now. But it will be better and more worthy of your Apostleship that he who has been powerful in iniquity should not boast himself in his wickedness. 3. Your command has been in part obeyed, and by the greater part. It was entrusted to three; one scorns it, two uphold it. What remains, then, but that your voice should supply what is wanting? And you may do this safely. You have nothing to fear from the offence of those of whom the Lord says, Let them alone, they are blind leaders of the blind (S. Matt. 15:14). For the rest, the people, the better part of the clergy, the King himself, and the whole Church of the Saints will rejoice. You have shown this age many good works of the grace which has been given you. But nothing will redound more to your glory than this action. I bear my testimony against them, that they have nominated many to offices in the Church, not because they love religion, but because they wish to see it weak, so that there may be none to restrain their wickedness, or have strength to repel force by force, and so that they need not fear the power of those whose holiness they hate. The Count of Nevers does not walk in the steps of his father; he is opposed to this man, as well as to every good man. He is a foe to the lands and goods of the Churches, like a lion ravening for his prey. He is ready to receive even a Saracen or a Jew, if he may be free from this man, who is the only one who seems to have the ability and power to withstand his wickedness and cunning. Hence it is that he has silenced many of the clergy by threats and open charges, to prevent the opposite side from glorying in their numbers. 4. And to say briefly what I think, if you think it worth while for the monasteries in that diocese to be impoverished, the Churches to be down-trodden, religion to be held up to scorn, the episcopal See itself, whose goods and possessions he particularly covets, to be reduced to slavery, then let not the man of Regny by any means rule as bishop. Where is now the spirit which you showed in the York affair? Shall not he who has attempted a like crime feel the same spirit? I hear that he is coming to you in the spirit of him who stirred up the Curia against me to see if he can accomplish the same object. Let me remind you again of the business of the Bishop of Lund. The charge of bribery has now been removed, and nothing remains to be done but what was to have been done. And let me add this: To have a chancellor who is good, just, and of good repute is no small part of the Apostolic dignity, no mean support to the Apostolic administration, no despicable guardian of the Apostolic conscience. An evil appointment is always pernicious, and after long deliberation even disgraceful. LETTER CCLXXXITO ABBOT BRUNO OF CHIARRAVALLEHe reproves Bruno for writing passionately and imprudently. Doest thou well to be thus angry? I think not. Your own words condemn you, for they have not been calmly considered, but uttered in haste and anger. For a calm judgment reasons thus, Better are the wounds of a friend than the kisses of an enemy (Prov. 27:6). “But,” you say, “I am beaten for nothing.” Well, suppose that you are. Still, none the less, if my words wound you they show my loving anxiety for you. The little that I said breathes of the solicitude of a father. And so, if you have done no wrong, I have not injured you. Your own conscience acquits you. If you have, then it is against you rather than against me that anger should arise. You complain that I did not believe you, just as if you had ever said a single word to me on the matter. But suppose that I did believe him who complained of you. How was I to believe or disbelieve you when you said nothing? Do what you said you would. Pay what you owe as soon as you can, lest perhaps scandal arise amongst us, if not amongst others about us. But think well of me, and of all who think well of you, and who do not disbelieve you, as you say passionately, not knowing what you say. These words are my own; they express my affection for you. LETTER CCLXXXII. (A.D. 1152.)TO LOUIS, KING OF THE FRENCH, ON BEHALF OF THE BISHOP-ELECT OF AUXERREHe begs the King not to oppose the Bishop-Elect. 1. Have I ever wished for the honour of the King and the good of his kingdom to be in any way lessened? God knows, and your own conscience, I trust, will reply. Take care lest those who are disturbing the election do not rather do you harm, lest we have in the churches men who seem to serve the King, but who rather serve themselves out of the Church’s revenues. I intervened in the election at Auxerre. All was harmony, because the clergy, who before this had taken opposite sides, now at length, by the mercy of God, had come to an unanimous agreement. I know the Bishop-Elect well; I bear testimony to him that he is a good man. Moreover, I believe that no one was present in that assembly who had any doubt about your assent, for your assent was contained in the letter that you had written. Who could have imagined that your first assent was not enough and that another must be asked for, especially when no second election had taken place since you wrote? Is it necessary to seek the approbation of the King as many times as the clergy happen to disagree? This is neither according to reason nor custom. For example, you will perhaps recollect that in the Church of Soissons the clergy disagreed as often as they met together to elect a Bishop, and separated without finishing the business, and yet I do not suppose that, having once obtained your assent, they sought it every time that they assembled. 2. So, my lord King, you have no ground for disannulling the elections that have taken place, when it is evident that you had given your assent to their being held. But there are some who are troubling you and are striving to trouble the Churches, seeking their own profit, and, what is more serious, endeavouring with diabolical zeal to break the mutual goodwill and affection which exist between the Supreme Pontiff and the King’s Excellency. May God forbid it. They will bear their judgment, whoever they are, and the King will always act like a good King, as he has hitherto done. And so see that more welcome instructions are issued, so that the Church, which has been so long harassed and afflicted, may no longer sit in sadness. Let the King entertain no suspicion about the person elected, for either I am much mistaken or he will be faithful, and the King will be well pleased with him. I trust in the Lord that you will not sadden the hearts of the multitude of saints in that diocese and of me, your servant, who, to speak the truth, have never borne anything at your hands so distressing as this will be if you persist in your present intention, which may God avert. LETTER CCLXXXIII. (A.D. 1150.)TO POPE EUGENIUS, ON BEHALF OF THE MONKS OF MOIREMONTHe begs the Pope to intervene to settle a dispute which had arisen. At Cluny I met the monks of Gigny in the hope of peace, for which we have worked hard, but without success, for the only result of our four days’ labour was the destruction of our hopes. According to the instructions contained in your letters, the reparation of the losses and the restitution of the goods removed were demanded, but in vain. It seemed a great demand to them, because they had done great injury, inasmuch as the worth of the losses was reckoned at more than 30,000 solidi. Indeed, not to go into details, our abbey was totally destroyed. Since the loss had been so heavy I was prepared to forego much of it, but they offered so little that the venerable Abbot of Cluny, who was labouring with more zeal than success for the purpose of peace, did not think it worthy of acceptance. And so no agreement was come to, because so ridiculously small an amount was offered in reparation. What they said was this: “Some evil-disposed persons amongst us have done this evil. What is that to us? Let them see to it.” But this is absurd. It was well known in the whole neighbourhood that this great misdeed had been perpetrated by men belonging to the Church, that some monks also had been present, and that all had consented to it. For up to the present I have not heard of even one who has opposed the evil-doers. Lastly, the Abbot of the Order himself openly rebuked and condemned shufflers of this sort by declaring that what was known to have been lost through the Church was with justice demanded at the Church’s hand. Your decision is now awaited in this matter, which, as it has been sufficiently proved, cannot be set right except by a strong hand. LETTER CCLXXXIV. (Circa A.D. 1151.)TO POPE EUGENIUS, ON BEHALF OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF RHEIMS AND OTHER PERSONSMy lord, Samson, Archbishop of Rheims, lives in the house of the great Father as a vessel made to honour. If you know this, preserve his honour, and the honour of his church. If I know the man well, the more you honour him, the more by him and in him will God be honoured. The Bishop of Arras is a simple and upright man, and one who up to the present has refused promotion, so that there is no need for him to be humbled by another, lest he lose his authority, and so his usefulness. If you think him worthy, give him this authority, because he will never have it of his own seeking, being one who is, as far as he is concerned, content with his lowly position. There is one who opposes himself, and is puffed up, and there is need of a Bishop to humble him, and it will be not less beneficial to the man himself. To resist the proud and to give grace to the humble is what your Lord delights to do, and you have heard Him saying: If any man serve Me, let him follow Me (S. John 12:26). The Abbot of Ancourt is a good man, let him be rewarded according to his goodness. Let him be listened to when speaking of his necessities, and let not an apostate be heard against him. The Dean of Bethune, by the wish of his Bishop, and the assent of the advocate for his church, has determined to set on foot a good work in the same church, and it is well that it should be confirmed by your authority. In the same way I plead for the Deans of Soissons and Cambray, that they may obtain their requests. I have been in perils amongst false brethren, and many letters have been forged, and fraudulently sealed with my seal, and have gone forth into many different hands, and my chief fear is that this treachery may have reached even to you. This is why I am forced to discontinue the use of my former seal, and to use this new one, which you notice is fresh, containing both my device and my name. Do not accept the other seal as mine for the future, except in the case of the Bishop of Claremont, to whom I gave a letter sealed with that seal before I had this one made. LETTER CCLXXXV. (Circa A.D. 1153.)TO THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF ODO, ABBOT OF S. DENYSHe recommends this Abbot to the Pope, and declares him innocent of the accusations brought against him. 1. I should not hesitate to write on behalf of the church of S. Denys, and for Odo, its Abbot, even if no one else would. The cause is a good one, and doubtful on neither account; the church is a famous one, and the Abbot is of good report. The one is known to the world, the other to us, his neighbours. Add to this, that both he and the church have a special claim on you. And because of all this, as I have said, if need were I should not be ashamed to write for them, even though I were alone. But as it is, others are writing as well as I, who would not be disbelieved even if I did not write. They are men who have often treated of this matter. They know what the Abbot has done, and what they know they say. My prayers for him may go forth with confidence when supported by such indubitable testimonies. With confidence I solicit and entreat you to take some thought for the property of yours which he holds, which has been wickedly attacked, and grievously harassed. I ask you, I beseech you, lift your hand, stretch out your arm, and cover him with your shield. Let the sword of Peter defend the patrimony of Peter. 2. In vain have men risen against him; his reputation is his sufficient excuse, nay, the universal esteem in which he is held is his commendation. They are good sons, forsooth, who, prying too curiously into the secrets of their father, have dreamt of some crimes or other which no one else has discovered. Those who hear of this sudden and unexpected change stand amazed. They are ashamed, because nothing of this sort had ever before been said of Odo. The Abbot of S. Denys cannot be said to be hid under a bushel. He stands on a candlestick, and however much he may wish it, he cannot hide what he is. His light, and so his smoke, must be seen by all. Why have these men turned on him their lynx eves, seeing what no one else has ever yet been able to see? Their charge, I confess, seems to me suspicious. What makes me more incredible is the fact that one of their number is a man named Raymond, who, they say, is the head of this wickedness that they have attempted: whom I have found loquacious enough face to face, but secretly a back-biter, ambitious to excess, currying favour by his flatteries, wholly set on deceit, and no less on causing confusion. I have marked the wolf under the sheep’s clothing, or by certain signs I have pointed him out, so that now he may either be afraid to bite, or be powerless to do harm. LETTER CCLXXXVI. (A.D. 1153.)TO THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE SAMEIf secret calumnies and craft have prevailed against the Abbot of S. Denys, I am clean from his blood, for I wrote before against his bitter foes. But what accusation do they bring against the man? Is it not a fact that they cannot find whereof to accuse him? And if they have good grounds for accusing, how is it that he is acquitted by all his neighbours who are of a right conversation? He is accused of having incurred many debts, of having mortgaged his lands, and wasted his goods, as though all this could not have happened from necessary and good causes. An assembly of that Church gave me an account of all these things, and testified through a trustworthy person that things are not as they have been reported to you. Nevertheless, let an inquiry be held, for in matters of this kind we place more confidence in what we see than in any oath; and if things are found to be as his accusers maliciously state, no matter how it came about, then let not the Abbot be excused. If they are not so, then let not these informers gain anything by their falsehood. They charge him with the death of a certain man; if he cannot clear himself let him die. And yet anyone can see how unlikely it is that he should have handed over to death a man whom but a little before he had rescued from it. How can these men have the audacity to insinuate such charges into your mind, when they have seen and known the zeal of the Abbot in freeing those who before had committed homicide, and in punishing those who had avenged the blood of a relation? Lastly, if you had known them well, it would be enough to make you disbelieve any unsupported statement of theirs. May God help your Holiness, that the deceitful tongue may not avail anything against the Abbot’s innocence. LETTER CCLXXXVII. (A.D. 1153.)TO THE BISHOP OF OSTIA, ON BEHALF OF THE SAME ABBOTMy lord, the Abbot of S. Denys is being accused by the wicked, but by all the good men in his Church and neighbourhood he is excused. I ask your Christian love for him the more earnestly because my esteem for him has been and still is very great. Befriend him with your kindness, if not because he is a friend of mine, yet, at all events, because the charges brought against him are neither true, nor likely. If he is burdened with debts, then the necessity of the time is evidently the cause of it, although his debts are nothing like the amount stated. As to the alienation of his lands, the charge is easily proved to be false. For I suppose that not even his enemies themselves can possibly suspect him of the death of G—; inasmuch as he kept this same G—and all his companions in shelter from their enemies, and with much labour snatched them from the very jaws of death. For all this, and because especially I know of the underhand dealing of Raymond, I earnestly beg you to vindicate with all care the innocence of the Abbot. LETTER CCLXXXVIII. (A.D. 1153.)TO HIS UNCLE ANDREW, A KNIGHT OF THE TEMPLEBernard deplores the unhappy issue of the Crusade. 1. The letter which you lately sent me found me lying in bed. I received it with open hands, joyfully, read and re-read it, but should have been more joyful could I have seen you yourself. I read in it of your desire to see me, and of your fear beeause of the danger threatening the land which the Lord honoured by His presence, the State which He consecrated by His own blood. Woe to our princes! In the Lord’s land they did no good, in their own, to which they returned with all speed, they practise incredible mischief, and they are not grieved for the affliction of Joseph. They are mighty to do evil, but good they cannot do. But I trust that the Lord will not reject His people, and will not cast away His inheritance. Moreover, the right hand of the Lord will yet execute power, and His arm will help Him, that all may know that it is better to trust in the Lord than to put any confidence in princes. You do well to compare yourself to an ant. For what else are we children of men, who are born of the earth, always labouring after useless and empty things? What profit is there to a man for all his labour wherewith he labours under the sun? Let us, therefore, climb up above the sun, and let our conversation be in heaven; let us in mind go before thither whether we shall one day follow in body. There, my dear Andrew, is the fruit of your labour, there is your reward. You are warring under the sun, but it is for One who sits above the sun. Let us who fight here expect from Him our largesse. The reward of our warfare is not of the earth, is not from beneath; its prize is from afar, and from the utmost land. Under the sun is want, above the sun abundance. Good measure, pressed down, and shaken together and running over, shall men give into our bosom (S. Luke 6:38). 2. You wish to see me; and you say that the gratification of your wish depends on me. For you hint that you wait for an order from me to come. What shall I say to you? I both wish for you to come, and yet fear your coming. So placed between wishing and not wishing, I am in a strait between two, and which to choose I know not. On one side is the wish to satisfy what is at once your own desire and mine; on the other, the doubt whether I ought not to believe rather the common report of you, which says that you are so necessary to the land that no small disaster is likely to happen if you leave it. And so what I dare not command I yet wish for, viz., that I may see you before I die. You can see and know better than I if you can anyhow come without loss and reproach to the country. And it might be that your coming would not be altogether unprofitable. Perhaps, with God’s blessing, some would be induced to accompany you on your return to support the Church of God, since you are known and beloved by all. God can bring it to pass that you, too, can say with holy Jacob, With my staff I passed over this Jordan, and, lo! I return with three bands (Gen. 32:10). One thing, I say, if you do come, do not delay, lest, perchance, you come and find me not. For I am now ready to be offered, and I do not think that I have much more time to spend on earth. Who will give me the happiness of being somewhat refreshed before I depart hence, with your sweet and gladsome presence? I have written to the Queen as you wished, and I rejoice in the good report which you give of her. Salute in the Lord your Master and brethren of the Temple, likewise those of the Hospital. Salute also all who are shut up, and all the Saints to whom you have an opportunity of speaking, and commend me to their prayers. Be instead of me to them. I hear that our Gerard, who spent some time in our house, has now been made Bishop; him, too, I salute most warmly with great affection. LETTER CCLXXXIX. (Circa A.D. 1153.)TO THE QUEEN OF JERUSALEMBernard instructs her how she should behave if she would be an honourable widow before God and queen before men. To his beloved daughter in Christ, MILISENDIS, Queen of Jerusalem, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes mercy from God our Saviour. 1. I wonder why I have not seen any letter from you for so long a time, and have not had your usual salutations. I cannot forget your old affection for me, which I have ofttimes put to the proof. I have heard, I confess, some evil reports of you; and although I do not altogether believe them, yet I am grieved that, whether they are true or false, your good fame should be so compromised. But my dear Uncle Andrew has written, and I cannot disbelieve him in anything; he gives me a better account of you; he says how peaceably and meekly you bear yourself, how wisely you rule yourself and yours by the advice of wise men, how you love the brethren of the Temple, and cherish them, with what foresight and wisdom, according to the measure given you by God, you meet with sound counsels and aids the dangers threatening the Holy Land. These are the actions that become a brave woman, a lowly widow, an exalted queen. For though you are a queen, it is no disgrace to be a widow, and if you had wished it you would not be one. I think that it is your glory, especially among Christians, to live no less as a widow than a queen. One is of succession, the other of virtue; one of birth, the other of the gift of God; that came by good fortune, this by a brave spirit. The honour is twofold, one according to the world, the other according to God, but each from God. Nor let the honour of widowhood seem to you small, about which the Apostle says, Honour widows which are widows indeed (1 Tim. 5:3). 2. You certainly have before you a second familiar piece of advice in the wholesome words of the Apostle, who teaches you to “provide things honest not only in the sight of God, but also in the sight of men” (2 Cor. 8:21). In the sight of God, as a widow; in the sight of men, as a queen. Recollect that you are a queen, and that your good deeds cannot lie in obscurity under a bushel. They are on a candlestick that they may be seen of all. Recollect that you are a widow, and that you have not now to please your husband, but to please God alone. Happy are you if you place your Saviour as a wall before you for a guard to your conscience, and a bulwark to repel infamy. Happy, I say, it like one desolate and a widow you entrust yourself wholly to God, for Him to rule you. Else, if you are not well ruled you do not rule well. The Queen of the South came to hear the wisdom of Solomon, that she might learn to be ruled, and so to rule. And behold! a Greater than Solomon is here (S. Matt. 12:42). I speak of Jesus, and Him crucified. Commit yourself to Him to rule you, to be taught by Him how you ought to rule. Learn as a widow, for He is meek and lowly of heart (S. Matt. 11:29); learn as a queen, because he judges the poor with righteousness, and reproves with equity for the meek of the earth (Is. 11:4). Therefore, when you think of your dignity, forget not your widowhood, because (to say to you plainly what I think) you cannot be a good queen if you are not a good widow. You ask how a good widow is to be known. From the words of the Apostle: If she have brought up children, if she have lodged strangers, if she have washed the Saints’ feet, if she have relieved the afflicted, if she have diligently followed every good work (1 Tim. 5:10). If thou doest these things, happy art thou, and well will it be with thee. May the Lord bless you out of Sion, my daughter renowned in the Lord, worthy of all veneration. My admonition has been sent first; I shall now expect a reply to follow. I have given you the occasion, and will admit of no excuse, if our friendship is not renewed by your sending me frequently for the future words and letters of friendship. LETTER CCXC. (A.D. 1152.)TO THE BISHOP OF OSTIA ABOUT CARDINAL JORDANBernard describes the Legate of the Holy See, and what disgraceful traces he had everywhere left behind him. Your legate has passed from nation to nation and from one kingdom to another people, leaving with us foul and horrid traces everywhere. From the foot of the Alps and the Kingdom of the Teutons this Apostolic man has gone about in every direction through nearly all the churches of France and Normandy, as far as Rouen, and he has filled them not with the Gospel, but with sacrilege. He is said to have done disgraceful things, to have carried off spoils from churches, to have promoted, when he could, boys to ecclesiastical honours with no other qualifications than their beautiful faces, and, where he could not, to have wished to do it. Many bribed him not to come to them. He exacted and extorted money by his messengers from those to whom he could not go. In the schools, the courts, the very streets, he has made himself a proverb. Seculars, religious, all speak ill of him. The poor, and the monks, and the clergy all complain of him. It is the men, too, of his own profession who are loudest in expressing their abhorrence of his reputation and his life. He has this report, too, both from those within and those without. Not so did John Papcron, not so he whose praise is in the Churches, as of one who honours his ministry everywhere. Read this letter to my lord. Let him see what is to be done with such a man; I have freed my soul. Yet I say, with my usual rashness, that it will be good for him to purge his court, and so free his conscience. I had determined to say nothing about this, but the venerable Prior of Mont Dieu impelled me to this, and inspired me to write. Know, too, that I have said less than is openly talked of in public. LETTER CCXCITO POPE EUGENIUS FOR THE CHURCH OF S. EUGENDUS IN THE JURAIf what is said is true, and it is not wholly to be rejected, the famous monastery of S. Eugendus, formerly renowned for its wealth and piety, is ready to perish. I grieve to see houses belonging to it, which are near us and known to you, partly destroyed already, and partly being destroyed daily. What we see in the members we have heard by report is worse even in the head. But why should I give you an account now of these evils which are numberless? The bearer of this, a monk of the same monastery, and the Prior Archegaud, a man long known to me for his worth, and beloved for his piety, will be able to tell you what they know more fully than I do, although not everything. For who could do this? The evils are so many and so great that it is a wonder if they do not compel the apostolic axe to lift itself and strike, even though it be hiding itself and sleeping. I have liberated my soul, but it is not enough, unless the monastery be also liberated. Its life and death are in your hands. LETTER CCXCIITO A CERTAIN SECULARBernard reproves him for dissuading a novice named Peter, his relative, from taking the vows. 1. Though unknown to me by face, yet you are not by fame, for I have gathered that you are a wise man, and one held in honour by the world. My beloved son Peter, to whom you seem to be well known and to be in some degree related, has wished me to write to you, or rather reply to you. For you wrote to him, and I wish that you had written what was honourable to yourself and expedient for him. You did not so. You ventured to dissuade a new soldier of Christ from the service of his Lord. I tell you that there is one that seeketh and judgeth. Were not your own sins enough for you that you must involve yourself in those of others, and, again, as far as you could, recall to his sins a youth who was penitent, and so, according to your hardness and impenitent heart, keep up for yourself wrath against the day of wrath? Was it not enough that the devil himself tempts him, but you must help that tempter, you, a Christian, his leader, and his familiar friend? You, indeed, have played the part to him of another serpent, but he has not acted as a second Eve. He was moved by what you said, but not overturned. He was founded on a Firm rock. 2. Nevertheless, I do not pay you back in your own coin, but I overcome evil with good. I pray for you, I wish for you better things, and I write better things. In the first place, as you are said to be a wise man, I send you to a wise man in order that what is said of you may be more true. He says, Do not prevent him who can do good, and, if you can, do good yourself (Prov. 3:27). You have now time in which to do good. But how long will you have it? Consider how little time you have to live, especially now that you are old. Life is a vapour that cometh forth for a brief space and is quickly dispersed. If you are wise you will know whether that curse is coming on you. I have seen the foolish firmly rooted, and straightway I cursed his beauty (Job 5:3). Well did he who was truly wise call the fool falsely-wise, knowing that the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God (1 Cor. 3:19). O that thou wert wise, and didst understand and provide for thy latter end (Deut. 32:29). That thou wert wise in the things of God, understood what the things of this world are, and provided for the things beneath the earth! Surely you would fly from the things beneath, you would yearn for the things above, you would spurn the things which make for evil. My mind, or rather my spirit, prompts me to say many things to you about the salvation of your soul, but until I see by your answer how you take this, I will add nothing further, lest I become burdensome to one to whom I wish for the future to be a friend, and, if he will let me, a helper in the way of salvation. I salute your wife, beloved by me in Christ, although she has done nothing to merit this affection. LETTER CCXCIII. (Circa A.D. 1150.)TO PETER, ABBOT OF MOUSTIER LA CELLE, ON BEHALF OF A MONK OF CHÉZY, WHO HAD CHANGED OVER TO CLAIRVAUXTo the cause of your writing I thus reply. I think that the annoyance of my lord of Chézy is not more annoying to anyone than to myself. But I suppose that you know that a long time ago, by his own wish and precept, that monk was made mine, and that he promised obedience to me, and that I undertook the charge of him. It is not easy to recollect how often since then I have opposed his desire to come to me, and sent him back when he came. Only now at last has he come and remained, but against my will, and I can in no way persuade him to return. He said, indeed, that if I sent him away he would go away altogether and never return. But not even so had he my consent; nay, he entered even against my advice. But having entered so, my conscience would not let me reject him, nor can I now do so, inasmuch as he was before put under my care, as I said, and I shall have to give account of him. For a long time, I confess, had I passed over this danger to my conscience, lest I should annoy the good abbot; and I would have still have passed it over, if the monk would have in any way listened to my advice. But since this is the state of things, it is yours to console the abbot, to blot out his sadness, to make my excuse to him for this reasonable cause. Lastly, he himself, as you know, is in a state of uncertainty, and has often thought of leaving his house. But if he wished now to carry out what he has meditated I would not stand in his way, because I know that he remains in the house not without great anxiety. LETTER CCXCIV. (Circa A.D. 1150.)TO POPE EUGENIUS, ON BEHALF OF THE BISHOP OF LE MANSHe recommends the Bishop and others to the Pope. The Bishop of Le Mans is here. If you do not know him let me say that he is a man of whose truth and honesty no one has any doubt, except those who do not know him well. From his youth up he