GREAT LETTER WRITERS
S. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX
THE COMPLETE WORKS OF
S. BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FROM
THE EDITION OF DOM. JOANNES MABILLON,
OF THE BENEDICTINE CONGREGATION OF S. MAUR (PARIS, 1690),
AND EDITED BY
SAMUEL J. 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.”—Athenæum.
“. . . 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
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 Molêsmes. 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.
Athenæum Club,
All Saints’ Day, 1903.
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 Molêsmes |
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 |
LETTER I (circa 1120)
To the Canons Regular of Horricourt
The title of this letter follows a MS. at Corbey. It
does not appear who these regular canons were.
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 Châlons,
This was William of Champeaux, a friend of S. Bernard,
who died in 1121.
they have taken refuge with us, and have begged us with
earnest supplication to receive them, which we have done. Though they have
quitted the rule of S. Augustine for that of S. Benedict in order to embrace a
stricter life, yet they do not depart from the rule of Him, who is the one
Master in heaven and in earth; nor do they make void that first faith which they
promised among you, and which, indeed, they promised, first of all, in baptism.
They being such, therefore, and having been so received, we are far from
thinking that your sense of right will be injured by our having received them,
or that you ought to take it ill if we retain them; yet if they desist from
their resolution during the year of probation which the Rule requires, and
desire to return to you, be assured that we shall not detain them against their
will. In any case, most holy brethren, you would
be wrong to resist, by an ill-considered and useless anathema, the spirit
of liberty which is in them; unless, perchance (which may God avert!), you study
more to promote your own interests than those of Jesus Christ.
LETTER II (A.D. 1126)
To the Monk Adam
The MS. in the Royal Library is inscribed: De
Discretione Obedientiæ. Of Discernment in Obedience. This Letter was written
after the death of Abbot Arnold, which took place in Belgium in the year 1126.
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.
Protoplastus, the first formed.
Tertullian, Exhort. ad Castit., cap. 2 and Adv. Jud.,
c. 13, calls Adam and Eve Protoplasti.—[E.]
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 Cîteaux (for to
each of these was he responsible); and it is not incredible that some of those
who were of his company may so have believed; this, my censure, does not touch
them, provided that when they knew the truth, they returned without delay.
6. Therefore my discourse is against those only, or rather for
those, who knowingly and purposely put their hands into the fire; who being
conscious of his presumption, yet followed him who presumed, without caring for
the prohibition of the Apostle, and his precept, to withdraw from 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.
Reg. Cap. 71.
7. I should be able, indeed, to bring forward the Abbot of Cîteaux
as a witness, who, as being superior to your abbot as a father to a son, as a
master to a disciple, and, in a word, as an abbot to a monk committed to his
charge, rightly complains that you have held him in contempt because of the
other. I might
speak also of the Bishop, whose consent was not waited
for, a contempt which was inexcusable, since the Lord says of such and to such:
He who despises you despises Me (S. Luke 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,
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.]
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!
This clause is wanting in some MSS.
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 Cîteaux, whereas I
now dwell elsewhere. To which I reply, I am, indeed, a Cistercian monk professed
in that place,
and was sent forth by my abbot to where I now dwell,
but sent forth in peace without scandal, without disorder, according to our
usages and constitutions. As long, therefore, as I persevere in the same peace
and concord in which I was sent forth, as long as I stand fast in unity, I do
not prefer my private interests to those of the community. I remain peaceful and
obedient in the place where I have been posted. I say that my conscience is at
peace, because I observe faithfully the stability I have promised. How do I
compromise my vow of stability when I do not break the bond of concord, nor
desert the firm ground of peace? If obedience keeps my body far distant from
Cîteaux, the offering of the same devotions and a manner of life in every way
similar hold my spirit always present there. But the day on which I shall begin
to live, according to other laws (which may God avert), to practise other
customs, to perform different observances, to introduce novelties and customs
from without, I shall be a transgressor of my vows, and I shall no longer think
that I am observing the constancy that I promised. I say, then, that an abbot
ought to be obeyed in all things, but saving the oath of the Order. But you
having made profession, according to the Rule of S. Benedict, where you promised
obedience, you promised also constancy. And if you have, indeed, obeyed, but
have not been constant by offending in one point, you are made an offender in
all, and if in all, then in obedience itself.
17. Do you see, then, the proper scope of your obedience? How
can it excuse your want of constancy, which is not even of weight to justify
itself?
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.
LETTER III (A.D. 1131)
To Bruno,
Bruno, son of Englebert, Count of Altena, was
consecrated, in 1132.
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
Unlikeness.
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,
The founder of the Præmonstratensian Order. See
respecting him Letter lvi.
whom you may conveniently consult in person on all such
subjects. For that good man is more fitted than I to explain the mysterious acts
of Providence, as he is nearer to God by his holiness.
LETTER IV
To the Prior and Monks of the Grand Chartreuse
He commends himself to their prayers.
To the very dear Lord and Reverend father Guigues, Prior of the
Grande Chartreuse, and to the holy brethren who are with him, Brother Bernard of
Clairvaux offers his humble service.
In the first place, when lately I approached your parts, I was
prevented by unfavourable circumstances from coming to see you and to make your
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 Cîteaux, and those of Cluny. I have also written a few Letters to
various persons, and finally, there are some of my discourses which the brethren
who heard them have reproduced in their own words and keep them in their hands.
Would that any of the simple productions of my humble powers might be of any
service to you, but I do not dare to expect it.
LETTER 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,
This was Robert, to whom Letter I. was addressed.
was received and retained at Cluny against my will, I was
afflicted, indeed, but
endured it in silence, praying both for them that they
might be willing to return the fugitive, and for him,
that he might be willing of his own accord to return;
but if not, leaving the charge of my vengeance to
Him who shall render judgment to the patient and
contend in equity for the meek of the earth. Please
to warn brother Hugo, of Lausanne, with your own
mouth, and as from me, not to believe every spirit,
and not to be induced rashly to desert the certain for
the uncertain. Let him remember that perseverance
alone is always attacked by the devil, because it is the
only virtue which has the assurance of being crowned.
It will be safer for him simply to persevere in the vocation
wherein he is called than to renounce it
under the pretext of a life more perfect, at the risk of
not being found equal to that which he had the presumption to attempt.
LETTER XII (A.D. 1127)
To Louis, King of France
Louis VI., “the Fat.”
The monks of Cîteaux take the liberty to address grave
reproaches to King Louis for his hostility to and injuries inflicted upon the
Bishop of Paris, and declare that they will bring the cause before the Pope if
the King does not desist.
To LOUIS, the glorious King of France, Stephen, Abbot of Cîteaux,
and the whole assembly of the abbots and brethren of Cîteaux, wish health,
prosperity, and peace in Christ Jesus.
1. The King of heaven and earth has given you a kingdom on earth,
and will bestow upon you one in heaven if you study to govern with justice and
wisdom that which you have received. This is what we wish for you, and pray for
on your behalf, that you may reign here faithfully, and there in happiness. But
why do you of late put so many obstacles in the way of our prayers for you,
which, if you recollect, you formerly with such humility requested? With what
confidence can we now presume to lift up our hands for you to the Spouse of the
Church, while you so inconsiderately, and without the slightest cause (as we
think), afflict the Church? Grave indeed is the complaint she lays against you
before her Spouse and Lord, that she finds you an opposer whom she accepted as a
protector. Have you reflected whom you are thus attacking? Not really the Bishop
of Paris,
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.).
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
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).
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£ our friend, and to render obedience to the priest of God.
Farewell.
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,
This Alexander was Bishop of Lincoln in England from
1123 to 1147
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.
Prov. x. 1.
Bernard always quotes this passage thus. In the Vulgate it
is,
Filius sapiens lætificat patrem.
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
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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,
Rule of S. Benedict cap. 63.
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.
Gravidare; gravare.
—[E.]
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.
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.
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?” Heroid. Ep. I. v. 11.
I fear all things because I am uncertain of all things, and
feel often real sorrow for imaginary evils. The mind which affection dominates
is hardly master of itself. It fears what it knows not; it grieves when
there is no need; it is troubled more than it wished,
and even when it does not wish; unable to rule its sensibility, it pities or
sympathizes against its will. And because you see, my son, that neither my timid
industry nor your pious prudence in this respect are of service to me, do not, I
pray you, conceal from me henceforth anything that concerns you, that you may
not increase my uneasiness by seeking to spare me. The little books of mine
which you have, please return to me when you can.
LETTER 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,
Otherwise
viderunt
, have seen.
but have only heard of you, what you were and what you
are now, wonder and
glorify God in you. But what adds still more to their
admiration and joy is that you have been able to make your brethren partake of
the counsel of salvation poured upon you from above, and so to fulfil what we
read, Let him that heareth say, Come (Rev. xxii.
17), and that What I tell you in darkness that speak ye in
light, and what ye hear in the ear that preach ye upon the house tops
(S. Matt. x. 27). So
a soldier intrepid in war, or rather a general full of bravery and devotedness,
when he sees almost all his soldiers turned to flight and falling everywhere
under the hostile blades, although he may see that he would be able to escape
alone, yet he prefers to die with those, without whom he would think it shame to
live. He holds firm on the field of battle and combats bravely; he ranges, sword
in hand, along the ranks, through the bloody blades which seek him; he terrifies
his adversaries and reanimates his followers with all his powers of voice and
gesture. Wherever the enemy press on more boldly and there is danger of his
friends giving ground, there he is present; the enemy who strikes he opposes,
the friend who sinks exhausted he succours; and he is the more prepared to die
for each one, that he despairs to save them all. But while he makes heroic
efforts to hinder and to stop the pursuers who press upon his followers, he
raises as best he can those who are fallen and recalls those who have taken
flight. Nor is it rare that his splendid valour procures a safety as welcome as
unhoped for, throws into confusion the hostile ranks, forces them to fly from
those whom they were pursuing, and overcomes those who bore themselves almost as
victors, so that they who a
little before were struggling for life are now
rejoicing in victory.
2. But why do I compare an event so profoundly religious to
things secular, as if examples were wanting to us from religion itself? Was not
Moses quite certain of what God had promised him, that if, indeed, the people
over whom he ruled should have perished, he himself should not only not perish
with them, but should be besides the chief of a great nation? Nevertheless, with
what affection, with what zeal, with what bowels of piety did he strive to save
his people from the wrath of God? And, finally, interposing himself on behalf of
the offenders, he cries: If Thou wilt forgive their sin—; and if
not, blot me, I pray Thee, out of Thy book which Thou hast written (Exod. xxxii.
32). What a devoted advocate! who, because he does not seek his own
interests, easily obtains everything which he seeks. What a benign chief, who,
binding together his people with bonds of charity as the head is united with the
members, will either save them with himself or else encounter the same danger as
they! Jeremiah, also bound
Vinctus
, otherwise
junctus
.
inseparably to his people, but by the bond of compassion,
not by sympathy for their revolt, quitted voluntarily his native soil and his
own liberty
Otherwise
voluntatem
.
to embrace in preference the common lot of exile and
slavery. He was free to remain in his own country had he chosen, while others
must remove, but he preferred to be carried away captive with his people, to
whom he knew that he could render service even in captivity. Paul, animated
beyond doubt by the same spirit, desired that he might be anathema even
from Christ Himself for his brethren (Romans ix. 3). He experienced in his own heart how true is that saying,
Love is as strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave (Cant. viii. 6). Do you see of whose great examples you have shown yourself an imitator?
But I add one more whom I had almost passed over, that of the holy king David,
who, perceiving and lamenting the slaughter of his people, wished to devote
himself for them, and desired that the Divine vengeance should be transferred to
himself and to his father’s house (2 Sam. xxiv. 17).
3. But who made you aspire to this degree of perfection? I
confess that though I earnestly desired to hear such things of you, I never
hoped to see it come to pass. Who would have believed that you would reach, so
to speak, by one sudden bound, the practice of the highest virtues, and approach
the most exalted merit? Thus we learn not to measure by the narrow proportions
of our faith and hope the infinite pity of God, which does what It will and
works upon whom It will, lightening the burden which It imposes upon us, and
hastening the work of our salvation. What then? the zeal of good people blamed
your errors at least, if not those of your brethren: it was against your
excesses more than theirs that they were moved with indignation; and if your
brothers in religion groaned in secret, it was less against your entire
community than against you; it was only against you that they brought their
accusation. You corrected your faults, and their criticisms had no longer an
object; your conversion at once stilled the tumult of accusation. The one and
only thing with which we were scandalized was the luxury, the pride,
the pomp, which followed you everywhere.
It is, perhaps, of this man that Bernard speaks in his
Apology c. 10: “I have seen, I do not exaggerate, an abbot going forth
escorted by 60 horses and more. . . etc.”
At length you laid down your pride, you put off your
splendid dress, and the universal indignation ceased at once. Thus you had at
the same time satisfied those who complained of you, and even merited our
praises. For what in human doings is deserving of praise, if this is not
considered most worthy of admiration and approval? It is true that a change so
sudden and so complete is not the work of man, but of God. If in heaven the
conversion of one sinner arouses great joy, what gladness will the conversion of
an entire community cause, and of such a community as yours?
4. That spot so noble by its antiquity and the royal favour, was
made to serve the convenience of worldly business, and to be a meeting-place for
the royal troops. They used to render to Caesar the things which were Caesar’s
promptly and fully; but not with equal fidelity did they render the things of
God to God. I speak what I have heard, not what I have seen: the very cloister
itself of your monastery was frequently, they say, crowded with soldiers,
occupied with the transaction of business, resounding with noise and quarrels,
and sometimes even accessible even to women. How, in the midst of all that,
could place be found for thoughts of heaven, for the service of God, for the
interests of the spiritual life? But now there is leisure for God’s service, for
practising self-restraint and obedience, for attention to sacred reading.
Consider that silence and constant
quiet from all stir of secular things disposes the soul
to meditation on things above. And the laborious exercise of the religious life
and the rigour of abstinence are lightened by the sweetness of psalms and hymns.
Penitence for the past renders lighter the austerity of the new manner of life.
He who in the present gathers the fruits of a good conscience, feels in himself
a desire for future good works, which shall not be frustrated, and a
well-founded hope. The fear of the judgment to come gives way to the pious
exercise of brotherly charity, for love casteth out fear (1 S. John iv. 18). The
variety of holy services drives far away weariness and sourness of temper, and I
repeat these things to the praise and glory of God, who is the Author of all;
yet not without praise to yourself as being His co-worker in all things. He was
able, indeed, to do them without you, but He has preferred to have you for the
sharer of His works, that He might have you for the sharer of His glory also.
The Saviour once reproached certain persons because they made the
house of prayer a den of thieves (S. Matt. xxi. 13). He will doubtless then
have in commendation the man who has accomplished the task of freeing His holy
place from the dogs, of rescuing His pearl from the swine; by whose ardour and
zeal the workshop of Vulcan is restored to holy studies, or rather the house of
God is restored to Him from being a synagogue of Satan to be that which it was
before.
5. If I recall the remembrance of past evils it is not in order
to cast confusion or reproach on any one, but from the comparison with the old
state of things to make the beauty of the new appear more sharply
and strikingly; because there is nothing which makes
the present good shine forth more clearly than a comparison with the evils which
preceded it. As we recognize similar things from similar, so things which are
unlike either please or displease more when compared with their opposites. Place
that which is black beside that which is white, and the juxtaposition of the two
colours makes each appear more marked. So, if beautiful things are put beside
ugly, the former are rendered more beautiful, the ugliness of the latter is more
apparent. That there may be no occasion of offence or confusion, I am content to
repeat with the Apostle: Such, indeed, ye were, but ye are
washed, ye are sanctified (1 Cor. vi
11). Now, the house of God ceases to open to people of the world, there is
no access to sacred precincts for the curious; no gossip about trifling things
with the idle; the chatter of boys and girls is no longer heard. The holy place
is open and accessible only to the children of Christ, of whom it is said:
Behold I and the children whom the Lord hath given me (Isaiah viii. 18). It is reserved for the praises of God and the performance of sacred
vows with due care and reverence. How gladly do the martyrs, of whom so great a
number ennoble that place, listen to the loud songs of these children, to whom
they in turn reply no less with a voice of charity: Praise, O ye servants of
the Lord, praise the name of the Lord (Ps. cxiii. 1),
and again, Sing praises to our God, sing praises, sing praises
to our King, sing praises (Ps. xlvii. 6).
