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           Title: Some Letters of Saint Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux
      Creator(s): Bernard, of Clairvaux, Saint (1090 or 91-1153)
     Print Basis: London: John Hodges, 1904
          Rights: Public Domain
   CCEL Subjects: All;
      LC Call no: BX4700
   LC Subjects:

   Christian Denominations

   Roman Catholic Church

   Biography and portraits

   Individual

   Saints, A-Z
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GREAT LETTER WRITERS
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  S. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

   THE COMPLETE WORKS OF

S. BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX

   TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FROM

   THE EDITION OF DOM. JOANNES MABILLON,

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

   AND EDITED BY

   SAMUEL J. EALES, D.C.L.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

   VOL. III.--LETTERS AND SERMONS.

   VOL. IV.--CANTICA CANTICORUM. EIGHTY-SIX SERMONS ON

   THE SONG OF SOLOMON.

   7s. 6d. each Vol.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

SOME LETTERS OF

SAINT BERNARD

ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX

   From the Translation of the late Dr. EALES

   Vicar of Stalisfield

   SELECTED, WITH A PREFACE, BY

FRANCIS AIDAN GASQUET, D.D.

   ABBOT PRESIDENT OF THE ENGLISH BENEDICTINE
   CONGREGATION

   AUTHOR OF "HENRY VIII. AND THE ENGLISH MONASTERIES"
   "THE GREAT PESTILENCE (A.D. 1348-9)"
   "THE OLD ENGLISH BIBLE," ETC.

JOHN HODGES

HENRIETTA STREET, STRAND, LONDON
1904

   Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO
   At the Ballantyne Press
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  TO THE READER

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

   S. Bernard's unique position in the Church in his day, and the
   widespread authority he possessed, no less than his acknowledged place
   among the spiritual writers of all ages, tend to make his
   correspondence peculiarly interesting, as revealing in a more intimate
   way than any of his more formal writings, the characteristic
   qualifications and virtues, which won for him the great position he
   held so long during the middle ages. His learning and judgment no doubt
   fully appear in his tracts, treatises, and sermons; but in the private
   letters that were intended only for the eye of the recipient, the
   reader can get a deeper insight into the man and the saint, and learn
   more fully, because more naturally, his real qualities. In them appear
   his prudence and zeal, his love of truth and piety, the warmth of his
   human affections and his natural eloquence with more genuine truth
   than, say, in his commentary on The Canticle of Canticles, his Mystical
   Vine, or his Treatise against Abelard.

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

   For the benefit of those readers of this little volume who may not have
   access to any full account of S. Bernard's career, it may be useful to
   give here a brief outline of his life. The Saint was born in the year
   1091 in the village of Fontaine, in the province of Burgundy. He
   received a good education in his youth, and from the first displayed
   the best Christian dispositions. At the age of three-and-twenty he
   determined to dedicate his life to God in the cloister; and made choice
   of Citeaux, a monastery then under the fervent direction of S. Stephen
   Harding and which S. Robert had founded only a few years previously
   from Molesmes. Bernard took with him to Citeaux thirty companions, and
   from this refuge he was sent two years later, in 1115, to be Abbot of
   Clairvaux, the first offshoot of the future great religious
   congregation of Cistercians which had its centre at Citeaux.

   The former solitude of Clairvaux soon became peopled under S. Bernard
   with men who were attracted by the Saint's great personality and some
   700 novices are said to have sat at his feet to learn the science of
   the saints. He himself lived to see one of his disciples upon the
   throne of S. Peter, six more become cardinals, and over thirty bishops
   in various sees of the Christian world. He acquired, in a truly
   marvellous way, the general esteem and confidence of bishops, nobles,
   and peoples. For a considerable period there was no ecclesiastical
   matter of any importance, no difference to be composed, and no
   religious enterprise upon which he was not consulted. It was with his
   assistance, or it may be said by the authority of his name, that
   Innocent II. was recognised in the Church as Pontiff, and that Victor
   voluntarily abdicated the position of anti-pope. From 1131 to 1138 S.
   Bernard was constantly at work healing the schism. At the Council of
   Sens in 1140 he confounded Abelard by his learning and secured his
   condemnation. In 1148 he preached the Crusade, the partial failure of
   which he subsequently attributed to the sins of the Crusaders.

   During all this time he lived as a true monk in the face of the world,
   and so many wonders and miracles were worked by him, or through his
   instrumentality, that he became commonly known as the Thaumaturgus of
   the West. During his lifetime he founded 160 monasteries in various
   parts of the western world, and he died at the age of sixty-three on
   20th August 1153.

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

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

   FRANCIS AIDAN GASQUET.