has been known and beloved by me for his well-known virtues, as well as for the other good points in his character. If any slander against him has been brought before you, holy Father, either I am deceived, or the slanderer has lied to his own harm. Hear the Bishop, and dismiss him in the fulness of your favour. I have been deceived if he has not been well placed. I ask that the Abbot of Vendôme, who is specially devoted to you, may find special favour with you, and that his reasonable request may be obtained without difficulty. The Bishop of Angers is sending a messenger, seeking something at your hands, both by himself and through one, and I ask that he may be heard for his righteousness, and that a lying slanderer may not be heard against him. It is fitting that you who live for all should have power for all according to their merits. LETTER CCXCV. (Circa A.D. 1150.)TO CARDINAL HENRY, FOR THE SAME BISHOPI write to you as if to myself, and this every time that I write to you. For where you are, there I hope to be, for I love you as myself. If you love me as much, or, I should say, because you love me, see that my lord of Le Mans, as far as you can, does not have to return disappointed in any way. Otherwise I shall be disappointed too, for I love him for his uprightness, and I wish him to be loved by you. LETTER CCXCVI. (Circa A.D. 1150.)TO THE BISHOP OF OSTIA, FOR THE SAMEA certain cleric is said to have gained the ear of my lord, and to have brought a charge against his own Bishop, who is a friend of mine, to satisfy his own greed. If you have any regard for me, or rather for the righteousness of God take care that this malignant slanderer gain nothing by his falsehood, and let not the innocent Bishop, my faithful friend, take any harm. LETTER CCXCVIITO THE ABBOT OF MONTIER RAMEY, ON BEHALF OF A FUGITIVE MONKThe bearer of this was lately, at my request, admitted into your society, but prompted by folly and carelessness he threw off the sacred habit, and left you. But he is now, it seems, penitent, and wishes to return, and humbly begs to be received again; and I, too, beg the same thing for him, that for the love of God and of me you will not refuse admission and the habit to one who is now penitent. LETTER CCXCVIII. (A.D. 1151.)TO POPE EUGENIUS, ABOUT NICHOLASNicholas has gone out from us because he was not of us but he has left behind him foul footprints. I long ago knew what he was, but I had been waiting either for God to convert him or for him to show himself a Judas. This he has done. Besides books, silver, and much gold, there were found on him when he left three seals, one his own, one the prior’s, the third mine, and that not a very old one, but the new one which I had been forced to use because of his treachery and secret frauds. This is why I wrote to you, I recollect, without giving my name, because I was in perils among false brethren. Who can say to how many people he wrote what he chose under my name, and without my knowledge? Who will give me the satisfaction of seeing your Curia thoroughly purged of the dregs of his lies, and of seeing that the innocence of those with me is sufficient to excuse us to those who have been circumvented and prevented by his lies? It was partly proved, and partly he confessed, that he had written to you more than once in this underhand way. The earth is stained by his disgraceful deeds, and they have become proverbial amongst all; I refrain from polluting with them my lips and your ears. He boasts that he will come to you, and that he has friends in the Curia. If he does come, remember Arnold of Brescia; he is a greater sinner than Arnold. No one better deserves life-long imprisonment, no fitter sentence could be pronounced against him than one of perpetual silence. LETTER CCXCIX. (Circa A.D. 1150.)TO THE COUNT OF ANGOULÊME, ON BEHALF OF THE MONKS OF S. AMAND DE BOISSEHe complains of the heavy exactions from his brethren by the Count. Do not think it strange of me if I regard as excessive the rent-charge which you demand of our brethren for the domain of Boisse, since we are not accustomed to pay anything like that amount. We have founded many Abbeys, and none of them has been rendered liable to such heavy dues. But as this is your absolute will, and as God more willingly accepts a voluntary offering than a forced one, I will ratify the agreement which my brethren have made with you, until God shall inspire you with a more indulgent spirit towards us, as I do not despair that He will do. In the meantime honour them with your affection and favour, give them your protection and support; there is no better means of enabling you to appear with confidence before the tribunal of Christ than to have the poor for your friends and intercessors. LETTER CCCTO THE COUNTESS OF BLOISHe consoles the Countess for the excesses of her son, which he imputes to his age, and encourages her to hope for a better future for him; he advises her to treat him with kindness and indulgence, rather than with harshness. If your son has ever fallen into any unsuitable conduct towards you I greatly regret it; and deplore the excess of the son as well as the injury to the mother; but after all his conduct is excusable in a young man. For the faults of youth find both their cause and their excuse in the heedlessness of that age. Do you not know that the thoughts and imaginations of man’s heart are given to evil from his youth? (Gen. 7:21). Console yourself in the hope that there will be a change in him for the better by the merits and alms of his father. Because of this you must be more and more earnest in your prayers and vows to God for him; for although he may not show all the filial affection and respect at all times that he should, yet a mother ought never to forget her motherly affection, nor, indeed, is she able to do so. Can a woman forget the son of her womb? And if she. He says, should forget, yet I will not for get thee (Isaiah 49:15). Let us entreat and lament before God; as for me, I have good hope that He will in His mercy cause a young man of such excellent qualities to endeavour to imitate his father’s noble character. Treat with him, then, in a spirit of gentleness and with affectionate intentions: because he will thus be better induced to good actions than if he is exasperated with reproaches and reprimands. In this way I feel sure that both your heart and mine will equally be gladdened in a short time by the happy change which will take place in him. You will not doubt that I desire as fervently as you to see him return to a better mind. Would that I may find him always towards everyone such as I have always found him towards myself; for I do not think that he has ever refused to yield to any wish of mine; may the Lord recompense it to him! But you may believe that, as you have frequently requested, I have remonstrated with him, and I will continue to do so whenever the occasion shall offer. LETTER CCCI. (Circa A.D. 1149.)TO SANCHIA, SISTER OF THE EMPEROR OF SPAINHe begs her to use her influence to close a controversy which had arisen with some other monks about the reception of a certain monastery among them. 1. As relates to the reception of the monastery of Tholdanos, you know that what has been done was not done by me, since I was absent and knew nothing of what was going on. That it was done by my brethren I do not deny, but they took care to surround it in every respect with precautions, taking the advice of many persons of piety, assuring themselves of the consent and assistance of the Bishop of the Diocese, and having acted only on the request of a noble lady who had founded that house upon her own lands; and in no respect was it done secretly. They supposed that they were able to accept freely what the foundress offered to them spontaneously, declaring it free and independent of any other religious house, and it was even said that she had the written proofs of his in her hands. But as you inform me that the monks of Caracetta complain that in this matter their rights have been injured, and as, instead of following the advice of Solomon, who says to them, Do not hinder him who desires to do well, and do well thyself if thou art able (Prov. 3:27), they opposed themselves under these circumstances to us in this good work, and since it does not become the servants of God to strive (2 Tim. 2:24), my conclusion is to put back the whole matter into your hands, that you may set at rest, by your action and authority, a calumny altogether, as they say, unfounded and unjust, and that for the glory of God and the health of your own soul you may restore calm and peace to an Order established in the Church. 2. For my brother Nivard, who praises your bounty much, advises me to put entire confidence in you on this occasion, as well, because of your especial goodwill for our Order, as because of the promise which you have had the goodness to make to him. I cannot suppose that our opponents will refuse to submit themselves to your salutary warnings or advice. If, however, they should do so it will be necessary to commit the judgment in this matter to the two Bishops in whose dioceses the places in question are situated, so that the whole controversy between them may be terminated. Whatsoever they shall have determined or agreed upon by mutual consent it will be your part to ratify and see executed. If you fear God, do not suffer that so good a, work should be hindered, nor that the wish of that pious lady should be frustrated, nor that those religious should be deprived of the fruit of their devotion, nor, finally, that God should be defrauded of an offering so acceptable to Him as that of an Order reformed. I entreat you also to show your maternal affection for your new foundation. I mean the house of Espîna. Let those brethren, sustained by your generosity, continue in the service of God according to the Rule of their Order. LETTER CCCII. (A.D. 1153.)TO THE LEGATES OF THE HOLY SEE, ON BEHALF OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF MAYENCEHe commends to them the cause of the Archbishop, who was oppressed by his adversaries. To my Lords and reverend Fathers, Legates of the Holy See, the son and servant of their Holiness, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and that through all things they may please God and bring forth worthy fruits of their mission. Although far removed in body, I am closely united with you by affection and goodwill; and I desire and pray that your acts and intentions may be directed in everything to justice and right. Having then learned that the unfortunate Archbishop of Mayence has been cited to appear before you in order to reply to the accusations of his adversaries, I have taken upon me to make an appeal to your goodness on his behalf. I believe that you will honour your ministry if, as far as justice allows, you support this feeble and tottering wall by the shoulders of your authority; and that you will not permit the bruised reed to be broken nor the smoking flax to be quenched, as far as in you lies. Let him feel, I entreat you, that my intercession has been of service to him; and let him not be utterly lost by that simplicity of soul, because of which he is said to have been entrapped by false brethren, rather than discovered in any action rendering him worthy of deposition. LETTER CCCIIITO LOUIS THE YOUNGER, KING OF FRANCEBernard advises the King how he ought to act in the cause of a cen tain Breton seigneur, who was adulterous and excommunicated. If by the promise to absolve him from the excommunication which he has incurred, it would be possible to determine that seigneur from Brittany to send away the adulteress, permitting her to enjoy the lands which her father has left her according to the division which she has made with her brother; although she is unworthy of any such concession, perhaps it ought not to be refused, so that you may by this means obtain the support and aid of a powerful seigneur. Otherwise it is not the advice of your humble and faithful servant that either land should be granted to a stranger, or your favour accorded to a man excommunicated and incestuous: lest (which may God avert) you may one day hear the words applied to you: When thou sawest a thief thou conscntedst unto him, and hast been partaker with the adulterers (Ps. 50:18). Yet I would not advise precipitate action, or a sudden breach with the man. Action should be taken through some faithful and prudent agent, by whom, if possible, he may be led on, and time gained. If he will not listen to any proposal and remains obstinate, you may have confidence in the Lord that he will not prevail; since justice will be on your side and will be a powerful aid. I know not whether the Bishop of that district would be a fit and suitable person for this purpose: not that he is not faithful to you, for he is, on the contrary, most loyal; but on account of his position towards that seigneur, who detests him, and would not, I fear, have any confidence in him. He is, however, prepared to do everything in your service, which, with the will of God, might be in his power. If he should make any more private suggestion to you as from me you will know that it comes from me, and please to receive it as from my mouth. For he is a man whom I love much and in whom I have considerable confidence; you also may, I believe, safely confide to him whatever you think proper. LETTER CCCIV. (A.D. 1153.)TO THE SAMEBernard thanks the King for the interest that he takes in his health, and says some words in favour of the King’s brother Robert. The letter which your Highness has deigned to send to me has rejoiced my soul: may God, who has inspired you with this good thought, recompense you also with a similar joy. What am I, or what is my father’s house, that your royal Majesty should trouble about my life or my death? But since you do me the honour to inquire respecting my health I may reply that I am somewhat better, and, I believe, out of danger, though I am still very weak. I take this opportunity to inform you that Lord Robert, your brother, has done me the honour and kindness to visit me during my sickness; he has spoken to me in a manner that has filled me with joy and better hope on his behalf. Remember to show him some affection; I promise you that he will give you satisfaction, if his actions answer to his words. Have the kindness to express to him your satisfaction at knowing that he is willing henceforth to rule his conduct according to the advice which I have given him, and that of good men. I have not my seal at hand, but I hope that he who reads this will recognize my style, because I have myself dictated this. LETTER CCCV. (A.D. 1153.)TO POPE EUGENIUSBernard recommends to the Pope the cause of the Bishop of Beauvais, who is detained by just causes from travelling to Rome. The Bishop of Beauvais, your son (whom I might also call mine if it were not presumption on my part thus to speak), having been summoned to your presence, would have come willingly, being strong in the justice of his cause, and confiding in your fatherly favour. But I have detained him, and have had much difficulty in so doing, so desirous was he to see your face. What made me wish to keep him back was chiefly (among other good reasons) that I was doubtful what was your wish in respect of him. Besides, without speaking of many other considerations which opposed themselves to his departure, he and his brother, the King, do not walk together in one mind, and it would not be altogether safe for him to be long absent from his diocese. Do not ask me on which side is the wrong: it is not for me to bring a charge against anyone; it is sufficient for me to excuse the Bishop. I have seen him in the King’s presence, showing to him every mark of submission and respect, and that to no purpose. However, you may be sure that whatever he may have to fear and whatever may happen in his absence, he will come to you without delay whenever he shall have learned that you desire him to do so. His person and his interests are in your hands. Nor has he so acted in the post committed to him that he should not be able to count on your goodwill. Therefore he has sent this person in his place, well knowing that he might act towards you as towards a father. Would it please you to know what orders have been given to him? To do nothing without your direction, and to follow in all respects your wishes, to which he wholly commits himself. And he is confident that you will do better for him than act merely as his judge, but that you will be his support, his strength, and his protector. If it should please you to commit the cause to the judgment of the Lord Archbishop of Rheims, I believe it would be speedily terminated with the help of God, especially if the right of Appeal was taken away from each party. LETTER CCCVI. (A.D. 1151.)TO THE BISHOP OF OSTIA, FOR THE ELECTION OF THOROLD, ABBOT OF TROIS-FONTAINESHe justifies himself from the reproach which Hugo had thrown upon him of having named Thorold as Abbot of Trois-Fontaines, in preference to a certain monk named Nicholas, whom Hugo had intended for that post. He also explains the election of Robert as Abbot of a newly-founded monastery. 1. Woe to the world because of offences (S. Matt. 18:7). Do I offend you? am I an offence unto you? Who could believe that such a thing could happen except those to whom the unity of feeling, and mutual affection, in which we have walked in the house of God together, is altogether unknown? What a sudden and lamentable change for me! He who used to support me now prepares to oppress me; and the very person who used to defend me now frightens me with threats, and accuses me of prevarication and even of blasphemy! Our first parents were not punished for their only fault, although a grave one, until they had been questioned and convicted: the Ninevites had time given them for penitence (Jonah 3:10), and the people of Sodom were punished not merely after hearing, but also after sight of their sins (Gen. 19:16). But how differently my judge acts with me, no doubt because I am so much more contemptible than these! I am not thought worthy of being placed on my defence, of being invited to justify myself, to render a reason, of having opportunity given me for reply. I am judged without being summoned, and condemned without being convicted. 2. But now listen, if you will be so good, to my excuse, and if it does not seem sufficient to you, it is at all events a true one. You had wished that Brother Nicholas should be substituted for yourself in your post, and I remember well that I did not disagree with you. You and I were thus completely agreed, and because we were so, I thought and said that there could be no difficulty in thus settling the matter. That it was not so settled was owing to necessity and not to any duplicity on my part. The matter was variously taken by others, and caused discord. Do I say discord? It was rather concord; for all the electors were found to be so completely agreed in disagreeing to the plan which we had determined upon, that not even one monk or lay-brother, except two or three who were your countrymen, was willing to give consent to our plan. Nevertheless, I tried by many arguments, now entreating, now threatening, to bring about the resolution we desired, but they withstood me with as much agreement as obstinacy. I might have been able to use force, but this I omitted to do, and I pray God to spare me, as I spared that monk for whom we were interested, in not casting into the midst of such a storm and of so many rebellious spirits a man humble, timid, and inclined to avoid the weight of the charge attempted to be laid upon him. For without speaking of all those outside duties in which you yourself have had experience of him, all the other duties of this charge seem to be beyond his strength. Therefore, permitting him to go forth from his monastery with those who were of like mind with himself, I have put him at the head of a house which will be so much more easy for him to govern, as he will be seconded by my own monks in the performance of the work. For it is a place newly founded by my own brethren, and very near to me, so that I can frequently visit it. Of all the Abbots who were in a condition to occupy your post, I did not venture to propose any, since I had not your approval; and Brother Robert, in default of a better person, seemed to me more fitted than anyone else for it. I proposed him, then: when the reply came from you, and by your judgment he was shut out from it. Why should I prolong the story? They accepted the man, who, as I learn, displeases your Holiness. 3. Nor is the cause unknown, as I am told you declare loudly that he is a man of bad character, and that because of his crimes he was expelled from the monastery over which he had before presided. It may have been the case; but as far as I am competent to be a witness, I declare before God and his Angels that I have never, up to this time, heard anything of that kind respecting him. Not even his Archbishop, when he was making every effort to obtain his removal, ever signified to me by letter or messenger, anything to that effect. Can you possibly believe, that if it had been otherwise, I should be a supporter of disorder or turpitude? If your Excellence thought thus of me I do not know how the long friendship with which you have honoured me up to this day, and the great kindness which you have never ceased to show me could at all be justified. And what could you say or think of the Archbishop, who had put at the head of a house of which he had himself been superior, a man of such a character of which, if it were a matter of long and public notoriety, he could not have been ignorant? As for me, God forbid that I should in the least suspect of such conduct a man of such high character and office. It is true that he who had promoted the man to be Abbot, himself removed him. I do not deny it. For what reason he did so is a matter that only concerns himself. But he is known to have displeased many by so doing, and has been accused of not observing either reason, rule, or custom in that removal. The Archbishop acted simply according to his own pleasure, and in order not to cause him annoyance, this Abbot at my entreaty gave place to wrath, and retired from his place in peace. 4. One thing I must say. From the time that he entered into this house no one has remarked in him (and this is the testimony of all) anything which would render him unworthy of the post to which he was elevated. He lived without disagreement with anyone; besides this, he is versed in literature and theology, he is of pleasant demeanour and appearance, and affable in speech. It is true that he was too short a time with us to make these testimonies quite irrefutable. This I confess. He will perhaps do well, and perhaps badly. I distrust all that I do, and am unable to foresee what will come of any step I take. Since then I am not fully assured, I am unable to express positive certainty to you. It is done, and what is done cannot be undone. If I had been a prophet it is certain that I should have avoided to give to a friend cause of offence, to trouble the mind of a saint, to give scandal to a Bishop. What do you wish that I should do, since I was obliged by necessity to act, and to act according to regular order? 5. This is my excuse. If it is sufficient, let the ill-feeling be taken away from between us; if not, I will endure your judgment, of whatever character it may be. It would be painful to me to destroy so quickly with my own hand what I have built up, unless some convenient opportunity should offer, which, perhaps, in course of time, may be the case. But if you wish to depose him the power is in your hands; you will find in me no resistance. Why should I oppose myself to a torrent? Unjustly I have not acted. If I seem to have acted foolishly it is in your power at once to correct my folly, or, if you think the case requires, even to punish it. Yet I add that if I am dealt with piously and christianly, a righteous man will correct me in mercy, and if he shall reprimand me will not in anger disgrace me before others. Here you have my position, unless I have given you some fresh offence, even in this letter. For, although your indignation against me has become known to me by others and not by yourself, yet I have guarded myself from replying in a similar manner, but have preferred to complain to you of yourself in these lines. For the rest I bless God, who has Himself deprived me before my death of this consolation which He had bestowed, and which, perhaps, I enjoyed with too great pleasure, namely, the favour of my lord and now yours, so that I might learn, even by my own experience, not to rest my hope upon man. LETTER CCCVII. (A.D. 1153.)TO THE SAMEHe defends the Bishop of Beauvais against unfavourable reports. He relates in what extremely poor health he is; and what had happened to the Archbishop of Lyons. 1. I write to you in great haste, and consequently with less care, because the traveller who is to convey this is hastening his departure. It is a wonderful coincidence, but a very convenient one. Brother G. Fulcher has just arrived with your letter and that of my lord almost at the same moment as the stranger who bears this; by the providential care, no doubt, of God that I might have a means for replying to you at once; which otherwise I might not have been able to do, however much I wished, with sufficient quickness. As you placed first what concerned the Bishop of Beauvais, so I begin with this in my reply. You know that he is a free agent, his life and character are not in my power, but in that of the State. If he acts sometimes otherwise than he ought, or is becoming to him, I am able to lament it, but however much I may wish to correct it, that is not in my power. But yet I ought to say to you that up to the present I have had no occasion to remark that he absents himself frequently from his diocese; nor have I ever heard that this is the case. His brother Robert has come to him, and now is staying with him. I have not yet heard that he has committed, or led the Bishop to commit, any action disgraceful or criminal, and it would be very wonderful if any such had reached you white it was unknown to me. I will do all in my power to persuade him as you wish, to resign his See, if ever I have a fitting and reasonable opportunity. I should already have done so if I had been able without offending the Bishop, and if I had not feared to see him replaced by some one still more useless in the Diocese. He came himself to see me in Lent, prepared to go to Rome on account of a certain appeal; and he would have done so if I had not dissuaded him. The motive of my dissuasion was this, that it did not seem to me that the purpose which called him to Rome, or the people by whom he was accompanied, were such as were becoming to the person of a young man who was a Bishop. Yet he still proposes to set out at a convenient season. He is your brother; you ought to have consideration for him, so that his adversaries may not prevail against him. I could wish that you had written to him rather than to me, and given him a brotherly warning respecting the reports which have reached you about his conduct. 2. I have felt that you were anxious about the state of my health. It is true what you have heard. I have been sick even to death, but for the present I am in a measure restored. But I feel that it is not for long, for the state of weakness in which I am passes all belief. This I say, however, without pretending to set bounds to the Providence of God, which is able to recall even the dead to life. Kindly let my reply in this matter be not only to yourself, but also to my lord, for whom I earnestly pray. Be so good also as to associate with yourself the Bishop of Frascati, to express to him in my name, and with the fullest devotedness in your power, my best thanks for his extreme condescension and anxiety about my health. 3. As to what has happened to the Archbishop of Lyons, this is the truth. He had set out on a journey, with an honourable suite, as became an Archbishop, and much money; but when he was scarcely beyond his own limits, lo! he fell into an ambuscade of his enemies. What would a man of his impetuosity of character do? To pass on was impossible; to retreat and give up his journey seemed to him less tolerable than any captivity. Part of his people he sent back, part he caused to scatter; he disembarrassed himself of most of the money he had brought with him, retaining only sufficient to meet the cost of his journey with the few followers which he kept with him. What more? He went forward with only three or four attendants, he himself, nevertheless, being dressed as a servant; mixed up his troop with the promiscuous crowd of travellers, as one of them, and so reached Saint-Eloi. There finding himself ill, he was conducted to Montpellier; where he remained a considerable time, and spent on physicians all the money he had, and more. LETTER CCCVIII. (A.D. 1153.)TO ALFONSO, KING OF PORTUGALBernard replies that he has done his best to comply with the King’s request, and he predicts that in a short time his brother, who was then engaged in the warfare of earth, would pass over into that of Heaven. To ALFONSO, the illustrious King of Portugal, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, desires all that the prayer of a sinner can obtain for him. I have received with extreme joy the letter and greeting of your Highness, and am glad in Him who sendeth health unto Jacob. What I have done in this matter will be shown by the event, and you yourself will be able to appreciate it by that means; you will see with what zeal and ardour I have wished to respond to your commands, and to the exigency of the case. Peter, the brother of your Highness, a meritorious and accomplished Prince, has made me acquainted with your wishes. After having crossed France with his men-at-arms, he is now carrying on war in Lorraine, but he will not be long before he is a combatant in the armies of the Lord. My son, Brother Roland, brings to you a letter bearing the liberality of the Holy See. I commend him to you, also the Brothers of my Order dwelling in your realm, and, lastly, myself. LETTER CCCIX. (A.D. 1153.)TO POPE EUGENIUSHe praises Abbot Suger and recommends his deputies to the Pope. To his very dear father and lord EUGENIUS, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and offers his humble homage. If in our Gallican Church there is any vessel capable of doing honour to the palace of the Great King; if the Lord counts among us a second David, coming in and going out at His command (1 Sam. 22:14); in my judgment it is no other than the venerable Abbot of S. Denys. I know that great man perfectly; if he is faithful and prudent in temporal things he is not less fervent and humble in spiritual things; and is equally without blame (which is a very difficult thing indeed) in the management of both. Before the King he behaves as one of the Court of Rome, and when in the church before God as one of the Court of Heaven. I request and entreat you to receive kindly the messages of so good a man, and to reply to him as becomes you, and as he is worthy of receiving, in good and friendly words, full of familiarity and affection, of goodness and favour; for you may be quite sure that to show special love and honour to his person is a sure means of doing honour to your own office and ministry. LETTER CCCX. (A.D. 1153.)TO ARNOLD OF CHARTRES, ABBOT OF BONNEVALBernard was almost at the point of death, when he addressed to his friend this letter, which was the last he ever wrote. I have received the marks of your affection with gratitude, I cannot say in pleasure, my sufferings are too great for that; still, what I endure seems to me tolerable in comparison with what I feel when obliged to take food. Sleep has departed from me, so that I suffer without intermission through the exhaustion of nature. All my ailments resolve themselves into a great weakness of stomach, which has to be supported frequently day and night with very small quantities of liquid food; for I am entirely unable to bear anything solid. It is not without excessive suffering that it endures the little that is given to me, but still worse is feared, if it should be entirely without any at all. A drop more than is absolutely needful, however, causes me extreme pain. My feet and ankles are swollen as if I were dropsical. In the midst of all this, for I ought not to hide anything from you of the state of a friend for whom you are anxious, as to the inward man I may declare (but I speak as a fool) that the spirit is vigorous, though the flesh is weak. Pray our Saviour, who willeth not the death of a sinner, that He will not put off my departure, which is fully seasonable, and that He will guard me when I pass away. Give diligence to strengthen by your prayers a poor, humble soul, bare and devoid of all merit, that the crafty enemy may not find place, to seize me and inflict a mortal wound. I wished, notwithstanding the state in which I am, to write these few words, that you may recognize, on seeing the handwriting you know so well, how much I love you. But I should have preferred to reply to a letter from you than to write the first. LETTER CCCXI. (Circa A.D. 1125.)TO HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLORHe sharply chides those envious persons who are opposing the efforts of the good, and takes occasion to urge Haimeric to a sedulous care for the good of the Church. To the illustrious lord HAIMERIC, Chancellor of the Holy Roman See, HUGO, Abbot of Pontigny, and BERNARD of Clairvaux send greeting, in the hope that their conduct in the house of God may ever be such as it ought to be. 1. The good which Bishops seek to gain is, as we believe, the gain of Christ, since their business is properly the cause of God. Let those, therefore, who see for God make commom cause with them. If anyone hangs back let him hear what the Lord says: He that is not with Me is against Me (S. Matt. 12:30). There is no middle course. Either they will follow the advice of the Apostle, who says to them, Quench not the Spirit (1 Thess. 