6. When your breasts are beaten with penitent hands, and your
pavements worn with your knees, your altars heaped with vows and devout
prayers,
your cheeks furrowed with tears; when groans and sighs
resound on all sides and the sacred roofs echo with spiritual songs instead of
worldly pleadings, there is nothing which the citizens of heaven more love to
look upon, nothing is more agreeable to the eyes of the Heavenly King. For is
not this what is said: The sacrifice of praise shall honour me
(Ps. l. 23)? O,
if any one had his eyes opened, as were those of the prophet’s servant at his
prayer! He would doubtless see (2 Kings vi. 17)
The princes go before, joined with the minstrels in the midst of the players
on timbrels (Ps. lxvii. 26,
Vulg.). We should see, I say, with what care and ardour
they assist at the chants, and at the prayers how they unite themselves with
those who meditate, they watch over those who repose, they preside over those
who order and care for all. The powers of heaven fully recognise their
fellow-citizens; they earnestly rejoice, comfort, instruct, protect, and provide
for all those who take the heritage of salvation, at all times. How happy I
esteem myself while I am still in this world to hear of these things, although I
am absent and do not see them! But your felicity, my brethren, to whom it is
given to bear part in them, far surpasses mine, and blessed above all is he whom
the Author of all good has deigned to make the chief worker of so good a work;
it is you, my dear friend, whom with justice I congratulate for this, that you
have brought about all which I so greatly admire.
7. You are wearied, perhaps, with my praises, but you ought not
to be so; they are far different from the flatteries of those who call
evil good and good evil (Isaiah v. 20),
and so please a person to lead him into
error. Sweet but perilous is the praise when the wicked is praised in the desire of his heart, and the
unjust is blessed (Ps. ix. 3, Vulg.). The warmth of my praises comes from charity, and does
not once pass, as I believe, the limits of truth. He is safely praised, who is
praised in the Lord, that is, in the truth. I have not called evil good, but
have pointed out as evil what was evil. But if I boldly raise my voice against
that which is evil, ought I to be silent in presence of good, and not give my
testimony to it? That would be to show myself an envious critic, not a
corrector; and to prefer to mangle rather than to mend, if I am silent as to
good and raise my voice only about evil. The just reproves in mercy, the wicked
flatters in impiety; the one that he may cure, the other in order to hide that
which needs to be cured. Do not be afraid that those among us who in the fear of
the Lord praise you will pour upon your head that ointment of the sinner with
which they were wont to anoint you. I praise you because you are doing right.
But I do not flatter you; I only accomplish in your case, by the gift of God,
those words of the Psalmist: Those who fear Thee shall see me
and shall rejoice, because I have hoped in Thy word (Ps.
cxix. 74); and again: Many shall show forth his wisdom
(Ecclus. xxxix.
10). It is, then, your wisdom which more praised than blamed the former
folly.
8. I would that you should take pleasure in the praises of such
as fear just as much to flatter vice as to depreciate virtue. That is the true
praise, which, as it is wont to extol nothing but what is good, so it knows not
how to caress what is evil. All other is pretended praise, but really blame,
which Scripture
refers to: The sons of men are vain; they are
deceitful upon the weights, so that they deceive even more than vanity (Ps. lxii. 10).
Such are altogether to be avoided according to the counsel of the wise man:
My son, if sinners entice thee consent thou not (Prov. i. 10),
since their milk and their oil, though they be sweet, are poisonous and deadly.
Their words, he says (that is, those of flatterers),
are softer than oil, and yet are they very swords (Ps. lv. 21).
The righteous has oil, too, but of mercy, of sanctification, of spiritual joy.
He has wine, which he pours into the wounds of the haughty soul. But for the
soul of him that mourns, and for him of contrite heart, he has the oil of mercy,
with which he is wont to soften its sorrow. Where he corrects, he pours in wine;
when he soothes, oil; but wine without bitterness, and oil without guile. Thus,
not every praise is flattery, nor every blame mixed with rancour. Blessed is he
who can say: Let the righteous smite me in mercy, and reprove
me: but let not the oil of the sinner break my head (Ps. cxli. 5), which when you have put far from you, you have shown yourself
worthy of the oil and wine of the saints.
9. Let the children of Babylon seek for themselves pleasant
mothers, but pitiless, who will feed them with poisoned milk, and soothe them
with caresses which will make them fit for everlasting flames; but those of the
Church, fed at the breasts of her wisdom, having tasted the sweetness of a
better milk, already begin to grow up in it unto salvation, and being fully
satiated with it they cry: Thy fulness is better than wine, Thy fragrance
than the sweetest ointments (Cant. i. 1, 2). This to their mother. But, then,
having tasted and known how sweet the Lord is, how truly the
best of fathers, they say to Him: How great is Thy goodness, O
Lord, which Thou hast laid up for them that fear Thee (Ps.
xxxi. 19). Now my whole desire is accomplished. Formerly when I saw with
regret with what avidity you sucked in
Sugere. Bernard is playing upon the name of his
correspondent Suger.
from the lips of flatterers their mortal poison, the seed
of sin, I used, with grief, to desire better things for you, saying: Who shall give thee to me, my brother, who sucked the breasts of my
mother (Cant. viii.
1)? Far from thee henceforth be those men with caresses and dishonest
praises, who bless you before your face and expose you at the same time to the
reproach and derision of all men, whose applause in your presence is the world’s
by-word, or rather makes you a by-word to the world. If they murmur even now,
say to them: If I yet pleased you, I should not be the servant
of Christ (Gal. i. 10).
Those whom we please in evil things we cannot please in good things, unless they
are themselves changed, and begin to hate what we were, and so at length to love
what we are.
10. In our time two new and detestable abuses have arisen in the
Church, of which one (permit me to say it) was no stranger to you when you lived
in forgetfulness of the duties of your profession; but this, thanks to God, has
been amended to His glory, to your everlasting gain, to our joy and an example
to all. God is able to bring about that we may soon be consoled for the second
of these evils, the odious novelty of which I do not dare to speak of in public,
and yet am afraid to pass over in silence. My grief urges my tongue to speak,
but fear restrains the
words; fear only lest I may offend some one if I speak
openly of what troubles me, since truth sometimes makes enemies. But for enmity
of this kind thus incurred I hear the truth consoling me. It is
needful, he says, that offences should come. And I do
not think that those words which follow, Woe to that man by whom the offence
cometh (S. Matt. xviii.
7) concern me. For when vices are attacked and a scandal results
thence, it is not he who makes the accusation who is to answer for the scandal,
but he who renders it necessary. In short, I am neither more cautious in word
nor circumspect in action than he who says, “It is better that a scandal should
arise than that the truth be compromised” (S. Greg. Magn. Hom. 7 in Ezech. near
the beginning, and S. Aug. de Lib. Arbitr. et de Prædest. sanctor.). Although I
know not what advantage it would be were I to hold my tongue about that which
all the world proclaims with a loud voice, nor can I alone pretend to overlook
the pest whose ill odour is in all nostrils, and not dare to guard my own nose
from its ill effect.
11. For whose heart is not indignant, and whose tongue does not
murmur either openly or secretly to see a deacon equally serving God and
Mammon,
This deacon was Stephen de Garlande, seneschal or
officer of the table to the King of France.
against the precept of the Gospel heaping up
ecclesiastical dignities, so that he seems not to be inferior to Bishops, yet so
mixed up in military offices that he is preferred even to Dukes. What monster is
this, that being a clerk, and wishing at the same time to appear a soldier, is
neither? It is equally an abuse that a deacon should serve at the table
of the King, and that the server of the King should
minister at the altar during the holy mysteries. Is it not a wonder, or rather a
scandal, to see the same person clothed in armour march at the head of armed
soldiery, and vested in alb and stole read the Gospel in the midst of the
Church; at one time give the signal for battle with the trumpet, and at another
convey the orders of the Bishop to the people? Unless, perhaps, that man (which
would be scandalous) is ashamed of the Gospel of which S. Paul, that Vessel of
election, was so proud? Perhaps he is ashamed to appear a cleric, and thinks it
more honourable to be supposed a soldier, preferring the Court to the Church,
the table of the King to the Altar of Christ, and the cup of demons to the
chalice of Christ. This seems the more probable, because he is prouder (they
say) to be called by the name of that one post which he has obtained at the
palace than by any of those titles of ecclesiastical dignities which, in
defiance of the canons, he has heaped upon himself, and instead of delighting to
be called Archdeacon, Dean, or Provost to his various Churches, he prefers to be
styled Dapifer to H.M. the King. O, unheard of and hateful
perversity! thus to prefer the title of servant of a man to that of the servant
of God, and to consider the position of an official of an earthly king one of
higher dignity than that of an heavenly! He who prefers military warfare to the
work of the ministry places the world before the Church, is convicted of
preferring human things to Divine, earthly to heavenly. Is it then more
honourable to be called the King’s Dapifer than Dean or
Archdeacon? It
may be to a layman, not to a cleric; to a soldier, not to a deacon.
12. It is a strange but blind ambition to delight more in the
lowest things than in the highest, and that the man whose lines had fallen to
him in pleasant places should recreate himself upon a dunghill with eager
desire, and count his precious lands as nothing worth. This man mingles the two
orders and cunningly abuses each. Military pomps delight him, but not the risks
and labours of warfare; the revenues of religion, but not its duties. Who does
not see how great is the disgrace, as much to the State as to the Church? for
just as it is no part of clerical duty to bear arms at the pay of the King, so
it is no part of the royal duties to administer lay affairs by means of
clerics.
Bernard here blames equally clerics who bear arms for
the King’s pay and kings who impose military service upon clerks. Each is wrong:
the one because he loses sight of the dignity of his status, the others because
they confide without choice or discrimination functions of the Court or of the
Army upon clerks instead of giving them to laymen, as they ought.
What king has ever put at the head of his army an
unwarlike clerk instead of some brave soldier? What clerk, again, has ever
thought it otherwise than unworthy of him to be bound to obey any lay person
whatsoever? The very sign which he bears upon his head
The tonsure, or clerical crown.
is rather the mark of royalty than of servitude; on the
other hand, the throne finds a better support in the force of arms than in
chanting of Psalms. Still, if the abasement of the one contributes to the
greatness of the other, as is sometimes the case; if, for example, the
humiliation of the King raised higher the dignity of the
priest, or the abasement of the clerk added something
to the royal honour; as it happens, for instance, if a woman of noble rank
marries a man of the people, she indeed loses in grade by him, but he gains by
her; if, then, I say, either the King had advantage from the clerk, or the clerk
from the King, it would be an evil only in part, and perhaps ought to be borne
with; but, on the contrary, since there is no gain to either from the
humiliation of the other, but there is loss to each; since neither does it
become a cleric, as has been said, to be or to be called the server of the King;
nor is it for the King’s advantage to put the reins of government into any but
strong and brave hands. Truly then it is strange that either power endures such
a man as this; that the Church does not repulse the deacon-soldier, or the State
the prince-ecclesiastic.
13. I had wished to inculcate these principles by still stronger
and more detailed arguments, and perhaps ought to do so, did not the necessary
limits of a letter oblige me to defer this for the present; and because, most of
all, I fear to offend you, I have spared a man for whom, it is said, you had
formerly a great regard. I would not that you should have a friend at the
expense of the truth. But you have still a friendship for him; show yourself a
true friend, and exert yourself to make him, too, a friend of the Truth. Then at
length there will be a true friendship between you, if it is bound together by a
common love of truth. And if he will not yield to you in this, hold fast what
you have; join the tail to the head of the sacrifice. You have received by the
grace of God
a robe of many colours; take pains to make it reach
even to the feet, for what will it profit you to have put your hand to the work
if (which, God forbid) you do not attain finally to presevere? I end my letter
by warning you to make a good ending of your good work.
LETTER XX (circa A.D. 1130)
To Guy, Abbot of Molêsmes
Bernard consoles him under a great injustice which he had suffered, and recommends him to temper his
vengeance with mercy.
God who knows the hearts of all men, and is the inspirer of all
good dispositions, knows with what sympathy I condole with you in this your
adversity, of which I have heard. But, again, when I consider rather the person
who has caused you this trial than Him who permits it, just as much as I feel
with you in the present misfortune, so much I hope soon to rejoice with you in
the prosperity which must speedily come. But only do not let yourself be at all
crushed by discouragement; think with me how, by the example of holy Job,
Job ii. 10.
you ought to receive with the same
cheerfulness troubles from the hand of the Lord as you do blessings. Indeed, you
ought, after the example of holy David,
2 Sam. xvi. 10.
not so much to be angry with those people who have caused
you such great sufferings, although they are your own servants, as to
know that you ought to humble yourself under the mighty
hand of God, who doubtless has sent them to bring about this misfortune to you.
But since it appears that their correction devolves upon you, as they are serfs
of the Church committed to your government, it is proper that these unfaithful
serfs should be punished for their very wicked presumption, and that the loss of
the monastery should be recompensed in some degree out of their goods. But that
you may not seem rather to be avenging your own injury in this than punishing
their fault; I beg you and also advise you not to think so much of what they
deserve as what is fitting for you to do, so that mercy may be exalted above
strict justice, and that in your moderation God may be glorified. For the rest,
I beg you to press upon that your son, who is dear to me as well for your sake
as in a great degree for his own, with your own lips, as with my spirit, not to
show in his accusations a bitterness and a violence such as prove that he
forgets that precept of our Lord—Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek
turn to him the other also (S. Matt. v. 39).
LETTER XXI (circa A.D. 1128)
To the Abbot of S. John at Chartres
Bernard dissuades him from resigning his charge, and undertaking a Pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
1. As regards the matters about which you were so good as to
consult so humble a person as myself, I had at first determined not to reply.
Not because
I had any doubt what to say, but because it seemed to
me unnecessary or even presumptuous to give counsel to a man of sense and
wisdom. But considering that it usually happens that the greater number of
persons of sense—or I might say that all such—trust the judgment of another
person rather than their own in doubtful cases, and that those who have a clear
judgment in the affairs of others, however obscure, frequently hesitate and are
undecided about their own, I depart from my first resolution, not, I hope,
without reason, and without prejudice to any wiser opinion explain to you simply
how the matter appears to me. You have signified to me, if I do not mistake, by
the pious Abbot Ursus of S. Denis, that you have it in contemplation to desert
your country and the monastery over which, by the Providence of God, you are
head, to undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, to occupy yourself henceforth only
with God and the salvation of your own soul. Perhaps, if you aspire unto
perfection, it may be expedient for you to leave your country, when God says,
Go forth from thy country and from thy kindred (Gen.
xii. 1). But I do not see at all on what ground you ought to risk, by your
departure, the safety of the souls entrusted to you. For is it pleasant to enjoy
liberty after having laid down your burden? But charity does not seek her own
interests. Perhaps the wish for quiet and rest attracts you? But it is obtained
at the price of the peace of others. Freely will I do without the enjoyment of
any desire, even a spiritual one,
which cannot be obtained except at the price of a
scandal. For where there is scandal, there, without doubt, is loss of charity:
and where there is loss of charity, surely no spiritual advantage can be hoped
for. Finally, if it is permitted to any one to prefer his own quiet to the
common good, who is there that can say with truth: For me to live is Christ,
and to die is gain (Phil. i.
21)? And where will that principle be which the Apostle declares: No one lives to himself, and no one dies to
himself (Rom. xiv. 7);
and, Not seeking mine own profit, but the profit of many (1 Cor. x. 33); and, That he who lives should not any longer live unto
himself, but unto Him who died for all (2 Cor. v. 15)?
2. But you will say: Whence comes my great desire, if it is not
from God? With your permission I will say what I think. Stolen
waters are sweet (Prov. ix.
17); and for whosoever knows the devices of the devil, it is not doubtful
that the angel of darkness is able to change himself into an angel of light, and
to pour upon the thirsting soul those waters of which the sweetness is more
bitter than wormwood. In truth, what other can be the suggester of scandals, the
author of dissension, the troubler of unity and peace, except the devil, the
adversary of truth, the envier of charity, the ancient foe of the human race,
and the enemy of the Cross of Christ? If death entered into the world through
his envy, even so now he is jealous of whatever good he sees you doing; and
since he is a liar from the beginning, he falsely promises now better things which he
does not see. For when did the Truth oppose that most
faithful saying, Art thou bound unto a wife? seek not to be loosed (1 Cor. vii.
27). Or when did charity urge to scandal, who at the scandals of all shows
herself burning with regret? He, then, the most wicked one, opposed to charity
by envy, and to truth by falsehood, mixing falsehood and gall with the true
honey, promises doubtful things as certain, and gives out that true things are
false, not that he may give you what you vainly hope for, but that he may take
away what you are profitably holding now. He prowls around and seeks how he may
take away from the flock the care of the pastor, to make a prey of it when there
is none to defend it from his attacks; and, besides this, to bring down upon the
pastor that terrible rebuke, Woe to him by whom scandal
cometh (S. Matt. xviii.
7). But I have full confidence in the wisdom given to you by God,
that by no cunning devices of the wicked one you will be seduced or made to
renounce certain good, and for the hope of uncertain advantage to incur certain evil.