   Athenaeum Club,

   All Saints' Day, 1903.
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CONTENTS

   LETTER   PAGE
   I. To the Canons Regular of Horricourt 1
   II. To the Monk Adam 3
   III. To Bruno, Archbishop Elect of Cologne 27
   IV. To the Prior and Monks of the Grand Chartreuse 31
   V. To Peter, Cardinal Deacon 33
   VI. To the Same 34
   VII. To Matthew, the Legate 40
   VIII. To Gilbert, Bishop of London, Universal Doctor 42
   IX. To Ardutio (or Ardutius), Bishop Elect of Geneva 44
   X. To the Same, When Bishop 45
   XI. To the Abbot of Saint Nicasius at Rheims 47
   XII. To Louis, King of France 49
   XIII. To the Same Pope, in the Name of Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres 52
   XIV. To Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln 54
   XV. To Alvisus, Abbot of Anchin 57
   XVI. To Rainald, Abbot of Foigny 61
   XVII. To the Same 66
   XVIII. To the Same 69
   XIX. To Suger, Abbot of S. Denis 70
   XX. To Guy, Abbot of Molesmes 85
   XXI. To the Abbot of S. John at Chartres 86
   XXII. To Simon, Abbot of S. Nicholas 90
   XXIII. To the Same 92
   XXIV. To Oger, Regular Canon 94
   XXV. To the Same 107
   XXVI. To the Same 112
   XXVII. To the Same 115
   XXVIII. To the Abbots Assembled at Soissons 117
   XXIX. To Henry, King of England 121
   XXX. TO Henry, Bishop of Winchester 122
   XXXI.

   To the Abbot of a Certain Monastery at York, From Which the Prior Had
   Departed, Taking Several Religious with Him
   124
   XXXII. To Thurstan, Archbishop of York 127
   XXXIII.

   To Richard, Abbot of Fountains, and His Companions, Who Had Passed Over
   to the Cistercian Order from Another
   129
   XXXIV. Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours, to the Abbot Bernard 131
   XXXV. Reply of the Abbot Bernard to Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours 133
   XXXVI. To the Same Hildebert, Who Had Not Yet Acknowledged the Lord
   Innocent as Pope 135
   XXXVII. To Magister Geoffrey, of Loretto 138
   XXXVIII. To His Monks of Clairvaux 140
   XXXIX. To the Same 143
   XL. To Thomas, Prior of Beverley 147
   XLI.

   To Thomas of St. Omer, After He Had Broken His Promise of Adopting a
   Change of Life
   160
   XLII. To the Illustrious Youth, Geoffrey de Perrone, and His Comrades
   165
   XLIII. A Consolatory Letter to the Parents of Geoffrey 168
   XLIV. Concerning the Maccabees But to Whom Written Is Unknown 169
   XLV.

   To a Youth Named Fulk, Who Afterwards Was Archdeacon of Langres
   177
   XLVI.

   To Guigues, the Prior, And to the Other Monks of the Grand Chartreuse
   192
   XLVII. To the Brother of William, a Monk of Clairvaux 206
   XLVIII. To Magister Walter de Chaumont 208
   XLIX. To Romanus, Sub-Deacon of the Roman Curia 212
   L. To Geoffrey, of Lisieux 214
   LI. To the Virgin Sophia 216
   LII. To Another Holy Virgin 223
   LIII. To Another Holy Virgin of the Convent of S. Mary of Troyes 227
   LIV. To Ermengarde, Formerly Countess of Brittany 230
   LV. To the Same 231
   LVI. To Beatrice, a Noble and Religious Lady 232
   LVII. To the Duke and Duchess of Lorraine 234
   LVIII. To the Duchess of Lorraine 235
   LIX. To the Duchess of Burgundy 237
     Note to Treatise 238
   LX. To the Same, Against Certain Heads of Abaelard's Heresies 259
   LXI. To Louis the Younger, King of the French 294
   LXII. To Pope Innocent 297
   LXIII. To the Same, in the Name of Godfrey, Bishop of Langres 298
   LXIV. To the Above-names Falco 299
   LXV. To the Canons of Lyons, on the Conception of S. Mary 300
   LXVI. To the Patriarch of Jerusalem 308
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LETTER I (circa 1120)

  To the Canons Regular of Horricourt [1]

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

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

   Your letter, in which you have addressed to us an exhortation so
   salutary and profitable, brings us 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 iv. 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 Chalons, [2] 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.
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   [1] The title of this letter follows a MS. at Corbey. It does not
   appear who these regular canons were.

   [2] This was William of Champeaux, a friend of S. Bernard, who died in
   1121.
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LETTER II (A.D. 1126)

  To the Monk Adam [3]