5:19), or they will certainly hear, as the Jews did, Ye do always resist the Holy Ghost (Acts 7:51), and, as the Prophet said, Woe unto them that call evil good and good evil, that rejoice when they commit sin and exalt over wickedness (Isaiah 5:20, and Prov. 2:14). They will not be able to rejoice also in good, nor can the righteous man, for his righteousness, and the sinner in his evil desires be praised together by the same lips. And yet what is there strange in it if the good thing, which is an odour of life to the good, should be an odour of death to the wicked? Do we not know that He who is the source and origin of all good was born for the ruin of many as for the resurrection of many, and for a sign that is everywhere spoken against? (S. Luke 2:34, and Isaiah 8:14). Even to-day to how many is the Saviour found a stone of stumbling and a rock of offence (Isaiah 8:14). And yet those are not wanting who say with willing heart, He is our peace, who hath made both one (Ephes. 2:14). He to whom the Peace Himself is a stumbling-block, what peace can there be for him? Or he for whom the Saviour Himself is the cause of condemnation, in whom can he hope to be saved? It is written, In his house (without doubt that of the righteous man) shall be wealth and riches (Ps. 112:3), and he explains what he means by wealth and riches, for he adds, And his righteousness endureth for ever, and in truth there is no glory, no riches to be compared with the righteousness of the conscience of the just. But what is it that the unrighteous loses? If Paul boasts of the riches in his heart, saying, Our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience (2 Cor. 1:12), who is injured thereby? Yet the Prophet assures us that the sinner shall see it and be grieved (Ps. 112:10). What perversity! These riches are in nowise like those of the earth, which cannot be acquired without others being deprived of them. Why, then, art thou angry, who hast lost nothing? or why dost thou envy good things to good men, and those good things, which thou dost not care to acquire for thyself? Is it not like the dog in the fable, who forbad to others the hay which he was not able to eat? But although thou mayest gnash with thy teeth and consume away, yet the work of God cannot be undone. Whether you will or no, the righteous shall see it and rejoice, and all the wicked shall keep silence. 2. But all this only concerns those who can be suspected. But to you we say this: use well the talent committed to you, and you shall receive the recompense. What profit is it, wrapped in a napkin, when one day it will be required again with usury? While we have time, why do we neglect to make use of it? It is true that in your office it is always the time to seek diligently the interests of piety; but especially is the present moment favourable for indulging a holy avarice; you have only to be diligent in using the treasure of the Lord which He has put into your hands to this end. Otherwise, if wisdom be unused, or a treasure unknown, what usefulness is there in either? (Ecclus. 20:32). It is said that you are disposed, as well by your own desire, as by the duty of your office, to do good unto all men; as you are specially bound to do to those of the household of faith (Gal. 6:10). That command of the Apostle is general, yet we may venture to be so bold as to remind you that it is a special privilege of your office and ministry. Unless perhaps (which we do not in the least think) you hold more to the position itself than to the honour of fulfilling its duties. Indeed, since there is scarcely any good work or supposed good work in the whole world which does not pass at some time or other through the hands of the Chancellor of Rome, which is not submitted to his judgment, shaped by his advice, strengthened by his good will, and assisted by his help; and what can be more fitting than that it should devolve upon him to take action when anything in these various projects is either incomplete or wrongly directed, especially as the glory of all holy and praiseworthy enterprises is sure to redound upon him? Thus, as we have said, the man who fills that post is either the most happy of men, or the most miserable; as he is, by his position, either always a sharer in every good work, or its enemy: and justly, therefore, the entire praise or blame, according to the issue of each, and his zeal in regard to it, will fall upon him. Blessed, then, is he who shall be able to say unto the Lord: I am a companion of all them that fear Thee, and keep Thy precepts (Ps. 119:63). 3. But what are we doing? While we have taken in hand to speak to you of your obligations we have almost forgotten that we are pouring these observations into ears most fully occupied. We trust, however, that we shall not seem needlessly intrusive: not that we claim the least right to speak to you as we have done, but that we have present to our mind that you have deigned to be the first to solicit by your gifts the friendship of such humble persons as ourselves. We hold this as a remarkable sign of your condescension and piety that your Excellency, being so great a person and busied with such important affairs, should have thought it worth while to salute such obscure and humble persons as ourselves, and even to honour us with presents. May God Himself recompense you, and give you the spiritual gold, which is wisdom, in exchange for the material gold, which you have bestowed upon us, so that not only we may rejoice in your gift, but you also in the reward which shall be returned to you. Adieu. LETTER CCCXII. (A.D. 1130.)TO RAYNALD, ARCHBISHOP OF RHEIMSBernard thanks him for a letter which he had received from him. To the most reverend father and lord R., by the grace of God Archbishop of Rheims, Brother BERNARD, of Clair vaux, wishes health and whatever the prayers of a sinner can effect on his behalf. I thank the Lord who has inspired you with the thought of consoling me with a letter from your hand. I am, indeed, well enough able to return letter for letter, but when shall I ever be able to acquit myself to you of the debt of gratitude which you have placed me under by the goodness that you have shown towards me, in encouraging me by the sweetness of your blessing, in rousing me by your exhortations, and honouring me with your salutation? Assuredly there never was anyone less worthy than I of the names that you bestow upon me, or less worthy to be known to you; but the less I am worthy the more I am grateful to you. It is true, though, that when you act thus you act as becomes you, and as recognizing that you are debtor to the unwise as well as to the wise. You say to me that the reputation of which the report has come to your Excellency has moved you to this condescension towards so humble a person as myself; but this is, indeed, not only too flattering, but also dangerous to me. It is, however, a very happy and agreeable thing for me that a breath of reputation, though it be only like an empty puff of wind, should have moved a priest of the Most High of such high rank to have such kind feeling toward me, before even I had merited to come to his personal knowledge. The monk who is the bearer of this letter will tell your Holiness with respect to my coming to you why I have not come at the present time, and at what time I should be able to come. He will reply also with faithfulness to any other questions that it may please you to put to him with respect to me; it is for that purpose that I have sent him, while waiting until I shall be able to come to you myself. LETTER CCCXIII. (A.D. 1132.)TO GEOFFREY, ABBOT OF S. MARY AT YORKBernard recommends him not to hinder those who wished to enter a religious Order more austere; and declares that those should be regarded as apostates, who, after having thus removed, fall back to their former manner of life. To the venerable Dom GEOFFREY, Abbot of the Church of S. Mary at York, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, sends salutation in our Lord. 1. It has pleased your Reverence to write and consult so humble a person as myself on some doubtful questions. But I am afraid to give any decisive answer; and hesitate the more to do so, inasmuch as if men with the purest intentions are unable to discern the minds of their nearest companions, they are still less able to discern the secret designs of the Divine Will. Again, I am afraid in so speaking to wound those who do not share my opinion; and this is certain to happen with those unsatisfied souls who only seek to justify their conclusion in their own eyes by a cloud of incoherent and obscure reasonings. But yet their conscience itself is the avenger of this voluntary darkness: because at the same time that they strive to delude themselves with regard to that they have done, the truth of the matter comes back to them in the shape of remorse which wounds and preys upon them. Of such a character was the gnawing remorse from which the Psalmist prays of God to be delivered, saying: Bring my soul out of prison that I may praise Thy name (Ps. 142:7). If, then, I do not reply to your questions in a manner as satisfactory as you would wish, or if I do not dare to express myself as fully as I might, do not, Reverend sir, suppose that it is from a studied artfulness. Your letter begins by complaints upon the painful position in which the departure of a certain number of your monks has placed your old age, since they have quitted you only to embrace a manner of life stricter and more secure. It seems to me that in this case you ought rather to be afraid that your sorrow is the sorrow of this world which worketh death. 2. For if there is any reason at all in the opinion of men, it is a thing not to be lamented if a man ever endeavours to devote himself with greater strictness to the practice of the law of his Creator. And we indeed should be acting not merely not holily, but even without ordinary fatherly care and interest, if we should envy the advances made by our sons. If, then, you wish, as I suppose, chiefly to make your profit of one good counsel out of a thousand, not only should you strive to prevent those who still remain with you under a mitigated rule, from falling into a lower state through their relaxations; but also you should be, as says the prophet, the first to bring bread (Is. 21:14), the first to favour the design of those, who, fearing that the health of their souls would suffer if they remained longer in a house of less severity, aspire to observe their profession in all its purity. On the first you ought to lavish the greatest care lest they grow careless to their spiritual loss; but to the second you ought to show every kind of goodwill, that they may attain to the crown. For those who meditate continually in their heart on the means of rising higher are those who go from strength to strength; they merit to behold the Lord of Lords in Sion, and that the more surely because they are consumed with a fervent zeal to adhere to Him by a more holy and perfect life (Ps. 84:5, 7). 3. As for the monks Gervase and Ralph, whose withdrawal Archbishop Thurstan, like a true father and a worthy Bishop, had sanctioned, and to which you, as you yourself declare, had consented, I am sure that, far from erring, they would have done well to have remained firm in that more perfect path of purity to which they had ascended, and to have persevered in it laudably. It is evident to me, nevertheless, that if they wished to regain the path of purity from which they have rashly descended, they would be deserving of very great praise for that proof of Christian valour, as soldiers who return to the fight contend the more bravely for the victory, that they had for a moment shamefully fled from the battle field. You, indeed, are quite able, I believe, to recall the permission you had given, but the judgment of the Almighty cannot be thus rendered of no effect. You allow that their life would afterwards be a more holy one; but you say that they would not be able to support its rigour, on account of the delicacy of their constitution, or of ties of relationship impossible to break. To this you add, that their presence is necessary to you; and therefore you urge me to say, whether they may not without fault remain in a house which they have not been able to quit without offence. 4. To this I reply, that there are different kinds of offences; that carnal affections ought to be entirely cut off for the sake of Christ, that the Gospel loudly declares, and one passage in the Scripture repeats after another, that temporal advantages and enjoyments are to be abandoned for the salvation of the soul; and that to be ignorant of this is a fault so gross as to be almost heretical. But I am not certain whether such a return as you speak of could be made without fault needing punishment. Certainly, it would expose them to evident peril, and a fall almost certain, because it is presuming on the mercy of God against His justice, and to set up the one against the other. The Scripture says: Be not without fear to add sin to sin and say not, His mercy is great (Ecclus. 5:5, 6). For it is a bad kind of discretion that makes the less important consideration preponderate over the more important, and tries to put the worse in the same line with the better. 5. Lastly, you protest vehemently against the name of apostates being applied to these men if they should return to their own monastery, and endeavour to discharge the sacred rules of their profession. As for me, I reply, it is not my business to condemn them. The Lord knoweth them that are His (2 Tim. 2:19). Everyone shall bear his own burden (Gal. 6:5). He whom the darkness does not comprehend shall manifest Himself as the Lord in the day of judgment, and the sinner shall be taken in the work of his own hands (Ps. 9:16). Each person may judge himself as leniently as he will; as for me I will say what I think about myself. I, Bernard, if after I had passed over by my own free will from a good state to a better, from a dangerous condition to one more secure, I had, by a culpable change of will, presumed to go back again to what I had left, should have feared not only that I was an apostate, but that I was also unfit for the kingdom of God. This also S. Gregory says: ‘Whosoever has proposed to himself a higher good is no longer free to follow one which is lower. For it is written: No man putting his hand to the plough and looking back is fit for the Kingdom of God (S. Luke 9:62). And such is the man who, having embraced a higher life, falls back again on one who is lower (Pastor. iii. 28.) As to a certain excommunication on which you desire to open a discussion in your letter, it appears to me that it would profit you nothing to discuss that question, and that it is not my business to decide it. You know that the law refuses to judge anyone until he has been first heard: and it is always rash to deliver judgment on an absent person. LETTER CCCXIV. (A.D. 1134.)TO POPE INNOCENTBernard, having reconciled the Milanese to the Church, had set out at the command of Innocent to endeavour to restore peace among the other cities of Lombardy, first proceeding to Pavia and Cremona. But not succeeding with the Cremonese, he acquaints the Pope with their obstinacy, and he advises that the very severe sentence which was being prepared against the Archbishop of Milan should be for a while suspended. To his very dear father and lord, Supreme Pontiff, INNOCENT, Brother BERNARD sends his humble homage. 1. The Cremonese are hardened, their worldly prosperity is their ruin. On the other hand, the Milanese think lightly of others, their self-confidence deceives them. These, who put their hope in their war chariots and their horses, have frustrated my endeavours, and rendered my labour useless. I was sadly departing when behold the great consolation with which you favoured me: so that although my tribulations for Christ abound, yet my consolations, through him, abound also. I have received your wished-for letter, which brings sweetness to my soul in the news of your safety, of the successes of our friends, and the reverses of our enemies. Unfortunately the end of the letter tempered the joy which I had felt on reading the first part. For whom would not your indignation cause to tremble? I confess that it is just, and therefore fear it the more. Yet I would say that which has not yet been done should indeed be done, but at the fit time which God will point out. You will then be equally free to do what you propose, and it will perhaps not be equally dangerous. To act at the present time is alas! to destroy utterly all that God by an extraordinary stroke of His grace has accomplished in this city, and which has cost so much care and labour to you and your assistants. It will be strange if such a proceeding is pleasing to Him who, as we read, exalts mercy over justice (James 2:13.) But oh! that unhappy Bishop who, having been translated from a kind of earthly paradise to Ur of the Chaldees, finds himself become a brother to dragons, and a friend of ostriches. What can he do? He wishes to obey, and behold the beasts of Ephesus gnash their teeth upon him. He wishes to dissimulate prudently for the moment, and incurs all the harshness of your far more formidable indignation. There are difficulties for him everywhere, unless he should find it his better course to be without a see, than without a lord: and should hold, as it becomes him to do, the favour of the Pope, as of greater value than the See of Milan. Have you any doubt of his attachment? If any one has been so malicious as to persuade you to suspect him, he shows himself really less loyal than the suspected person, since in his envy he has blackened with his faithless tongue, the good name of a prelate of such high reputation. Have consideration, good Father, for your faithful servant, have consideration for work which is so new, for a plant which has not had time to take root; have consideration for people who are attaching themselves to you, and do not efface the memory of those very benefits, which, as you yourself most truly declare, you have bestowed upon them. Remember, pious Pontiff, those words of your Lord: Behold these three years I come seeking fruit upon this fig tree, and find none (S. Luke 13:7). But you have waited for scarcely three months, and yet you are preparing the axe. If you had waited three years, you would have followed even in the fourth, as a faithful servant should, the example of your Master. Let us then say: Let it alone this year also; perhaps during that time the ground may be trenched with the spade of penitence, and enriched with tears, and it may be that He who has given you this sterile ground of the hearts of the Milanese to cultivate, will enable it to bring forth the fruit which you desire. LETTER CCCXV. (Circa A.D. 1134.)TO MATILDA, QUEEN OF ENGLANDBernard begs her to receive favourably a request already presented to her on behalf of the monks of La Chapelle. To the illustrious lady and beloved daughter in Christ (which I say in affection, not of presumption), MATILDA, by the grace of God Queen of England, BERNARD wishes health. It is not, I trust, a matter of surprise to you if I presume somewhat in addressing your Highness. I am not alone in thinking, what indeed all are aware of, that you have some kindness towards me, and that I have in some degree your favour. Because of which I have a request to make on behalf of a certain friend of mine, the venerable Abbot of La Chapelle, who has asked me to remind you of a certain tithe which I have already asked from you at Boulogne, if you are kind enough to remember, and which request you then, with your accustomed kindness, favourably entertained. But because what I then asked has not yet been carried out, I write to pray you that it may at length be effectually done. Let me beg that you will take good care for me of the son whom you have borne: because I also, if it will not displease the King, claim some portion in him. Adieu. LETTER CCCXVI. (Circa A.D. 1135.)TO HENRY, ARCHBISHOP OF SENS, AND HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLORHe begs them not to oppose a certain nobleman in possession of Church property who proposed to restore this to certain religious. It is a good work for a layman to be willing to give up abbeys or ecclesiastical benefices which he possesses contrary to the canons, but when he is willing to transfer them for the use of servants of God the good is doubled. But as these resignations cannot be carried out except by the consent of the Bishop of the Diocese, it follows that a Bishop would commit a double evil by refusing this assent or a double good by giving it. What a certain knight asks of you in this matter, this you ought to have asked of him. For you, surely, cannot believe that a sanctuary of God is better as the family possession of a man of war than in that of the saints of God. If such be your view, it will be strange if all who hear do not wonder at you. Avoid this, I pray you, lest the sons of the uncircumcised should hear and rejoice. Suppose that you are able to take the captive Abbey from the hands of the powerful, and to re-establish it in its rights, which I do not at all suppose. What heir and successor, I ask, would you prefer to choose? A soldier who would do service for it in the armies of the King, or a monk who would intercede for their sins? Do, therefore, what is just, what is worthy of you, what is agreeable to God, and to all good men; what, finally, if there were no other reason, I should confidently demand of you for the sake of your affection for me. LETTER CCCXVII. (A.D. 1138.)TO HIS PRIOR, GODFREYThe schism being extinct and peace concluded, Bernard announces to him his return with the least possible delay. To Brother GODFREY, Brother BERNARD health. On the very day of the octave of Pentecost, God has filled up the cup of my desire in giving unity to the Church and peace to Rome. On that day all the supporters of Peter Leonis came to prostrate themselves together at the feet of the Pope, and to take an oath of fidelity to him, and become his liege men. The schismatic clergy also, together with the idol whom they had set up, knelt at the feet of the lord Pope to promise him obedience with all the formalities, and there was great joy among the people. For some time past I felt certain that events would not long delay to take this turn; it is that which has kept me so long here, and if it had been otherwise I should long since have returned to you. At present there is nothing to detain me here. I am doing what you have earnestly urged upon me; I am turning “I will come,” into “I come.” For behold I come quickly, and my reward is with me, the victory of Christ and the peace of the Church. The messenger whom I sent to you left Rome on the Friday after that day. Therefore, when I return I shall come with gladness bearing sheaves of peace. These are, indeed, pleasant words, but the facts are still pleasanter. So pleasant are they and glorious that whosoever does not rejoice in them must be either foolish or wicked. Farewell. LETTER CCCXVIII. (Circa A.D. 1138.)TO POPE INNOCENTHe represents to the Pope the distress of the Church of Rheims, and desires speedy help from him. To his very dear father and lord, INNOCENT, supreme Pontiff, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, health and his humble homage. The Church of Rheims is on the point of ruin. That glorious city is overwhelmed with disgrace: she cries to the passers-by that there is no sorrow like unto her sorrow. For without are fightings, within fears. And, indeed, there are fightings within also, for her own sons fight against her, nor has she a spouse to set her free: her only hope is in you; it is only Innocent who can wipe the tears from her cheeks. But how long, my lord, must she wait before she is covered with the shield of your protection? How long shall she be trodden under foot, and you not arrive to her assistance? Behold, the King has yielded, and his anger has already sunk into silence. What then remains but that the afflicted Church should be sustained by your apostolic arm, and her wounds tended and healed? The first thing to be done, in my opinion, is to hasten the election of a Bishop, lest the presumption of the people of Rheims should scatter what still remains, if the popular disorder be not checked with a high hand. If this election be made according to the prescribed forms, I trust that God will give a good issue by His grace in other matters also. LETTER CCCXIX. (Circa A.D. 1138.)TO THURSTAN, ARCHBISHOP OF YORKHe advises and begs him not to resign his See: but if there are good reasons for his doing so, and the Pope sanctions it, he should seek a religions house of strict observance for his place of retreat. To the Reverend father and lord THURSTAN, by the grace of God Archbishop of York, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health in the present life and in the future life eternal. 1. I praise you for desiring quiet, and that you long to rest in peace in the Lord. But those reasons which you allege for laying down your pastoral charge seem to me insufficient: unless (which I do not believe, and may God forbid) you have some mortal sin to reproach yourself with, or permission has been given you by the supreme Pontiff to resign. You have not forgotten, I am sure, that rule of the Apostle: Art thou bound unto a wife? seek not to be loosed (1 Cor. 7:27). By an engagement, such as you say you have taken, a Bishop is not bound any farther than that he should persevere in the ministry to which he has been called. 2. It seems, then, to me, without attempting to impose my advice upon you to the prejudice of any that is wiser, that you should continue to hold the office that you have now, and should exhibit in a Bishop the humble dress and the holiness of life of a monk. However, if some secret motive makes it a duty for you to lay down your charge, or if the Pope indulges your wish for quiet, I advise you, according to my humble lights, not to let any degree of hardship in food or clothing, nor any extremity of poverty deter you from entering some religious house where you may hope to find the most strict observance. Although you must remember in houses of this kind, though everything is sacrificed to the soul, yet this must be so done that due account is taken of age or of weakness. As I am entirely devoted to you, I pray God most earnestly to inspire you to whatever course of action may be for the best; and to enable you so to carry the burden and heat of the day that you may receive in the evening the denarius of the parable impressed with the image of the King. LETTER CCCXX. (A.D. 1138.)TO ALEXANDER, PRIOR OF FOUNTAINS, AND TO HIS BRETHREN AT THE SAME PLACEBernard urges upon him that the election of a new Abbot should be made with unanimous accord. To his most dear brethren in Christ, ALEXANDER, the Prior, and the whole community of Fountains, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, health and his humble prayers. 