LETTER XXII (circa A.D. 1129)
To Simon, Abbot of S. Nicholas
Bernard
consoles him under the persecution of which he is the object. The most pious
endeavours do not always have the desired success. What line of conduct ought to
be followed towards his inferiors by a prelate who is desirous of stricter
discipline.
1. I have learned with much pain by your letter the persecution
that you are enduring for the sake of righteousness, and although the
consolation given you by Christ in the promise of His kingdom may suffice amply
for you, none the less is it my duty to render you both all the consolation that
is in my power, and sound and faithful advice as far as I am able. For who can
see without anxiety Peter stretching his arms in the midst of the billows?—or
hear without grief the dove of Christ not singing, but groaning as if she said,
How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? (Ps.
cxxxvii. 4). Who, I say, can without tears look upon the tears of Christ
Himself, who from the bottom of the abyss lifts now His eyes unto the hills to
see from whence cometh His help? But we to whom in your humility you say that
you are looking, are not mountains of help, but are ourselves struggling with
laborious endeavours in this vale of tears against the snares of a resisting
enemy, and the violence of worldly malice, and with you we cry out, Our help
is from the Lord, who made Heaven and earth (Ps. cxxi. 2).
2. All those, indeed, who wish to live piously in
Christ suffer persecution (2 Tim. iii.
12). The intention to live piously is never wanting to them, but it is not
always possible to carry it perfectly out, for just as it is the mark of the
wicked constantly to struggle against the pious designs of the good; so it is
not a reproach to the piety [of the latter], even although they are frequently
unable to perfect their just and holy desires, because they are few against many
opposers. Thus Aaron yielded against his will to the impious clamours of the
riotous people (Exod. xxxii.). So
Samuel unwillingly anointed Saul, constrained by the too eager desires of the
same people for a king (1 Sam. x.). So
David, when he wished to build a Temple, yet because of the numerous wars which
that valorous man had constantly to sustain against enemies who molested him, he
was forbidden to do what he piously proposed (2 Sam. vii.).
Similarly, venerable father, I counsel you, without prejudice to the better
advice of wiser persons, so to soften, for the present only, the rigour of your
purpose of reform, and that of those who share it with you, that you may not be
unmindful of the salvation of the weaker brethren. Those, indeed, over whom you
have consented to preside in that Order of Cluny ought to be invited to a
stricter life, but they ought not to be obliged to embrace it against their
will. I believe that those who do desire to live more strictly ought to be
persuaded either to bear with the weaker out of charity as far as they can
without sin, or permitted to preserve the customs which they desire in the
monastery itself, if that may be done without scandal to either
party; or at least that they should be set free from
the Order to associate themselves where it may seem good with other brothers who
live according to their proposal.
Letter XXIII (circa A.D. 1130)
To the Same
Bernard sends back to him to be severely
reprimanded a fugitive monk. He persuades William, who was meditating a change
of state or retiring into private life, to persevere.
To his friend, Brother Bernard, of
Clairvaux, all that a friend can wish for a friend.
1. You have given me this formula of salutation when you wrote,
“to his friend all that a friend can wish.”
Suus ille quod suus.
Receive what is thine own, and perceive that the
assumption of it is a proof that we are of one mind, for my heart is not distant
from him with whom I have language in common. I must now reply briefly to your
letter, because of the time: for when it arrived the festival of the Nativity of
our Lady
It was by the example of the Cistercians, as, I think,
all of whose monasteries were dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, that she began to
be called Our Lady. Hence, Peter Cellensis says of Bernard: “He was a most
devoted child of Our Lady, to whom he dedicated not one church only, but the
churches of the whole Cistercian Order” (B. vi. Ep. 23).
had dawned; and being obliged to devote myself entirely
to its solemnities, I had no leisure to think of anything else. Your messenger
also was anxious to be gone; scarcely would he stay even
until to-morrow morning that I might write to you these
few words after all the Offices of the festival. I send back to you a fugitive
brother after having subjected him to severe reprimand suited to his hard heart.
It seemed to me that there was nothing better to do than to send him back to the
place whence he had fled, since I ought not, according to our rules, to detain
any monk in the house without the consent of his abbot. You ought to reprove him
very severely also, and press him to make humble satisfaction and then comfort
him a little by a letter from yourself addressed to his abbot on his behalf.
2. Concerning my state of health, I am not able to reply very
precisely to your inquiry except that I continue, as in the past, to be weak and
ailing, neither much better nor much worse. If I have not sent the person whom I
had thought of sending, it is only because I feel much more the scandal to many
souls than the danger of one body. Not to pass over any of the matters of which
you speak to me, I come to yourself. You wrote that you wished to know what I
desired you to do (as if I were aware of all that concerned you). But this plan,
if I should say what I think, is one that neither I could counsel nor you carry
out. I wish, indeed, for you what, as I have long known, you wish for yourself.
But putting on one side, as is right, both your will and mine, I think more of
what God wills for you, and, to my mind, it is both safer for me to advise you
to that, and much more advantageous for you to do it. My advice is, then, that
you continue to hold your present charge, to remain where you are, and study to
profit those over whom you are set, nor flee from
the cares of office while you are able to be of use,
because woe to you if you are over the flock and do not profit them; but deeper
woe still if, because you fear the cares of office, you abandon the opportunity
of usefulness.
LETTER XXIV (circa A.D. 1126)
To Oger, Regular Canon
Some blame and some ridicule such a title as this, as
being a vicious pleonasm, since these two words differ only in the language from
which each is borrowed, and mean exactly the same thing; as if canons were
something different from regulars, or as if there were some canons who were
regulars and others who were not. But it may be seen in John Bapt. Signy Lib.
de Ord. Canon, B. ii., and Navarre, Com. I. de Regul. ad c. 12, Cui portio Deus, q. 1, where he shows that every pleonasm is
not necessarily a battology. For in legal documents certain expressions or
clauses are often repeated to give them more force. It is the same in Hebrew (Ps. lxxxvii. 5,
Ps. lxviii. 12
Vulg. and lxx.).
Oger was the first Dean of the Regular Canons of S. Nicholas des
Pres, near Tournay. Picard states this upon the authority of Denis Viller, Canon
and Chancellor of Tournay.
Bernard blames him for his resignation of his
pastoral charge, although made from the love of a calm and pious life. None the
less, he instructs him how, after becoming a private person, he ought to live in community.
To Brother Oger,
the Canon, Brother Bernard, monk
but sinner, wishes that he may walk worthily of God even to the end, and
embraces him with the fullest affection.
1. If I seem to have been too slow in replying to your letter,
ascribe it to my not having had an
opportunity to send to you. For what you now read was
written long since, but, as I have said, though written without delay, was
delayed for want of a bearer. I have read in your letter that you have laid down
with regret the burden of your pastoral charge, permission having been obtained
with great difficulty, or rather, extorted by your importunity, from your
Bishop; and only on the condition that you should remain under his authority,
though fixing yourself elsewhere. But this not being satisfactory to you, you
appealed to the Archbishop, and, obtaining the relaxation of this condition, you
have returned to your former house and put yourself under your original abbot.
Now you ask to be advised by me as to how you ought to live henceforth. An able
teacher, indeed, and incomparable master am I! And when I shall have begun to
teach what I do not know myself, it will soon be discovered that I know nothing.
You act, in consulting me, as a sheep who seeks wool from a goat, a mill
expecting water from an oven, a wise man expecting sound counsel from a fool.
Besides this, you heap upon me, from one end of your letter to the other,
complimentary speeches, and attribute to me excellences of which I am not
conscious; and as I ascribe them to your kind feelings, so I forgive them to
your ignorance. For you look upon the countenance, but God upon the heart; and
if I examine myself with attention under His awful gaze, I find that I know
myself much better than you know me, since I am much less far from myself than
you are. Therefore I give greater credence to that which I see in myself than to
what you suppose, without seeing,
to be in me. Nevertheless, if you may have heard from
me anything that is profitable to you, give thanks to God, in whose hand I am
and all my words.
2. You explain to me also for what reason you have not followed
my advice, not only not to allow yourself to be discouraged or overcome by
despondency, but to bear patiently the burden laid upon you, which once
undertaken you were not at liberty to lay down; and I accept your explanations.
I am well aware, indeed, of the infertility of my wisdom, and I always hold
myself in suspicion for rashness and inexperience, so that I ought not to take
it ill, nor do I, when the course which I approve is not taken; and I wish, on
the contrary, that action should be taken on better advice than mine. As often
as my opinion is chosen and followed I feel myself weighed down, I confess it,
with responsibility, and await with inquietude, never with confidence, the issue
of the matter. Yet it is for you to see if you have acted wisely in not
following my advice about this thing;
Bernard had counselled him not to resign his abbacy,
and this advice he had not followed. Hence is suggested the serious question: Is
it lawful to lay down the pastoral charge, to withdraw one’s self from cares and
business, for the purpose of serving God in peace and quiet, and caring for
one’s own soul? The examples of so many holy men whom we know to have done this
add to the difficulty of the question. Many might be cited among prelates of
lower rank, not a few Bishops, Cardinals, and even some Popes. Bruno III., Count
of Altena, and afterwards Bishop of Cologne, quitted his see, in 1119, and
retired to the Cistercian monastery of Aldenberg. Eskilus, Archbishop of Lunden,
in Denmark, came to live at Clairvaux as a simple monk; Peter Damian, who, from
a Benedictine monk, became Cardinal and Bishop of Ostia, after he had rendered
signal service to the Church for a number of years, with wonderful constancy, in
the high office to which he had been raised, returned into his cell from love of
solitude and quiet, and passed the rest of his days in profound peace, in the
midst of his brethren; but was blamed by the Pope because he, a useful and able
man, postponed public usefulness to his private safety. One remarkable fact is
recorded of him, that the Pope imposed upon him a penance of a hundred years for
quitting his Bishopric: he was to recite Ps. 1. [li.] and
give himself the discipline every day for a hundred years; and this he completed
entirely in the space of one year. This I remember to have read somewhere (Works, Vol. i. ep. 10, new ed., Vol. iii. opusc. 20). To Pope
Alexander and Cardinal Hildebrand, who became Pope later under the name of
Gregory VII., he tries to justify his quitting his see, and opposes numerous
examples of conduct similar to his, to the blame of the Pope and the cardinals.
But it is necessary to hold to what the law prescribes rather
than to the examples of other persons. The Angelical Doctor says: “Every pastor
is obliged by his function to labour for the salvation of others, and it is not
permitted to him to cease to do so, not even to have leisure for peaceful
meditation upon spiritual things. For the Apostle regards the obligation to
occupy himself with the salvation of others who depend upon him as being of such
importance that it must not be postponed even to heavenly meditation: I know
not what to choose, he says, for I am in a strait betwixt two, having a
desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better; nevertheless, to
abide in the flesh is more needful for you (Phil. i.
22–23). It may be added that the Episcopate being a state more perfect than
that of the monk, it follows that just as it is not permitted to quit the second
to re-enter the world, so it is not allowable to renounce the first in order to
embrace the second, considering that the latter is less perfect than the former.
That would precisely be to look back after having put one’s hand to the plough,
and to show one’s self unfit for the kingdom of God” (S. Luke ix. 62).
it must be decided also by those
wiser persons than I, on whose authority you have
relied, whether you have done according to reason. They will tell you, I say,
whether it is lawful for a Christian man to lay down the burden of obedience
before his death, when Christ was made obedient to the Father even unto death.
You will reply, “I have acted by license, asked and received from the Bishop.”
True, you have, indeed, asked for license, but in a manner you ought not to
have
done, and, therefore, have rather extorted than asked
it. But an extorted or compelled license should rather be called violence. What,
therefore, the Bishop did unwillingly, when overcome by your importunity, was
not to release you from your obligations, but violently to break them.
3. You may indeed be congratulated, since you are thus
exonerated; but I fear lest you have, as much as lieth in you, taken from the
glory
Exoneratus; exhonoratus.
of God, whose will you, beyond doubt, resist in casting
yourself down from the post to which He had advanced you. Perhaps you excuse
yourself by pleading the necessity of religious poverty; but it is necessity
that brings the crown, in rendering achievements difficult and almost
impossible; for all things are possible to him who has faith. But answer to me
what is most true, that you have consulted your own quiet, rather than the
advantage of others. Nor is this strange. I confess that I, too, am pleased that
quiet should delight you, if only it does not delight you too much. For that,
even although a great thing, which pleases us to such a degree that we wish to
bring it about, even although by wrong means, pleases us too much; and because
it cannot be brought about by right means, it ceases to be good. For if you
offer rightly, but do not divide rightly, you have sinned (Gen.
iv. 7, lxx.). Either, therefore, you ought not to have accepted the cure of
the Lord’s flock, or, having accepted it, ought not to have relinquished it,
according to those words: Art thou bound unto a wife? seek not to be
loosed (2 Cor. vii. 27).
4. But to what end do I strive in these arguments?
To persuade you to take your charge again? You cannot,
since it is no longer vacant. Or to drive you to despair by fixing upon you the
blame of a fault which you are no longer able to repair? By no means; I wish
only that you should not neglect the fault you have committed, as if it were
nothing or nothing much, but that you should rather repent of it with fear and
trembling, as it is written: Happy is the man that feareth
alway (Prov. xxviii.
14). But the fear which I wish to inspire is not that which falls into the
nets of desperation, but which brings to us the hope of blessedness. There is,
indeed, a fear, useless, gloomy, and cruel, which does not seek pardon, and,
therefore, does not obtain it. There is also a fear, pious, humble, and
fruitful, which easily obtains mercy for a sinner, however great be his offence.
Such a fear produces, nourishes, and preserves not only humility, but also
sweetness, patience, and forbearance. Whom does not so blameless an offspring
delight? But of the other fear the miserable progeny is obstinacy, excessive
sorrow, rancour, horror, contempt, and desperation. I have wished to recall you
to the remembrance of your fault, but only in order to awaken in you, not the
fear which produces desperation, but that which produces hope; being afraid lest
you should not have any fear at all, or should have too little.
5. There is something, however, which I fear still more for
you, namely, that which is written of certain sinners, that they rejoice in having done evil and delight in wicked actions
(Prov. ii. 14); that you should be deceived, and not only think that what you have done
is not wrong, but also (which, God forbid)
glory in your heart, thinking that you have done
something great, and which is usually done by few, in renouncing voluntarily the
power to command others, and, despising rule, have preferred to be subjected
again to a ruler. That would be a false humility, causing real pride in the
heart of him that should think such thoughts. For what can be more proud than to
ascribe to spontaneous and, as it were, free choice that which the force of
necessity or fainthearted weakness obliges us to do? But if you have not been
forced by necessity or exhausted by labour, but have done it willingly, there is
nothing more proud than this; for you have put your own will before that of God,
you have chosen to taste the sweetness of repose rather than serve diligently in
the work to which He has set you. If, then, you have not only despised God, but
glory in utterly contemning Him, your glorying is not good. Beware of
boastfulness and self-satisfaction; more useful for you were it to be always in
care, always humbly trembling, not, as I have said, with the fear that provokes
wrath, but with that which softens it.
6. If that horrible fear ever knocks at the door of your soul
to terrify it, and to suggest that your service to God cannot be accepted, and
that your penitence is unfruitful because that in which God has been offended by
you cannot be amended; do not receive it even for a moment, but reply with
confidence: I have done wrong indeed, but it is done and cannot be undone. Who
knows if God has foreseen that good should come to me out of it, and that He who
is good has willed to do me good even from my evil? Let Him then punish the evil which
I have done, but let the good which He had provided for
remain. The goodness of God knew how to use our ill-governed wills and actions
to the beauty of the order which He established, and often, in His goodness,
even to our benefit. O indulgent bounty of Divine love towards the sons of Adam!
which does not cease to load us with benefits, not only where no merit was
found, but often even where entire demerit was seen. But let us return to you.
According to the two kinds of fear which are distinguished above, I wish you to
fear, and yet not to fear; to presume, and yet not to presume. To feel that you
may repent, not to feel that you may have confidence; and again, to have
confidence that you may not distrust, and not to be confident that you may not
grow inactive.
7. You perceive, brother, how much confidence I have in you,
since I permit myself to blame you so sharply, to judge and disapprove so freely
what you have done, when perhaps you have had better reasons for doing it than
have hitherto been made known to me. For you have not perhaps wished to state
those reasons in your letters, by which your action might well be excused,
either through your humility or through want of space. Leaving, then, undecided
for the present my opinion about any part of the matter with which I may not be
fully acquainted, one thing that you have done I unreservedly praise, namely,
that when you had laid down the yoke of ruling, yet without a yoke you were not
willing to continue, but took up again a discipline to which you were attached,
without being ashamed to become a simple disciple when you had borne the title of
master. For you were able, when freed from your
pastoral charge, to remain under your own authority, since in becoming abbot you
were released from the obedience owed to your former abbot.