   1. If you remain yet in that spirit of charity which I either knew or
   believed to be with you formerly, you would certainly feel the
   condemnation with which charity must regard the scandal which you have
   given to the weak. For charity would not offend charity, nor scorn when
   it feels itself offended. For it cannot deny itself, nor be divided
   against itself. Its function is rather to draw together things divided;
   and it is far from dividing those that are joined. Now, if that
   remained in you, as I have said, it would not keep silent, it would not
   rest unconcerned, nor pretend indifference, but it would without doubt
   whisper, with groans and uneasiness at the bottom of your pious heart,
   that saying, Who is offended, and I burn not (2 Cor. xi. 29). If, then,
   it is kind, it loves peace, and rejoices in unity; it produces them,
   cements them, strengthens them, and wherever it reigns it makes the
   bond of peace. As, then, you are in opposition to that true 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. xiii. 3)? Or, on what ground
   do you trust that you are not the enemy of charity when breaking unity,
   rending the bond of peace, you lacerate her bowels, treating with such
   cruelty their dear pledges, which you neither have borne nor do bear?
   You must lay down, then, the offering, whatever it may be, which you
   are preparing to lay on the altar, and hasten to go and reconcile
   yourself not with one of your brethren only, but with the entire body.
   The whole body of the fraternity, grievously wounded by your
   withdrawal, as by the stroke of a sword, utters its complaints against
   you and the few with you, saying: The sons of my mother have fought
   against me (Cant. i. 5). And rightly; for who is not with her, is
   against her. Can you think that a mother, as tender as charity, can
   hear without emotion the complaint, so just, of a community which is to
   her as a daughter? Therefore, joining her tears with ours, she says, I
   have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against
   me (Isa. i. 2). Charity is God Himself. Christ is our peace, who hath
   made both one (Eph. ii. 14). Unity is the mystery even of the Holy
   Trinity. What place, then, in the kingdom of Christ and of God has he
   who is an enemy of charity, peace, and unity?

   2. My abbot, perhaps you will say, has obliged me to follow him--ought
   I then to have been 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. i. 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. viii. 4.) Or
   has your abbot, when dying, forbidden you ever to rise again after your
   fall, or ever to speak of your return? Is it necessary for you to obey
   him even when dead--to obey him against charity and at the peril of
   your soul? You would allow, I suppose, that the bond between an abbot
   and his monks is by no means so strong or tenacious as that of married
   persons, whom God Himself and not man has bound with an inviolable
   sacrament--as the Saviour says: What God hath joined together let no
   man but asunder (S. Matt. xix. 6). But the Apostle asserts that when
   the husband is dead the wife is freed from the law of her husband (Rom.
   vii. 2), and do you consider yourself bound by the law of your dead
   abbot, and this against a law which is more binding still, that of
   charity?

   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. cxxv. 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. xviii. 20). From
   these, then, it appears clearly that those who command things evil are
   not to be obeyed, especially when in yielding to wrong commands, in
   which you appear to obey man, you show yourself plainly disobedient to
   God, who has forbidden everything that is evil. For it is altogether
   unreasonable to profess yourself obedient when you know that you are
   violating obedience due to the superior on account of the inferior,
   that is, to the Divine on account of the human. What then! God forbids
   what man orders; and shall I be deaf to the voice of God and listen to
   that of man? The Apostles did not understand the matter thus when they
   said, We must obey God rather than men (Acts v. 29). Does not the Lord
   in the Gospel blame the Pharisees: Ye transgress the commandment of God
   on account of your traditions (S. Matt. xv. 3). And by Isaiah: In vain
   they worship Me, he says, teaching the commands and doctrines of men
   (Is. xxix. 13). And also to our first father. [4] hast obeyed thy wife
   rather than Me, the earth shall be rebellious to thy work (Gen. iii.
   17). Therefore to do evil, whosoever it be that bids, is shown not to
   be obedience, but disobedience.

   4. To make this principle clear, we must note that some actions are
   wholly good; others wholly evil: and in these no obedience is to be
   rendered to men. For the former are not to be omitted by us, even if
   they are prohibited [by men]: nor the latter done, even though they are
   commanded. But, besides these, there are actions between the two, and
   which may be good or evil according to 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 practice them,
   nor right to forbid them, or to neglect the practice of them. Theft,
   sacrilege, adultery, and all other such vices are wholly evil; it can
   never be right to practice or to order them, nor wrong to forbid or
   avoid them. The law is not made for things of this kind, for the
   prohibition of no person has the power to render null the commandments
   given, nor the command of any to render lawful the things prohibited.
   There 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 Citeaux (for to each of these was he responsible); and
   it is not incredible that some of those who were of his company may so
   have believed; this, my censure, does not touch them, provided that
   when they knew the truth, they returned without delay.

   6. Therefore my discourse is against those only, or rather for those,
   who knowingly and purposely put their hands into the fire; who being
   conscious of his presumption, yet followed him who presumed, without
   caring for the prohibition of the Apostle, and his precept, to withdraw
   from every brother who walks disorderly (2 Thess. iii. 6). Despising
   also the voice of the Lord himself, He who gathereth not with me
   scattereth (S. Matt. xii. 30). To you, brethren, 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.
   vii. 28). For clearly that is the Voice of God pointing out His enemy
   from the work that he does, and, as it were, showing him with a
   stretched finger to ward off simple souls from his ungodly example: He
   who is not with Me, He says, scatters; ought you to have followed a
   disperser? And when God invites you to unite with Him, ought you rather
   to follow a man who wishes to disperse you? He scorned his superiors,
   he 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. [5]