1. Your venerable Father has perfected his course in a blessed end, and has fallen asleep in the Lord. But I, as at all times I think of you with the anxious care and tenderness of a father, so am specially careful on your account at the present time, when this great necessity lies upon you. Wherefore, also, I should have sent to you long since if I had not been waiting to do so with more fitness and advantage when the venerable Abbot Henry had terminated certain affairs which had hindered him from coming sooner. It is upon him that I had reckoned from the beginning as being most worthy of this mission, and most suited to acquit himself of it well. Him, therefore, dearly beloved brethren, receive with that honour and affection of which he is worthy, and listen to him in all things as to myself; and, indeed, much more, as he excels me both in prudence and merit. I have given to him full powers, whether for the election of your Abbot, or for making ordinances, or for introducing reforms which he may think good to do into your house, and into those which depend upon it. I have given him for travelling companion Brother William, who is my very dear son. 2. And now I entreat you, as my beloved sons, to be all of one mind in the election of your new Abbot; that there may be no divisions among you, but that you may with one mind and one mouth glorify God. For He is not a God of dissension, but of peace. Wherefore, also, it is in peace that His abode is placed, and He says, He who gathereth not with me scattereth (S. Luke 11:23). Let this be far from those who dwell in the school of Christ, under the leading of the Holy Spirit, nor let them give opportunity to the enemy to rejoice in glory over their dissension. For by this they both put their own souls in peril, lose the entire fruit of their penitence, endanger the good repute of our Order, and cause the name of Christ to be blasphemed on account of those by whom it should be most glorified. On the contrary, choose with one voice for yourselves, as becomes saints and servants of Christ, and as I fully trust that you will do, a fit pastor over your souls, in company with the venerable Abbots of Rievaulx and of Vauclair, whose advice I wish you to follow in all things as my own. LETTER CCCXXI. (A.D. 1138.)TO HENRY MURDACH, FIRST ABBOT OF VAUCLAIR, THEN OF FOUNTAINS, AND FINALLY ARCHBISHOP OF YORKHe orders Henry not to refuse his election to the Abbacy of Fountains. To his dearest brother and co-Abbot HENRY, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting and the assurance of his prayers. I enjoin you, my brother Henry, not to refuse the election of our brethren at Fountains, with the advice of the venerable Abbot of Rievaulx, if it shall have fallen upon you; but to yield to it in charity. I give this precept, I assure you, unwillingly, knowing that by your absence I shall be deprived of a great consolation. But I do not dare to oppose myself to a unanimous choice, for I believe that God speaks by the conclusions which a number of Religious come to with one consent; as I have read in the Gospel, Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my Name, there am I in the midst of them (S. Matt. 18:20). Take courage, therefore, my dear brother; receive their promises of obedience, and watch over them, as the shepherd of their souls. Do not fear on account of the house which you have already undertaken to rule. For I, please God, will provide for it a faithful administrator; for it is very near to me. Nor do you make any difficulty on account of the Bishop; depend upon me to arrange the matter with him. LETTER CCCXXII. (Circa A.D. 1138.)TO HUGO, A NOVICE, WHO AFTERWARDS BECAME ABBOT OF BONNEVALBernard praises his design of becoming a Religious; he forewarns him against temptations, and exhorts him to perseverance. To his very dear son in Christ, HUGO, who has become a new creature in Christ, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and desires that he may be made strong in the Lord. 1. The news of your conversion has given me joy and gladness. Why should not that be a cause of rejoicing to men, when it is so even to angels? Already the day is observed as a festival, it resounds with songs of praise and giving of thanks. A young man of high birth, delicately brought up, has overcome the enemy, despised the world, sacrificed his body, renounced the affections of his relatives, and burst the confining nets, which riches had spread around his wings. From when did you obtain this wisdom, O my son? For I do not find so great wisdom in the aged men of the world, who, according to, or rather in spite of the word of the Apostle (1 Tim. 6:9), have only one desire to be rich in this world, though they fall into temptation and into the snare of the devil. No, the wisdom of our dear Hugo is not from this world but from heaven. I confess, O Father, that Thou hast hidden these things from the wise, and hast revealed it to a child. As for you, my son, be not ungrateful for the goodness of the Saviour to you. Lay aside the disposition of a child; or rather, be a child in malice, but not in wisdom (1 Cor. 14:20). Let not the austerity of our Order affright your tender age Remember that the rougher thistle makes the softer web; a severe life makes a good conscience. The sweetness of Christ shall make itself known to you, and the meal of the prophet shall render palatable the bitter and nauseous pottage (2 Kings 4:39). If you feel the piercings of temptations, look up to the brazen serpent raised upon the pole, and draw life from the wounds, or rather from the bosom of the Crucified. He shall be to you kind as a mother, and you shall be to Him clear as a son; the nails which fasten Him to the Cross shall, as it were, pierce your hands and feet as they have pierced His. 2. But a man’s enemies shall be those of his own household (Micah 7:6, and S. Matt. 10:36). They are those who really love, not you, but the enjoyment which they have from you, otherwise they would have joy to hear you say, If ye loved Me ye would rejoice, because I go to My Father (S. John 14:28). “If your father,” says S. Jerome, “lay across the threshold to prevent your passing; if your mother, dishevelled, should appeal to you by the bosom whence you were nourished; if your young nephew should hang upon your neck to stop you, trample under foot father and mother, and hasten without a tear to the banner of the Cross. The highest stretch of filial duty it is to be cruel for the sake of Christ” (epis. i. ad Heliodor.). Do not be influenced by the tears of demented relatives, who mourn to see that you, from having been a child of hell, have become a child of God. Alas! why do these unhappy people cherish an affection so violent, so cruel, and so unjust? Evil communications corrupt good manners (1 Cor. 15:33). Wherefore avoid as much as possible, my son, conversatation with guests, because these leave the mind empty and the ears full. Learn to pray to God; to lift up to Him your heart as well as your hands. Learn in all your needs to lift suppliant eyes towards heaven, and to bring upon you the pitying look of the Father of mercies. It would be an impiety to believe that God will shut up His bowels of compassion from you, and remain deaf to your groans and cries. For the rest remember that you ought to be docile to the directions of your spiritual fathers as if they were precepts from the Divine majesty. Follow that rule of conduct, and you shall have life. Follow it, and the blessing of God shall come upon you, and for every single thing which you have given up you shall receive a hundredfold, even in the present life. Distrust also the spirit that persuades you not to do this too hastily, and that this matter should be deferred to a more mature age. Rather trust Him who said, It is good for man that he should have borne the yoke from his youth. He sitteth alone and keepeth silence because he has borne it upon him (Lam. 3:27, 28). Farewell, and study perseverance, to which virtue alone the crown is due. LETTER CCCXXIII. (A.D. 1139.)TO POPE INNOCENTBernard defends the Archbishop of Trèves against the Abbot of S. Maximin. 1. How often have I experienced, my lord, your kindly feeling and affection towards me! And now I am in hopes of having a new proof of it under the present circumstances. By no means would I dare to request anything which I thought was contrary to the will of God and to your honour. But as I am persuaded that this petition which I am about to present to you is both reasonable and honourable, I have considerable confidence that my prayers will not return to me void, especially as my petition is to a father for his son, and to Innocent on behalf of an innocent person. It is not necessary that I should remind you in detail how faithfully the Archbishop of Trèves has loved and upheld the honour of the Apostolic See and the peace of the Roman Church from his youth; how carefully and immoveably he has adhered to it in time of tribulation, and for it has borne the burden and heat of the day while others were sitting in the shade; and how steadily and courageously he has maintained before kings and princes the defence of his brethren; for all these things are certainly present to your mind. But furthermore, to speak of what I know, and testify what I have seen, how prudently and wisely has he extricated the goods and revenues of the Church out of the hands of strangers, how kindly and liberally has he imparted from his own means for the public good, and especially for that of the servants of God; with what diligence and circumspection has he guarded his own reputation from lying lips and from the deceitful tongue! 2. What then, in him, has displeased your Paternity? Was it that he freed the Abbey of S. Maximin from the royal power and subjected it to that of the Church? or was it that he did not accept for Abbot that man who, as it is said, desired to be a general before he was a soldier; that is, to be an Abbot before he was a monk? But if it was this, or some other matter, that displeased you in him, it would have been not unworthy of a kindly Father to bear in mind the Archbishop’s affection of long standing towards him, to excuse with kindness a fault, and to let the memory of many good services win indulgence for a man who is praiseworthy in many respects, if to be blamed in a few. But now, my lord, you have lifted up the right hand of those who oppress him, and made all his enemies to rejoice. It is a subject of wonder in the eyes of many on what reputation for virtue or goodness of life a man is placed in the position to rule over souls, who has given so little heed to his own. For how can he rule others who has not known how to be ruled himself? How can he venture to be in the position of a superior, who has not himself learned to submit, or to require the obedience from others, which he himself has not rendered to those above him? If any man has not known how to rule over his own house, says the Teacher of the Gentiles, how shall he be capable of taking care of the Church of God? (1 Tim. 3:5). More than this: such as is the father, such are also the sons; have they not had the cruelty, in fact, to lacerate their mother by their favouring of dissensions and schisms? and concerning their character and manner of life it is more decent to be silent than to say anything. But I do not make these statements as taking upon me to judge the servants of another, who stand or fall to their own loss; but because I know that if the wretched designs of those men should succeed, that young men averse to obedience will break off the yoke of discipline from their necks, so as to become wanderers and vagabonds upon the earth, according to the example given to them by these. And if their design does not wholly succeed they will be able, at least, to boast themselves that they have been able to maintain resistance to their prelates. Alas! how many persons, and those of consideration, who suppose that they have some ground to count on your protection, will find their hope and confidence altogether uprooted, if the first blast of the tempest which threatens a son once so beloved shall drive him from your heart, and from the consolation of your sympathy. 3. If, then, blessed father, there is any hearing for my entreaties with your Excellence, I respectfully beg of you, I whose affection is for yourself rather than for your favours, that you would not abandon, now when it is your day of prosperity, a man who has remained firm to you in your day of trial; and that you would not suffer his authority to be weakened in any respect; for he may reasonably hope that from you it will receive enlargement, not suffer decrease. Otherwise, if contrary to the general hope, and in spite of the merits of the man, it shall prove that strangers are allowed to rob him of the fruits of his labours, that his good deeds are repaid with evil, and his good will with hatred; he, indeed, alone, will receive a wound from a hand at which he did not expect it, but many will resent his persecution. May the Spirit of Truth, who proceedeth from the Father, teach you to separate the light from the darkness in all your actions, so that you may know how to reject the evil and to choose the good. LETTER CCCXXIV. (A.D. 1139.)TO ROBERT, ABBOT OF DUNESBernard suggests the thought of the future union of their souls, and also bodies, in the Resurrection, as the solace of their absence from each other. To his brother and very dear friend, Abbot ROBERT, Brother BERNARD, of Clairvaux, sends assurance of devoted friendship. You were late made known to me, my dear Robert, and speedily taken away. But I am consoled by this fact, that it is only in the body that we are separated, and that in soul you are always with me. Yet how could I bear even this with resignation, if it were not in the cause of God Himself? But a time shall, shall come, when we shall be restored to each other, and when we shall each of us rejoice in the other as in himself; we shall be in each other’s presence with each part of our being, nor fear to be thereafter in any way divided. He who is now the cause of our temporary separation shall be then the bond of our close union. He shall be present without ceasing to each of us, and shall render us constantly present to each other. I salute all your sons, whom I regard as mine also, and entreat that they will pray for me. LETTER CCCXXV. (Circa A.D. 1139.)TO THE SAME, RESPECTING THE NOVICE IDIERBernard advises, in answer to his inquiry, what course should be taken with a novice of difficult character, named Idier. To his very dear brother and co-Abbot, ROBERT, of Dunes, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health. On the subject of the religious whom you have mentioned to me, and whom you believe will be not only useless, but also a burden to the community, without speaking of secret defects, such as you suspect, I will give you such counsel as I should act on myself were I in your place. After what you have told me, it seems to me that during his probation he has shown himself neither worthy nor capable of being rendered so, and that, therefore, you are able with a good conscience to put away an evil person from among you. If, however, it pleases your charity to exalt mercy above judgment, you are able to allow him to remain in your house as long as you shall see fit, but without permitting him to take the vows. But I dissuade you most strongly from receiving him to profession whilst he is in this condition; and let him be subjected to a new probation if perchance he should show any sign of becoming that which he ought to be. If not, use resolutely your power of expulsion, so that one diseased sheep may not infect the entire flock. LETTER CCCXXVI. (Circa A.D. 1139.)FROM ABBOT WILLIAM TO GEOFFREY, BISHOP OF CHARTRES, AND TO BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX Abbot William begs them to defend the cause of God and of the Church against Peter Abaelard, and cites several of his erroneous propositions. To the Reverend Lords and Fathers in Christ, GEOFFREY, Bishop of Chartres, and BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and prosperity. 1. I am filled with confusion before you, my lords and fathers, as God knows, by finding myself constrained to draw your attention to a subject of grave necessity, and relating to the common interest of the Church. But as you and others to whom it belongs to speak keep silence, I, though a very humble person, venture to address you. For I see the faith on which rests our common hope gravely and dangerously compromised, no one resisting or objecting; and yet Christ consecrated it for us with His Blood, and the Apostles and martyrs strove for it even until death, the holy doctors defended it with the greatest labour and industry, and handed it down even to our depraved times whole and incorrupt. I reflect on this with great regret, and am obliged by my inward distress and sorrow to speak at least a few words on behalf of that for which, if it were needful, I should wish even to lay clown my life. Nor are these attacks made on doctrines of small importance, but on the faith of the Holy Trinity, on the Person of the Mediator, the Holy Spirit, the grace of God, on the sacrament of our common redemption. For Peter Abaelard is again teaching and publishing novelties; his books cross the seas, pass the Alps; new speculations concerning the doctrines of the faith, and new dogmas are spread throughout provinces and realms, are openly preached and freely defended; it is even said that they have partisans in the Curia of Rome. I say to you that your silence is dangerous, as well for yourselves as for the Church of God. We are regarding it as a matter of no account that the Faith is being corrupted, although it is for the Faith that we have renounced our own selves, and in order that we may not be attacked we do not fear to offend God. I say to you that this evil is as yet only in process of birth; unless it be dealt with beforehand, it will burst out into a basilisk, nor will it be easy to find an enchanter who can prevail against it. Give your attention, therefore, to what I have to relate. 2. A little while ago I read by accident a certain treatise of that man, entitled, Tleologia of Peter Abaelard. I confess that the title made me curious to read it. I have two copies containing almost the same, except that the one may be a little more lengthy than the other. In it I found certain statements by which I was greatly shocked; I have taken notes of them, and subjoined my reasons for objection. These I have sent you, with the books themselves, so that you may judge whether I was right in my disapproval. And since my disapproval was founded on the unheard-of novelties of phrase which he applies to matters of faith, as well as to the novel senses which he puts upon received terms, and since I had no one to whom I might pour out my suspicions, I have found no one but yourselves to whom I might turn, and upon whom I might call in the cause of God and of the whole Latin Church. For you even that man fears and pays respect to. If you shut your eyes, whom will he have any fear of? And since he says what he does even now, what will he not say when he has no critic to fear? Almost all of the great masters of theology have been taken from the Church by death. An enemy belonging to our own house, as it were, burst in upon the empty territory of the Church, and arrogated to himself the sole right of teaching within it. He proceeds in treating of the Holy Scripture, as he is accustomed to do in dialectics; he brings in his own devices, his recurring novelties; he makes himself a critic of the Faith, and not a disciple; an improver of it, instead of a follower. 3. These, then, are the propositions collected from his works which I have thought it advisable to submit to you:— 1. He defines Faith as an opinion about things that are not seen. 2. That the names of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are improper in God, but only serve for a description of the fulness of the Supreme Good. 3. That the Father is all Power; the Son, a certain Power; but the Holy Ghost, not a Power. 4. That the Holy Spirit is not of the substance of the Father and the Son, as the Son is of the substance of the Father. 5. That the Holy Spirit is the soul of the world (anima mundi). 6. That we are able both to will and to act rightly by the power of our free will alone, without the help of Divine grace. 7. That it was not in order to free us from the yoke of the devil that Christ assumed flesh and suffered death. 8. That Jesus Christ, who is God and Man, is not one of the Three Persons in the Trinity. 9. That in the Sacrament of the Altar the form of the earlier substance remains in the air. 10. That the devil inspires his suggestions into men by physical means. 11. That what we derive from Adam is not the fault of original sin, but the punishment of it. 12. That there is no sin, except in consenting to sin, and in contempt of God. 13. That no sin is committed in concupiscence, or by delectation, or by ignorance; there is no sin in these, but only a fact of nature. 4. These are the propositions, collected out of the books of Abaelard, which I considered I ought in the first place to put under your eyes; both to arouse your zeal, and to convince you that I have not been disturbed without reason. These, and others which depend upon them, I shall attempt, with the help of Him in whose hands are both we and our discourses, to remark upon at greater length; and I shall regard it as of small account to displease you by my style, provided that I satisfy you in the statement of my faith. I hope, too, if I can by any means show that I have rightly formed an unfavourable opinion of these propositions, to carry you also with me in so doing; so that you will not shrink from sacrificing, in order to save the head, if need be, the foot (as we may call that man), the hand, or even the eye. For I have both loved him, and would wish still to love him, God is my witness; but in this cause no one shall ever \[gain partiality from me as being\] neighbour or friend. Now that the evil has become so patent, and presses itself upon public notice, it is no longer a question of private warning or correction. For there are, as I hear, some other treatises of his besides, of which the names are Sic et Non, Scito te ipsum, and some others, about which I fear that their doctrines may be as monstrous as their titles are strange; but, as I am told, they hate the light, and cannot be found even when sought for. But to return to our subject … etc. LETTER CCCXXVII. (Circa A.D. 1139.)REPLY OF BERNARD TO ABBOT WILLIAM Bernard praises the treatise written against Peter Abaelard, and promises to confer with him after Easter. To his very dear WILLIAM, Brother BERNARD. In my judgment, your indignation was both just and necessary. And your treatise, which refutes and belabours the mouth of them who speak unrighteousness, shows that it is not an empty indignation either. I have not yet had the time to read it with the attention that you require, but have only run through it in haste; nevertheless, I like it much, and think it a powerful instrument for the destruction of that unhappy teaching. But as you well know, I do not rely entirely on my own judgment, especially in such weighty matters; and I think it will be worth while, when a time of meeting can be arranged, for you and me to meet at some convenient place and discuss all these matters. I think this cannot be done before Easter, if we are to give ourselves without distraction to earnest prayer, as this holy time requires. For the present, then, suffer me to keep silence still for a while upon all these questions, of which the greater number, not to say all, are entirely new to me. But God is able in His great power to bestow upon me the wisdom and the light which you shall ask for me in your prayers. Farewell. LETTER CCCXXVIII. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE ROMAN PONTIFFAgainst the person elected Bishop of Rodez. Hitherto I have not hesitated to write to you in season and out of season, at the request of my friends: but now, the interests of the Christian religion would forbid me to be silent, even if I wished to be so. Cursed be he, says the Prophet, who keepeth back his sword from blood (Jer. 48:10) \[when he ought to strike\]. To-day malice is profiting, the desires of evil men prosper, and there is no one to oppose them, no one who rises up to defend the rampart of the house of Israel. Even in your days most corrupt men have made violent efforts to climb up into the most holy places: they have stricken hands with death, and made a covenant with hell. Why then this patience? The clergy of Rodez have elected a man for Bishop who is consentient with their vices; and have not been ashamed, it is said, to conceal the truth even from your eyes, both as to the business of the election and as to the person elected. That man, chosen not by God, but by men, has many witnesses of the infamous life he has led, none at all of his repentance and change of life; and in plain fact, it is more decent to be silent concerning him than to speak. God forbid that such wicked men should, under your pontificate, be promoted, and that one should be set for a shepherd of souls, who values at nought the shedding of the blood of Christ, and the price of his own soul’s redemption. What to them is a cunning insinuation of injury and suppression of their appeal, if they can thus ingratiate themselves with the Curia, and interest them in their cause? Do not believe the word of falsehood: for, according to the statement of people of veracity, as there was no appeal, so no suppression of it could have followed. It is important that you should sanction with the weight of your authority what the Bishop has done at the advice of the Religious. I wish at the same time to commend more and more the same Archbishop to you: and I should neither wish to ask this, nor to be heard by you, if he was not one who respects and discharges diligently his function. LETTER CCCXXIX. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE BISHOP OF LIMOGESAgainst the same person, who had been elected to the See of Rodez. The words which I shall speak to you, I speak not in my own behalf, nor in them do I seek any advantage of my own. The life of man is very short: as long as you are Bishop of Limoges, strive to do honour to your office, by letting us see your good works. I have the consolation of knowing that you have been entrusted by his lordship, the Pope, with the matter of the election of the Bishop of Cahors with full power to decide it canonically without appeal. See, then, what an opportunity you have in this to manifest to the Church how wise a course has been taken by the Pontiff; an opportunity that will be realized if only there is in you the fear of God, a love of justice, and a strict adherence to the canons. As to the Church of Rodez, there is a question debated—whether that church shall receive a true pastor, a Bishop of souls, a successor to Christ, one, I say, who shall raise up offspring to his brother deceased. Who shall be regarded as lit for this? Shall it be one whom his life has defiled, whom his own conscience accuses, whose reputation is a scandal?—a man who has sunk from abbey to abbey, or rather from one depth to another, and who has not scrupled to violate the virgins to whom he had himself given the veil? Would that be taking heed of the precept of the Apostle, A bishop must be blameless, as the steward of God (Tit. 1:7). Do not, then, act in contradiction with yourself, saying one thing and doing another, but let your actions respond constantly to your words, so that the words may not be applied to you, Their own tongues shall be turned against them (Ps. 64:8). See, the matter is in your hand. But keep your own soul free from stains, nor make yourself liable for the offences of another. With you it will rest to uphold or to annul his election; but in taking the latter course you will make your hands holy to the Lord. LETTER CCCXXX. (A.D. 1140.)TO POPE INNOCENTAgainst Peter Abaelard. To his very dear father and lord INNOCENT, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends humble homage. The Spouse of Christ weeps bitterly in the night. Her cheeks are bedewed with tears, and there is not one to console her of those to whom she is dear. That Shunammite, my lord, is committed to your care during the days of her pilgrimage, and while her Spouse delays His coming. To no one will she confide her injuries and her troubles so unreservedly as to the friend of her Spouse. Because you love Him you are always prepared to listen to her complaints in time of trouble. And among all the various kinds of enemies with whom the Church is surrounded, as a city among thorns, there are none whose attacks are more persistent and more dangerous than those whom she has borne in her bosom and nourished at her breast. It is they, and such as they, who have drawn forth the exceeding bitter cry, My lovers and my friends draw near and stand against me to take away my life (Ps. 39:11, 12). There is none more powerful to injure than an enemy of our own household. We may judge of this from the treacherous attachment of Absalom, and from the kiss of Judas. Other foundation for our faith can no man lay than that which is laid (1 Cor. 3:11). Now in France there is being fabricated a new faith which does not look at virtues and vices from the point of view of morals, at Sacraments with the eye of faith, which reasons about the Holy Trinity itself in a way far from simple or reverent, and arrives at conclusions other than the truth we have received. Magister Peter and Arnold, of whose evil influence you have cleared Italy, have Stood up and taken counsel together against the Lord and against His Anointed. Scale is joined to scale, so that not a breath can come between them. They are corrupt, and become abominable in their pursuits. With the leaven of their corruption they corrupt the faith of the simple, pervert the rules of morals, and soil the whiteness of the Church’s robe. Like him who changes himself into the similitude of an angel of light, they have a form of piety, but without its power. They are adorned like a decorated sanctuary that they may privily shoot at them that are of a right disposition. Scarcely have we ceased to hear the roaring of Peter Leonis occupying the seat of Simon Peter than we are threatened by Peter the dragon assailing the faith of Simon Peter. The one persecuted the Church of God openly, as a ravening lion, but the other, as a dragon, lurks in hiding places that he may murder the innocent. But Thou, Lord God, will bring down the high looks of the proud; Thou wilt tread under Thy feet both lion and dragon. The one did evil as long as he lived, but death put an end to his malice; but the other, committing his new dogmas to writing, provides for the transmission of his poison to future generations. In short, to describe this theologian in few words, he distinguishes with Arius degrees and inequalities in the Trinity; with Pelagius he prefers free will to grace; with Nestorius he divides Christ in excluding His humanity from union with the Trinity. But in all these things he boasts that he has opened the fountains of knowledge to the cardinals and ecclesiastics of the Curia; that his books are in the hands of the Romans, his maxims in their hearts, so that he takes those by whom he ought to be judged and condemned to be the protectors of his error. With what intention, with what effrontery can you \[I ask him\], who art the persecutor of the faith, appeal to the protection of its defender, and with what unabashed boldness can you, the insulter of the Church, dare to look in the face the friend of the Church’s Bridegroom? If the care of my brethren and the weak state of my health did not keep me here, how greatly should I wish to behold the friend of the Bridegroom exerting himself zealously in defence of the Church, in the absence of her Spouse! Can I possibly endure the wounds of the Church when I could not bear in silence the injuries done to my lord \[the Pope\]? Do thou, then, most dear father, cease to withhold thy help from her. Rise up in her defence; gird thee with thy sword. For already, through the overflowing of iniquity, the love of many waxes cold, and unless you put to your hand I foresee the day when the Spouse of Christ will go forth and follow strange paths, and be led astray by false pastors. LETTER CCCXXXI. (A.D. 1140.)TO CARDINAL STEPHEN, BISHOP OF PALESTRINAOn the Same Subject. To the venerable lord and very dear father S …, by the grace of God Bishop of Palestrina, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and that he may be strengthened to act firmly in the Lord. I impart to you the distresses and complaints of the Spouse of Christ with the more confidence, because I am well aware that you are the friend of the Bridegroom, and rejoice greatly because of his voice. If I have rightly known your inward disposition, I am confident that the Lord may count on you, since you seek not your own interests, but those of Jesus Christ. The life, the character, and the books already published of Peter Abaelard show him to be a persecutor of the Catholic faith and the enemy of the cross of Christ. He is a monk in outward appearance, but within he is a heretic, having nothing of the monk beyond the name and the habit. He opens the old cisterns and the dried-up pools of the heretics that the ox and the ass may fall therein. He had been long silent, but while he kept silence in Brittany he conceived sorrow, and now in France he has brought forth iniquity. The serpent of many coils has come forth from his cavern, and, like the Hydra, produces seven heads for one that has been struck off. A single one was lopped off, a single heresy of that man, at Soissons, but in its place seven, or it may be more, heresies have appeared, of which I have and send you a copy. Scarcely has he separated his young and unskilled scholars from the rudiments of dialectic than he introduces them, who are as yet barely able to comprehend the first elements of the faith, to the mystery of the holy Trinity, the holy of holies, the very chamber of the King, and even to Him who makes darkness His dwelling-place. In short, our new theologian distinguishes with Arius degrees and inequalities in the Trinity, with Pelagius prefers free will to grace, with