Because a monk, when he became an abbot, was freed from
the control of his own abbot.
But you did not wish to be under no authority but your
own, and as you had declined to rule over others, so you shrunk from rule over
yourself; and inasmuch as you thought yourself not fit to be the master of
others, so also you did not trust yourself to be your own master, and in your
distrust of yourself, even for your own guidance, would not be your own
disciple. And rightly. For he who makes himself his own master, subjects himself
to a fool as master. I know not what others may think of this; as for me, I have
had experience of what I say, that it is far more easy and safe to govern many
others than my own single self. It was, therefore, a proof of prudent humility
and of humble prudence that, by no means believing that you were sufficient for
your own salvation, you proposed to live henceforth by the judgment of another
person.
8. I praise you also that you did not seek out another master
nor another place, but returned to the cloister whence you had gone forth, and
to the master under whom you had made progress in good. It was very right that
the house which had nurtured you, but had sent you forth through brotherly
charity, should receive you when freed from your charge, rather than that
another house should have in its place the joy of possessing you. As, however,
you have not obtained the sanction of the Bishop for
what you have done, do not be negligent in seeking it,
but either yourself, or through some third person, be prompt to give him
satisfaction as far as is in your power. After this, study to lead a simple life
among your brethren, devoted to God, submissive to your superior, respectful
towards the older monks, and obliging towards the younger. Be profitable in
word, humble in heart, pleasing to the Angels, courteous to all. But beware of
thinking that you have a right to be honoured more than others because you were
once placed in a position of dignity, but show yourself as one among the rest,
only more humble than all. For it is not becoming that you should be honoured on
account of a post, the labour of which you have shunned.
9. Another danger also may arise from this of which I wish to
forewarn you and strengthen you against it. For as we are very changeable, and
it frequently happens that what we wished for yesterday to-day we refuse, and
what we shrink from to-day to-morrow we desire, so it may happen sometime by the
temptation of the devil that, from the remembrance of the honour you have
resigned, a selfish desire may knock at the door of your heart, and you may
begin weakly to covet what you bravely resigned. The recollection of things
which before were bitter to you will then be sweet; the dignity of the position,
the care of the house, and the administration of its property, the respectful
obedience of domestics, the freedom of your own actions, the power over others;
it may be as much a source of regret to you that you have given up these things,
as it was before of weariness to bear them. If you yield even
for an hour (which may God forbid) to this most
injurious temptation you will suffer great loss to your spiritual life.
10. This is the whole of the wisdom of that most accomplished
and eloqueut Doctor, by whom you have wished to be taught from such a distance.
This is the eulogy, desired and waited for, which you have been so eager to
hear. This is the sum of all my wisdom. Do not look for any other great thing
from me; you have heard all. What can you require more? The fountain is drained,
and would you seek water from the dry sand? I have sent you, according to the
example of that widow in the Gospel,
S.
Luke xxi. 2–4
out of my poverty all that I had. Why art thou ashamed,
and why does thy countenance fall? You have obliged me. You have asked for a
discourse; a discourse you have. A discourse, I say, long enough, indeed, but
saying nothing; full of words, empty of meaning. Such is the discourse which
ought to be received by you with charity, as you have requested it, but which
only seems to reveal my lack of knowledge. Perhaps it would not be impossible
for me to find excuses for it. Thus I might say that I have dictated it while
labouring under a tertian fever, as also while occupied with the cares of my
office, while yet it is written, Write at leisure of wisdom (founded on
Ecclus. xxxviii.
25). I should rightly put these reasons forward if I had adventured upon
some great and laborious work. But now, in such a brief treatise that my
engagements afford me no excuse, I can allege nothing,
as I have often said already, but the insufficiency of
my knowledge.
11. But I console myself in my mortification by considering
that if I had not done as you requested, if I had not sent what you hoped for,
you would not have been quite sure of my goodwill to-day. I hope that my good
intention will content you when you see that the power to do more was wanting to
me. And although my Letter be without utility to you, it will profit me in
promoting humility. Even a fool when he holdeth his peace is
counted wise (Prov. xvii.
28), for that he holds his peace is counted to him as the reserve of
humility, not as want of sense. If, then, I had still kept silence, I should
have had the benefit of a similar judgment, and have been called wise without
being so. But now some will ridicule me as a man of little wisdom, some laugh at
me as ignorant, and others indignantly accuse me of presumption. Do not think
that all this serves little to the profit of religion, since humility, which
humiliation teaches us to practise, is the foundation of the entire spiritual
fabric. Thus humiliation is the way to humility, as patience to peace, as
reading is to knowledge. If you long for the virtue of humility, you must not
flee from the way of humiliation. For if you do not allow yourself to be
humiliated, you cannot attain to humility. It is a benefit to me, therefore,
that my ignorance should be made known, and that I should be rightly put to
confusion by those who are instructed, since I have often been undeservedly
praised by those who could not form a correct opinion. The fear of the Apostle
makes me fear when he says, I forbear, lest
any man should think of me above that
which he seeth me to be, or that he heareth of me (2 Cor. xii.
6). How finely he has said I spare [restrain] you. The arrogant, the
proud, the desirous of vainglory, the boaster of his own deeds, who either takes
merit to himself for what he has done, or even claims what he has not done, he
does not restrain himself. He alone who is truly humble, he restrains his own
soul, who is even afraid to let the excellency that is in him be known, that he
may not be thought to be what he is not.
12. Great in truth is the danger, that any one should speak of
us above what we feel our desert to be. Who shall give me to be as deservedly
humiliated among men for well-founded reasons as I have been undeservedly
praised for ill-founded ones? I should, then, be able to take to myself the word
of the Prophet: After having been exalted I have been cast down
and filled with confusion (Ps. lxxxviii.
15, Vulg.), and this, I will play and will be yet
more vile (2 Sam. vi. 21, 22). Yes, I will play this foolish game that I may be
ridiculed. It is a good folly, at which Michal is angry and God is pleased. A
good folly which affords a ridiculous spectacle, indeed, to men, but to angels
an admirable one. Yes, I repeat; an excellent folly, by which we are exposed to
disgrace from the rich and disdain from the proud. For, in truth, what do we
appear to people of the world to do except indulge in folly, since what they
seek with eagerness in this world we, on the contrary, shun, and what they avoid
we eagerly seek? Upon the eyes of all we produce the effect of jugglers and
tumblers, who stand or walk
on their hands, contrary to human nature, with their
heads downwards and feet in the air. But our foolish game has nothing boyish in
it, nothing of the spectacle at the theatre, which represents low actions, and
with effeminate and corrupt gestures and bendings provoke the passions, but it
is cheerful, honourable, grave, decent, and capable of delighting even the
celestial beings who gaze upon it. This it was he was engaged in, who said, We are made a spectacle to Angels and to men
(1 Cor. iv. 9). May it be ours also in this meantime, that we may be ridiculed,
confounded, humiliated, until He shall come who puts down the powerful and
exalts the humble, to fill us with joy and glory, and to raise us up for ever
and ever.
LETTER XXV. (circa A.D. 1127)
To the Same
Bernard, being hindered by many occupations, has
not yet been able to find time to satisfy his wishes, and is obliged even to
write to him very briefly. He forbids a certain one of his treatises to be made
public unless it were read over and corrected.
1. I pass over now my want of experience, my humble profession,
or rather my profession of humility, nor do I shelter myself behind (I do not
say my lowness, but, at least) my mediocrity of position or name, since whatever
I should allege of that kind you would declare to be rather a pretext
for delay than a reasonable excuse. It seems to me that
you interpret my shyness and modesty at your will, now as indiscretion, now, as
false humility, and now as real pride. Of these reasons, therefore, since they
would appear doubtful to you, I say nothing. Only I wish that your friendship
should be fully convinced of one thing, that since the departure of your
messenger (not the one who carries this letter, but the other) left me I have
not had a single instant of leisure to do what you asked, so busy are my days
and so short my nights. Even now your latest letter has found me so engrossed
that it would take me too long to write to you the mere occupations, which would
be my excuse with you. I have scarcely been able even to read your letter
through, except during my dinner, for at that hour it was delivered to me, and
scarcely have I been able to write back to you these few words hastily and, as
it were, furtively. You will see that you must not complain of the brevity of my
letter.
2. To speak the truth, my dear Oger, I am forced to be angry with
all these cares, and that on your account, although in them, as my conscience
bears witness, I desire to serve only charity, by the requirements of which, as
I am debtor both to the wise and to the unwise, I have been made unable as yet
to satisfy your wishes. What, then? Does Charity deny to you what you ask in the
name of Charity? You have requested and begged, you have knocked at the door,
and Charity has rendered your requests unavailing. Why are you angry with me? It
is Charity whom you must be angry with, if you will
and dare to be so, since it is she who is the cause
that you have not obtained what you expected to have by her means. Already she
is displeased at my long discourse, and is angry with you who have imposed it.
Not that the ardour with which you do this is displeasing to her, since it is
she which has inspired you with it, but she wishes that your zeal should be
ruled according to knowledge, and that you should be careful not to hinder
greater things for the sake of lesser. You see how unwillingly I am torn away
from writing to you at greater length, since the pleasure of conversing with
you, and the wish to satisfy you, make me troublesome to my mistress, Charity,
who has long since been bidding me to make an end, and I am not yet silent. How
wide is the matter for reply in your letter, if it were permissible to do as you
would wish, and as I, too, should, perhaps, be well enough pleased to do! But
she who requires otherwise of me is mistress, or rather is the Master. For
God is charity (1 S.
John iv. 16), and it is very evident that such is her authority, that
I ought to obey her rather than either myself or you. And since it is incumbent
on Charity to obey God rather than men, I unwillingly, and with grief, put off
for a time the doing what you ask, not refuse altogether to do it, and I fear in
endeavouring humbly to respond to your desires to appear to wish, under the
pretext of a pretended humility, which is only pure pride, to revolt here below,
I, who am only a miserable worm of the earth, against the strength of that power
which, as you truly declare, rules even the Angels in heaven.
3. As for the little treatise which you ask for, I
had asked for it back again from the person to whom I
had lent it, even before your messenger came to me, but I have not yet received
it; but I will take care that at all events when you come here, if you are ever
coming, you shall find it here, see and read it, but not transcribe it. For that
other treatise which you mention that you have transcribed I had sent to you to
be read, indeed, but not to be copied; and I do not know to what good purpose or
for whose good you can have done it. In sending it to you I did not intend that
the Abbot of S. Thierry should have it,
He is here, without doubt, speaking of the Apology to
the Abbot William. Oger was at Clairvaux while Bernard was writing it, as
appears from the last words of that work. But as he left before the final
touches were put to it, Bernard afterwards sent it to him for perusal; and he,
without direction, communicated it to Abbot William, to whom it was inscribed,
and to whom Bernard intended to send it.
and I had not bidden you to send it; but I am not
displeased that you have done so. For why should I be afraid that my little book
should pass under his eyes, under whose gaze I would willingly spread my whole
soul if I were able? But, alas! why does the mention of so good a man present
itself at such a time of hurried discourse, when it is not permitted to me to
linger, as would be fitting, and converse with you about that excellent man,
when I ought already to have come to the end of my letter? I entreat you to make
an opportunity of going to see him, and do not give out my book to be read or
copied until you shall have gone over the whole of it with him; read it then
together and correct what in it needs correction, that every word in it may have
the support of two witnesses. After that, I commit to the judgment of each of you
whether it be expedient that it should be shown
publicly, or only to a few persons, or to some particular person only, or not at
all to any one. And I make you judge equally if that little preface
This little preface is the Letter addressed to the same
William, and counted the 85th among the Letters of S. Bernard; it is placed at
the head of the Apology.
which you have fitted to the same out of fragments from
other letters of mine should stand as it is, or whether another fitter one
should be composed.
4. But I had almost forgotten that you complained at the
beginning of your letter that I had accused you of falsehood. I do not clearly
recollect whether I ever said that; but if I said anything like it (for I should
prefer to think that I had forgotten rather than that your messenger had falsely
reported) do not doubt that it was spoken in joke, and not seriously. Can I have
even thought that you had used levity and were capable of trifling with your
word? Far from me be such a suspicion of you, who have from your youth been
happy in bearing the yoke of truth, and when I find in you a gravity of
character beyond your years. Nor am I so simple as to see a falsehood in a word
artlessly spoken with out duplicity of heart; nor so indifferent as to have
forgotten either the project which you have long since formed or the obstacle
which hinders its realization.
LETTER XXVI. (circa A.D. 1127)
To the Same
He excuses the brevity of his letter on the
ground that Lent is a time of silence; and also that on account of his
profession and his ignorance he does not dare to assume the function of
teaching.
1. You will, perhaps, be angry, or, to speak more gently, will
wonder that in place of a longer letter which you had hoped for from me you
receive this brief note. But remember what says the wise man, that there is a
time for all things under the heaven; both a time to speak and a time to keep
silence (Eccles. iii. 1–7). But when shall silence have its time, if our chatter shall occupy even
these sacred days of Lent? Correspondence is more absorbing than conversation,
inasmuch as it is more laborious; since when in each other’s presence we may say
with little labour what we will, but when absent we require diligently to
dictate in turn the words which we mutually seek, or which are sought from us.
But while being absent from you I meditate, dictate or write down what you are
in time to read, where, I pray you, is the silence and quiet of my retreat?
In this Letter the Saint expresses in forcible words
how little he felt himself inclined to write to his friends Letters without
necessity or usefulness, and to take time and leisure for doing so which
belonged to more important and sacred employments. Also, he felt that the labour
of literary composition interfered with the silence to which monks were bound,
as also with inward quiet and peace. Bernard speaks of the function and calling
of a monk like himself. For the monk, as such, is not called to preach and to
teach, but to devote himself in solitude to God and to his own salvation,
through meditation and the practice of virtues. Wherefore he says, in ep. 42:
“Labour and retirement and voluntary poverty, these are the signs of the monk;
these render excellent the monastic life.” But if there should be anywhere
lurking slothful monks who are so imprudent and rash as to abuse the authority
of the Saint to the excuse of their own indolence, let such hear him accusing
them in plain words: “I may seem, perhaps, to say too much in disparagement of
learning, as if I wished to blame the learned and prohibit the study of
literature. By no means. I do not overlook how greatly her learned sons have
profited and do profit the Church, whether in combating her enemies or in
instructing the simple,” &c. (Sermon 36 on the Canticles).
But all these things, you say, you can do in silence;
yet, if you think, you will not answer thus. For what a tumult there is in the
mind of those who dictate, what a crowd of sentiments, variety of expressions,
diversity of senses jostle; how frequently one rejects that word which presents
itself and seeks another which, still escapes; what close attention one gives to
the consecutiveness of the line of thought and the elegance of the expression!
How it can be made most plain to the intellect, how it can be made most useful
to the conscience, what, in short, shall be put before and what after for a
particular reader, and many other things do those who are careful in their
style, attend to most closely. And will you say that in this I shall have quiet;
will you call this silence, even though the tongue be still?
2. Besides, it is not only the time, but also my profession and
my insufficiency which prevent my undertaking what you desire, or being able to
fulfil it. For it is not the profession of a monk, which I seem to be, or of a
sinner, which I am, to teach, but to mourn for sin. An unlearned person (as I
truly confess myself to be) never acts more unlearnedly than when he presumes to
teach what he knows not.
Therefore, to teach is the business neither of the
unlearned in his rashness, nor of the monk in his boldness, nor of the penitent
in his distress. It is for this reason I have fled from the world and abide in
solitude, and propose to myself with the prophet, to take heed to my ways
that I offend not with my tongue (Ps. xxxix. 2)
since, according to the same prophet, A man full of words shall
not prosper upon the earth (Ps. cxl. 11),
and to another Scripture, Death and life are in the power of
the tongue (Prov. xviii.
21). But silence, says Isaiah, is the work of
righteousness (Is. xxxii.
21), and Jeremiah teaches us to wait in silence for the
salvation of the Lord (Lam. iii.
26). Thus to this pursuit and desire of righteousness, since righteousness
is the mother, the nurse, and the guardian of all virtues, I would not seem
entirely to deny what you have asked, and I invite and entreat you and all those
who, like you, desire to make progress in virtue, if not by the teaching of my
words, at least by the example of my silence, to learn from me to be silent, you
who press me in your words to teach what I do not know.
3. But what am I doing? It will be wonderful if you do not
smile, seeing with what a flood of words I condemn those who are too full of
words, and while I desire to commend silence to you, I plead against silence by
my loquacity. Our dear Guerric,
This Guerric was made Abbot of Igny in 1138. He is
mentioned again in the following Letter.
concerning whose penitence and whose manner of life you
wished to be assured, as far as I can judge from his actions, is walking worthy
of the grace of God, and bringing forth works worthy of
penitence. The little book which you ask of me I have
not beside me just now. A certain friend of ours, with the same desire to read
it as you, has kept it a long time, but not to frustrate altogether the desire
of your piety,
Or benignity.