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

   8. How then can either the permission of your abbot avail to make that
   permissible which is (as we have already shown beyond question) wholly
   evil, since (as we have said above) things of this kind, that is things
   purely evil, can never be rightly ordered nor permissibly done? Do you
   see how futile is the excuse you draw from obedience to a man when you
   are convicted of a transgression against God? I hardly suppose that you
   would resort to that reply of the Lord respecting the scandal given to
   the Pharisees, Let them alone, they be blind leaders of the blind (S.
   Matt. xv. 14), and that as He attached no value to their objections, so
   you attach no value to ours; for you know that there is no comparison
   in this respect between Him and you. But if you make comparison of
   persons, you find that on one side it is the proud Pharisees who are
   scandalized, on the other the poor of Jesus Christ; and as to the cause
   of the scandal, in the one case it is 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. xviii. 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 any one to give any scandal, neither to
   order it, nor to consent to it. Yet you think that permission is to be
   obtained to do so. But to what purpose? Was it that you might sin with
   more liberty and fewer scruples, and, therefore, with just so much the
   more danger? Wonderful precaution, marvellous prudence! They had
   already devised evil in their heart, but they were cautious not to
   carry it out in action except with permission. They 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. xviii. 7). And to be the better heard, not
   only does the Lord Himself cry aloud, but His Blood cries with a
   terrible voice to make even the deaf hear. Its pouring forth is its
   cry. Since it was poured forth for the children of God who were
   scattered abroad that it might gather them together into one, it justly
   murmurs against the scatterers. He whose constant duty it is to collect
   souls 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, arid 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.
   lxviii. 2). And again: Disperse them by Thy power, O Lord, my
   protector, and put them down (Ps. lix. 12). It is the blood of Christ,
   brother Adam, which raises its voice as a sounding trumpet on behalf of
   pious assemblies against wicked scatterers; it has been poured forth to
   bring 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, [6] 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! [7] 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 (2 Thess. v. 21). If this is a right view, let us blot out of
   the book of the Gospel Be ye wise as serpents, for the words following
   would suffice, and harmless as doves (S. Matt. x. 26). 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. xviii. 6). Why has He said this unless that He
   wished to signify that in comparison to the terrible punishments that
   are reserved for the scandalous, temporal death would seem scarcely a
   punishment but an advantage? Why, then, did you help him to make a
   scandal? For you did so in following and obeying him. Would it not have
   been better, according to the declaration of the Truth I have quoted,
   to hang a millstone from his neck and so to plunge him in the depth of
   the sea? What then? You that were so obedient a disciple, who could not
   bear that he, your father and master, should be separated from you for
   a single instant, for a foot breadth (as it is said), you have not
   hesitated to fall into the ditch behind him with your eyes wide open,
   like another Balaam? Did you think that you were labouring for his
   happiness when you showed toward him an 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 vii. 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 vi. 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 vi. 5, Vulg.). But when
   did he consent to the doing of evil, that he blames himself not to have
   condemned it in others? And did not David also feel that he was defiled
   by the contact of sin when he said: With men that work iniquity, and I
   will not communicate with their chosen friends (Ps. cxl. 4, Vulg.). Or
   when he made this prayer: Cleanse me O Lord from my secret sins, and
   spare Thy servant from the offences of others (Ps. xix. 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. xxv. 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. i. 10).

   14. Have you, then, against these and innumerable other and similar
   testimonies of the truth, thought that you ought to obey anybody? O,
   odious 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 Citeaux, 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
   Citeaux, the offering of the same devotions and a manner of life in
   every way similar hold my spirit always present there. But the day on
   which I shall begin to live, according to other laws (which may God
   avert), to practise other customs, to perform different observances, to
   introduce novelties and customs from without, I shall be a transgressor
   of my vows, and I shall no longer think that I am observing the
   constancy that I 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? Every one knows that a person makes his profession solemnly and
   regularly in the presence of the abbot. That profession is made,
   therefore, in his presence only, not at his discretion also. The abbot
   is 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 authorise bad faith. What, then? Do I place in the
   hand of the abbot the vows that I have taken, without exception
   ratified by my mouth and signed by my hand in presence of God and His
   Saints? Do I not hear out of the Rule (Rule of S. Benedict, C. 58) that
   if I ever do otherwise I shall be 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 xix. 22), and because The mouth which lies slays
   the soul (Wisd. i. 11), and that we chant with truth before God, Thou
   wilt destroy all those who speak falsehood (Ps. v. 6), and because
   every one shall bear his own burden (Gal. vi. 5), and every one shall
   give account of himself to God (Rom. xiv. 12). If it were otherwise
   with me, with what front could I dare to lie in the presence of God and
   His angels, when singing that verse from the Psalm: I will render unto
   Thee my vows, which my lips have uttered (Ps. lvi. 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 condemning 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. xl. 12). I receive them, then, for
   this reason, because I do not consider that they are wrong to quit the
   monastery, in which they were able, indeed, to make vows to God, but by
   no means to perform them, to enter into another house where they may
   better serve God, Who is everywhere, and who repair the wrong done by
   the breach of their vow of constancy by the perfect performance of all
   other duties of the religious life. If this displeasse any one, and he
   murmurs against a man thus seeking his own salvation, the Author of
   salvation Himself shall reply for him: Is thine eye evil because he is
   good? (S. Matt. xx. 15). Whosoever thou art who enviest the salvation
   of another, care rather for thine own. Dost thou not know that by the
   envy of the devil death entered into the world? (Wisd. ii. 24). Take
   heed, therefore, to 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 xix. 18). Listen to me,
   then, man envious and calumnious. I have said that I think men coming
   to us from other monasteries ought to be received. Have I blamed those
   who do not come? The one class I excuse, but I do not accuse the other.
   It is only the envious whom I cannot excuse, nor, indeed, am I willing
   to do so. These being excepted, I think that if any others wish to pass
   to a stricter Rule, but fear to do so because of scandal, or are
   hindered by some bodily weakness, do not sin, provided that they study
   to live a holy, pious, and regulated life in the place where they are.
   For if by the custom of their monastery 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 iv. 8), or the humility in which one conscious of his
   infirmity regards himself as imperfect, for it is said God gives grace
   unto the humble (S. James iv. 6).