Nestorius he divides Christ in excluding His Humanity from union with the Trinity. Proceeding thus through almost all the Sacraments and sacred doctrines, he touches on each with the utmost boldness, and treats each in a most blameable manner. Besides this, he boasts that he has imbued the Curia at Rome with the infection of his novelties; that his books and his opinions have made their way into the hands and the minds of Romans, and that those by whom he ought to be judged and condemned are the protectors of his erroneous teaching. May God keep guard over His Church, for which He gave His life, so as to present her to Himself without spot or wrinkle; and may He so order that perpetual silence may be imposed upon that man, whose mouth is filled only with cursing, and bitterness, and woe. LETTER CCCXXXII. (A.D. 1140.)TO CARDINAL G …Also against Peter Abaelard. To the venerable lord and most dear father G …, Cardinal of the holy Roman Church, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, desires the spirit of counsel and might. I cannot hold my peace respecting the injuries done to Christ, the difficulties and troubles of the Church, the misery and complaints of the poor. We are fallen upon perilous times. We have doctors prone to flattery, and scholars who close their ears to the truth and turn aside unto fables. We have in France Peter Abaelard, a monk, who lives without rule; a prelate, who has no spiritual charge; an abbot without an abbey, who disputes with boys and converses with women. In his books he provides for his followers secret waters and bread eaten in secret, while in his oral discourses he leads them to profane novelties of phrase and of meaning. He approaches to the thick darkness in which God is, not alone, as did Moses, but with the numerous crowd of his disciples. Along the streets and in the open spaces people dispute about the Catholic Faith, about the childbearing of the Virgin, about the Sacrament of the Altar, about the incomprehensible mystery of the holy Trinity. We have ceased to hear the roaring of Peter Leonis only to hear the hissing of Peter Draconis. But thou, O Lord Jesu, shalt bring down the high looks of the proud, Thou shalt tread under foot both lion and dragon. The one did harm but as long as he lived, and when his life ended, so did his mischief, but the other is making provision for preserving his poison to the harm of generations yet to come. He has put upon record with pen and ink his poisonous novelties; I have procured his books, and send them to you that you may judge of the author from his works. You will see that this theologian distinguishes with Arias grades and inequalities in the Trinity, that with Pelagius he prefers free will to grace, that with Nestorius he divides Christ in excluding His Humanity from the Trinity. These are but a few things out of many. Will there be no one among you who laments this attack upon Christ, who loves righteousness and hates iniquity? If the mouth that speaks perverse things be not stopped, let Him see to it and judge, who alone considers our distress and trouble. LETTER CCCXXXIII. (A.D. 1140.)TO CARDINAL G …To his venerable friend G …, Cardinal-deacon under the title of SS. Sergius and Bacchus, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and joy. It used to be your custom to rise before me as often as I entered the Curia, and I trust that you will do so now. Do not think that I am merely in joke, for there is a serious matter to be decided. At this very moment I present myself before the Curia, if not in person, at least in the cause which is referred thither. As you were accustomed to rise to greet me, so rise to greet my cause, or rather, that of Christ; for it is His, and it is His truth which is in question. Rise, or rather start up in wrath, against the man who disputes about the faith in order to destroy the faith, and contradicts the law in words of the law; whose hand is against every man, and the hands of all against him. This is Peter Abaelard, who writes, dogmatizes, and disputes, deciding exactly as he pleases, upon morals, upon the Sacraments, yea, concerning the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. After having disturbed and troubled the Church, he presents himself before the Curia, not to offer excuses for his errors, but to defend them. If you are a true son of the Church, defend her now who has borne you and nourished. LETTER CCCXXXIV. (A.D. 1140.)TO GUY, OF PISAAgainst the same Abaelard. To GUY, Abbot of Pisa, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes a sound mind in a sound body. I know that you have so much affection for me (as I for you) that I should with great confidence entrust to you my dearest interests; but it is with more confidence still that I entrust to you those of Jesus Christ, who is to be loved far more than 1. The cause is Christ’s, since Christ Himself is in question, and the truth is in peril. The garments of Christ are being divided, when the Sacraments of the Church are rent in pieces; but His seamless robe is entire, which is woven from the top throughout. For this tunic is the unity of the Church, which does not admit of cutting or division. Man is not capable of dividing that which has been compacted from above, and made firm by the Holy Spirit. Though heretics sharpen their tongues like serpents, though they arm themselves with the sharpest weapons of the intellect, in order that they may disturb the peace of the Church; yet though they are the gates of hell, they shall not prevail against her. If you are truly her son, if you recognize the bosom which bore you, do not desert your mother in her peril, do not withdraw your support in the time of tribulation. Magister Peter has recourse to the Curia, that the authority of the Apostolic See may serve him as a wall and a rampart to protect the errors which he has taught and written, and in which he has impugned the Catholic Faith. LETTER CCCXXXV. (A.D. 1140)TO A CERTAIN CARDINAL PRESBYTERAlso against Peter Abelard. To the CARDINAL PRESBYTER, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and happiness in the Lord. Let no one despise your youth. It is not white hairs nor weight of years that is required by the Lord, but maturity of mind and a blameless life. Neither Jeremiah nor Daniel feared nor trembled, though both of them were young men, before old men disgraced by vice, though heavy with the weight of ill-spent days. And I might rightly, perhaps, treat as disgraced that man, who tried to corrupt the beauty of the Church, and to stain the purity of the Faith. That is Peter Abaelard, who disputes and defines as he chooses, and differently from accepted tradition, upon matters of faith, upon the Sacraments, and the mystery of the holy Trinity. Now, after having disturbed the Church and thrown it into confusion, he presents himself to the Curia, not that he may make amends for the mischief he has done, but because he relies upon the crafty subterfuges that he has at his command to conceal his errors. It is now that those who know themselves to be the Church’s sons will stand firmly in her defence. LETTER CCCXXXVI. (A.D. 1140.)TO A CERTAIN ABBOTOn the Same Subject. To his very dear brother and co-Abbot, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes a zeal for the Lord according to knowledge. It must needs be that offences come, so that those who are approved may be made manifest. If any one is the Lord’s servant, let him take the Lord’s side, for His cause is now in question. The truth is attacked; the vestments of Christ are torn in pieces, the Sacraments of the Church divided. From the sole of the foot to the crown of the head, the well-being of the Church is compromised, and the simple faith of believers ridiculed; the lion is on the point of arising from his lair against the Church that he may make a prey of the nations. Already Peter Abaelard goes before Antichrist to prepare his ways, speaking differently from tradition with respect to matters of faith, of the Sacraments, and of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. He writes, teaches, and disputes; and his words tend to the subversion of the hearers. With Arius he distinguishes degrees and inequalities in the Trinity; with Pelagius he prefers free will to grace; with Nestorius he divides Christ, by excluding His Humanity from the fellowship of the Trinity. But in all these things he boasts that he has won over the Roman Church to his side; that the Romans have received his books and his opinions into their hands and hearts; and that those by whom he ought to be judged and condemned have taken upon them his defence. May the Lord look upon it, and judge, if the mouth of that man who speaketh unrighteousness be not speedily closed. The bearer of this will explain to you the details at greater length. LETTER CCCXXXVII. (A.D. 1140.)TO POPE INNOCENT, IN THE NAME OF THE BISHOPS OF FRANCEThe Bishops of Gaul explain to the Pontiff what had been done in the case of Peter Abaelard, who had challenged Bernard to a discussion in Synod; but being unwilling to make answer to the specific charges of heresy made against him, had appealed to the Apostolic See. To the most reverend father and lord INNOCENT, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, HENRY, Archbishop of Sens, GEOFFREY, Bishop of Chartres, and servant of the holy apostolic See, ELIAS, Bishop of Orleans, HUGO, Bishop of Auxerre, ATTO, Bishop of Troyes, MANASSES, Bishop of Meaux, send the assurance of their earnest prayers and due obedience. 1. As it is certain that those things which are established by the Apostolic authority are considered settled, so that they cannot be interfered with or altered by the objections or bad motives of any one, we have thought it proper, most holy Father, to make you aware of all that took place at our meeting lately, in order that your Serenity may deign to approve and permanently confirm by your judgment and authority what we, with the help of many pious and learned persons, have thought fit to do. Therefore, since throughout almost the whole of France, in towns, villages, and castles, by scholars not only within the schools, but in the roads and public places, disputes are carried on about the holy Trinity and the Nature of God; and that not only among learned or passably instructed persons, but among children even and simple and ignorant persons; and besides all this, many propositions are put forth by these disputants, not less contrary to reason than to the Catholic Faith, and to the doctrine of the holy Fathers; and since, though frequently warned by those who thought more justly on these matters that they should lay aside those foolish fancies (ineptias), those persons showed themselves more ardent still; and, relying on the authority of their master, Peter Abaelard, and especially upon his book entitled Theologia, as also of other treatises of his of a similar kind, persisted more and more in sustaining and defending these dangerous novelties, to the detriment of many souls; we, though distressed and alarmed, as were many others, at this state of things, were fearful to meddle with these \[difficult\] questions. 2. But the lord Abbot of Clairvaux, who had frequently heard from various persons of these matters, happened also to meet with a copy of the previously mentioned book of Magister Peter, called his Theologia, and of other books of his, and having read them attentively, thought it incumbent on him to meet the author, and to admonish him, at first in private, and then, according to the precept of the Gospel taking with him two or three witnesses, invited him in a kind and friendly manner both to restrain his hearers from occupying themselves with such questions, and also that he should correct his books. Many of his scholars, also, the Abbot exhorted to cease from reading, and to reject those writings full of poison; also to refrain from, and be on their guard, against doctrine which injured the Catholic faith. Magister Peter was enraged at this, and scarcely able to restrain his anger; nor did he desist from frequent demands until we had written to the Abbot of Clairvaux upon the matter, and fixed a day, viz., that of the octave of Pentecost, on which he should appear before us at Sens. Thither Magister Peter professed himself willing to come prepared to defend and prove the propositions which the Abbot had as aforesaid blamed as partaking of heresy. But the Abbot on his side would neither promise to appear on the appointed day, nor to accept the argument before us against Peter. But as in the interval the latter had begun nevertheless to call together his followers from all sides, and to entreat them to be present at the disputation which was about to take place between himself and the Abbot of Clairvaux, so as by their presence to support his opinions and his system; the Abbot, to whom this became known, fearing that his absence might be made an occasion for unthinking persons as well as for the partisans of error, to regard all the opinions, or rather all the fancies of their master as being more certain than they really were; and touched with the fervour of a holy zeal, or rather kindled by the fire of the Holy Spirit, presented himself before us on the very day which had been named to him, although he had not at all engaged to do so On that day, in fact, being the octave of Pentecost, all our brethren the Suffragan Bishops of our province had assembled to us in the town of Sens to contribute by their presence to the honour and reverence paid to the holy relics, of which we proposed to make an exposition to the people in our cathedral church. 3. In the presence, then, of the glorious King of France, Louis, of the pious William, Count of Nevers, of the lord Archbishop of Rheims with certain of his suffragans, of us also and all our suffragans, except those of Paris and Nevers, of a great number of Abbots as pious as wise, and of clergy well instructed, the lord Abbot of Clairvaux and Magister Peter, with his supporters, respectively appeared. To speak briefly, the lord Abbot brought before us the book Theologia, written by Magister Peter, and pointed out from this book various propositions, which he stigmatized as absurd, or even as plainly heretical, in order that Magister Peter might either deny that he had written them, or, if he accepted the authorship, might either justify or correct them. But Magister Peter appeared to be at a loss what to do; and, in order to make a way of escape, refused to reply, although he had a free hearing given to him, a safe place, and impartial judges; but appealing to your hearing in person, most holy Father, he left the assembly with all his supporters. 4. But we, although that appeal seemed to us not canonical, yet out of respect to the Apostolic See, we abstained from pronouncing any judgment against him personally. But as to his errors in doctrine, which had infected many, and had penetrated into the deepest recesses of not a few hearts, we had condemned them the day before Abaelard made his appeal, after having read and reread them in public audience, and having heard them plainly and undoubtedly proved to be heretical, both by convincing reasonings and by authorities cited from S. Augustine and other Fathers by the Abbot of Clairvaux. And because they draw many to most hurtful and evidently destructive error, we beg, most just Father, unanimously and with the utmost earnestness, that you would condemn with a perpetual judgment, by your authority, both them and all persons who obstinately and contentiously maintain them. And as for the before-mentioned Peter, if your Reverence would impose silence upon him, would suspend altogether his powers of lecturing and writing, and would condemn his books as being without doubt filled with erroneous teaching, you would thus root up the thorns and briars from the field of the Church, and would enable a joyful harvest to increase in flower and fruit for Christ. We transmit to you, Reverend Father, the list of certain propositions which we have condemned, that by these extracts you may the more easily form an idea of the remainder of the work. LETTER CCCXXXVIII. (A.D. 1140.)TO HAIMERIC, CARDINAL AND CHANCELLORHe urges that Peter Abaelard, having been convicted of heresy, ought not to find the abodes of the Cardinals and the Roman Curia open to him as a refuge. To his illustrious and very intimate friend HAIMERIC, Cardinal-deacon and Chancellor of the holy Roman Church, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, desires that he may act wisely before God and before men. 1. I have both heard of the opinions of Magister Peter Abaelard, and I have seen his books. I have remarked his words, I have taken note of the hidden senses (mysteria) of them, and found them to be mysteries of iniquity. This divine contradicts the Law in the very words of the Law. He casts that which is holy to the dogs, and pearls before swine; he corrupts the faith of the simple, defiles the purity of the Church. It is said that “the vase will long preserve the odour with which it has once been imbued.” His book had passed through the fire, and was brought into a place of refreshment. The enemy of the Church reposes in the bosom of the Church, the persecutor of the faith finds in it an asylum. He was utterly conquered. Let him not rise again (it is said) who has invaded the couch of his father and defiled it! Now that man has dishonoured the Church, and infected with his vices the minds of the simple. He endeavours to scrutinize by the light of his reason alone, the mysteries which are apprehended by the pious mind only by the intuition of faith: the faith of the pious, which believes and does not discuss. But that man holds even God in suspicion, nor is willing to believe anything unless he shall have first considered it by reason. Though the Prophet says, If you will not believe, ye shall not understand (Is. 7:9, lxx. version), that man blames spontaneous faith as mere credulity, making an ill use of that saying of Solomon: He that is hasty to give credit is light-minded (Ecclus. 19:4). He blames, then, the B.V. Mary for believing without hesitation the word of the angel which announced to her: Behold, thou shalt conceive and bear a Son (S. Luke 1:31). Let him blame also him who at the last hour, almost the last moment, of life, believed the words spoken to him by One who was dying likewise: To-day thou shall be with Me in Paradise (S. Luke 23:43); and let him reserve his praise for those, the hardness of whose hearts merited the reproach spoken of them: O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken (S. Luke 24:25), and commend also the slowness of belief in him, to whom it was said: Because thou hast not believed My words, thou shall be dumb and not able to speak (S. Luke 1:20). 2. Finally, in order to abbreviate a multitude of observations into the strait limits of a letter, I will say shortly, that this admirable Doctor with Arius distinguishes degrees and inequalities in the Trinity; with Pelagius prefers free will to grace; with Nestorius divides Christ by excluding His Humanity from the fellowship of the Trinity. But in all these matters he boasts that he has opened the fountains of knowledge to the Cardinals and ecclesiastics of the. Curia; that his books are in the hands, and his opinions in the minds, of the Romans; and he relies on those persons, by whom he ought to be judged and condemned, being a protection to him. Hyacinth has shown me much ill-will, but has done me no harm; simply because he was unable. This I endure with equanimity, since he spares not Rome, nor the Curia, nor even the person of the Pope. What else I have seen and heard, my dear Nicholas, who is equally devoted to you as to me, will tell you better by word of mouth. LETTER CCCXXXIX. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO POPE INNOCENTBernard maintains the innocence of Alvisus, Bishop of Arras, against his calumniators. To his very dear father and lord, INNOCENT, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, offers respectful homage. It is a thing neither new nor wonderful that the mind of man should be able to be both deceived and deceiving. But as this is a double evil, and each part of it has to be guarded against, the Angel of great wisdom has suggested to you a safeguard against either danger, when he says, Be ye wise as serpents, and harmless as doves (S. Matt. 10:16). Prudence will prevent your being deceived, and simplicity will prevent your deceiving others. The monks of Marchiennes have come to present themselves before you, in a spirit of falseness and error, against the Lord, and against His anointed. They have made a false accusation against the Bishop of Arras, whose life and conversation is in good report in every place. Who are they, to bite reputations as dogs, who call good evil, and give light the name of darkness? Who are they, who against the law curse the deaf and put a stumbling block before the blind? (Lev. 19:14). Wherefore, my lord, are you angry with your son and do you give joy and gladness to his enemies? Have you forgotten that warning of the Apostle, Believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God (1 S. John 4:1). I trust in the Lord, that He will confound their projects: and by making the truth appear, put falsehood to flight, and turn their deception against themselves. I have heard with my own ears how faithfully and firmly he spoke in defence of the Roman Church in the presence of the King and his nobles. He proposes, in the innocence of his heart, to go on the day when he is summoned, to present himself before you: but in the meantime, he has sent before him his Archdeacon, who is the bearer of this letter, and whose person and character I commend to your kindness. I learn also that the Abbot of S. Vedast is coming to have an interview with you: he is one who is an enemy to himself, and no less to his Religious and to his Abbey: he has undertaken only the bare name of Abbot, since he seeks his own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. As for the Religious G—, who accompanies him, all that can be said is that he is a worthy son of such a father: he spares neither his reputation nor his conscience; so that he is become the derision of his entire neighbourhood. May the Spirit of truth grant you to divide the light from the darkness, to advance the good and to repress the evil. LETTER CCCXL. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO THE SAME POPE INNOCENTOn behalf of the Bishop of Angers. To his very dear father and lord, INNOCENT, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, sends his respectful homage. The Bishop of Angers is worn out by his age as also by the labours and perils he has endured: who can look upon him with an indifferent eye, that is not destitute of sensibility, and even of any human feeling? As for me, I am not able, without feeling myself deeply moved, to look at this aged man, to whom but a single reproach could be addressed, whose life and whose learning render him venerable. I am ignorant of what has passed between him and the Abbey with which he is at variance, and I do not presume to write anything respecting a matter I am not acquainted with. But if it shall appear that he has fulfilled his engagements, I suppose that there is no other course to be taken than to restore him to your favour and to the exercise of his functions. LETTER CCCXLI. (Circa A.D. 1140.)TO MALACHI, ARCHBISHOP OF IRELANDBernard receives with thanks the letter and the staff, and welcomes the monks sent by him. He recommends Malachi to have an abode prepared ft for Religious: and commends himself to his prayers. To the venerable lord and most blessed father MALACHI, by the grace of God Archbishop of the Irish and Legate of the Apostolic See, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, desires that he may find grace in the Lord. 1. Among the multitude of my anxieties and heartfelt cares, which distract my mind by their multitude, the brethren which have come to me from a distant land, in order that they may \[learn to\] serve the Lord, your letter, and the staff which you have sent me, have consoled me much: the letter as a pledge of your kindly feeling towards me; the staff to sustain my body, which is bowed down by infirmity; the brethren to serve God in the spirit of humility. All I have accepted with pleasure; all equally work together for good. As to your desire that I should send you two Religious to assist you in choosing a fit place of settlement, I have thought it expedient not to send you these before the others, but to wait until Christ be more fully formed in them, until they shall be entirely equipped for the wars of the Lord. When then they shall have become instructed in the school of the Holy Ghost and endued with virtue from on high, then at length your sons shall return to their father, that they may sing the Lord’s song in their own land, and not any longer in a foreign country. 2. In the meantime do you, according to the wisdom which has been bestowed upon you by the Lord, make choice of a place of settlement for them, separated from the tumults of the world, according to the principles of choice which you have seen acted upon with us. For the time is at hand when, with the grace of God helping, I shall be able to send you back new men, instead of those clothed with the old man whom you entrusted to me. May the Lord be blessed for ever, of whose gift it comes that your sons have become also mine; and that from the trees planted by your preaching and watered by my exhortation, God has given increase. I pray your Holiness to apply yourself to the preaching of the Word of God, that you may give to your flock the knowledge of salvation. You lie under a twofold obligation to do this; from your quality as Bishop, and your delegation from the Holy See. For the rest, since in many things we offend all (S. James 3:2), and being placed among men of this world, we frequently contract much of the dust of the world; I commend myself to your prayers and those of your brethren, that Jesus Christ, who is Himself the fountain of holiness, who once said to Peter, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with Me (S. John 13:8), would deign to wash me, and to cleanse me in the waters of His mercy. And, indeed, I not only earnestly entreat this of you, but require it as in some sense the payment of a debt, since I do not cease to call upon the Lord for you, if the prayer of a sinner is of any avail. Farewell in the Lord. LETTER CCCXLII. (A.D. 1140.)TO JOSCELYN, BISHOP OF SOISSONSBernard begs him to appease the King, who was displeased with the Archbishop of Bordeaux. To the venerable lord and very dear father, JOSCELYN, by the grace of God Bishop of Soissons, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and desires that he may find grace with the Lord. 1. It is an injury to the Realm and the nobles of it if the plans of the King are proclaimed of his own hasty motion, and made public without mature consideration. But it pleases me much to see that the King trusts you, and confides in you; for I know that you are zealous for the Sovereign and the realm with a godly zeal, and I know also that you have the qualities of a good adviser for him. Both order and reason require, in fact, that in a Royal counsellor should be united in a similar degree devotedness and prudence. Everything depends upon this for him; with these two qualities he cannot fail to be a sound adviser and to direct with wisdom the enterprises of the King. But if either his devotedness makes default in prudence, or his prudence in devotedness, when he performs his duty as counsellor, then woe to the land whose King shall be a child! May my soul never come into the counsel of those who, either though they love me, are not prudent; or being prudent, love me not. For so Adam, that unhappy one, fell from his rights of immortality, for having yielded to the counsel of the sinful; of Eve who, though she loved him, was not prudent; and of the serpent, who was prudent, but loved him not. 2. Why is it that my lord the King endeavours to draw the Archbishop of Bordeaux into a dispute without any reason? Is that done by your advice? May God keep you from doing such a thing, and me from thinking it possible. For what harm has that man done? Is it that he consecrated, according as he was free to do, by the Canons, a Bishop elected by those of Poictiers with a unanimous voice, without opposition? or that he did not snatch from the poor and from the Churches of Poictiers, from the mouths of the hungry, so to speak, the money which a dying man had left them? Lo, their blood is required at his hand. If it is a fault to have given a pastor to wandering sheep, to have refrained from despoiling the widow and the orphan, to have maintained intact the privileges of the Apostolic See, then he cannot be accused. O, ill-judged judgment, in which righteousness is taken for wrong and innocence is counted as guilt! Look to yourselves, you who are Bishops. Your interests are in question when your neighbour’s wall takes fire (Horace, Epist. i. 18, 84). 