I send you another which I have just completed on the Glories of the Virgin Mother, which, as I have no other copy
of it, I beg that you will return to me as soon as possible, or bring it with
you if you will be coming here soon.
LETTER XXVII (circa A.D. 1127)
To the Same
A sincere love has no need of lengthy letters,
or of many words. Bernard has been in a state of health almost despaired of, but
is now recovering.
1. I have sent you a short letter in reply to a short one from
you. You have given me an example of brevity, and I willingly follow it. And
truly what need have true and lasting friendship, as you truly say, of
exchanging empty and fugitive words? However great be the variety of quotations
and verses, and the multiplicity of the phrases by which you have endeavoured to
display or to prove your friendship for me, I feel more certain of your
affection than I do that you have succeeded in expressing it, and you will not
be wrong if you think the same in respect to me. When your letter came into my
hands you were present in my heart, and I am
quite convinced that it will be the same for me when
you receive my letter, and that when you read it I shall not be absent. It is a
labour for each of us to scribble to the other, and for our messengers a fatigue
to carry our letters from the one to the other, but the heart feels neither
labour nor fatigue in loving. Let those things cease, then, which without labour
cannot be carried on, and let us practise only that which, the more earnestly it
is done, seems to cost the less labour. Let our minds, I say, rest from
dictating, our lips from conversing, our fingers from writing, our messengers
from running to and fro.
This kind of correspondence is a hindrance to devotion
and the spirit of prayer, as he says in the Letter placed at the head of his
Apology addressed to Abbot William, and also in Letter 89.
But let not our hearts rest from meditating day and night
on the law of the Lord, which is the law of love. The more we cease to be
occupied in doing this the less quiet shall we enjoy, and the more engrossed we
are in it, so much the more calm and repose we shall feel from it. Let us love
and be loved, striving to benefit ourselves in the other, and the other in
ourselves. For those whom we love, on those do we rely, as those who love us
rely in turn on us. Thus to love in God is to love charity, and therefore it is
to labour for charity, to strive to be loved for the sake of God.
2. But what am I doing? I promised brevity, and I am sliding
into prolixity. If you desire news of Brother Guerric, or rather since you do
so, he so runs not as uncertainly, so fights not as one that beateth the air.
But since he knows that salvation depends not on him who fights, nor on him who
runs, but on God, who shows mercy, he begs that he may
have the help of your prayers for him, so that He who has already granted to him
both to fight and to run, may grant also to overcome and to attain. Salute for
me with my heart and by your mouth your abbot, who is most dear to me, not only
on your account, but also because of his high character. It will be most
agreeable to me to see him at the time and place which you have promised. I do
not wish to leave you ignorant that the hand of God has for a little while been
laid heavily upon me. It seemed that I had been stricken to the fall, that the
axe had been laid to the root of the barren tree of my body, and I feared that I
might be instantly cut down; but lo! by your prayers and those of my other
friends, the good Lord has spared me this time also, yet in the hope that I
shall bear good fruits in the future.
LETTER XXVIII (circa A.D. 1130)
To the Abbots Assembled at Soissons
This was one of the first general Chapters held by the
Black Monks (as they are called) in the province of Rheims. It seems that its
cause and occasion was the Apology addressed by Bernard to Abbot William, who
was the prime mover in calling together this assembly, after the example of the
Cluniacs and Cistercians, that they might re-establish the observance of the
Rule which was being let slip. It was held without doubt at S. Medard under the
Abbot Geoffrey, to whom Letter 66 was addressed. He was Bishop of
Châlons-sur-Marne when Peter the Venerable spoke of him thus (B. ii. Ep. 43):
“It is he who first spread the divine Order of Cluny through the whole of
France, who was its author and propagator; and, far more, it was he who expelled
‘the old dragon’ from his resting-places in so many monasteries, and who roused
monks from their torpor.” Innocent II, determined that these general Chapters
should be held every year in future.
Bernard urges the abbots zealously to
perform the duty for which they had met. He recommends to them a great desire of
spiritual progress, and begs them not to be delayed in their work if lukewarm
and lax persons should perhaps murmur.
To the Reverend Abbots met in the name of the Lord in Chapter
at Soissons, brother Bernard,
Abbot of Clairvaux, the servant of their Holiness,
health and prayer that they may see, establish, and observe the things which are
right.
1. I greatly regret that my occupations prevent me from being
present at your meeting—at least, in body. For neither distance nor a crowd of
cares are able to banish my spirit, which prays for you, feels with you, and
rests among you. No, I repeat, I cannot be wanting in the assembly of the
saints, nor can distance of place nor absence of body altogether separate me
from the congregation and the counsels of the righteous, in which, not the
traditions of men are obstinately upheld or superstitiously observed; but
diligent and humble inquiry is made what is the good and acceptable and perfect
will of God (Rom. xii. 2).
All my desires carry me where you are; I am with you by devotion, by friendship,
by similarity of sentiment, and partaking of your zeal.
2. That those who now applaud you may not hereafter ridicule
you as having assembled to no purpose (which God forbid!), strive, I beseech
you, to make your conduct holy and your resolutions good, for too good they
cannot be. Grant that you
may be too just or even too wise, yet it is plain that
you cannot be good beyond measure. And indeed I read: Do not carry justice to
excess (Eccles. vii.
17, Vulg.). I read: Be not wiser than is befitting (Rom. xii. 3,
Vulg.). But is it ever said: Do not carry goodness to excess? or, Take care not
to be too good? No one can be more good than it behoves him to be. Paul was a
good man, and yet he was not at all content with his state; he reached forward
gladly to the things that were before, forgetting those that were behind (Phil. iii.
23), and striving to become continually better than himself. It is only God
who does not desire to become better than He is, because that is not possible.
3. Let those depart both from me and from You who say: We do
not desire to he better than our fathers; declaring themselves to be the sons of
lukewarm and lax persons, whose memory is in execration, since they have eaten
sour grapes, and their children’s teeth are set on edge. Or if they pretend that
their fathers were holy men, whose memory is blessed, let them imitate their
sanctity, and not defend, as laws instituted by them, the indulgences and
dispensations which they have merely endured. Although holy Elias says, I am not better than my fathers
(2
Kings xix. 4), yet he has not said that he did not wish to be. Jacob saw
upon the ladder Angels ascending and descending (Gen. xxviii.
12); but was any one of them either sitting, or standing still? It was not
for angels to stand still on the uncertain rounds of a frail ladder; nor can
anything remain fixed in the same condition during the uncertain period of this
mortal life. Here have we no continuing
city; nor do we yet possess, but always seek for, that
which is to came. Of necessity you either ascend or descend, and if you try to
stand still you cannot but fall. It may be held as certain that the man is not
good at all who does not wish to be better; and where you begin not to care to
make advance in goodness there also you leave off being good.
4. Let those depart both from me and from you who call good
evil and evil good. If they call the pursuit of righteousness evil, what good
thing will be good in their eyes? The Lord once spoke a single word, and the
Pharisees were scandalized (S. Matt. xv. 12). But now these new
Pharisees are scandalized not even at a word, but at silence. You plainly see
then that they seek only the occasion to attack you. But leave them alone; they
be blind leaders of the blind. Take thought for the salvation of the little
ones, not of the murmurs of the evil-disposed. Why do you so much fear to give
scandal to those who are not to be cured unless you become sick with them? It is
not even desirable to wait to see whether your resolutions are pleasing to all
of you in all respects, otherwise you will determine upon little or no good. You
ought to consult not the views, but the needs of all; and faithfully to draw
them towards God, even although they be unwilling, rather than abandon them to
the desires of their heart. I commend myself to your holy prayers.
LETTER XXIX (A.D. 1132)
To Henry, King of England
He asks the King’s favour to the monks sent by
him to construct a monastery.
To the illustrious Henry, King of England,
Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, that he may faithfully serve
and humbly obey the King of Heaven in his earthly kingdom.
There is in your land a property
The history of the Abbey of Wells, in England, explains
to us what is meant by these words of Bernard. “The Abbot of Clairvaux, Bernard,
had sent detachments of his army of invasion to take possession of the most
distant regions; they won brilliant triumphs over the ancient enemy of
salvation, bearing from him his prey and restoring it to its true Sovereign. God
had inspired him with the thought of sending some hopeful slips from his noble
vine of Clairvaux into the English land that he might have fruit among that
nation, as in the rest of the world. The very letter is yet extant which he
wrote for these Religious to the King, in which he said that there was a
property of the Lord in that land of the King, and that he had sent brave men
out of his army to seek it, seize it, and bring it back to its owner. He
persuades the King to render assistance to his messengers, and not to fail to
fulfil in this his duty to his suzerain; which was done. The Religious from
Clairvaux were received with honour by the King and by the realm, and they laid
new foundations in the province of York, founding the Abbey of Rievaulx. And
this was the first planting of the Cistercian Order in the province of York.” (Monast. Anglican. Vol. i. p. 733.) Further mention of Henry
I. is made in the notes to Letter 138.
belonging to your Lord and mine, for which He preferred
to die rather than it should be lost. This I have formed a plan for recovering,
and am sending a party of my brave followers to seek, recover, and hold it with
strong hand, if this does not displease
you. And these scouts whom you see before you I have
sent beforehand on this business to investigate wisely the state
Esse. The word is a common one with Bernard to
signify the state of a man or a business. See Letters 118, 304.
of things, and bring me faithful word again. Be so kind
as to assist them as messengers of your Lord, and in their persons fulfil your
feudal
Since kings and princes are, as it were, vassals to
God.
duty to Him. I pray Him to render you, in return, happy
and illustrious, to His honour, and to the salvation of your soul, to the safety
and peace of your country, and to continue to you happiness and contentment to
the end of your days.
LETTER XXX (circa A.D. 1132)
To Henry,
He was nephew, by his mother, of Henry I, King of
England, brother of King Stephen, and son of Stephen, Count of Blois. “His
mother, Adela,” says William of Newburgh, “not wishing to appear to have borne
children only for the world, had him tonsured.” In 1126, The History of the
Abbey of Glastonbury counts him among the number of the abbots of that
monastery, and says, “he was a man extremely versed in letters, and of
remarkable regularity of character. By his excellent administration the Abbey of
Glastonbury profited so much that his tame will be held in everlasting memory
there” (Monast. Anglican. Vol. ii. p. 18). Henry was elevated later on to
the see of Winchester, and Bernard complains of him in writing to Pope Eugenius.
“What shall I say of his Lordship of Winchester? The works which he does show
sufficiently what he is.” Harpsfield reports that he extorted castles from
nobles whom he had invited to a feast, and Roger that he had consecrated the
intruder William to the See of York (Annal. under year 1140).
The latter calls him legate of the Roman See. Brito and Henriquez must,
therefore, be wrong in counting him among the Cistercians, and the latter in
particular, in speaking of him as a man of eminent sanctity, taking occasion
from the testimony of Wion (Ligno vitæ), who calls him a man gifted with
prophecy, because when on his death-bed, in receiving the visit of his nephew,
Henry, he predicted to him that he would be punished by God on account of the
death of S. Thomas of Canterbury, whom he had himself consecrated; as if that
saying may not have been inspired by fear rather than prophecy, as Manrique
rightly says in his Annals. Peter the Venerable wrote many
letters to him, which are still extant, among others Letters 24 and 25 in Book
iv., in which he requests that he may return to Cluny to die and be buried
there. Being invited to do so at the request of Louis, the King of France, and
of the chief nobles of Burgundy, and also at the letters of Pope Hadrian IV., he
sent on his treasures to Peter the Venerable, and, leaving England without the
permission of the King, arrived at Cluny in 1155. He discharged from his own
means the debts of the abbey, which were then enormous; he expended for the
support of the monks who lived at Cluny, more than four hundred in number, 7,000
marks of silver, which are equal to 40,000 livres. He gave forty chalices for
celebrating mass, and a silk pannus (which may have been an
altar vestment, or more probably a hanging—[E.]) of great price; he buried with
his own hands Peter the Venerable, who died January 1st, 1157. Having returned
at length to his see, he died, to the great grief of the Religious of Cluny, on
August the 9th, 1171.
Bishop of Winchester
Bernard salutes him very respectfully.
To the very illustrious Lord Henry, by the
Grace of God Bishop of Winchester, Bernard, Abbot of
Clairvaux, health in our Lord.
It is with great joy that I have learned from the
report of many persons that so humble a person as myself has found favour with
your Highness. I am not worthy of it, but I am not ungrateful for it. I return
you, therefore, thanks for your goodness; a very unworthy return, but all that I
am able to make. I do not fear but that you will receive the humble return that
I make, since you have been so kind as to forestall me by your affection and the
honour that you have done to me; but I defer writing more until I shall know by
some token from your hand,
if you think fit to send one, how you receive these few
words. You may easily confide your reply, in writing, or by word of mouth if it
shall so please you, to Abbot Oger, who is charged to convey to you this note. I
beg your Excellency also to be so good as to honour that Religious with your
esteem and confidence, inasmuch as he is a man commendable for his honour,
knowledge, and piety.
LETTER XXXI (A.D. 1132)
To the Abbot of a Certain Monastery at York, from Which the Prior Had Departed, Taking Several Religious with
Him.
Letter 318 clearly shows what monastery these had left,
namely, the Benedictine Abbey of S. Mary, at York, and this the Monasticon Anglicanum confirms.
The Abbey of S. Mary, at York, was founded in 1088 by Count
Alan, son of Guy, Count of Brittany, in the Church of S. Olave, near York, to
which King William Rufus afterwards gave the name of S. Mary. Hither were
brought from the monastery of Whitby the Abbot Stephen and Benedictine monks,
under whom monastic discipline was observed; but about the year 1132, under
Geoffrey, the third abbot, it began to be relaxed. It was at that time that the
Cistercian order was everywhere renowned, and was introduced into England in the
year 1128 (its first establishment being at Waverley, in Surrey). Induced by a
pious emulation, twelve monks of S. Mary, who were not able to obtain from their
abbot permission to transfer themselves to this Cistercian Order, begged the
support of Thurstan, Archbishop of York, to put their project into execution.
With his support they left their monastery on October 4th, 1132, notwithstanding
the opposition of their abbot; to the number of twelve priests and one levite
(deacon). Of these one was the Prior Richard, another Richard the sacristan, and
others named in the History before mentioned, taking nothing from the
monastery but their habit. Troubled by their desertion, Abbot Geoffrey
complained to the king, to the bishops and abbots of the neighbourhood, as well
as to S. Bernard himself, of the injury done by this to the rights of all
religious houses, without distinction. Archbishop Thurstan wrote a letter of
apology to William, Archbishop of Canterbury, and at the same time Bernard
himself wrote to Thurstan and to the thirteen Religious to congratulate them,
and another to Abbot Geoffrey to justify their action (Letters 94 to 96 and
313). In the meantime these monks were shut up in the Episcopal house of
Thurstan; and as they refused, notwithstanding the censures of their abbot, to
return to their former monastery, Thurstan gave them in the neighbourhood of
Ripon a spot of ground previously uncultivated, covered with thorn bushes, and
situated among rocks and mountains which surrounded it on all sides, that they
might build themselves a house there. Their Prior Richard was given to them for
abbot by Thurstan, who gave him the Benediction on Christmas Day. Having passed
a whole winter in incredible austerity of life, they gave themselves and their
dwelling-place, which they had called Fountains, to S. Bernard. He sent to them
a Religious, named Geoffrey, of Amayo, from whose hands they received the
Cistercian Rule with incredible willingness and piety (Life of
S. Bernard, B. iv. c. 2).
1. You write to me from beyond the sea to ask of me advice which
I should have preferred that you
had sought from some other. I am held between two
difficulties, for if I do not reply to you, you may take my silence for a sign
of contempt; but if I do reply I cannot avoid danger, since whatever I reply I
must of necessity either give scandal to some one or give to some other a
security which they ought not to have, or at all events more than they ought to
have. That your brethren have departed from you was not with the knowledge nor
by the advice or persuasion of me or of my brethren. But I incline to believe
that it was of God, since their purpose could not be shaken by all your efforts;
and that the brethren themselves thought this also who so earnestly sought my
advice about themselves; their conscience troubling them, as I suppose, because
they quitted you. Otherwise, if their conscience,
like that of the Apostle, did not reproach them, their
peace would not have been disturbed (Rom. xiv. 22).