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

   [3] The MS. in the Royal Library is inscribed: De Discretione
   Obedientiae. Of Discernment in Obedience. This Letter was written after
   the death of Abbot Arnold, which took place in Belgium in the year
   1126.

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

   [5] Reg. Cap. 71.

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

   [7] This clause is wanting in some MSS.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER III (A.D. 1131)

  To Bruno, [8] Archbishop Elect of Cologne

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

   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. xxx. 23). It is from this first step that a
   well-ordered charity proceeds by a straight path to the love of one's
   neighbour, for the precept is to love him as ourselves. But if you are
   about to love the souls that would be confided to you as you have loved
   your own hitherto, I would prefer not to be confided rather than be so
   loved. But if you shall have first learned to love yourself then you
   will know, perhaps, how you should love me.

   2. But what if God should quicken His grace and multiply His mercy upon
   you, and His clemency is able more quickly to replace the soul in a
   state of grace than daily penitence? Blessed, indeed, is he unto whom
   the Lord will not impute sin (Ps. xxxii. 2), for who shall bring
   accusation against the elect of God? If God justifies, who is he that
   condemns? This short road to salvation that holy thief attained, who in
   one and the same day both confessed his iniquities and entered into
   glory. He was content to pass by the cross as by a short bridge from
   the religion of death [9] unto the land of the living, and from this
   foul mire into the paradise of joy (S. Luke xxiii. 43). This sudden
   remedy of piety that sinful woman happily obtained, in whose soul grace
   of a sudden began to abound, where offences had so abounded. Without
   much labour of penitence her sins were pardoned, because she loved much
   (S. Luke vii. 37-50), and in a short time she merited to receive that
   amplitude of charity which, as it is written, covers the multitude of
   sins (1 S. Peter iv. 8). This double benefit and most rapid goodness
   also that paralytic in the Gospel experienced, being cured first in the
   soul, then in the body.

   3. But it is one thing to obtain the speedy 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 xvi. 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. lxxvii. 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, [10] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [8] Bruno, son of Englebert, Count of Altena, was consecrated, in 1132.

   [9] Unlikeness.

   [10] The founder of the Praemonstratensian Order. See respecting him
   Letter lvi.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER IV

  To the Prior and Monks of the Grand Chartreuse

   He commends himself to their prayers.

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

   In the first place, when lately I approached your parts, I was
   prevented by unfavourable circumstances from coming to see you and to
   make your 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 xv. 13). David shed tears over his parricidal
   son, and although they were profitless, yet they were pious. Therefore
   do ye pity me (because I need it, not because I merit it), ye who have
   obtained from God the grace to serve Him without fear, far from the
   tumults of the world from which ye are freed. Happy those whom He has
   hidden in His tabernacle in the day of evil men; they shall trust in
   the shadow of His wings until the iniquity be overpast. As for me,
   poor, unhappy, and miserable, labour is my portion. I seem to be as a
   little unfledged bird almost constantly out of the shelter of its nest,
   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 V (circa A.D. 1127)

  To Peter, Cardinal Deacon

   He excuses himelf 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 VI (circa A. D. 1127)

  To the Same

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

   I. Even if I should give myself to you entirely that would be too
   little a thing still in my eyes, to have recompensed towards you even
   the half of the kindly feeling which you express towards my humility. I
   congratulate myself, indeed, on the honour which you have done me; but
   my joy, I confess, is tempered by the thought that it is not anything I
   have accomplished, but only an opinion of my merit which has brought me
   this favour. I 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. i. 21).
   Rightly, then, were their foolish hearts darkened, because since they
   recognised the truth and despised it, they were justly punished for
   their fault by losing the power to recognise it. Alas! in thus adhering
   to the truth by the mind, but with the heart departing from it, and
   loving vanity in its place, man became himself a vain thing. And what
   is more vain than to love vanity, and what is more repugnant to justice
   than to despise the truth? What is more just than that the power to
   recognise the truth should be withdrawn from those who have despised
   it, and that those who did not glorify the truth when they recognised
   it should lose the power of boasting of the knowledge? Thus the love of
   vanity is the contempt of truth, and the contempt of truth the cause of
   our blindness. And because they did not like, he says, to retain God in
   their knowledge, He gave them over unto a reprobate mind (Rom. i. 28).