3. However this may be, since you, my lord, approach the King more nearly than others, and you count for much in the transaction of his business, it is your duty to use all your influence with the King on behalf of your brethren, so that his anger should not be altogether inflamed. I declare to you that you have to do with a resolute man, powerful in speech and action, who will not readily be driven from his right. He enjoys great influence in that district. If there should be any dispute, many would side with him in his grievances. See, then, to it, that no one throws oil on the fire. Let the flame be extinguished before it has had time to light up a conflagration: For it is too late to use a remedy when by long delays the disease has grown strong (Ovid, de Remed. Amor. 91, 92). LETTER CCCXLIII. (A.D. 1140.)FROM ABBOT BERNARD, OF ITALY, TO POPE INNOCENT He complains that in the Abbey of S. Saviour all things are not as the Pope had promised. To the dearly-beloved and longed-for father, INNOCENT, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, his servant BERNARD sends greeting and the prayers of the poor. I am in deep perplexity; for on the one side modesty requires me to be silent, and on the other necessity obliges me to speak. I shall speak, therefore, to my lord, I who am but dust and ashes; but I shall speak in the bitterness of my soul. I complain, my lord, of you, but it is to yourself; my complaint is made in strict secrecy, but the cause of my complaint is only too manifest. I did as you commanded; I came to the monastery of S. Saviour, as you bade in your letter to your servant, our father. What has become now of your promises and of my hopes? I have passed through fire and through water; and unless the Lord had helped me, the water would perhaps have swallowed me up. I have been afflicted by dangers of waters and of robbers, in cities, in solitude, on the land and in the sea; nor was there any to help me. All these things came upon me: nor was even then the end. By your letter, my lord, I was drawn from the bosom of my father, and, at your mere bidding, leaving my father and my brethren, I hastened to obey your will. By your letter I was torn from the bosom of my mother, and deprived of her consolations: driven forth from an abode of happiness; and that I might not return thither, you, my lord, have opposed to me a flaming sword, which turns every way. My crown has fallen from my head, and my songs of gladness have turned to lamentation. How could I, my lord, sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? How much more sweetly and safely did my soul rejoice herself in the abode and bosom of my mother? Now, I so run as one in uncertainty; I so fight as one that beateth the air: but for this, my lord, your promise is to blame, which I believe to be full of grace and truth. But now, since the winter has departed and the bad season is over, if it shall please my lord, allow me to leave this place, and to seek where I may find rest for my feet: since hitherto snow and hail, ice and storms have prevented my so doing. It seems most cruel and most inhuman to deprive of his wish him who loved me before he knew me, who has shown himself to me a father so tender that he would have torn out his own eyes and given them to me had it been possible. My King and my God, whose kingdom was not of this world, had not where to lay His head: would that the world would drive us out also and oblige us to wander in deserts, in mountains, in caves, and dens of the earth! LETTER CCCXLIV. (A.D. 1140.)FROM THE SAME BERNARD TO SAINT BERNARD He complains of the Prelature which had been forced upon him. To the venerable lord and dearly-loved P—,Abbot of Clairvaux, his son B—sends greeting, and prays that he may have the unction which teaches all things. As often as I recall that day of misery and calamity, on which I was torn from your consoling bosom, I am more inclined to weep than to write anything. If the eloquence of my prayers equalled the abundance of my tears, I should easily be able to make you realize how miserable and deserted I am. When I apply my mind to reflecting upon it, and my hand to the pen, my grief is renewed. The extreme bitterness of my soul returns to me as I write; and I am troubled by the remembrance of that unhappy day, on which my foolish and unworthy self was placed in a position of eminence. I do not, my lord, blame your action, nor the motive of your action, which is believed to have been pointed out by the finger of God; but I lament a little the unhappiness of my lot. For, behold, after I was driven away from the sight of thine eyes, my life was worn away in grief, and my days in mourning. Woe is me! I have lost sight of the pattern on which I tried to fashion myself, the mirror of what I ought to be, the light of my eyes! No longer does that sweet voice sound in my ears, nor that kindly and pleasant face, which used to blush at my faults, appear before my eyes. Wherefore, my lord, has my hope been frustrated, and the desire of my heart denied me? My life has been cut off as the thread of an unfinished web, and broken off short as a plant yet shooting up. That unhappy sentiment is fulfilled in me which you quoted upon the Song of Songs, and which I now read in the book of experience, Man, being in honour, hath no understanding (Ps. 49:12). For I did not sufficiently understand when I was in Clairvaux that I was in a place of happiness among the trees of Paradise, and therefore I held that Delectable Land as of no account. I ask of you, my lord, why you thought fit to determine this lot for me, why you set me as a leader and a teacher of others, and a chief over your people? Was it my career in the world? But that was foul. Was it my life in the cloister? But that was lukewarm and backward. Why, then, when I was little in mine own eyes, have I been made the head of a tribe in Israel? Wherefore, when I was not myself clean from secret sins, have you not spared to make your servant responsible for those of others? What can a man do whom sorrow for the past renders unhappy, the responsibilities of the present weigh down, and the thought of the future renders fearful? Overburdened with grief and affliction, I presume, my lord regretted and longed for, to say this to you alone, because my wound was received from a hand the least expected. But, my lord, to speak of this place to which you have sent me, I have run as if uncertainly, I have fought as if beating the air. For the lord Pope, on whose letter I was sent forth, has not yet fulfilled his promise to confirm the donation of this place, and what is taking place at this moment is a proof of this. The Lord Abbot of Farfa welcomed me at my coming with great joy, and received your sons with the utmost gladness, so that, if it were possible, he would have plucked out his own eyes, and have given them to me. In this one respect alone is he to be blamed and corrected by you, that he goes only too far, exceeding not only his own promises, but even our wishes. As this letter is already so long, I am able to say nothing shorter, nothing truer about my inner life, than that I am wasting my time. LETTER CCCXLV. (A.D. 1140.)TO THE BRETHREN OF S. ANASTASIUSHe commends their zeal in, and strict observance of, the Religions life. And yet he disapproves of their too great readiness to have recourse to the art of medicine in their maladies. To my very dear sons in Christ, the monks of S. Anastasius, I, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wish health, and give the assurance of my earnest prayers. 1. God in heaven is my witness how greatly I long after you all in the bowels of Jesus Christ; insomuch that I should have greatly desired to see you, if the thing had been possible, not only on your account, but also on my own. What a joy and solace it would be for me to embrace you, who are my own flesh and blood, my joy and my crown. But since that is not yet permitted to me (for I firmly trust that in the mercy of God it will be permitted, and that the day will come when I shall behold you, and my heart shall rejoice, and my joy no one shall take from me), in the meantime it is a great joy and consolation to me to receive the good report concerning you, which has come to me from my very clear brother and co-abbot, the venerable Bernard, your abbot. I congratulate you much on the satisfaction which is given to him by your love for the discipline and Rule of the Order, by your obedience and voluntary poverty, for which, without doubt, a rich reward is laid up for you in heaven. Wherefore I bid you, and earnestly entreat you, my dearly beloved brethren, so to persevere, and so to stand fast in the Lord, carefully keeping the observance of the Order, that the Order may keep you, carefully preserving the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3), and having one for the other, and especially for your superiors, that humble charity which is the bond of perfection (Coloss. 3:14). Follow humility before all things, and peace above all things, because of the Spirit of God who dwells in you, and who rests only upon him who is of a peaceful and humble spirit (Is. 66:2). 2. But there is one thing, indeed, which your venerable father asks me about, which I can in no wise approve. And I believe also that I am right, and have the Spirit of God in the matter. I know, indeed, that the district in which you live is unhealthy, and that many of you labour under infirmities; but remember him who said: I will even glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me; and, When I am weak, then am I strong (2 Cor. 12:9, 10). I sympathize, therefore, really and truly with your infirmities of body; but what is much more to be feared and avoided is infirmities of soul. And it is not only not in agreement with your vow as religious to have recourse to medicines for the body, but it is not even really conducive to health. It is certainly permitted to poor religious to make use sometimes of simples of little value; and this is frequently done. But to purchase drugs, to call in mediciners, and to take their potions and remedies, this is neither becoming to the rigour of our vow nor befits the honour and purity of our Order. For we know that those who live in the flesh cannot please God (Rom. 8:8). Spiritual things are to be compared with spiritual (1 Cor. 2:13), that our potion may be that of humility, and that we may cry with our whole heart: Heal my soul, O Lord, for I have sinned against Thee (Ps. 41:4). This health, dearest brethren, do ye strive for; follow this, preserve this, for vain is the health given by men. LETTER CCCXLVI. (Circa A.D. 1141.)TO THE LORD POPE INNOCENTHe urges the Pope not to favour the cause of the Arch bishop of York, as it was unjust. To his very dear lord and father, INNOCENT, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends his humble duty. Since there are many called, but few chosen (S. Matt. 20:16), it is no great reason for putting faith in a doubtful matter, or thinking it praiseworthy, that it is praised by many people. The Archbishop of York, concerning whom I have often written to your Holiness, has come to you. He is a man who has not taken God for his helper, but has put his hope in the multitude of his riches. His cause is a weak and even a bad one, and, as I learn from persons worthy of belief, from the sole of its foot even to its head there is no soundness in it. What then? What does a man who is without a just cause expect to gain from him who watches over justice and protects equity? Does he suppose that he will be able to swallow up justice in the Curia, as he has done in England? He has swallowed up an ordinary stream and made nothing of it; and now flatters himself that he can take the river of Jordan also into his mouth. He has come accompanied by many, whom he has gained over by money or by entreaties. One alone has escaped to bring you word; one alone, at the peril of his life, stood fast as a wall for the house of Israel, nor did he worship the idol at the command of the King. He is alone, except that his righteousness bears him company; which escaped, as an honoured mother, with her son (Ecclus. 15:2). What, then, will the Vicar of Peter do in this matter? Surely what Peter did with the man who thought that the gifts of God might be purchased with money (Acts 8:20). If the Church has been founded upon a rock, the gates of hell shall not prevail against her (S. Matt. 16:18). I do not speak thus on my own account alone, but on the testimony of those who are moved by the Spirit of God. LETTER CCCXLVII. (Circa A.D. 1141.)TO THE SAMEHe recommends to the Pope the deputies of the Diocese of York, who are going to Rome on account of the matter of the Archbishop. To his very dear lord and father, INNOCENT, supreme Pontiff, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends his humble duty. These men whom you see before you are simple, honest, and God-fearing; it is the Spirit of God that sends them to the sight of your glory, and they have no other aim than to obtain justice. Cast your eyes, I pray you, upon these poor and wearied men, who, not without cause, have come to you from far, not regarding the great distance by land, nor the peril of the sea, nor the snows of the Alps, nor the great cost of the journey, though they are poor. Let my lord then kindly see to it that neither the intrigue nor ambition of any one render such great fatigues useless; especially since they do not seek their own advantage, but those things which are of Jesus Christ. For not even an enemy, I suppose, can suspect them of being influenced in this matter by any private interest or by personal hatred, but only by the fear of God. Let, then, any one who is a servant of God, put himself on their side. If the barren tree shall encumber the ground any longer, to whom can I attach blame, except to him who holds the axe? LETTER CCCXLVIII. (A.D. 1141.)TO THE SAMEOn behalf of Arnulf, Bishop-elect of Lisieux. To his very dear father and lord, INNOCENT, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends his humble duty. 1. Blessed be God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Who has in our day preserved His Church, the spotless Spouse of His dear Son, free, and delivered her from grief and from the oppressions of the wicked. The schisms are extinct, the heresies have sunk into silence, the necks of the proud and haughty are trodden under your feet. And, indeed, I have seen during the schism the head of the wicked lifted up, and lofty as the cedars of Libanus; yet, I passed by, and behold, he was not. During the heresy I saw a multitude of errors shooting up again, as it were, and flourishing, but the mouth of those speaking perverse things was stopped. The tyrant of Sicily had lifted up his heart on high, and now is humbled under the mighty Hand of God; in short, there is none of any rank whatever over whom the Church of God by His mighty Hand and stretched-out Arm has not obtained the victory by your means. 2. Yet there remains still one adversary, the Count of Anjou, the Hammer of good men, and the enemy of peace, and of the liberty of the Church. He is persecuting the Church of Lisieux, in order that the Bishop of that Church shall not enter into the sheep-fold by the legitimate door, but in some other way. But what has been done cannot be undone. And furthermore, if the whole matter should be closely and carefully examined, it will be found that all has been done for the best, and that what has been done ought to be confirmed. All things concur to show this: the person chosen, the circumstances, he who has conducted it, and even the adversary who opposes it. For if you look to the person chosen, he is your dear son, in whom you are well pleased. If to the order of the proceedings, they have been carried out freely and canonically, and in proper order. If to the manager of them, he is a pious and God-fearing man. If to the adversary, behold he is a man who has not taken God for his help, but is hostile to the Church, and an enemy of the cross of Christ. Besides, in any affair in which it is doubtful which course to take, it is a most powerful reason for regarding a particular course as the better that it pleases the good and displeases the evil. But it is objected that the Count of Anjou has appealed to the Apostolic See. Wherefore, I pray you; what injury or loss has he to complain of? Far from being oppressed, it is he who is the oppressor; and it is not to relieve himself of an injustice that he has recourse to an appeal, but in order that by this means he may put an obstacle in the way of the consecration of the Bishop. 3. Since then in this matter not only the piety of him who has conducted it, but your affection for the person chosen, and the justice of his cause, combine to lead to the same conclusion, it seems superfluous and useless to make request on behalf of one whose humility has already had recourse to your authority. I will, however, who am but dust and ashes, speak unto my Lord. Yes, I who am the humble servant of the Bride will speak unto the friends of the Bridegroom; let my discourse be welcome to Him. The Church, my lord, from the rising of the sun unto its setting, has been committed to your care. You ought, then, to be a wall and a rampart to her from the face of her enemy and persecutor. You ought to nourish her sons under the shadow of your wings. Sustain, therefore, the Bishop of Lisieux as a true son of the Roman Church, and send him back with the blessings of sweetness, so that his enemy may never say: I have prevailed against him. Gird on your sword, O Father, to raise up your son, to lay low the enemy, and to preserve the freedom of the Church. For we are not sons of the bond-woman, but of the free, and are sharers of the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free. LETTER CCCXLIX. (Circa A.D. 1141.)TO THE SAMEHe recommends a friend to the Pontiff. To his very dear father and lord, INNOCENT, by the grace of God supreme Pontiff, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends his humble duty. I am unwilling to enjoy alone the favour I have found in your eyes. I desire to share it with my friends. For I do not fear that there will not be enough both for me and for them. For it is so great that I am able to make a crowd of friends the sharers of it without fearing to find it empty when I shall come myself. What, therefore, I have freely received I will freely bestow, and your liberality makes me liberal with the gifts which you have given me. I recommend, then, to you the bearer of this letter, an estimable person. He is a friend, my lord, of the poor of Christ, and a servant of your servants. I entreat, my lord, that if he has any business with you, you will listen to him favourably, with your accustomed kindness, for my sake, or rather for his own, since he is so good a man as to deserve that he should obtain his petition because of his own merit. LETTER CCCL. (Circa A.D. 1141.)TO THE SAMEHe asks for the Pope’s blessing for one of his relatives. The young man who will bring you this letter is reputed to be a brave and active soldier, and in order that he may perfect himself in actual warfare he is proceeding to Jerusalem. I, your son, entreat you at his request that in this good work which he is beginning he may have the benefit and the honour of your benediction and prayers. He is my relative, and, as the Prophet has said, I ought to take interest in those who are of my own flesh (Is. 58:7). LETTER CCCLI.TO THE SAMEHe recommends certain poor persons. I frequently write to you, and you receive letters and requests from me almost every day. I am placed under the dilemma of being either ungrateful to my friends or importunate towards you. My affection towards them incites me to write, but shamefacedness restrains me and modesty almost forbids me to discharge this duty of charity. But the Spouse of Christ has no asylum where she may lay her head or take refuge in the time of tribulation, except it be with the friend of her Bridegroom. These persons whom you see before you are poor, and sent as representatives of the poor. Through many dangers of land and sea they take refuge under the shadow of your wings, they resort to the rock of the Catholic faith and to the bosom of your apostolic piety since they are troubled in many things, and are free but in few from the tribulation and pain inflicted by the wicked. If you retain your ancient manner of acting and the office of your apostolate, you cannot bring yourself to desert the cause of the poor, nor to honour the countenance of the rich. I entreat you then, for these persons, for those by whom they are sent are my brethren and of our Order, so that you may incline the ear of your Piety to their prayers, in respect of their justice and for the love of Him who does not despise the prayers of the poor. LETTER CCCLII. (A.D. 1131.)PRIVILEGE OR GRANT MADE BY POPE INNOCENT II. TO SAINT BERNARD Innocent concedes very full privileges to Bernard and to the Cistercian Order on account of their great services to the Apostolic See. INNOCENT, Bishop, and servant of the servants of God, to his beloved son BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, and to their successors regularly appointed for ever, etc. To you, Abbot Bernard, my beloved son in the Lord, to your firm and indefatigable constancy, to the fervour of your piety, and the discretion which you displayed in defending the cause of S. Peter, and of the holy Roman Church your mother, when the schism of Peter Leonis was beginning; and to the zeal with which you opposed yourself as an impregnable bulwark before the house of God, and laboured to incline the minds of Kings and Princes, and of other persons both ecclesiastical and lay, by pressing arguments, made strong by reason, to the unity of the Catholic Church, and the obedience of S. Peter, and of us; in great measure are due the happy condition in which the Church of God, and ourselves, are found. Wherefore, in order to give assent to your just wishes, we have fortified with the protection of the apostolical See the monastery of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, over which, in the providence of God, you preside, with all the houses depending upon it. We ordain that all the possessions or goods whatsoever which it actually possesses justly and canonically at the present time, or in the future by the help of God shall possess, whether by the grant of Popes, or by the liberality of Kings or Princes, by the offerings of the faithful, or by any other just manner, shall remain firm and unimpaired to you and your successors. We forbid any Archbishop or Bishop to cite either you, or your successors, or any Abbot of the Cistercian Order, to any Council or Synod except for causes that concern the faith. And as the monastery of Cîteaux is the source and origin of this religious Order, let it deservedly enjoy this prerogative by our grant; that, whenever it shall be deprived of its own pastor, it may freely choose for itself any Abbot whatever, or monk, out of all the Abbeys of your Order, to preside over it, and may obtain the person chosen without any opposition. We grant to the other Abbeys of your Order which have one or more Abbeys dependent upon, or founded by them, the free power at the death of their own Abbot of choosing whomsoever they shall prefer from all the Abbeys under their obedience, or any monk whatever from all the Cistercian congregations. But those Abbeys which have no dependent houses may freely choose and have as their Abbot any monk out of all the congregations of the before-named Order. Further, let no Archbishop, Bishop, or Abbot presume to receive, or to retain, if received, any of your lay brothers (conversos) who are not monks, but who shall have made profession in any of your Houses, without your free consent. We ordain that no one presume to demand or receive of you tithes, either on the lands which you and the brothers of your whole congregation cultivate with your own hands or at your own cost, or of the animals upon them. Let no one, therefore, etc. The peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be upon those who preserve to the same place the things which belong to it; let them receive here below the recompense of that good action, and let them find before the tribunal of the Judge the rewards of eternal peace. Amen. I, INNOCENT, Bishop of the Catholic Church. I, MATTHEW, Bishop of Albano. I, ROMANUS, Cardinal Deacon of S. Mary in Porticu. I, JOHN, Cardinal Presbyter of S. Chrysogonus. I, GREGORY, Cardinal Deacon of SS. Sergius and Bacchus. Given at Lyons by the hand of HAIMERIC Cardinal Deacon and Chancellor of the holy Roman Church, the seventeenth February, indiction x., in the year of the Lord’s Incarnation 1131, in the third year of the Pontificate of Pope Innocent II. LETTER CCCLIII. (Circa A.D. 1141.)TO WILLIAM, ABBOT OF RIEVAULXHe warns William to bear with equanimity the unjust consecration of the Archbishop of York. To his dear brother and co-Abbot, WILLIAM, Abbot of Rievaulx, Brother BERNARD of Clairvaux wishes the Spirit of counsel and strength. I have heard what has been done about that Archbishop, and with the greatest regret. Knowing, therefore, your zeal, and fearing lest it might blaze up more than was proper, and not admit of wise moderation, which would be to the detriment of our Order, and to the harm of your house, I have thought it proper to address to you some words of consolation; since when our own conscience does not accuse us of wrong, other evils may be borne with equanimity. I say it deliberately; neither the blame nor the sin belongs to you. You have resisted them as long as you were able; now, according to the judgment of S. Augustine, the wrong-doing of another cannot defile you, provided that you have not given assent to it in your heart, still less if you have protested against it with your mouth. For, he says; “Under two circumstances the wrong-doing of another does not defile you; if you do not consent, and if you protest.” Be therefore of good heart and do not be troubled. Respecting Ordination and other Sacraments, bear well in mind that He Who baptizes and He Who ordains is Christ the Lord, the Chief Bishop of our souls. But if any one is reluctant to receive Ordination from his hand, no one obliges you to \[cause him to\] be ordained. Yet I hold it to be quite certain that there is nothing to fear when the sacraments received are administered according to the rules of the Church. Otherwise, if we wished to avoid all evil men, though the Church bears with them, it would be needful to go out of the world. In conclusion, there will be no long delay in bringing the matter under the notice of the Pope, and what he orders or directs you will be able with a good conscience to hold and follow. In the meantime wait calmly and patiently. LETTER CCCLIV. (A.D. 1142.)TO MILISENDIS, QUEEN OF JERUSALEM, DAUGHTER OF KING BALDWIN AND WIFE OF FULKHe advises the Queen how she ought to conduct herself now that her husband Fulk was dead. To the most illustrious Queen of Jerusalem, M., BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and that she may find grace in the sight of the Lord. If I looked only at your title of Queen, your power and your illustrious birth, it would seem to me that there was a certain unfitness in my writing to you, among the multiplied cares and business which trouble you in the midst of your Court. All these things are before the eyes of men, and those who are without them envy those who possess them, and think the man happy to whom they belong. But what blessedness is there in the possession of those things which are all destroyed, as it were, in a moment like the grass of the field, and fall in a moment like flowers? They are indeed pleasant, but their pleasantness alters; it is changeable, perishable, and temporary, because it is the pleasantness only of the flesh; and it is of the flesh and its good things that it is said, All flesh is grass and the glory of it as the flower of grass (Isaiah 40:6). I ought not, therefore, to be withheld from writing to you by such things as those, since their favour is deceitful and their beauty vain. Receive, therefore, what I have in a few words to say: for although I might say much to you, yet I shall make my letter short, because of your many cares as well as mine. My counsels shall be short but salutary: deign to receive them from the distant land from whence they come, like a little seed which shall one day produce an abundant harvest. Receive, I say, advice from the hand of a friend, who seeks in offering it your honour only, and not any advantage of his own. You know that no one can be a more faithful counsellor than he who loves you alone, not the favours which he may receive from you. The King, your husband, is dead; the young King, your son, being still unable by his youth to bear the burden of the cares of State and to discharge the Royal office, the eyes of all are turned towards you, and upon you alone all the weight of government rests. You need, therefore, to put your hand to brave actions, and, though a woman, to show the spirit of a man; and to do those things which have to be done in the spirit of counsel and strength. It is of great consequence that you should take order for all things with such prudence and discretion that all who behold you may think you from your actions rather a King than a Queen. Let them not say among the nations: Where is the King of Jerusalem? But you will say: I am not sufficient for these things. For these are great matters, above my strength and my knowledge. These are the duties of a man, and I am but a woman, weak in body, changeable in heart, neither provident in counsel, nor accustomed to business. I know, my daughter, I know that these things are great, but I also know this, that although the waves of the sea are mighty, the Lord, who dwelleth on High, is also mighty. These things are indeed great, but great is our Lord, and great is His power. LETTER CCCLV. (Circa A.D. 1142.)TO THE SAME QUEENHe recommends to her some Religious of Prémontré, who were making pilgrimage to Jerusalem. You see how greatly I presume on your goodness, since I venture to recommend others also to you. However, it would be as unnecessary as presumptuous perhaps for me to say much in commendation of these brethren of Prémontré, for they so commend themselves by their own merit that they have no need to be commended by another person. They will be found, if I mistake not, men of wisdom, fervent in spirit, patient in tribulation, powerful in word and work. They have put on the whole armour of God, and have girded themselves with the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, not against flesh and blood, but against Spiritual wickedness in high places. Receive them as warlike, and yet peaceful: gentle towards men, warlike only towards evil spirits. Rather, I should say, receive in them Christ Himself, who is the cause of their pilgrimage. LETTER CCCLVI. (A.D. 1141.)TO MALACHI, ARCHBISHOP OF IRELANDHe sends back to Malachi the Religions confided to him for training, and expresses regret that they are not as perfectly instructed and practised in the religious life as he could wish, on account of his many occupations. To MALACHI, by the grace of God Bishop, and Legate of the apostolic See, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and all the blessing that the prayer of a sinner (if it be of any avail) can venture to ask. I have done what your Holiness directed, if not as well as I could have wished, yet as perfectly as was possible at this time. I am overwhelmed with affairs so numerous and difficult that I scarce know how I have been able to succeed in doing the little I have done. I send you only a few grains of seed, as you see, which may avail to sow a very small part of that field in which the true Isaac once went forth to meditate, when first Rebecca was led to him by the servant of Abraham his father, to be happily joined to him in an endless union (Gen. 24.), nor is that seed to be despised respecting which what was spoken in the time of our fathers is found to be fulfilled at this time in the midst of you. If the Lord of Sabaoth had not left us a seed we should have been as Sodom and have been made like unto Gomorrah (Isaiah 1:9). I then have sowed, let it be your duty to water, and God will give the increase. I salute through you all the saints which are among you, humbly commending myself to your prayers and to theirs. Farewell. LETTER CCCLVII. (A.D. 1142.)TO THE SAMEHe begs Malachi not only to continue his friendship for him, but to increase it; and he asks Malachi to give him proof of this by caring for and favouring the brethren he has sent. To his very dear father and most reverend lord MALACHI, by the grace of God Bishop, Legate of the holy and apostolic See, the son of his Holiness Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and sends the assurance of his humble prayers. 1. How sweet to me, lord and father, are your words! how pleasant the remembrance of your holiness! If I am capable of any feeling of affection, of devotedness, and of gratitude, it is due to the kindness of your feeling towards me. But there is no need of many words, where the feelings are strong; for I trust that the Spirit of God which is in you will bear witness with your spirit, that I am entirely devoted to you. You also, dear and longed for father, will not have forgotten the poor Religious, who is bound to you by bonds of charity, and whose soul bears you in everlasting remembrance. For I do not commend myself to you as if for the first time, since I now for a long time glory in the Lord, that my humble self has been favoured to find grace in the eyes of your Holiness; but I pray that your friendship, though not new, may increase daily. I commend to you my sons, or rather yours, the more earnestly as they are so far removed from me. You know how entire is my confidence in you, after God, since I sent them to you, as it seemed to me that it would be wrong not to yield to the request of your Holiness. Do that which seems good to you, only open to them the bowels of your kindness, and have a care of them. Let not your diligent solicitude grow cold on their behalf, nor the plantation perish which is the work of your right hand. 2. I have already learned both from your letter, and from the report of my brethren, that your house is in a prosperous state, and is multiplied both in temporal and spiritual things. I greatly congratulate you upon this, and render thanks with my whole heart both to God, and to your paternal solicitude. But as there is still need of much vigilance, especially in a new country and among a population unaccustomed to a monastic form of religion, I entreat you in the Lord not to withdraw your hand, but to perfect happily what you have well begun. Concerning my brethren who have returned from that place, I should have been well pleased if they had remained; but it may be the case that those of your country whose characters are less disciplined, and who have shown a great repugnance for our observances, which were new to them, have been in great measure the reason for their return. 