But what can I do that I may be hurtful to no one neither by my silence nor by
my reply to the questions asked me? Thus, perhaps, I may relieve myself of the
difficulty if I shall send those who question me to a person more learned, and
whose authority is more reverend and sacred than mine. Pope S. Gregory says in
his book on the Pastoral Rule, “Whosoever has proposed to
himself a greater good does an unlawful thing in subordinating it to a lesser
good.” And he proves this by a citation from the Gospel, saying, No one putting his hand to the plough and looking back is fit for
the kingdom of God (S. Luke
ix. 62); and he proceeds: “He who renounces a more perfect state
which he has embraced, to follow another which is less so, is precisely the man
who looks back” (Part iii. c. 28). The same Pope in his third Homily on Ezekiel,
adds: “There are people who taste virtue, set themselves to practise it, and
while doing so contemplate undertaking actions still better; but afterwards
drawing back, abandon those better things which they had proposed to themselves.
They do not, it is true, leave off the good practices they had begun, but they
fail to realize those better ones which they had meditated. To human judgment
these seem to stand fast in the good work, but to the eyes of Almighty God they
have fallen, and failed in what they contemplated.”
2. Here is a mirror. In it let your Religious consider, not the
features of their faces, but the fact of their turning back. Here let them
determine and distinguish their motives, their thoughts,
accusing or excusing them with that sentence which the
spiritual man passes who judges all things, and is himself judged by no one. I,
indeed, cannot rashly determine whether the state which they have left or that
which they have embraced was the greater or less, the higher or lower, the
severer or the more lax. Let them judge according to the rule of S. Gregory. But
to you, Reverend Father, I declare, with as much positive assurance as plain
truth, that it is not at all desirable that you should set yourself to quench
the Spirit. Hinder not him, it is said, who is able to do good, but if thou canst, do good also
thyself (Prov. iii.
27, Vulg.). It more befits you to be proud of the good works of your sons,
since a wise son is the glory of his father (Prov. x. 1).
For the rest, let no one make it a cause of complaint against me that I have not
hidden in my heart the righteousness of God, unless, perhaps, I have spoken less
of it than I ought, for the sake of avoiding scandal.
LETTER XXXII (A.D. 1132)
To Thurstan, Archbishop of York
Bernard praises his charity and beneficence
towards the Religious.
To the very dear father and Reverend Lord Thurstan, by the Grace of God Archbishop of York,
Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes the fullest health.
The general good report of men, as I have experienced,
has said nothing in your favour which the splendour of
your good works does not justify. Your actions, in fact, show that your high
reputation, which fame had previously spread everywhere, was neither false nor
ill-founded, but manifest and certain. Especially of late how brilliantly has
your zeal for righteousness and your sacerdotal energy shone forth in the
defence of the poor Religious who had no other helper.
What Thurstan did for the protection of these monks,
who had taken refuge with him in the desire to embrace a more austere life, may
be seen in a Letter from him which we have taken from the Monasticon Anglicanum and placed after those of S
Bernard.
Once, indeed, the whole assembly of the saints used to
venerate your works of mercy and alms deeds; but in doing so it narrated always
what is common to you with very many, since whosoever possesses the goods of
this world is bound to share them with the poor. But this is your episcopal
task, this the noble proof of your paternal affection, this your truly divine
fervour, the zeal which no doubt has inspired and aroused in you who makes His
angels spirits and His ministers a flaming fire. This, I say, belongs entirely
to you. It is the ornament of your dignity, the badge of your office, the
adornment of your crown. It is one thing to fill the belly of the hungry, and
quite another thing to have a zeal for holy poverty. The one serves nature, the
other grace. Thou shalt visit thy kind, He says, and thou
shalt not sin (Job v. 24, Vulg.).
Therefore he who nourishes the flesh of another sins not in so doing, but he who
honours the sanctity of another does good to his own soul; therefore he says
again, Keep your alms in your own hand until you shall find a righteous man to
whom to give it. For what advantage? Because He who receives a righteous man in the name of a righteous man
shall receive a righteous man’s reward (S. Matt. x. 41). Let us, then, discharge the
debt that nature requires of us, that we may avoid sin; but let us be co-workers
with grace, that we may merit to become sharers of it. It is this that I so
admire in you, as I acknowledge that it was given to you from above. O, Father,
truly reverend and to be regarded with the sincerest affection; the praise for
what you have laid out of your temporal means to the relief of our necessities,
will be blended with the praises of God for ever.
LETTER XXXIII (A.D. 1132)
To Richard,
He had been Prior of the monastery of S. Mary, at York,
which be quitted, followed by twelve other Religious, as we have seen above. He
died at Rome, as may be seen in Mon. Anglic. p. 744. He
had for successor another Richard, formerly sacristan of the same monastery of
S. Mary, who died at Clairvaux (ibid., p. 745). He is mentioned in the
320th letter of S. Bernard.
Abbot of Fountains,
The monastery of Fountains, in the Diocese of York,
passed over to the Cistercian Rule in 1132. It is astonishing to read of the
fervour of these monks in Monast. Anglican. Vol. i. p. 733
and onwards. Compare also Letters 313 and 320 for what relates to the death of
Abbot Richard, the second of that name and Order.
and His Companions, Who Had Passed, Over to the Cistercian Order from Another.
He praises them for the renewal of holy
discipline.
How marvellous are those things which I have heard and learned, and which the two Geoffries
have announced to me, that you have become newly
fervent with the fire from on high, that from weakness you have become strong,
that you have flourished again with new sanctity.
This is the finger of God secretly working, softly renewing,
healthfully changing not, indeed, bad men into good, but making good men better.
Who will grant unto me to cross over to you and see this great sight? For that
progress in holiness is not less wonderful or less delightful than that
conversion. It is much more easy, in fact, to find many men of the world
converted to good than one Religious who is good becoming better than he is. The
rarest bird in the world is the monk who ascends ever so little from the point
which he has once reached in the religious life. Thus the spectacle which you
present, dearest brethren, is the more rare and salutary, not only to men who
desire greatly to be the helper of your sanctity, but it rightly rejoices the
whole Church of God as well; since the rarer it is the more glorious it is also.
For prudence made it a duty to you to pass beyond that mediocrity so dangerously
near to defect, and to escape from that lukewarmness which provokes God to
reject you, it was even a duty of conscience for you to do so, since you know
that it is not safe for men who have embraced the holy Rule to halt before
having attained the goal to which it leads. I am exceedingly grieved that I am
obliged by the pressing obligations of the day and the haste of the messenger to
express the fulness of my affection with a pen so briefs and to comprise the
breadth of my kindness
for you within the narrow limits of this billet. But if
anything is wanting, brother Geoffrey
This Geoffrey, “a holy and religious man,” who founded
or reformed numerous monasteries, had been sent by Bernard to Fountains to train
them according to the Rule of the Cistercian Order (Monast.
Anglican. Vol. i. p. 741). Concerning the same Geoffrey see The Life of S. Bernard, B. iv. c. 2.
will supply it by word of mouth.
LETTER XXXIV (circa A.D. 1130)
Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours, to the Abbot Bernard.
In not a few MSS. this Letter, with the answer
following, is placed after Letter 127, and in some even after Letter 252.
Hildebert, the author of this Letter, ruled the Church of Mans (1098-1125),
whence, on the death of Gilbert, he was translated to the Metropolitan See of
Tours. This is clear, first from Ordericus Vitalis, Bk. x., sub
ann., 1198, and next from the Acts of the Bishops of Mans, published in the
third volume of Analecta, where Guido, his successor in the
See of Mans, is said to have been consecrated, after long strife, in 1126.
Hildebert only ruled in Tours six years and as many months. So say the Acts just
mentioned. With them agrees a dissertation by Duchesne, and John Maan’s History
of the Metropolitan See of Tours, and so also Ordericus Vitalis on the year 1125
(p. 882), where he assigns to Hildebert an Archiepiscopate of about seven years.
Hildebert, then, did not reach the year 1136, as Gallia
Christiana says, but died in 1132, in which year John Maan places his death.
Horst, in the note to this Letter, refers to another Letter of Hildebert (the
24th), which he thinks was also written to Bernard. But this Letter, which in
all the editions appears without the name of the person to whom it was
addressed, is entitled in two MSS. “To H., Abbot of Cluny,” which we have
followed. From this Letter we understand that Hildebert had it in mind to retire
to Cluny, if the Supreme Pontiff would allow him. Peter of Blois praises his
Letters. (Ep. 101)
The reputation of Bernard for sanctity
induces Hildebert to write to him and ask for his friendship.
1. Few, I believe, are ignorant that balsam is known by its
scent, and the tree by its fruit. So, dearly beloved brother, there has reached
even to me the report of you—how you are steadfast in holiness, and sound in
doctrine. For though I am
far separated from you by distance of place, yet the
report has come even to me. What pleasant nights you spend with your Rachel; how
abundant an offspring is born to you of Leah; how you show yourself wholly a
follower of virtue, and an enemy of the flesh. Whoever speaks to me of you has
this one tale to tell. Such is the perfume of your name, like that of balm,
poured out; such are already the rewards of your merit. These are the ears that
you are gathering from your field before the last great harvest. For in this
life some reward of virtue is to be found in the notable and undying tribute
paid to it. This it wins unaided, and keeps unaided. Its renown is not
diminished by envy, nor increased by the favour of men. As the esteem of good
men cannot be taken away by false accusations, so it cannot be won by the
attentions of flattery. It rests with the individual himself either to advance
that esteem by fruitfulness in virtue, or to detract from it by deficiency. The
whole Church, I am quite sure, hopes that your renown will be for ever
sustained, since it is believed to be founded upon a strong rock.
2. As for me, having heard this report of you everywhere, with
desire I have desired to be received into the inmost shrine of your friendship, and to be
held in remembrance in your prayers when stealing
yourself from converse with mortals you speak on behalf of mortals to the King
of Angels. Now, this my desire was much increased by Gébuin, Archdeacon of
Troyes, a man eminent as well for his piety as for his learning. I should have
thought it my duty to commend him to you, if I were not sure that those whom you
deem worthy of your favour need no further commendation. I wish, however, that
you should know that it was through his information I learnt that you are in the
Church, one who art fit to be a teacher of virtue, both by precept and example.
But not to burden you with too long a letter, I bring my writing to an end,
though end the above petition I will not until I have the happiness to obtain
what I have asked. I beg you to tell me by a letter in reply how you are
disposed with regard to it.
LETTER XXXV (circa A.D. 1130)
Reply of the Abbot Bernard to Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours.
He repays his praises with praises.
A good man out of the good treasure of his heart
bringeth forth good things. Your letter so redounded to your honour, as well
as to mine, that I gladly welcomed it, Most Reverend Sir, as giving me an
occasion of addressing to you the praises of which
you are so well worthy, and as affording me just
satisfaction that you have done me so much honour as that your Highness should
deign to stoop to me, and to show so much esteem for my humble person. Indeed,
for one in high place not to be studious of high things, but to condescend to
those of low estate, is a thing than which there is nothing more pleasing to God
or more rare among men. Who is the wise man, except he who listens to the
counsel of Wisdom, which says: The greater thou art, the more humble
thyself (Ecclus. iii. 18) before all. This humility you have shown towards
me, the greater towards the less, an elder to a younger. I, too, could extol
your proved wisdom in due praises, perhaps more just than those of which your
wisdom deemed me worthy. It is of great importance in order to gain assured
knowledge of things, to rely on exact acquaintance with facts, rather than on
the uncertain testimony of public rumour; and then what we have proved for
certain we may proclaim without hesitation. What you were pleased to write to me
about myself, it is for you to ascertain. I find an undoubted proof of your own
merit in your letter, though it be so full of my praises. For though another,
perhaps, might be pleased with the marks of learning therein, with its sweet and
graceful language, its clear style, its easy and commendable art, I place before
all this the wonderful humility, whereby your Greatness has cared to approach
one so humble as I, to overwhelm me with praises, and to seek for my friendship.
As for what refers to me in your letter I read it not as describing what I am,
but what I would wish to be, and what I am ashamed of not being. Yet whatever
I am, I am yours; and if, by the grace of God, I ever
become anything better, be sure, Most Reverend and dear Father, that I shall
still remain yours.
LETTER XXXVI (circa A.D. 1131)
To the Same Hildebert, Who Had Not Yet Acknowledged the Lord Innocent as Pope.
He exhorts him to recognise Innocent, now an
exile in France, owing to the schism of Peter Leonis, as the rightful Pontiff.
To the great prelate, most exalted in renown, Hildebert, by the grace of God Archbishop of Tours,
Bernard, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and prays
that he may walk in the Spirit, and spiritually discern all things.
1. To address you in the words of the prophet, Consolation is hid from their eyes, because death divideth between
brethren (Hosea xiii. 14,
Vulg.). For it seems as if according to the language of Isaiah they have made a
covenant with death, and are at agreement with hell (Is.
xxviii. 15). For behold, Innocent, that anointed
Christus.
of the Lord, is set for the fall and
rising again of many (cf. S. Luke ii. 34). Those who are of God,
gladly join themselves to him; but he who is of the opposite part, is either of
Antichrist, or Antichrist himself. The abomination is seen standing in the holy
place; and that he may seize it, like a flame he is burning the sanctuary of God. He
persecutes Innocent, and in him all innocence.
Innocent, in sooth, flees from the face of Leo, as saith the prophet: The lion hath roared; who will not fear
(Amos iii. 8). He flees according to the bidding of the Lord, which says,
When they persecute you in one city flee ye into another
(S. Matt. x. 23).
He flees, and thereby proves himself an apostolic man, by ennobling himself with
the apostle’s example. For Paul blushed not to be let down in a basket over a
wall (Acts ix. 25), and
so to escape the hands of those who were seeking his life. He escaped not to
spare his life, but to give place unto wrath; not to avoid death, but to attain
life. Rightly does the Church yield his place to Innocent, whom she sees walking
in the same steps.
2. However, Innocent’s flight is not without fruit. He
suffers, no doubt, but is honoured in the midst of his sufferings. Driven from
the city, he is welcomed by the world. From the ends of the earth, men meet the
fugitive with sustenance; although the rage of that Shimei, Gerard of
Angoulême, has not yet entirely ceased to curse David. Whether it pleases or
does not please that sinner who sees it with discontent, he cannot prevent
Innocent being honoured in the presence of kings, and bearing a crown of glory.
Have not all princes acknowledged that he is in truth the elect of God? The
Kings of France, England, and Spain, and finally the King of the Romans, receive
Innocent as Pope, and recognise him alone as bishop of their souls (2 Sam. xvii.).
Only Ahitophel is now unaware that his counsels have been exposed and brought to
nought. In vain the wretch labours to devise evil counsel against the
people of God, and to plot against the saints who
stoutly adhere to their saintly Pontiff, scorning to bow the knee to Baal. By no
guile shall he avail to procure for his parricide the kingdom over Israel and
the holy city, which is the church of the living God, the
pillar and ground of the truth. A threefold cord is not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes iv. 12). The threefold cord of the choice of the better sort, the assent of
the majority, arid, what is more effective yet in these matters, the witness of
a pure life, commend Innocent to all, and establish him as chief Pontiff.
3. And so, very Reverend Father, we await your vote, late
though it be, as rain upon a fleece of wool. We do not disapprove of a certain
slowness, for it savours of gravity, and banishes all sign of levity. For Mary
did not at once answer the angel’s salutation, but first considered in her mind what manner of salutation this should be
(S. Luke i. 29); and
Timothy was commanded to lay hands suddenly on no man (1 Tim. v.
22). Yet I, who am known to the Prelate I am addressing, venture to say
“nought in excess;” I, his acquaintance and friend, say, Let
not a man thank more highly of himself than he ought to think (Rom. xii. 3).
It is a shame, I must confess, that the old serpent, letting silly women alone,
has, with a new boldness, even assayed the valour of your heart, and dared to
shake to its base so mighty a pillar of the Church. I trust, however, that
though shaken it is not tottering to its fall. For the friend
of the bridegroom standeth and rejoiceth at the bridegroom’s voice
(S. John iii. 29);
the voice of joy and health, the voice of unity and peace.
LETTER XXXVII (circa A.D. 1131)
To Magister Geoffrey, of Loretto.
Geoffrey of Loretto, a most renowned doctor, afterwards
Archbishop of Bordeaux. He took his name from Loretto, a place in the Diocese of
Tours, close to Poitou. It was once famous for a Priory, subject to Marmoutiers.
This is why Gerard of Angoulême is spoken of to Geoffrey in this Letter as “the
wild beast near you.” Another derivation is “L’oratoire,” a monastery of the
Cistercians in the Diocese of Angers.
He asks his assistance in maintaining the
Pontificate of Innocent against the schism of Peter Leonis.