   2. From this blindness, then, it follows that we frequently love and
   approve that which is not for that which is; since while we are in this
   body we are wandering from Him who is the Fulness of Existence. And
   what is man, O God, except that Thou hast taken knowledge of Him? If
   the 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. iii. 3). But in the meantime He has given us
   to taste it by faith and to seek for by strong desire. By these two we
   are brought for the second time from not being, to begin to be that His
   (new) creature, which one day shall pass into a perfect man, into the
   measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ. That, without doubt,
   shall take place, when righteousness shall be turned into judgment,
   that is, faith into knowledge, the righteousness which is of faith into
   the righteousness of full knowledge, and also the hope of this state of
   exile shall be changed into the fulness of love. For if faith and love
   begin during the exile, knowledge and love render perfect those in the
   Presence of God. For as faith leads to full knowledge, so hope leads to
   perfect love, and, as it is said, If ye will not believe ye shall not
   understand (Is. vii. 9, 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. ii. 4), but he is not happy except by
   knowledge; and he aspires towards God as the hart desires the
   water-brooks; but the blessed drinks with joy from the fountain of the
   Saviour, that is, he delights in the fulness of love.

   3. Thus understanding and love, that is, the knowledge of and delight
   in the truth, are, perhaps, as it were, the two arms of the soul, with
   which it embraces and comprehends with all saints the length and
   breadth, the height and depth, that is the eternity, the love, the
   goodness, and the wisdom of God. And what are all these but Christ? He
   is eternity, because "this is life eternal to know Thee the true God
   and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent" (S. John xvii. 3). He is Love,
   because He is God, and God is Love (1 S. John iv. 16). He is both the
   Goodness of God and the Wisdom of God (I Cor. i. 24), but when shall
   these things be? When shall we see Him as He is? For the expectation of
   the creature waiteth for the revelation of the sons of God. For the
   creature was subjected unto vanity, not willingly (Rom. viii. 19, 20).
   It is that vanity diffused through all which makes us desire to be
   praised even when we are blameable, and not to be willing to praise
   those whom we know to be worthy of it. But this too is vain, that we,
   in our ignorance, frequently praise what is not, and are silent about
   what is. 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. lxi. 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. xii. 6).

   4. For the present I have noted down these things too hastily (because
   of this in not so finished a way), rather than dictated them for you,
   perhaps also at greater length than I should, but to the best of my
   poor ability. But that my letter may finish at the point whence it
   began, I beg you not to be too credulous of uncertain rumour about me,
   which, as you know well, is accustomed to be wrong both in giving
   praise and in attaching blame. Be so kind, if you please, as to weigh
   your praises, and examine with care how far your friendship for me and
   your favour are well-founded, thus they will be the more acceptable
   from my friend as they are fitted to my humble merit. Thus when praise
   shall have 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
   i. 26). Also an Apology dedicated to a certain friend of mine, in which
   I have treated of some of our observances, that is to say, those of
   Citeaux, and those of Cluny. I have also written a few Letters to
   various persons, and finally, there are some of my discourses which the
   brethren who heard them have reproduced in their own words and keep
   them in their hands. Would that any of the simple productions of my
   humble powers might be of any service to you, but I do not dare to
   expect it.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER VII (towards the end of A.D. 1127)

  To Matthew, the Legate

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

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

   2. But the cause is great, they say, the necessity weighty. They must,
   then, have recourse to some one suitable to settle great matters. If
   they think me such an one, I not only think, but know, that I am not.
   Futhermore, whether the matters are great or small, to which they so
   earnestly invite me, they are not my concern. Now, I inquire, Are the
   matters easy or difficult which you are so anxious to lay upon your
   friend, to the troubling of his peace? If easy, they can be settled
   without me; if difficult, they cannot be dealt with by me, unless,
   perhaps, I am so estimated as to be thought capable of doing what no
   one else can do, and for whom great and impossible affairs are to be
   reserved. But if it be so, O Lord my God, how are Thy designs so
   frustrated in me only? Why hast Thou put under a bushel the lamp, which
   could shine upon a candlestick; or, to speak more plainly, why hast
   Thou made me a monk and hidden me in Thy sanctuary during the day of
   evil, if I were a man necessary to the world, without whom bishops are
   not able to transact their business? But this, again, is a service that
   my friends have done me, that now I seem to speak with discomposure to
   a man whom I am accustomed to think of with serenity, and with the
   utmost pleasure. But you know (I say it to you, my father) that so far
   from feeling angry, I am 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 VIII (circa A.D. 1130)