3. I have sent back to you Christian, my very dear son and yours, having instructed him as well as I could in all that concerns our Order, and I hope that he will be still more exact in observing them. Do not wonder that I have not sent any other brethren with him, since it is not easy to find fit persons who will willingly consent to go, nor was it my plan to oblige any to go against their will. My dear brother Robert has acquiesced in my request for this time, like an obedient son. It will, therefore, be your part to render him all the assistance in your power, as well in buildings as in other things necessary, that the interests of your house may be promoted. I suggest to your Paternity, also, that you should persuade those religious, upon whom you are counting for the house you are about to found, to unite others with themselves by coming to their Order. That will be of the greatest advantage to the house, and you will be the better obeyed. May your Holiness continue in health, and be mindful of me before the Lord Christ. LETTER CCCLVIII. (A.D. 1142.)TO POPE CELESTINEHe implores the assistance and influence of the Pope to obtain peace for Theobald, Count of Champagne. That which Count Theobald asks of you I ask also; he is a son of peace, and we entreat you that it may be brought about by your assistance. Your Apostolate is one of peace; the position which you hold is a debtor to peace. All love peace, but few merit it. But it cannot be denied that your son is one of those who love peace; whether he merits it likewise it is for you to judge. And if neither he nor I merit it, the necessity of the Spouse of Christ, that is, the Church, requires it; and the friend of the Bridegroom will not distress her. ft belongs to the Apostolic See alone to extend its solicitude over all the Churches, that all may be united under it and in it; it is its duty, then, to be careful for all, to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. Give us, then, this peace, send peace to us: if not to acquit yourself of an obligation towards us, at least because you ought to obey \[the duty imposed upon you\]. Enough for a command. LETTER CCCLIX. (A.D. 1143.)THE COMMUNITY OF CLAIRVAUX TO THE SAME CELESTINE They ask that the Abbot of Morimond may be forbidden to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. To the sovereign Pontiff C, the little flock of Clairvaux offer the homage of a most devoted and humble obedience, and the assurance of their humble prayers. Since we are happy to see you filling the place of Him who said that His daily charge was the care of all the Churches (2 Cor. 11:28), notwithstanding that the ears of your piety are occupied with more important matters, our necessity obliges us to ask for a moment of your attention. Nor do we, though humble, fear that we shall be repulsed; He, too, will recompense you for listening to His poor, whom you will one day hear say respecting them, That which ye have done unto one of the least of the brethren ye have done unto Me (S. Matthew 25:40). For this is the cause, not of our community only, but of our entire Order. Certainly if your son, our superior and father, had been at home at the time when this supplication is being addressed to you, he would either have come in person to your Majesty, or at least he would have written in his own name this deplorable complaint. But not to hold your charity longer in suspense, one of our brother Abbots, who is called of Morimond, has had the levity to quit the monastery over which he presided under pretext of making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and it is said that it is his intention before he goes farther, to try to take your prudence by surprise, and to extort in some way from you the permission to do so. If you should give him any such license (which we trust will not happen) consider what disastrous consequences would follow to our Order: for by this example any Abbot who shall feel himself burdened by his pastoral charge will throw it off, since he will suppose that he may not unlawfully do so, especially among us, with whom the post of Superior is a great burden, but has not a great amount of honour. Furthermore, in order to complete the destruction of the house committed to his charge, he has taken with him the best and most exemplary of the brethren who were under him, among: whom is one youth of good family, whom he had already (not without scandal) carried off from Cologne, as we believe you are aware, which scandal will be much increased by his carrying him off a second time. He will declare, perhaps, as we have heard, that he intends to observe in those countries all the rules of our Order, and that it is with this intention he has taken with him a certain number of Religious, but who does not perceive that in that land is more need of soldiers to fight than of monks to sing or pray? But our Order will receive the greatest detriment from this action of his: since it will be made easy for any Religious who takes it into his head to wander over the world, and he will have no scruple in pretending to undertake a pilgrimage to some country where he will be able to observe his Rule. We shall not be so presumptuous as to suggest what you will be pleased to do, or what order you will give in this matter, which we commit to your judgment. LETTER CCCLX. (A.D. 1143.)TO WILLIAM, ABBOT OF RIEVAULXHe again exhorts William to resignation and patience. To his very dear brother and co-Abbot, WILLIAM of Rievaulx, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and the spirit of wisdom. I have striven to the utmost of my power against the common evil, and if I have not succeeded in obtaining what I wished, yet the fruit of my labour remains with Him who suffers no good work to remain without recompense. This, then, is the true consolation of us and of all who strive for the truth, that there is laid up for us a crown of righteousness, which the righteous Judge shall bestow upon us in that day. Furthermore, I beg you now to bear in mind \[what He has said\], that if we suffer for righteousness sake happy are we, and that the wrong-doing of another person to which we have not consented, but have, on the contrary, protested against, cannot defile us. This, then, is our consolation, so that in our patience we must now possess our souls; and since we are unable to obtain help from men, let us hope for it from God, who will not despise those who hope in Him. For I trust in the mercy of our Heavenly Father, that every plant which He has not planted shall be plucked up, and that He will wither up with His malediction the barren fig tree, so that it shall not occupy the ground any longer. I beg and entreat, therefore, of you, my brother, to calm yourself, and not to trouble the flock which has been committed by God to your charge, but rather console yourself and strive bravely to serve the Lord in holiness, and He will deliver us from our enemies. I, however, have striven as far as I could to influence the Lord Bishop of Frascati, who is charged with the functions of Legate in those parts, and he has faithfully promised me that if nothing better can be done for us, this, at least, he will observe, that under no circumstances will he deliver the pallium which he bears to the Archbishop if the Dean (who is now become Bishop) shall not have made the statement on oath upon which the whole case depends; but that he will refer the cause to the Pope for decision. LETTER CCCLXI. (Circa A.D. 1144.)TO ARCHBISHOP THEOBALD, ON BEHALF OF JOHN OF SALISBURYBernard, confiding in the friendship of Theobald, recommends John to him. Nothing does me more honour or makes me more grateful to you than to see that my friends find favour in your eyes for my sake. Yet I seek not glory from man, but the Kingdom of God and His righteousness. Thus it is that I send to your Highness the bearer of this letter, John, who is my friend and the friend of my friends, and I venture to ask for him the goodness and kindness which I feel assured you have for me, since I have always experienced it from you. For he has the testimony of all good men that he is very meritorious as well for his virtue as his knowledge. Nor have I learned this from those who use words rashly, but from my own sons, whose witness is for me as certain as if I had seen it with my own eyes. I had already recommended him to you in person, but now being absent from you, I recommend him so much the more earnestly and confidently, because I have learned from trustworthy witnesses how blameless are the life and character of the man. If, then, I have any interest with you, or rather because I believe that I have much, make for him some provision upon which he may sufficiently and honourably live, and deign to do this without delay, because he knows not whither to turn. In the meantime be so kind as to provide for his needs, and let me thus experience, my very dear father, the affection which you retain in your heart for me. LETTER CCCLXII. (A.D. 1145.)TO ROBERT PULLEN, CARDINAL AND CHANCELLORBernard entreats him to show himself an efficient helper to Pope Eugenius, then recently elected, in the government of the Church. To his lord and very dear friend ROBERT, by the grace of God Cardinal-Presbyter and Chancellor of the holy Roman Church, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, health and the assurance of his prayers. 1. I have received your letter with so much the greater pleasure that I hold you always in kindly remembrance. I can assure you that you have no need of letters of introduction to me, or of the praises of anyone, since it is a thing without doubt, in my mind, that the Spirit of truth testifies how sincerely I love you, and that I am loved by you; that Spirit, I say, by whom charity is spread abroad in our hearts. Blessed be God who according to His mercy has prevented our, or rather His, Eugenius with the blessings of sweetness, preparing a lantern for His Anointed; and has also sent before him a faithful man to be his helper, which is to me also a very great consolation. For when the vocation of my friend and his separation from his friend in whom he delighted in the Lord was a trouble to him, then the Lord, as I perceive plainly at this time, had thoughts of peace, and not of affliction, towards him, and was saying, What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter (S. John 13:7). Wherefore be thou careful, my dear friend, for him to whom God has ordered that you should be a consoler and a counsellor; and watch carefully, according to the wisdom given to you, that he may not, through the multiplicity of affairs fall into the snares of unworthy people, and be led into some decision unworthy of the apostolate of Eugenius. 2. Show yourself, therefore, my dear friend, what you ought to be in the post which you occupy, and in the high rank to which you have attained; employ bravely and prudently the zeal which is in you for God, to His glory, to your own salvation, and to the great good of the Church, so that you too may be able to say, the grace of God which was in me was not in vain (1 Cor. 15:10). Up to this day you have lavished your learning faithfully and with great use upon a number of objects, as heaven and earth bear witness; but now the time is come to labour for God, and to employ all your powers to hinder the setting aside of His law by the wicked. Study, therefore, O Father, dearly-beloved and longed for, to be found a faithful and prudent servant of the Lord, even in this post which is committed to you; as far as regards yourself, show the simplicity of the dove, and for the Church, the spouse of the Lord, which is now entrusted to your care and faithfulness, show the wisdom of the serpent, so as to preserve her from the envenomed snares of the old malignant serpent, that thus in each of your virtues God may be glorified. I should have many things still to say to you; but there is no need of a long letter where the living voice is at hand. Wherefore, sparing your many occupations, as well as my own, I have put my words in the mouth of the brethren which are present before you; listen to them as to myself. Farewell. LETTER CCCLXIII. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE CLERGY AND PEOPLE OF EASTERN FRANCEBernard exhorts them to take arms against the Infidels in defence of the Church in the East. In opposition to the incendiary appeals of a certain Religious, he tells them that the Jews are not to be persecuted, much less put to death. To the lords and very dear fathers, the Archbishops and Bishops, with the whole Clergy and the faithful people of Eastern France and Bavaria, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, desires that they may abound in the Spirit of strength. 1. I write to you with respect to a matter which concerns the service of Christ, in whom is our salvation. This I say in order that the Lord’s authority may excuse the unworthiness of the person who speaks; let the consideration of its usefulness to yourselves also excuse the faults of my address. I am, indeed, of small account; but I have no small love for you all in the bowels of Jesus Christ. This, now, is my reason for writing to you, that I may thus approach you as a whole. I would rather do so by word of mouth, if as well as the will the opportunity were afforded me. Behold, brethren, now is the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation. The earth also is moved and has trembled, because the God of heaven has begun to destroy the land which is His. His, I say, in which the Word of the Father evidently taught, and for more than thirty years dwelt a man among men. His, for He enlightened it with miracles, He consecrated it with His own blood; in it appeared the first fruits of His Resurrection. And now, for our sins, the enemies of the Cross have raised blaspheming: heads: ravaging with the edge of the sword the land of promise. For they are almost on the point, if there be not One to withstand them, of bursting into the very city of the living God, of overturning the sanctuaries of our redemption, of polluting the holy places of the spotless Lamb with purple blood. Alas! they rage against the very shrine of the Christian Faith with blasphemous mouths, and would enter and trample down the very couch on which for us our Life lay down to sleep in death. 2. What are you doing then, O brave men? What are you doing, O servants of the Cross? Will you give what is holy to the dogs, and cast your pearls to swine? How many sinners there, confessing their sins with tears, have obtained pardon, after the defilement of the heathen has been purged by the swords of your fathers! The wicked man sees and is grieved, he gnashes with his teeth, and consumes away. He prepares the instruments of sin, and will leave no sign or trace of so great piety, if ever (which God forbid) he gain possession of this holiest of holy places. Verily that would be an irremediable grief to all time—because an irrecoverable loss, a vast disgrace to this most graceless generation, and an everlasting shame. 3. What are we then to think, brethren? Is the Lord’s arm shortened so that it cannot save, because He calls His weak creatures to guard and restore His heritage? Can He not send more than twelve legions of angels, or just speak the word, and the land shall be set free? It is altogether in His power to effect, when he wishes; but I tell you, the Lord your God is trying you. He looks upon the sons of men, to see if there be any to understand, and seek, and bewail His error. For the Lord hath pity upon His people, and provides a sure remedy for those that are afflicted. 4. Think what care He uses for your salvation, and wonder; behold the abyss of His love, and trust Him, O ye sinners. He wills not your death, but that you may turn and live; for now he seeks occasion, not against you, but for your benefit. What opportunity of salvation has God not tried and sought out, when the Almighty deigns to summon to His service murderers, robbers, adulterers, perjurers, and those guilty of other crimes, as if they were a people that dealt righteously? Doubt Him not, O sinners; God is kind. If He willed to punish you, He not only would not seek your service, but would not accept it when offered. Again I say, weigh the riches of the goodness of the Highest God, hear his plan of mercy. He makes or feigns a need for Himself, while He desires to help your necessity. He wills to be held a debtor, that He may give pay to those that fight for Him, pardon of sins, and everlasting glory. Therefore I may call it a highly-favoured generation, which has happened upon a time so full of indulgence, upon which has come that acceptable year of the Lord, a very jubilee. For this blessing is spread over the whole world, and all fly eagerly to the sign of life. 5. Since, therefore, your land is fruitful in brave men, and is known to be full of robust youth, your praise is in the whole world, and the fame of your valour has filled the entire earth; gird up your loins, therefore, manfully, and take up arms prevailingly in zeal for the Christian name. Let not your former warlike skill cease, but that spirit of hatred, in which you are accustomed to strike down and kill one another, and in turn be overcome yourselves. How dire a madness goads those wretched men, when kinsmen strike each other’s bodies with the sword, perchance causing the soul also to perish? But he does not escape who triumphs; the sword shall go through his own soul also, when he rejoices at having slain his enemy only. To enter such a combat is madness, not valour: not to be ascribed to bravery, but rather to foolishness. Now, O brave Knight, now, O warlike hero, you have a battle you may fight without danger: where it is glory to conquer, and gain to die. If you are a prudent merchant, if you are a desirer of this world: I show you some great bargains, see you lose them not. Take the sign of the Cross, and you shall gain pardon for every sin that you confess with contrite heart. The material itself being bought is worth little: if it be placed on a devout shoulder, it is without doubt worth no less than the kingdom of God. Therefore they have done well who have already taken the heavenly sign: well and wisely also will do the rest, if they hasten to lay upon their shoulders, like the first, the sign of salvation. 6. Besides, brethren, I warn you, and not only I, but God’s Apostle, Believe not every spirit (1 S. John 4:1). We have heard and rejoice that the zeal of God abounds in you, but it behoves no mind to be wanting in wisdom. The Jews must not be persecuted, slaughtered, nor even driven out. Inquire of the pages of Holy Writ. I know what is written in the Psalms as prophecy about the Jews, God hath shown me, says the Church, thou shalt not slay my enemies, neither shall my people be ever forgotten. They are living signs to us, representing the Lord’s Passion. For this reason they are dispersed into all regions, that now they may pay the just penalty of so great a crime, that they may be witnesses of our redemption. Wherefore the Church, speaking in the same Psalm, says, Scatter them in thy strength, and cast them down, O Lord my Protector (Ps. 59:11). So has it been. They have been dispersed, cast down. They undergo a hard captivity under Christian princes. Yet they shall be converted at evening-time, and remembrance of them shall be made in due season. Finally, when the multitude of the Gentiles shall have entered in, then all Israel shall be saved (Rom. 11:25), saith the Apostle. Meanwhile, he who dies remains in death. 7. I do not enlarge on the lamentable fact that where there are no Jews, there Christian men judaize even worse than they in extorting usury, if, indeed, we may call them Christians, and not rather baptized Jews. If the Jews be utterly trampled down, how shall the promised salvation or conversion profit them in the end? Evidently if their salvation is to be waited for equally with that of the Gentiles the latter also should rather be preserved than attacked with the sword. But now when they begin to be violent against us, it behoves them to repel force with force who bear not the sword in vain. It is the part of Christian piety as much to overthrow the proud as to spare the conquered, those especially whose kingdom is yet promised, of whom came the patriarchs, and of whom was Christ after the flesh, who is blessed for ever. Yet we must require of them according to the apostolic command, that they should set free from the bond of usury all who have taken the sign of the cross. 8. This also we must warn you, dearest brethren, that if any love to bear rule among you, and wish by hastening to anticipate the army of his country, that he by no means attempt to do it. If he pretend to have been sent by us, it is not true; or if he show letters as if given by us they are altogether false, I warn you, or obtained by fraud. It is the part of such to choose warlike and skilful leaders, and for the army of the Lord to set out together, that it may have strength everywhere, and not be able to sustain injury from any. There was in a former expedition, before Jerusalem was taken, a certain man, Peter by name, of whom you (unless I mistake) have often heard mention. He went alone at the head of a mass of people who had entrusted themselves to his care, and led them into so great dangers that none, or at least very few, escaped dying by hunger or the sword. So there is fear lest, if you do likewise, the same fate should overtake you also, which may God, who is blessed for ever, avert from you. Amen. LETTER CCCLXIV. (A.D. 1146.)TO PETER, ABBOT OF CLUNYHe invites Peter to attend a meeting at Chartres in order to consult as to rendering help to the Church in the East. To his very dear father PETER, by the grace of God the venerable Abbot of Cluny, Brother BERNARD, of Clairvaux, wishes health, and sends the assurance of his humble prayers. 1. I imagine that the sad and lamentable groanings of the Church in the East have not failed to come to your ears, yes, even to the bottom of your heart. It becomes you, in the high post which you occupy, to show a sincere feeling of compassion for that Church, the common mother of all, in the sad state to which it is reduced, and in the great difficulties by which it is surrounded. The more elevated, I repeat, is the position which you hold, the more you ought to be consumed with an earnest zeal for the House of God. Otherwise, if we harden our hearts and affections at the sight of such misfortunes; where is our love towards God, or our charity towards our neighbours? If, then, we do not exert ourselves with all the earnestness in our power to find and supply a remedy to such great evils and dangers, how ungrateful should we not be shown to be to God, who shelters us in His tabernacle in the day of evil? and should we not merit to be punished the more severely, that we had shown ourselves neglectful both of God’s glory, and of the salvation of our brethren? These considerations I have been led to suggest thus confidently and plainly, on account of the kindness with which your Excellence has deigned to honour my unworthiness. 2. Our fathers, then, the Bishops of France, with our lord the King and his nobles, have determined to meet on the third Sunday after Easter at the city of Chartres in order to take counsel together about this great affair: and I trust that we may be favoured with your presence there also. For the advice of all the more eminent men is needed: and you will render a service not unacceptable to God, if you do not hold back from this business, but approve your zeal in a season so opportune, in a time of tribulation. For you know, dear father, that a friend is proved in time of adversity. I am convinced that your presence will be of great advantage to this expedition, as well because of the influence belonging to the holy Abbey of Cluny, over which, in God’s Providence, you preside, as because of the wisdom and popularity which has been bestowed upon you for the honour of God and the good of your neighbours. May He deign to influence your mind, not to hesitate to come, and to give the advantage of your presence to His servants gathered in His name, and for zeal in His service. LETTER CCCLXV. (A.D. 1146.)TO HENRY, ARCHBISHOP OF MAYENCEHe blames a monk named Ralph, who was instigating the faithful to the massacre of the Jews. To the venerable lord and very dear father HENRY, Archbishop of Mayence, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and that he may find favour with God. 1. I have received your esteemed letter with the deep respect due to it; but my reply must be brief, on account of the multiplicity of business with which I am burdened. The confiding of your complaint to me is a sign and pledge of your affection, and a proof of your extreme humility. For who am I, and what is my father’s house, that an Archbishop should refer to me a contempt of his authority and an injury to his metropolitan See? For am I not as a young child, not knowing how to come in and go out? But yet I am not ignorant of those words full of truth which proceed from the mouth of the Highest: It is impossible but that offences come, but woe to him from whom they come (S. Matt. 18:7). He of whom you speak in your letter has received a mission neither from men, nor through men, and certainly not from God. If he boasts that he is a monk and a hermit, and that therefore he has full power even to take the office of a preacher, let him learn what he ought to know, that the office of a Religious is that of penitence, not of preaching, and that for a true Religious, towns are prisons and solitude a Paradise. It is not so with the man in question, for him it is solitude which is a prison and a town a Paradise. O man without feeling or modesty! whose foolishness has been placed, as it were, on a candlestick so that it may plainly appear to all in the house. 2. There are three things in him most worthy of blame: his usurpation of the right to preach, his contempt of the authority of the Bishop, and finally his inciting to murder. What new power is this? Do you suppose yourself greater than our father Abraham (Gen. 22.), who laid down his sword at the bidding of him at whose command he had taken it up? Are you greater than the Prince of the Apostles who inquired of the Lord, Lord, shall we strike with the sword? (S. Luke 22:49). If you were instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, that is the wisdom of this world which is foolishness towards God (1 Cor. 3:19), and you reply to the question of Peter in a different manner than He did who said to Peter: Put up again thy sword into its sheath, for he who takes the sword shall perish by the sword (S. Matt. 26:52). Does not the Church triumph a hundred times better over the Jews in convincing them every day of their error and in converting them to the faith, than if it were to exterminate them once for all by the edge of the sword? Does the Church universal from the rising of the sun even to its setting put up to God to no purpose that universal petition on behalf of the unbelieving Jews that our Lord God would take away the veil from their hearts and enable them to pass out of darkness into the light of truth? It would seem useless and vain to pray for them if she had not hope that though now without faith they will one day believe. But she understands with a pious insight that the Lord who renders good for evil and love for hatred has a purpose of grace towards them. Where is then that which is spoken, See that thou slay them not (Ps. 49:11). Or this: When the fulness of the Gentiles shall have come in then shall all Israel be saved (Rom. 11:25, 26). Or this: The Lord doth build up Jerusalem and will gather together the outcasts of Israel? (Ps. 147:2). Are you not the man who will make the Prophets liars and will render empty and useless all the treasures of the piety and mercy of Jesus Christ? Your doctrine is not yours, but that of your father who sent you. It is not surprising if you are as your master: for he was a murderer from the beginning, a liar and the father of falsehood (S. John 8:44). O frightful knowledge; O infernal wisdom contrary to the Prophets, hostile to the Apostles, a subversion of piety and grace! O unclean heresy, sacrilegious deceiver, filled with the spirit of falsehood, which hath conceived sorrow and brought forth ungodliness (Ps. 7:15). I would wish, but fear, to say more. In conclusion, to sum up briefly all that I think upon these matters: the man is great in his own eyes, full of the spirit of arrogance. His words and his actions reveal that he is striving to make a name for himself among the great of the earth, but he has not the means to succeed in his object. Farewell. LETTER CCCLXVI. (A.D. 1146.)TO THE ABBESS HILDEGARDEHe modestly rejects her praises: he warns her to recognise what she owes to the Grace of God: and begs her prayers for him and for his brethren. To his beloved daughter in Christ, HLLDEGARDE, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and all that the prayer of a sinner can obtain. It seems to me that certain persons think very differently of so humble a person as myself, from that which my own conscience knows to be true: and that it is to be attributed not to my merits, but to the simplicity of mankind. Yet I hasten to reply to the sweet and charitable letter which you have had the goodness to write to me, although the number of my occupations obliges me to do so more briefly than I could wish. I congratulate you on the Grace of God which is in you, and kindly warn you to be careful to respond to it in a disposition of entire humility and devotion in order that you may retain this grace, knowing that God resisteth the proud and giveth grace to the humble (S. James 4:6). That is the advice which I give to you, as far as in me lies, and the prayer that I make for you. But what am I to be able either to teach, or to give warning, to one in whom is the secret intuition and the anointing which teaches all things. For you are said to be so favoured as that the hidden things of Heaven are revealed to you, and that the Holy Spirit makes known to you those things which pass man’s understanding. Wherefore I rather entreat and humbly pray that you would make remembrance of me before God, and of those who are joined with me in spiritual society. For I trust that when you are united to God in the Spirit, you will be able to help and profit us much. For the fervent prayer of a righteous person availeth much (S. James 5:16). As for me, I pray for you continually, that you may be strengthened in good, that your soul may be perfected, and you may be enabled to attain unto eternal joys: so that those who have put their hope in God may not be led to despair by seeing your failure: but may be, on the contrary, strengthened in good, and may progress from one degree of good to another, by beholding the blessings and graces which you have received from God. LETTER CCCLXVII. (Circa A.D. 1147.)TO THE CHANCELLOR GBernard recommends to him the Bishop of Metz. Your predecessor, the Chancellor Haimeric of good memory, held the Lord Bishop of Metz in special affection; and as often as he sent messengers to Rome received them with great kindness and assisted them as much as he could. Wherefore I beg you to be so kind as to walk in his footsteps, and to assist with the arms of the Church that noble Bishop, who is placed in a position of great difficulty. LETTER CCCLXVIII. (Circa A.D. 1147.)TO THE CARDINAL-DEACON GBernard gratefully thanks him for his affectionate letter, and the presents sent to him, and dissuades him from the love of riches and of earthly things. To his lord and very dear friend G., by the grace of God Cardinal-Deacon in the holy Roman Church, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, health and the assurance of his devoted prayers. 