1. We look for scent in flowers and for savour in fruits; and
so, most dearly beloved brother, attracted by the scent of your name which is as
perfume poured forth, I long to know you also in the fruit of your work. For it
is not I alone, but even God Himself, who has need of no man, yet who, at this
crisis, needs your co-operation, if you do not act falsely towards us. It is a
glorious thing to be able to be a fellow-worker with God; but perilous to be
able and not to be so. Moreover, you have favour with God and man; you have
knowledge, a spirit of freedom, a speech both lively and effectual, seasoned
with salt; and it is not right that with all these great gifts you should fail
the bride of Christ in such danger, for you are the friend of the Bridegroom. A
friend is best tried in times of need. What then? Can you continue at rest while
your Mother the Church is grievously distressed? Rest has had its proper time,
and holy peace has till now freely and duly
done its own work. It is now the time for action,
because they have destroyed the law. That beast of the Apocalypse (Apoc. xiii.
5–7), to whom is given a mouth speaking blasphemies, and to make war with the
saints, is sitting on the throne of Peter, like a lion ready for his prey.
Another
Gerard of Angoulême.
beast also stands hissing at your side,
like a whelp lurking in secret places. The fiercer here and the craftier there
are met together in one against the Lord and his annointed. Let us, then, make
haste to burst their bonds and cast away their cords from us.
2. I, for my part, together with other servants of God who are
set on fire with the Divine flame, have laboured, with the help of God, to unite
the nations and kings in one, in order to break down the conspiracy of evil men,
and to destroy every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God.
Nor have I laboured in vain. The Kings of Germany, France, England, Scotland,
Spain, and Jerusalem, with all the clergy and people, side with and adhere to
the Lord Innocent, like sons to a father, like the members to their head, being
anxious to preserve the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. And the Church
is right in acknowledging him, whose reputation is discovered to be the more
honourable and whose election is found to be the more sound and regular, having
the advantage as well by the merit as well as by the number of the electors. And
now, brother, why do you hold back? How long will the serpent by your side lull
your careless energies to repose? I know that you are a son of peace, and can by
no reason be led
to desert unity. But, of course, that alone is not
enough, unless you study both to maintain it and to make war with all your might
upon the disturbers thereof. And do not fear the loss of peace, for you shall be
rewarded by no small increase of glory if your efforts succeed in quieting, or
even silencing, that wild beast near you; and if the goodness of God, through
your means, rescue from the mouth of the lion so great a prize for the Church as
William, Count of Poitiers.
LETTER XXXVIII (circa A.D. 1135)
To His Monks of Clairvaux.
He excuses his long absence, from which he
suffers more than they; and briefly reminds them of their duty.
To his dearly-loved brethren the Monks of Clairvaux, the
converts,
“Converts” (
conversi
) was the name formerly
given to adults who had been converted to the religious life, and who were
distinguished by this name from those who were offered as children. The lay
brethren are here meant; cf. ep. 141 n. 1. They were present at the
election of an abbot (ep. 36 n. 2), just as once the laity were joined with the
clergy in the election of a bishop. Here they are named before the novices, but
in Sermon 22 (de Diversis n. 2) they come after them; they were not admitted
into the choir. Bernard, moreover, distinguishes them from the monks. For at
that time they were not among the Cistercians reckoned among the monks, as is
proved by the Exordium Cisterc. (c. 15); although they made some
profession. Hence Innocent II, in some deed of privilege or in ep. 352, here
says: “Let no one presume without your leave to receive or to retain any one of
your converts who have made their profession, but are not monks, be he
archbishop, bishop, or abbot.” In the Council of Rheims, held under Eugenius
III., the converts are called “the professed” (Can. 7), and although they may
have returned to the world, yet they are declared incapable of matrimony, like
the monks, from whom, nevertheless, they are distinguished. For the early days
of Clairvaux cf. notes to ep. 31.
and the novices, their brother
Bernard sends greeting,
bidding them rejoice in the Lord always.
1. Judge by yourselves what I am suffering. If my absence is
painful to you, let no one doubt that it is far more painful to me. The loss is
not equal, the burden is not the same, for you are deprived of but one
individual, while I am bereft of all of you. It cannot but be that I am weighed
down by as many anxieties as you are in number; I grieve for the absence of each
one of you, and fear the dangers which may attack you. This double grief will
not leave me until I am restored to my children. I doubt not that you feel the
same for me; but then I am but one. You have but a single ground for sadness; I
have many, for I am sad on account of you all. Nor is it my only trouble that I
am forced to live for a time apart from you, when without you I should regard
even to reign as miserable slavery, but there is added to this that I am forced
to live among things which altogether disturb the tranquillity of my soul, and
perhaps are little in harmony with the end of the monastic life.
2. And since you know these things, you must not be angry at
my long absence, which is not according to my will, but is due to the
necessities of the Church; rather pity me. I hope that it will not be a long
absence now; do you pray that it may not be unfruitful. Let any losses which may
in the meantime happen to befall you be regarded as gains, for
the cause is God’s. And since He is gracious and
all-powerful, He will easily make any losses good, and even add greater riches.
Therefore, let us be of good courage, since we have God with us, in whom I am
present with you, though we may seem to be separated by a long distance. Let no
one among you who shows himself attentive to his duties, humble, reverent,
devoted to reading, watchful unto prayer, anxious for brotherly love, think that
I am absent from him. For can I be anything but present with him in spirit when
we are of one heart and one mind? But if, which God forbid, there be among you
any whisperer, or any that is double-tongued, a murmurer, or rebellious, or
impatient of discipline, or restless or truant, and who is not ashamed to eat
the bread of idleness, from such I should be far absent in soul even though
present in body, just because he would have already set himself far from God by
a distance of character and not of space.
3. In the meanwhile, brethren, until I come, serve the Lord
in fear, that in Him being delivered from the hand of your enemies you may serve
Him without fear. Serve Him in hope, for He is faithful that promised; serve Him
by good works, for He is bountiful to reward. To say nothing else, He rightly
claims this life of ours as His own, because He laid down His own to obtain it.
Let none, therefore, live to himself, but to Him who died for him. For whom can
I more justly live than for Him whose death was my life? for whom with more
profit to myself than for Him who promises eternal life? for whom under a
greater necessity than for Him who threatens me with everlasting flames? But I serve
Him willingly, because love gives liberty. To this I
exhort my children. Serve Him in that love which casteth out fear, which feels
no labours, seeks for no reward, thinks of no merit, and yet is more urgent than
all. No terror is so powerful, no rewards so inviting, no righteousness so
exacting. May it join me to you never to be divided, may it also bring me before
you, especially at your hours of prayer, my brethren, dearly beloved and greatly
longed for.
LETTER XXXIX (A.D. 1137)
To the Same.
He expresses his regret at his very long absence
from his beloved Clairvaux, and his desire to return to his dear sons. He tells
them of the consolations that he feels nevertheless in his great labours for the
Church.
1. My soul is sorrowful until I return, and it refuses to be
comforted till it see you. For what is my consolation in the hour of evil, and
in the place of my pilgrimage? Are not you in the Lord? Wherever I go, the sweet
memory of you never leaves me; but the sweeter the memory the more I feel the
absence. Ah, me! that the time of my sojourning here is not only prolonged, but
its burden increased, and truly, as the Prophet says, they who
for a time separate me from you have added to the pain of my wounds (Ps. lxix. 26).
Life is an exile, and one that is dreary enough, for while we are in the body we
are absent from the Lord. To this is added the
special grief which almost makes me impatient, that I
am forced to live without you. It is a protracted sickness, a wearisome waiting,
to be so long subject to the vanity which possesses everything here, to be
imprisoned within the horrid dungeon of a noisome body, to be still bound with
the chains of death, and the ropes of sin, and all this time to be away from
Christ. But against all these things one solace was given me from above, instead
of His glorious countenance which has not yet been revealed, and that is the
sight of the holy temple of God, which is you. From this temple it used to seem
to me an easy passage to that glorious temple, after which the Prophet sighed
when he said: One thing have I desired of the Lord, which I
will require, even that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my
life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord and to visit His temple (Ps. xxvi. 4).
2. What shall I say? how often has that solace been taken from
me? Lo, this is now the third time, if I mistake not, that my children have been
taken from me. The babes have been too early weaned, and I am not allowed to
bring up those whom I begot through the Gospel. In short, I am forced to abandon
my own children and look after those of others, and I hardly know which is the
more distressing, to be taken from the former, or to have to do with the latter.
O, good Jesu! is my whole life thus to waste away in grief, and my years in
mourning? It is good for me, O Lord, rather to die than to live, only let it be
amongst my brethren, those of my own household, those who are dearest to my
heart. That, as all know, is sweeter and safer, and more natural. Nay, it would
be a loving act to
grant to me that I might be refreshed before I go away,
and be no more seen. If it please my Lord that the eyes of a father, who is not
worthy to be called a father, should be closed by the hands of his sons, that
they may witness his last moments, soothe his end, and raise his spirit by their
loving prayers to the blissful fellowship, if you think him worthy to have his
body buried with the bodies of those who are blessed because poor, if I have
found favour in Thy sight, this I most earnestly ask that I may obtain by the
prayers and merits of these my brethren. Nevertheless, not my will but Thine be
done. Not for my own sake do I wish for either life or death.
3. But it is only right, that as you have heard of my grief,
you should also know what consolation I have. The first solace for all the
trouble and misfortune that I undergo is the thought that the cause I strive for
is that of Him to whom all things live. Whether I will or no, I must live for
Him who bought my life at the price of His own, and who is able, as a merciful
and righteous judge, to recompense us in that day whatever we may suffer for
Him. But if I have served as His soldier against my will, it will be only that a
dispensation has been entrusted unto me, and I shall be an unprofitable servant;
but if I serve willingly I shall have glory. In this consideration, then, I
breathe again for a little. My second consolation is that often, without any
merit of mine, grace from above has crowned me in my labours, and that grace in
me was not in vain, as I have many times found, and as you have seen to some
extent. But how necessary just now the presence of my feebleness is to the Church of
God, I would say for your consolation were it not that
it would sound like boasting. But as it is, it is better that you should learn
it from others.
4. Moved by the pressing request of the Emperor, by the
Apostolic command, as well as by the prayers of the Church and the princes,
whether with my will or against my will, weak and ill, and, to say truth,
carrying about with me the pallid image of the King of terrors, I am borne away
into Apulia. Pray for the things which make for the Church’s peace and our
salvation, that I may again see you, live with you, and die with you, and so
live that ye may obtain. In my weakness and time of distress, with tears and
groanings, I have dictated these words, as our dear brother Baldwin
Baldwin, first Cardinal of the Cistercian Order, was
created by Innocent, A.D. 1130, at a Council held at Claremont. He was
afterwards made Archbishop of Pisa; cf. Life of S. Bernard
(lib. ii. n. 49): “In Pisa was Baldwin born, the glory of his native land, and a
burning light to the Church.” So great a man did not think it beneath him to act
as Bernard’s secretary, and his praises are sung in ep. 245, cf. ep. 201.
can testify, who has taken them down from my mouth, and
who has been called by the Church to another office and elevated to a new
dignity. Pray, too, for him, as my one comfort now, and in whom my spirit is
greatly refreshed. Pray, too, for our lord the Pope, who regards me and all of
you equally with the tenderest affection. Pray, too, for my lord the Chancellor,
who is to me as a mother; and for those who are with him—my lord Luke, my lord
Chrysogonus, and Master Ivo
All these were Cardinals. Luke, of the title of SS.
John and Paul, was created A.D. 1132; Chrysogonus, of the title of S. Maria de
Porticu, A.D. 1134; Ivo, a regular Canon of S. Victor of Paris, A.D. 1130, of
the title of S. Laurence in Damascus; to him ep. 193 was written.
—who
show themselves as brothers. They who are with
me—Brother Bruno and Brother Gerard
Bruno is called (ep. 209) the father of many disciples
in Sicily. Gerard seems to be Bernard’s brother. For Bruno see also ep. 165 n. 4.
—salute you and ask
for your prayers.
LETTER XL
To Thomas, Prior of Beverley
This Thomas had taken the vows of the Cistercian Order
at Clairvaux. As he showed hesitation, Bernard urges his tardy spirit to fulfil
them. But the following letter will prove that it was a warning to deaf ears,
where it relates the unhappy end of Thomas. In this letter Bernard sketches with
a master’s hand the whole scheme of salvation.
Bernard to his beloved son Thomas, as being his son.
1. What is the good of words? An ardent spirit and a strong desire
cannot express themselves simply by the tongue. We want your sympathy and your
bodily presence to speak to us; for if you come you will know us better, and we
shall better appreciate each other. We have long been held in a mutual bond as
debtors one to another; for I owe you faithful care and you owe me submissive
obedience. Let our actions and not our pens, if you please, prove each of us. I
wish you would apply to yourself henceforth and carry out towards me those words
of the Only Begotten: The works which the Father hath
given Me to finish, the same works bear
witness of Me (S. John v.
36). For, indeed, only thus does the spirit of the Only Son bear
witness with our spirit that we also are the sons of God, when, quickening us
from dead works, He causes us to bring forth the works of life. A good or bad
tree is distinguished, not by its leaves or flowers, but by its fruit. So By their fruits, He saith,
ye shall know them
(S. Matt. vii. 16).
Works, then, and not words, make the difference between sons of God and sons of
unbelief. By works, accordingly, do you display your sincere desire and make
proof of mine.
2. I long for your presence; my heart has long wished for you,
and expected the fulfilment of your promises. Why am I so pressing? Certainly
not from any personal or earthly feeling. I desire either to be profited by you
or to be of service to you. Noble birth, bodily strength and beauty, the glow of
youth, estates, palaces, and sumptuous furniture, external badges of dignity,
and, I may also add, the world’s wisdom—all these are of the world, and the
world loves its own. But for how long will they endure? For ever? Assuredly not;
for the world itself will not last for ever; but these will not last even for
long. In fact, the world will not be able long to keep these gifts for you, nor
will you dwell long in the world to enjoy them, for the days of man are short.
The world passes away with its lusts, but it dismisses you before it quite
passes away itself. How can you take unlimited pleasure in a love that soon must
end? But I ever love you, not your possessions; let them go whence they were
derived. I only require of you one thing: that you
would be mindful of your promise, and not deny us any
longer the satisfaction of your presence among us, who love you sincerely, and
will love you for ever. In fact, if we love purely in our life, we shall also
not be divided in death. For those gifts which I wish for in your case, or
rather for you, belong not to the body or to time only; and so they fail not
with the body, nor pass away with time; nay, when the body is laid aside they
delight still more, and last when time is gone. They have nothing in common with
the gifts above-mentioned, or such as they with which, I imagine, not the
Father, but the world has endowed you. For which of these does not vanish before
death, or at last fall a victim to it?
3. But, indeed, that is the best part, which shall not be taken
away for ever. What is that? Eye hath not seen it, nor ear heard,
neither hath it entered into the heart of man (I Cor. ii.
9). He who is a man and walks simply according to man’s nature only, he who,
to speak more plainly, is still content with flesh and blood, is wholly ignorant
what that is, because flesh and blood will not reveal the things which God alone
reveals through His Spirit. So the natural man is in no way admitted to the
secret; in fact, he receiveth not the things of the Spirit of
God (I Cor. ii. 14). Blessed are they who hear His words.
I have called you
friends, for all things that I have heard of My Father I have made known to
you (S. John xv.
15). O, wicked world, which wilt not bless thy friends except thou
make them enemies of God, and consequently unworthy of the council of the
blessed. For clearly he who is willing to be thy friend makes himself the enemy
of God. And if the servant knoweth not what
his Lord doeth, how much less the enemy? Moreover, the
friend of the Bridegroom standeth, and rejoiceth with joy because of the
Bridegroom’s voice; whence also it says, My soul failed when [my
beloved] spake (Cant. v.
6). And so the friend of the world is shut out from the council of the
friends of God; who have received not the spirit of this world but the spirit
which is of God, that they may know the things which are given to them of God.
I thank Thee, O Father, because Thou hast hid these things from
the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; even so, Father, for so
it seemed good in Thy sight (S. Matt. xi. 25, 26), not because they
of themselves deserved it. For all have sinned, and come short of Thy glory,
that Thou mayest freely send the Spirit of Thy Son, crying in the hearts of the
sons of adoption: Abba, Father. For those who are led by this Spirit, they are
sons, and cannot be kept from their Father’s council. Indeed, they have the
Spirit dwelling within them, who searches even the deep things of God. In short,
of what can they be ignorant whom grace teaches everything?
4. Woe unto you, ye sons of this world, because of your wisdom,
which is foolishness! Ye know not the spirit of salvation, nor have share in the
counsel, which the Father, alone discloses alone to the Son, and
to him to whom the Son will reveal Him. For who hath known the mind
of the Lord? Or who hath been His counsellor? (Rom. xi. 34).