  To Gilbert, Bishop of London, Universal Doctor

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

   The report of your conduct has spread far and wide, and has given to
   those whom it has reached an odour of great sweetness. The love of
   riches is extinct; what sweetness results! charity reigns; what a
   delight to all! All recognise you for a truly wise man, who has trodden
   under foot the great enemy with true wisdom; and this is most worthy of
   your name and of your priesthood. It was fitting that your special
   philosophy should shine forth by such a proof, and that you should
   crown all your distinguished learning by such a completion. That is the
   true and unquestionable wisdom which contemns filthy lucre and judges
   it a thing unworthy [that philosophy should] dwell under the same roof
   as the service of idols. That the Magister Gilbert should become a
   bishop was not a great thing; but that a Bishop of London should
   embrace a life of poverty, that is, indeed, grand. For the greatness of
   the dignity could not add glory to your name; but the humility of
   poverty has highly exalted it. To bear poverty with an equal mind, that
   is the virtue of patience; to seek it of one's own accord is the height
   of wisdom. He is praised and regarded as admirable who does not go out
   of his way after money; and shall he who renounces it have no higher
   praise? Unless that clear reason sees nothing to be wondered at in the
   fact that a wise man acts wisely; and he is wise who having acquired
   all the science of the learned of this world, and having great
   enjoyment in acquiring them, has studied all the Scriptures so as to
   make their meaning new again. What then? You have dispersed, you have
   given to the poor, but money. But what is money to that righteousness
   which you have gained for it? His righteousness, it is said, endureth
   for ever (Ps. cxii. 9). Is it so with money? Then it is a desirable and
   honourable exchange to give that which passes away for that which
   endures. May it be granted to you always so to purchase, O, admirable
   and praiseworthy Magister! It remains that your noble beginning should
   attain an ending worthy of it; and the tail of the victim be joined to
   the head. I have gladly received your 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 IX (circa A.D. 1135)

  To Ardutio (or Ardutius, Bishop Elect of Geneva

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

   I am glad to believe that your election, which I have heard was
   effected with so complete an assent both of the clergy and people, was
   from God. I congratulate you on His grace, and I do not speak of your
   merits, since we ought not to render to you excessive praise, but to
   recognise that, not because of works of righteousness which you have
   done, but according to His mercy He has done this for you. If you
   (which may God forbid!) should think 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 X (in the Same Year)

  The Same, When Bishop

   He 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. cxviii. 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 XI (circa A.D. 1120)

  The Abbot of Saint Nicasius at Rheims

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

   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. xxvii. 6, Vulg.); The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a
   contrite heart (Ps. xxxiv. 18); and We must through much tribulation
   enter into the kingdom of God (Acts xiv. 21); and All who will live
   godly in Christ suffer persecution (2 Tim. iii. 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. v. 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, [11] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [11] This was Robert, to whom Letter I. was addressed.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XII (A.D. 1127)

  To Louis, King of France [12]

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

   To LOUIS, the glorious King of France, Stephen, Abbot of Citeaux, and
   the whole assembly of the abbots and brethren of Citeaux, wish health,
   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, [13] but the Lord of Paradise, a terrible God who
   cuts off the spirit of Princes (Ps. lxx. 12), and who has said to
   Bishops, He who despiseth you despiseth me (S. Luke x. 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 [14] 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 pleased to fix for the sake of arranging this affair; but if it
   be otherwise, we shall be obliged to listen to the voice o-L- our
   friend, and to render obedience to the priest of God. Farewell.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [12] Louis VI., "the Fat."

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

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

LETTER XIII (A.D. 1127)

  To the Same Pope, in the Name of Geoffrey,
  Bishop of Chartres.

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

   It is superfluous to recall to you, very holy Father, the cause and
   order of a very afflicting history, and to linger over what you have
   already heard from the pious Bishop of Paris, and which must have
   profoundly affected your paternal heart. Yet my testimony also ought
   not to be wanting to my brother and co-bishop; what I have seen and
   heard respecting this matter, this I have undertaken to make you
   acquainted with in few 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 in
   our behalf.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XIV (circa A.D. 1129)

  To Alexander, [15] Bishop of Lincoln

   A 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 ii. 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. iii. 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. iv. 25-26).

   2. And this, if you are willing to perceive it, is Clairvaux. This is
   Jerusalem, and is associated by a certain intuition of the spirit, by
   the entire devotion of the heart, and by conformity of daily life, with
   her which is in heaven. This shall be, as he promises himself, his rest
   for ever. He has chosen her for his habitation, because with her is,
   although not yet the realisation, at least the expectation, of true
   peace of which it is said: The peace of God which passes all
   understanding (Philip. iv. 17). But this is true happiness; although he
   has received it from above, he desires to embrace it with your good
   permission, or rather he trusts that he has done this according to your
   wish, knowing that you are not ignorant of that sentence of the wise
   man, that a wise son is the glory of his father. [16] 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 [17] 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. v. 3).
   Farewell.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [15] This Alexander was Bishop of Lincoln in England from 1123 to 1147

   [16] Prov. x. 1. Bernard always quotes this passage thus. In the
   Vulgate it is, Filius sapiens laetificat patrem.

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

LETTER XV (circa A.D. 1129)

  To Alvisus, Abbot of Anchin

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

   To Alvisus, Abbot of Anchin. [18]

   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. ii. 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. lxxxv.
   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. xlv. 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. vi. 6), and to
   fulfil what is ordered, Study to keep the unity of the Spirit in the
   bond of peace (Eph. iv. 3), so as to be able to count on what is
   promised, Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy (S.
   Matt. v. 7)? After all, was not that man my son? And who can rage
   against his son?--unless, 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. iii. 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.
   x. 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 back to you, but as he
   would not agree to that I at length yielded to his importunity. But if
   it is a fault that I received him, a monk, a stranger, alone, and
   received him in the way I did, it will not be unworthy of you to pardon
   such a fault, which was committed once only, for it is not lawful for
   you to deny forgiveness even to those who sin against you seventy times
   seven.