1. I thank you in the Lord for having prevented me so liberally with the blessings of sweetness, and if there be any bowels of mercy, any affection or charity in me, the kindly humility and unaffected kindness of the mind of one so illustrious fully deserves it from me. For I knew already, and rejoiced over the earnest zeal in you, of which I had heard from my brethren; but now I feel myself so much more indebted to you for the affection so humble and devoted with which you have commended yourself to so humble a person as I. I would wish, indeed, to be sufficiently powerful with God to acquit myself of my obligation to you. Wherefore I was anxious also to read to my brethren the letter in which your heart is fully displayed—a letter filled with devoted affection, with piety and grace; to show them also the blessing which you had given to us, and to direct as you had ordered, that the Holy Mysteries of the Mass, should be celebrated in those very vessels, for the memory of you and yours. May God make of you a vessel to honour in His great house \[which is His Church\], so that it may be our happiness to hear one day He is for me a vessel of election (Acts 9:15). This is our most earnest prayer. For the Spirit of Truth is our witness, by whom also the love of God is spread abroad in our hearts (Romans 5:5), how greatly we long for you in the bowels of Jesus Christ. 2. As it is in God alone that I feel for you the affection with which my heart is full, not only is my intercession on your behalf directed to this, but I wish you to pray for yourself that you may perceive carefully how you ought to behave yourself in the House of God, and to discharge the functions of your ministry. For I say this, not of presumption, God knows, but of charity, since the judgment is severe upon those who bear rule if they do not labour to rule profitably (Wisdom 6:5); and, on the contrary, he who has ministered well shall gain a good degree (1 Tim. 3:13). Do you, then, my lord, dearly-beloved and longed for, study, I beseech you, to avoid evil and to do good more and more; let no one see you seeking your own advantage in the heritage of Christ, but be always mindful of the words of the Apostle, We have brought nothing into the world, and it is certain that we can carry nothing out (1 Tim. 6:7). Wherefore guard well your soul, since that is your immortal part. Let it not be able by any temptation to be torn away from, or uprooted from that disposition of which the Lord speaks in the Gospel: What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? (S. Matt. 16:26). Unhappy, unspeakably unhappy, are they who spend all their lives in the enjoyment of their good things, so as to fall in an instant into the depths of hell! (Job 21:13). They will carry away nothing of all that they possess when they perish, neither shall their glory descend with them (Ps. 49:17); it is but a vapour, appearing for a moment (S. James 4:15). Think of these things, my dear friend; meditate seriously upon them; grave them upon your heart, nor let them ever depart from your memory. Farewell. LETTER CCCLXIX. (Circa A.D. 1147.)TO ABBOT SUGERHe congratulates Suger on the reformation of the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève, happily set on foot, and urges him to persevere in his undertaking. To his very dear father and lord SUGER, by the grace of God the venerable Abbot of S. Denys, Brother BERNARD, of Clairvaux, health and the assurance of his prayers. Blessed be God who by your hands has re-established the salutary reign of rule and discipline in the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève. The Apostolic authority itself thanks you because you have set about a great work faithfully and effectually. I, too, with all those who love the Lord in truth, render to you such thanks as we can. I beg and earnestly entreat your Greatness that, according to the tenor of the Pope’s letter, you would cause the work to proceed with all speed, that what has been grandly begun may go on from day to day and be happily accomplished. I regard it as unnecessary to ask your kind help for the Abbey of S. Victor, because I am aware that the charge of all the religious houses has been committed to you. But it is needful to be particularly watchful over those in which the state of religion leaves much to be desired. LETTER CCCLXX. (Circa A.D. 1147.)TO THE SAMEHe recommends to Suger the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève. To his very dear father and lord SUGER, Abbot of S. Denys, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, health and the assurance of his friendship. It behoves you to fulfil the duties of him who has left you in his stead, or rather to do the work of the Lord your God, who has chosen you for the functions which you have to discharge. It is plainly the work of God to have restored religion and order in the Abbey of Ste. Geneviève-du-Mont; that new plantation finds in you its great guardian and helper. I entreat you that what you have well begun you will finish still better, and that you will oppose yourself as a wall for the defence of the house of Israel that man may not prevail against it. Be so kind, I entreat of you, as to raise up again the courage of the Abbot of that place, who is easily cast down: that will be especially conducive to the honour of your person as well as to the saving of your soul, particularly at this time. LETTER CCCLXXI. (Circa A.D. 1147.)TO THE SAMEBernard opposes the marriage projected between the son of the Count of Anjou and the daughter of the King of France, on account of the impediment of consanguinity. To the lord Abbot of S. Denys, Brother BERNARD, of Clairvaux, health and the assurance of his prayers. I have written thus to the lord King:— “You have undertaken an enterprise important and weighty, which no one is able to carry through except by the assistance of Divine strength.” The business in which you are engaged is above the powers of man, but that is easy to God which to men is impossible (S. Luke 18:27). “Knowing this you ought to take the greatest care not in any way to repulse the help so necessary to you, nor by any project of yours to offend God and to deprive yourself of the furtherance of His grace. You ought, I repeat, now to take the greatest care never to provoke God so that He should be angry with you, should turn away His face, and withdraw His assistance from you. For this danger affects not the King alone, but the whole Church of God, since the cause which you have undertaken is also that of the whole world. Listen, and you will learn the cause which induces me to remind you of these facts. I am hastening indeed to your presence, as this letter shows, but I have formed the project of keeping the vigil of S. Mary Magdalene at Laon. Nevertheless, I have taken care to forewarn you by another letter of the danger which I am anxious that you should avoid. For I have heard that the Count of Anjou is pressing you to engage under oath your daughter to his son in marriage. Now this union is not only inexpedient, but it is not lawful; as well for other reasons as because of the impediment of consanguinity; since I know upon trustworthy information that the mother of the Queen, and of that young man, the son of the Count of Anjou, are related in the third degree. On this account permit me to urge you by no means to enter into this engagement, but to fear God and depart from evil. You have promised me that you would on no account do this without consulting me: and I should have done wrong if I had hidden from you my view. My advice then is by no means to go on with the affair. If you do, you will have acted both against my advice and that of many others who are your well-wishers; and also against the will of God. Do not think that after that God will accept your sacrifice, since it is made only in part: so that while you are combating on behalf of another kingdom, you do not leave your own in safety, while you order it against the will and the law of God, as also against what is honourable and advisable. I have now freed my own soul of responsibility: may God free yours also from lying lips and the deceitful tongue.” LETTER CCCLXXII. (Circa A.D. 1147.)TO P., BISHOP OF PALENCIA, IN SPAINBernard praises him for his humility, and particularly for his love of reading. To his venerable lord and very dear father P., by the grace of God Bishop of Palencia, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and prays that the Lord may prevent him with the blessings of sweetness. Who will give me the wings of a dove that I may take my flight to repose within the odour of your sanctity? Your saintly life and the purity of your character have filled me with the odour of your sweetness, which seems to me, as it were, the odour of a fertile field which the Lord hath blessed. In it my soul is truly filled with marrow and fatness, and in such is the life of my spirit. For how can it be otherwise, when I hear of a man of lofty character and yet humble, full of cares and business, and yet peaceful, and trembling at the Word of the Lord. O rare bird upon the earth, humility conjoined with high station, and a tranquil mind in the midst of the hurry of business! You have made to rejoice, my lord, the soul of your servant; may the merciful Lord make yours also rejoice with the joy of His people. I have rejoiced with great joy on hearing such things as I had not expected reported of you. For my brethren, the bearers of your letter, reported to me your zeal in mortifying the flesh and reducing it to subjection, your habit of meditation, your love of reading, the gentleness of your manners, your kindness to all, and especially to those who are of the household of faith. But do not think, my clear lather, that in speaking these words I intend to celebrate your praises. The word of blame spoken by the Prophet is before my mind: Those who praise thee, my people, they deceive thee. I am unwilling, though a sinner, to pour upon your head the oil of sinful praise: but rather the oil of joy which proceeds from a pure heart and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned. Nor am I a trafficker in this oil; I have only too little with which to anoint myself for the arena of this world; but I cannot pass over in silence the virtues which are to the praise of Christ. Let not the creature, but the Creator be praised. Let Him who gives, not he who has received, be exalted: not he who plants nor he who waters are to be praised, for they are nothing, but He who gives the increase, that is God. I, then, will praise the hand which is stretched out to give, not that stretched out to receive: the praise of the Lord, and not of His servant shall come out of my mouth. Do thou, then, my dear father, recognize, if you are wise, or rather because you are wise, that the grace which is in you does not come from yourself, but descends from the Father of Lights, since every good gift and every perfect gift is from above (S. James 1:17). I know that there are certain persons who have, as it were, a wise unwillingness to know the gifts which they have received from the Lord, so that they be not puffed up with pride nor fall into the snare of the devil. But it seems to me that I ought to know what I have received, in order that I may know what is wanting to me, and that I ought to know with the Apostle the things which have been bestowed upon me by God, in order that I may not be ignorant what I ought still to desire and pray for. For he who has received something and knows it not, is exposed to the double danger of being ungrateful for what he has received, and careless in preserving it. For how can any one render gratitude to a benefactor if he does not know that he has received anything from him? Or how will he be careful to guard that which he is not aware that he has received? Take away from me, O Lord, the blame of that ungrateful people of whom it is said: They forgat what He had done and the wonderful works that He had showed for them (Psalm 78:12). A benefit received, therefore, even according to the wise of this world, is to be graven deep in the tablets of the memory. It behoves us, then, that we should know how to take care of the gifts which we have received, and so that the grace of God in us may not be in vain: and that it may remain in us always, let us always render thanks to the Lord our God. I think it may be added, not unusefully, that you should proceed by three steps to the obtaining of grace and salvation: humility, faith, and fear. For humility is that quality to which grace is given, faith that in which it is received, fear that in which it is preserved. If we should wish to ascend to the throne of grace without the use of these three, I fear that it would be said to us, Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep (S. John 4:11). Let us, then, in order to drink of the water of wisdom, have the rope of humility: and let this humility be in mouth, in heart, and in action: which threefold cord is not easily broken. Let us have faith, as it were, for a water jar, and let it be great, so that much grace may be received in it: and let fear be, as it were, its cover, lest the water of wisdom be defiled with the impurities of vainglory: for it is written, Every open vessel which hath no covering bound upon it shall be unclean (Num. 19:15). Your devotion to reading also, in which you embrace not only the writings of great men, but also, the trifles which I have penned, calls for some mention from me: so that you may perceive what joy your kindly feeling has given to my heart. LETTER CCCLXXIII. (Circa A.D. 1147)FROM THE ABBOT OF SP. TO S. BERNARD He complains of the weight of the charge laid upon him. To his wished-for lord and very dear father BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, his son, the unprofitable servant of the Abbey at Sp., wishes health and the blessing of all nations. I have greatly desired that this letter should find you, if it were possible, free and disengaged from other business. For I have feared continually while writing, and think now with fear, of that man who desired to see Jesus, but was unable for the crowd because he was little of stature (S. Luke 19:3). And it is not only your leisure that I desire, but also that I should find grace in your eyes. For what solace would your leisure alone be to me? May God pardon you, what have you done? Where have you placed me, being such an one as I am, whose powers are so little in proportion to the burden that I have to bear? It seems to me to be heavier than the sands of the sea. For what am I, and what is my father’s house? Am I not a child who knows not how to come in or go out? What am I that I should be able with my own powers only to sustain, or rather raise up again the Abbey with which I am charged? It resembles an enclosure which is crumbling, or a wall in ruins. Such a business is above my powers, and I am consumed with useless labour. Still I strive even amidst my groans, but of what use are my labours and my groans? The diseases are of long standing, the plague an acute one, the mischief incurable except by a strong hand. Vices have been turned into habitudes, habitudes into custom, custom has become, as it were, a second nature, and is now a necessity. O how necessary it is that this necessity should be drawn out by the roots! But, I say it with tears, it has pushed such strong roots into the soil that they are too strong for me. So you see that I am absolutely wanting in the needful powers to give help. Even that brother who is the bearer of this letter, who was highly necessary to me, is leaving us. His charge was to teach the novices; they profited under his direction. I rejoiced in it, and hoped by the mercy of God a day might come when death might be swallowed up by life. I render this testimony in his favour, that as far as one man is permitted to judge of another, his conversation among us has been acceptable to God and pleasing to men. Therefore his departure cannot be without grief to me. You are able, my lord, to turn my sorrow into joy if I have found favour in your eyes. So far about these matters, other things the bearer will explain at greater length. LETTER CCCLXXIV. (A.D. 1148.)TO THE BRETHREN IN IRELAND, ON THE OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF THE BLESSED BILSHOP MALACHIThat the death of the Saints is a subject rather for joy than grief. That Clairvaux is honoured by the death and burial there of so great a man. To the Religious in Ireland, and particularly to the congregations founded by Bishop Malachi of blessed memory, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and the consolations of the Holy Spirit. 1. If we had here a continuing city, we should not have to shed abundant tears for the loss of so noble a fellow citizen. But if we are, as we ought, seeking one to come, it is a reason for no slight grief that we are deprived of so valuable a guide; but yet, as we ought to temper zeal with knowledge, so grief ought to be moderated with the confidence of hope. No one ought to wonder that distress forces a groan from us, that the loss of a friend causes us to weep; yet we must set bounds to our affliction in presence of the great consolation we have, when we consider not the things which are seen, but the things which are not seen: for those which are seen are temporal, but those not seen are eternal. In the first place, that holy soul is to be congratulated on his safe attainment of Paradise, so that we may not be open to the charge of want of charity, and that be said to us which the Lord said to the Apostles: If ye loved Me ye would rejoice because I go to the Father (S. John 14:28). The spirit of our father has only preceded us into the presence of the Father of spirits. We should be wanting not only in charity, but be guilty of the highest ingratitude, if we did not rejoice that he through whom we have received so many benefits has passed from labour to rest, from danger to safety, from the world to the Father. If, then, it is a mark of pious affection to weep for Malachi dead, it is still more a mark of this to rejoice with Malachi living. Who doubts that he is living? Undoubtedly he lives, and that in a state of happiness. To the eyes of the ungodly he seemed to die, but he has entered into peace. 2. Furthermore, if we consider this death as it affects ourselves, it suggests to us another motive for joy and gladness, because so faithful an advocate, so powerful a patron has preceded us to the court of Heaven, whose fervent charity cannot possibly forget his sons, and whose well-proved sanctity will find grace in the sight of God. For who is so bold as to suppose the holy Malachi either loves his sons less or is less able to be of service to them than before? For if he was loved by God before he quitted the earth, he receives now more certain proofs of that love; and since he had loved those that were his he loved them to the end. Far be it from us to suppose, O holy soul, that thy prayer is to be considered less efficacious when it is thine to offer it with increased ardour in the presence of the Divine Majesty; when thou no longer walkest in faith but reignest in the sight of God! Far be it from us to suppose that thy charity so unwearied is enfeebled when thou art at the very source of the Eternal charity, and art drinking long draughts of that Love for which thou didst thirst on earth whilst receiving only drops of it. Charity which is strong as death, yea, stronger than death itself, was not able to yield to death. Even when dying he was not unmindful of his sons, commending you most affectionately to God, and though I am so unworthy, entreating me also with his accustomed kindness and humility not to forget them even to the end. That is why I have thought myself bound to write to you, that you may know that I am entirely yours both in spiritual things, if there is anything in my poor powers that can ever through the merits of him our holy father be of service to you, and in temporal affairs, if opportunity should ever be given to me, I am ready to be of service to you with the greatest willingness. 3. And now, also, my dearly beloved, I deplore with my whole heart the heavy loss which the Church of Ireland has sustained; and I sympathize with you the more, as I am sensible that it imposes upon me greater duties on your behalf. God has indeed honoured us greatly in permitting that our house should be edified by the spectacle of his blessed death, and enriched by the precious treasure of his body. Let it not be a source of regret to you that he should have his resting-place among us; for God has so ordered it according to the multitude of His mercy that as you possessed him while living, it should be given to us to possess him after his death. He was indeed, and is, a common father both to us and to you, for at the very time of his death his will in this respect was confirmed to us. Wherefore let us all be embraced as friends and brethren in the bonds of mutual charity, and as we were dear to so holy a father, let this spiritual relationship make us dear to each other. 4. I conclude by exhorting you, brethren, to follow diligently the steps of our blessed father, and that so much more earnestly as his holy life has become quite well known to you by the sight of it daily, for in this you will approve yourselves his true sons, if you follow bravely the directions which he gave; and as you saw in him and heard from him how you ought to walk, study thus to walk and to abound more and more, for the wisdom of the sons is the glory of their father (Prov. 10:1). As for me, the example before me of such great perfection had a great influence in dispersing my sloth and increasing my reverence. Would that he may draw us after him, and that the remembrance of his virtues may make us run the race that is set before us, more willingly and earnestly. Pray for us, and may Christ have us all in His holy keeping. LETTER CCCLXXV. (A.D. 1148.)TO IDA, COUNTESS OF NEVERSHe complains to the Countess that some of her vassals had done injury to the monks at Vezelay. To his beloved daughter in Christ, the Countess of NEVERS, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health, and assures her of his prayers. The venerable Abbot of Vezelay complains that your vassals, and you yourself, prevent merchants and other persons from coming to Vezelay as they desire to do. Now since Count William of happy memory freely acknowledged before the Bishop of Auxerre, and in my presence, that to act thus was unjust and wrong; let me advise and entreat that you should not act in this way any more. For I fear if you should continue such acts that you may do much injury both to yourself in this world, and to your husband where he is, which I should greatly regret. Follow, then, my advice, and cause all these acts of injustice to cease. LETTER CCCLXXVI. (A.D. 1149.)TO ABBOT SUGERHe advises and requests that Suger should prevent certain noblemen from fighting a duel. To his venerable father and lord SUGER, by the grace of God Abbot of St. Denys, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and sends assurance of his prayers. It is time, and there is urgent need, that you should now take up the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, against a diabolical custom which is endeavouring to grow up a second time. Men who have just returned from the Crusade, Lord Henry, son of the Count, and Lord Robert, brother of the King, being enraged one against the other, have fixed one of those abominable meetings to attack and slay each other, after the festival of Easter, being bent on violating all laws. Judge in what disposition of mind they have made the journey to Jerusalem, since they have returned in such a mood. How fitly can this be said of them:—We would have healed Babylon, but she is not healed; they are stricken, but they have not grieved; they are consumed, but they have refused to receive correction (Jer. 51:9, and v. 13). After so many hardships and perils; after the sufferings and the misfortunes which they have had to endure; when the realm is in peace, these two return to it only to disturb and throw it into confusion, and that in the absence of the King. I advise and entreat your Highness, since you are the chief person in the kingdom, to oppose this breach of the peace resolutely, and, either by persuasion or by force, prevent its taking place; your honour, the happiness of the kingdom, and the interest of the Church all require this of you. If I appeal to force, it is to that which belongs to ecclesiastical discipline. I am writing in this sense to the Archbishops of Rheims and of Sens, to the Bishops of Soissons and of Auxerre, to Count Theobald and Count Rodolph. Oppose yourself to these great evils both on account of the King and on account of the Pope, to whom the peace of the realm is a matter of concern. LETTER CCCLXXVII. (A.D. 1149.)TO THE SAMEBernard praises his zeal and care for the good of the kingdom, and approves of his having called together the Estates of the Realm to remedy certain dangers. He encourages him to continue his efforts for the benefit of all. To his very dear father and lord SUGER, by the grace of God Abbot of S. Denys, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes the spirit of wisdom and consolation. 1. I have seen with extreme joy and pleasure the letter which your Highness has written to the Lord Archbishop of Tours. May the Most High bless you for the zeal and care with which you fulfil your charge of the realm of our most glorious King, so that he is freed in a measure from the troubles which threaten him at the present, and would speedily be upon him if they were not warded off with all your strength. It was, indeed, a counsel from God that you should call together the chief men, both of the State and of the Church, for deliberation; so that all who dwell on earth may see that he in whose hands the realm has been left is a devoted friend, a prudent counsellor, a strong and brave supporter to his Sovereign. And that Sovereign is one who is now in the service of the King whose kingdom is for ever and ever, who puts nations and kingdoms in movement so that the earthly land which belongs to the King of heaven, the land upon which His feet once stood, should not be lost. It was that King, I say, who when he was unrivalled in glory, abounding in riches, enjoying a secure peace, victorious in war, and in the prime of his youth, chose to exile himself from his own country, to serve in foreign lands, yet to serve Him whose service is royal. Who would dare to trouble his kingdom? who would venture upon such an impiety against the Lord and against His anointed? O, my lord King, I would that they were cut off who trouble thee! who seek harm to thee and thine whilst thou art remaining alone among foreign nations, so that the place might not be left desolate which the Lord hath chosen out of all lands to place His Name there. 2. Wherefore act bravely, and let your heart be strengthened, because the Lord God is with you, and protects the King who is in voluntary exile on His account. He who commands the winds and the sea will easily smooth the billows when they swell. The whole body of the Church of God will be with you, so that no one may rise up and make Israel to sin; and will thus support on the shoulders of all, the burden which is so heavy for yours. For now is the time when there is need for you to act as becomes the place which you hold, the dignity with which you are invested, the power which you have received: so that your memory may be recalled, not only with blessing, but also with praise and admiration by every generation which shall succeed. You have to provide with care that so important a branch of the Church of God should not have the labour of assembling without good result, and that measures should be taken either to prevent or crush all blameable projects for breaking the peace. I have in mind, though myself humble and obscure, to address you all when you are assembled in the Name of the Lord, in a letter which, if it is of no service, will at least show the warmth of my feeling towards you. May He who has inspired you with this good purpose enable you also to carry it out with success; may He bruise Satan under your feet, so that in that assembly the Lord may be glorified, His Church honoured, the realm strengthened and steadied, and those who speak and do evil reduced to silence. LETTER CCCLXXVIII. (A.D. 1149.)TO THE SAMEHe asks assistance in grain for the Religions of the Diocese of Bourges. To my very dear lord SUGER, by the grace of God the venerable Abbot of S. Denys, Brother BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes health and sends the assurance of his prayers. We have in the Archdiocese of Bourges some brethren who are in want of bread; they are those from Maison Dieu, and I hear that the crops of corn of the lord King are very abundant, and, because abundant, they are not of great value. Therefore, I entreat you that out of those crops you would order such a supply to be bestowed upon those brethren as you shall see fit. For the King, whenever he was in that district, was accustomed to make some gift to them. LETTER CCCLXXIX. (A.D. 1149.)TO THE SAMEHe entreats Suger to come to the help of a certain Abbot who is in want. To his lord and very dear father SUGER, by the grace of God the Reverend Abbot of S. Denys, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, health and his devoted prayers in Christ. I send a poor Abbot to a rich one, that the need of the one may be relieved out of the abundance of the other. In so doing I yield to you the better part, according to that saying of the Truth that it is better to give than to receive (Acts 20:35). Nor do I doubt that you would extend your bounty willingly and liberally to this one of the poor of Christ if you knew, as I do, his piety and probity, and the extreme necessity in which he is. He is burdened with debts, and he has not bread to eat, because his fields have produced only noxious herbs instead of grain. As your districts have not been stricken with the same sterility, I beg and entreat you of your charity to assist him, and you may be assured that whatever you shall be pleased to bestow upon him could not be devoted to a better object. LETTER CCCLXXX. (A.D. 1149.)TO THE SAMEOn the unhappy state of the Church in the East. To his very dear father and lord SUGER, by the grace of God Abbot of S. Denys, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and the assurance of his humble prayers. The news which the Grand Master of the Temple and Brother John have brought I have received as joyfully as if I thought it came from God Himself. For the Church in the East utters such cries of distress now that whosoever does not sympathize with his whole heart is shown not to be a son of the Church. But though rejoiced at the news, I am distressed at the short notice you give me, which renders me unable to come to you at the time you named. I had promised the Bishop of Langres to meet him on that day for a conference on grave and important matters, which he had accepted in reliance upon me. I have, however, mentioned a time when, if convenient to you, I will gladly come to you with the same Bishop, who will be perhaps of great service in the conference which we are to hold. Copyright ©1999-2023 Wildfire Fellowship, Inc all rights reserved |