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

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

LETTER XVI

  To Rainald, Abbot of Foigny

   Bernard 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. xii. 10), and: Submit yourselves
   one to another in the fear of God (Eph. v. 21), yet the terms one
   another, one to another, are not used at random, and concern me as well
   as you. Again, if you think that the declaration of the Rule is to be
   observed, "Let the younger honour their elders, [19] I remember what
   the Truth has ruled: The last shall be first, and the first last (S.
   Matt. xx. 16), and, He that is the greater among you, let him be as the
   younger (S. Luke xxii. 26), and The greater thou art, the more humble
   thyself (Ecclus. iii. 18), and Not because we have dominion over your
   faith, but are helpers of your joy (2 Cor. i. 24), and, Have they made
   thee the master? Be then among them as one of them (Ecclus. xxxii. 1),
   and Be ye not called Rabbi; and Call no man your father upon the earth
   (S. Matt. xxiii. 8, 9). As much, then, as I am carried away by your
   compliments, so much am I restrained by the weight of these texts.
   Wherefore I rightly, I do not say sing, but mourn; While I suffer Thy
   terrors I am distracted (Ps. lxxxviii. 15), and Thou hast lifted me up
   and cast me down (Ps. cii. 10). But I should, perhaps, represent more
   truly what I feel if I say that he who exalts me really humiliates me;
   and he who humiliates me, exalts. You, therefore, rather depress me in
   heaping me with terms of honour, and exalt me by humbling. But that you
   may not humble so as to crush me, these and similar testimonies of the
   Truth console me, which wonderfully raise up those whom they make
   humble, instruct while they humiliate. Thus this same Hand that casts
   me down raises me up again and makes me sing with joy. 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. cxix. 71, 72). This marvel the word of God, living and
   efficacious, produces. This, that Word by which all things are done,
   gently and powerfully brings to pass; this, in short, is the work of
   the easy yoke and light burden of Christ (S. Matt. xi. 30).

   2. We cannot but wonder how light is the burden of Truth. Is not that
   truly light which does not burden, but relieves him who bears it? What
   lighter than that weight, which not only does not burden, but even
   bears every one upon whom it is laid to bear? This weight was able to
   render fruitful the Virgin's womb, but not to burden it. [20] 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. cxlvii. 15). His word, before known only in Judea, and not able,
   because of its weightiness, to extend beyond, which burdened and
   weighed down the hands of Moses himself, when lightened by Grace, and
   placed upon the wheels of the Gospel, ran swiftly over the whole earth,
   and reached in its rapid flight the confines of the world.

   3. Do you, therefore, my very dear friend, cease from overwhelming me
   rather than raising with undeserved honours; otherwise you range
   yourself, though with a friendly intention, in the company of my
   enemies. These are they of whom I am in the habit of thus complaining
   to God alone in my prayers. Those who praised me were sworn against me
   (Ps. cii. 8, Vulg.). To this, my complaint, I hear God soon replying,
   and bearing witness to the truth of my words: Truly they which bless
   thee lead thee into error (Is. ix. 16, cited from memory). Then I
   reply, Let them be soon brought to shame who say unto me, There, There!
   (Ps. lxx. 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. i. 6). It
   is very true, however, that if I do not wish to attribute to myself
   over you the authority of a father, I have all the feelings of one, nor
   is the love with which I embrace you less, I think, than that of a
   father or of a son. Sufficient, then, on the subject of the titles
   which you give me.

   5. I wish to reply now to the rest of your letter. You complain that I
   do not come to see you. I could complain equally of you for the same
   reason, unless, indeed (which you yourself do not deny), the will of
   God must be preferred to our feelings and 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.
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   [19] Rule of S. Benedict cap. 63.

   [20] Gravidare; gravare. --[E.]
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LETTER XVII

  To the Same

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

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

   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 faintheartedness, you heap sorrow upon sorrow, and torment upon
   torment; and if it is a mark of your filial affection towards me that
   you do not hide any of your difficulties from me, yet it is hard to add
   fresh trouble to one already burdened. Why is it needful to occupy with
   fresh anxieties one already more than anxious enough, and to torture
   with sharper pains the bosom of a father, already wounded by the
   absence of his son? I have shared with you my weight of cares, as a
   son, as an intimate friend, as a trusty assistant; but how do you help
   to bear your father's burden, if, instead of relieving me, you burden
   me still more? You, indeed, are loaded, but I am not lightened of my
   load.

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

  To the Same,

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

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


   "When have I not made the perils which I feared

   Greater than they really were?" [21]

   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.
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   [21] Heroid. Ep. I. v. 11.
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LETTER XIX (A.D. 1127)

  To Suger, Abbot of S. Denis

   He 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, [22] 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 (Re