Not, indeed, on one; but only a few, only those who can truly say:
The only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath
declared Him. Woe to the world for its clamour! That same Only Begotten,
like as the
Angel of a great revelation, proclaims among the
people: He who hath ears to hear let him hear. And since he
finds not ears worthy to receive His words, and to whom He may commit the secret
of the Father, he weaves parables for the crowd, that hearing they might not
hear, and seeing they might not understand. But for His friends how different!
With them He speaks apart: To you it is given to know the
mysteries of the kingdom of God (S. Luke viii. 8–10); to whom also He
says: Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good
pleasure to give you the kingdom (S. Luke xii. 32). Who are these? These are
they whom He foreknew and foreordained to be conformed to the
image of His Son, that He might be the first born among many brethren. The
Lord knows who are His. Here is His great secret and the counsel which He has
made known unto men. But He judges no others worthy of a share in so great
mystery, except those whom He has foreknown and foreordained as His own. For
those whom He foreordained, them also He called. Who, except he be called, may
approach God’s counsel? Those whom He called, them also He justified. Over them
a Sun arises, though not that sun which may daily be seen arising over good and
bad alike, but He of whom the Prophet speaks when addressing himself to those
alone who have been called to the counsel, he says: Unto you that
fear My name shall the Sun of Righteousness arise (Malachi
iv. 2).
So all texts, except a few, in which the reading is:
“Indeed, that Sun is promised to those who have been called,” &c. In the
first edition, and many subsequent ones: “For the Sun which arises is not that
which is daily to be seen rising over good and bad, but one promised by the
prophetic warning to such as fear God, to those only who have been called,”
&c.
So while the sons of unbelief remain in darkness, the
child of light leaves the power of darkness and comes into this new light, if
once he can with faith say to God: I am a companion of all them
that fear Thee (Ps. cxix. 63).
Do you see how faith precedes, in order that justification may follow?
Perchance, then, we are called through fear, and justified by love. Finally, the just shall live by faith
(Rom. i. 17),
that faith, doubtless, which works by love
(Gal. v. 6).
5. So at his call let the sinner hear what he has to fear; and
thus coming to the Sun of Righteousness, let him, now enlightened, see what he
must love. For what is that saying: The merciful goodness of the
Lord endureth from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear Him (Ps. ciii. 17).
From everlasting, because of predestination, to everlasting, because of glorification. The one process is
without beginning, the other knows no ending. Indeed, those whom He predestines
from everlasting, He glorifies to everlasting, with an interval, at least, in
the case of adults, of calling and justification between. So at the rising of
the Sun of Righteousness, the mystery, hidden from eternity, concerning souls
that have been predestinated and are to be glorified, begins in some degree to
emerge from the depths of eternity, as each soul, called by fear and justified
by love, becomes assured that it, too, is of the number of the blessed, knowing
well that whom He justified, them also He glorified (Rom. viii. 30).
What then? The soul hears that it is called when it is stricken with fear. It
feels also that it is justified when it is surrounded with love. Can it do
otherwise than be confident that it will be glorified? There is a beginning; there is
continuation. Can it despair only of the consummation?
Indeed, if the fear of the Lord, in which our calling is said to consist, is the
beginning of wisdom, surely the love of God—that love, I mean, which springs
from faith, and is the source of our justification—is progress in wisdom. And so
what but the consummation of wisdom is that glorification which we hope for at
the last from the vision of God that will make us like Him? And so one deep calleth another because of the noise of the
water-pipes. (Ps. xlii. 9),
when, with terrible judgments, that unmeasured Eternity and Eternal Immensity,
whose wisdom cannot be told, leads the corrupt and inscrutable heart of man by
Its own power and goodness forth into Its own marvellous light.
6. For instance, let us suppose a man in the world, held fast as
yet in the love of this world and of his flesh; and, inasmuch as he bears the
image of the earthly man, occupied with earthly things, without a thought of
things heavenly, can any one fail to see that this man is surrounded with
horrible darkness, unless he also is sitting in the same fatal gloom? For no
sign of his salvation has yet shone upon him; no inner inspiration bears its
witness in his heart as to whether an eternal predestination destines him to
good. But, then, suppose the heavenly compassion vouchsafes sometime to have
regard to him, and to shed upon him a spirit of compunction to make him bemoan
himself and learn wisdom, change his life, subdue his flesh, love his neighbour,
cry to God, and resolve hereafter to live to God and not to the world; and
suppose that thenceforward, by the gracious visitation of heavenly light and the
sudden change accomplished
by the Right Hand of the Most High he sees clearly that
he is no longer a child of wrath, but of grace, for he is now experiencing the
fatherly love and divine goodness towards him—a love which hitherto had been
concealed from him so completely as not only to leave him in ignorance whether
he deserved love or hate, but also as to make his own life indicate hatred
rather than love, for darkness was still on the face of the deep—would it not
seem to you that such an one is lifted directly out of the profoundest and
darkest deep of horrible ignorance into the pleasant and serene deep of eternal
brightness?
7. And then at length God, as it were, divides the light from the
darkness, when a sinner, enlightened by the first rays of the Sun of
Righteousness; casts off the works of darkness and puts on the armour of light.
His own conscience and the sins of his former life alike doom him as a true
child of Hell to eternal fires; but under the looks with which the Dayspring
from on high deigns to visit him, he breathes again, and even begins to hope
beyond hope that he shall enjoy the glory of the sons of God. For rejoicing at
the near prospect with unveiled face, he sees it in the new light, and says:
Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon us; Thou hast
put gladness in my heart (Ps. iv. 7);
Lord, what is man that Thou hast such respect unto him, or the son of man
that Thou so regardest him? (Ps. cxliv. 3).
Now, O good Father, vile worm and worthy of eternal hatred as he is, he yet
trusts that he is loved, because he feels that he loves; nay, because he has a
foretaste of Thy love he does not blush to make return of love. Now in Thy
brightness it becomes clear, Oh! Light that no man can
approach unto, what good things Thou hast in store for
so poor a thing as man, even though he be evil! He loves not undeservedly,
because he was loved without his deserving it; and his love is for everlasting,
because he knows that he has been loved from everlasting. He brings to light for
the comfort of the sorrowful the great design which from eternity had lain in
the bosom of eternity, namely, that God wills not the death of a sinner, but
rather that he should be converted and live. As a witness of this secret, Oh!
man, thou hast the justifying Spirit bearing witness herein with thy spirit that
thou thyself also art the son of God. Acknowledge the counsel of God in thy
justification; confess it and say, Thy testimonies are my delight and my
counsellors (Ps. cxix. 24).
For thy present justification is the revelation of the Divine counsel, and a
preparation for future glory. Or rather, perhaps, predestination itself is the
preparation for it, and justification is more the gradual drawing near unto it.
Indeed, it is said, Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at
hand (S. Matt. iii.
2). And hear also of predestination that it is the preparation:
Come, inherit, He says, the kingdom prepared for
you from the foundation of the world (S. Matt. xxv. 34)
8. Let none, therefore, doubt that he is loved who already loves.
The love of God freely follows our love which it preceded. For how can He grow
weary of returning their love to those whom He loved even while they yet loved
Him not? He loved them, I say; yes, He loved. For as a pledge of His love thou
hast the Spirit; thou has also Jesus, the faithful witness, and Him crucified.
Oh! double
proof, and that most sure, of God’s love towards us.
Christ dies, and deserves to be loved by us. The Spirit works, and makes Him to
be loved. The One shows the reason why He is loved: the Other how He is to be
loved. The One commends His own great love to us; the Other makes it ours. In
the One we see the object of love; from the Other we draw the power to love.
With the One, therefore, is the cause; with the Other the gift of charity. What
shame to watch, with thankless eyes, the Son of God dying—and yet this may
easily happen, if the Spirit be not with us. But now, since The
love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto
us (Rom. v. 5),
having been loved we love; and as we love, we deserve to be loved yet more.
For if, says the Apostle, while we were yet
enemies, we have been reconciled to God through the death of His Son; much more,
being reconciled, shall we be saved through His life (Rom. viii. 32). For He that spared not His own Son, but delivered
Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?
9. Since, then, the token of our salvation is twofold, namely, a
twofold outpouring, of the Blood and of the Spirit, neither can profit without
the other. For the Spirit is not given except to such as believe in the
Crucified; and faith avails not unless it works by love. But love is the gift of
the Spirit. If the second Adam (I speak of Christ) not only became a living
soul, but also a quickening spirit, dying as being the one, and raising the dead
as being the other, how can that which dies in Him profit me, apart from that
which quickens? Indeed, He Himself says: It is the spirit that quickeneth,
the flesh profiteth
nothing (S. John vi. 63). Now, what does “quickeneth”
mean except “justifieth”? For as sin is the death of the soul
(The soul that sinneth it shall die, Ezek.
xviii. 4), without doubt righteousness is its life; for The
just shall live by faith (Rom. i. 17).
Who, then, is righteous, except he who returns to God, who loves him, His meed
of love? And this never happens unless the Spirit by faith reveal to the man the
eternal purpose of God concerning his future salvation. Such a revelation is
simply the infusion of spiritual grace, by which, with the mortification of the
deeds of the flesh, man is made ready for the kingdom which flesh and blood
cannot inherit. And he receives by one and the same Spirit both the reason for
thinking that he is loved and the power of returning love, lest the love of God
for us should be left without return.
10. This, then, is that holy and secret counsel which the Son has
received from the Father by the Holy Spirit. This by the same Spirit He imparts
to His own whom He knows, in their justification, and by the imparting He
justifies. Thus in his justification each of the faithful receives the power to
begin to know himself even as he is known: when, for instance, there is given to
him some foretaste of his own future happiness, as he sees how it lay hid from
eternity in God, who foreordains it, but will appear more fully in God, who is
effecting it. But concerning the knowledge that he has now, for his part,
attained, let a man glory at present in the hope, not in the secure possession
of it. How must we pity those who possess as yet no token of their own calling
to this glad assembly of the righteous. Lord,
who hath believed our report? (Is. liii. 1). Oh! that
they would be wise and understand. But except
they believe they shall not understand.
11. But you, too, ye unhappy and heedless lovers
of the world, have your purpose far from that of the
just. Scale sticks close to scale, and there is no airhole between you. You, too, oh! sons of impiety,
have your purpose communicated one to another, but
openly against the Lord and against His Christ (Ps. ii. 2).
For if, as the Scripture says, The fear of God, that is
piety (Job xxviii. 28),
The lxx. has Ιδοὺ θεοσέβεια ἐστὶ σοφία.
The Vulgate reads “Ecce
timor Domini ipsa est sapientia,” with which the A. V, coincides, “Behold
the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom.” Does Bernard quote from memory?
of course anyone who loves the
world more than God is convicted of impiety and
idolatry, of worshipping and serving the creature
rather than the Creator. But if, as has been said,
the holy and impious have each their purpose kept
for themselves, doubtless there is a great gulf fixed
between the two. For as the just keeps himself aloof
from the purpose and council of evil men (cf. Ps. i. 6), so
the impious never rise in the judgment, nor sinners
in the purpose
This must be the reading, not “congregation” [
concilio
], as in Ps. i.,
for the sense demands “purpose” [
consilio
], and the MSS. so read.
for the just. For there is a purpose
for the just, a gracious rain which God hath set apart
for His heritage. There is a purpose really secret,
descending like rain into a fleece of wool—a sealed
fount whereof no stranger may partake—a Sun of
Righteousness rising only for such as fear God.
12. Moreover, the prophet, noting that the rest
remain in their own dryness and darkness, being
ignorant of the rain and of the light of the just,
mocks and brands their unfruitful gloom and confused
perversity. This is a nation, he
says, that obeyeth not the voice of the Lord their God (Jer. vii.
28). You are not ready, oh! miserable men, to say with David,
I will hearken what the Lord God will say with regard to me (Ps. lxxxv. 8),
for being exhausted abroad upon [the quest of] vanity and false folly, you seek
not for the deepest and best hearing of the truth. Oh! ye sons of
men, how long will ye blaspheme mine honour, and have such pleasure in vanity
and seek after leasing (Ps. iv. 2). You
are deaf to the voice of truth, and you know not the purpose of Him who thinks
thoughts of peace, who also speaks peace to His people, and to His saints, and
to such as are converted in heart. Now, he says, ye are
clean through the word which I have spoken to you (S. John xv. 3). Therefore, they who hear not
this word are unclean.
13. But do you, dearly beloved, if you are making ready your
inward ear for this Voice of God that is sweeter than honey and the honey-comb,
flee from outward cares, that with your inmost heart clear and free you also may
say with Samuel, Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth (1 Sam. iii. 9).
This Voice sounds not in the market-place, and is not heard in public. It is a
secret purpose, and seeks to be heard in secret. It will of a surety give you
joy and gladness in hearing it, if you listen with attentive ear. Once it
ordered Abraham (Gen. xii. 1)
to get him out of his country and from his kindred, that he might see and
possess the land of the living. Jacob (Gen. xxxii.
10) left his brother and his home, and passed over Jordan with his staff,
and was received in Rachel’s embrace (Gen. xxix.
11). Joseph was lord in Egypt (Gen.
xxxvii. and xli.), having been torn by a fraudful purchase
from his father and his home. Thus the Church is
bidden, in order that the King may have pleasure in her beauty, to forget her
own people and her father’s house (Ps.
xlv. 11, 12). The boy Jesus was sought by His parents among their kinsfolk
and acquaintance, and was not found (S. Luke ii. 44, 45). Do you also flee
from your brethren, if you wish to find the way of salvation. Flee, I say, from
the midst of Babylon, flee from before the sword of the northwind. A bare
sustenance I am ready to offer for the help of every one that flees. You call me
your abbot; I refuse not the title for obedience’ sake—obedience, I say, not
that I demand it, but that I render it in service to others, even as
The Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister and
to give His life a ransom for many (S. Matt. xx. 28). But if you deem me
worthy, receive as your fellow-disciple him whom you choose for your master. For
we both have one Master, Christ. And so let Him be the end of this Letter, who
is The end of the law for righteousness to every one that
believeth (Rom. x. 4).
LETTER XLI
To Thomas of St. Omer, After He Had Broken His Promise of Adopting a Change of Life.
He urges him to leave his studies and enter
religion, and sets before him the miserable end of Thomas of Beverley.
To his dearly beloved son, Thomas, Brother Bernard, called Abbot of Clairvaux, that he may walk in the
fear of the Lord.
1. You do well in acknowledging the debt of your
promise, and in not denying your guilt in deferring its performance. But I beg
you not to think simply of what you promised, but to whom you promised it. For I
do not claim for myself any part of that promise which you made, in my presence,
indeed, but not to me. Do not fear that I am going to reprove you on account of
that deceptive delay: for I was summoned as the witness, not as the lord of your
vow.
Bernard regards as a vow that kind of promise by which
a man had determined in his presence to enter the religious state. See Letter
395 and Sermons on Canticles, 63, n. 6, in which he mourns
the lapse and fall of novices.
I saw it and rejoiced; and my prayer is
that my joy may be full—which it will not be until your promise is fulfilled.
You have fixed a time which you ought not to have transgressed. You have
transgressed it. What is that to me? To your own lord you shall stand or fall. I
have determined, because the danger is so imminent, to deal with you neither by
reproofs nor threats, but only by advice—and that only so far as you take it
kindly. If you shall hear me, well. If not, I judge no man; there is One who
seeketh and judgeth; for He who judgeth us is the Lord (1 Cor. iv.
4). And I think for this cause you ought to fear and grieve the more,
inasmuch as you have not lied unto men, but unto God. And though, as you wish, I
spare your shame before men, is that shamelessness to go unpunished before God?
For what reason, pray, is there in feeling shame before the judgment of man and
not fearing the face of God? For the face of the Lord is against them that do
evil (Ps. xxxiv.
16). Do you, then, fear reproaches
more than torments; and do you, who tremble at the
tongue of flesh, despise the sword which devours the flesh? Are these the fine
moral principles with which, as you write, you are being stored in the
acquisition of knowledge, the ardour and love for which so heats and excites you
that you do not fear to slight your sacred vow?
2. But, I pray you, what proof of virtue is it, what instance of
self-control, what advance in knowledge, or artistic skill, to tremble with fear
where no fear is needful, and to lay aside even the fear of the Lord. How much
more wholesome the knowledge of Jesus and Him crucified—a knowledge, of course,
not easy to acquire except for Him who is crucified to the world. You are
mistaken, my son, quite mistaken, if you think that you can learn in the school
of the teachers of this world that knowledge which only the disciples of Christ,
that is, such as despise the world, attain; and that by the gift of God. This
knowledge is taught, not by the reading of books, but by grace; not by the
letter, but by the spirit; not by learning, but by the practice of the
commandments of God: Sow, says the Prophet, to yourselves in
righteousness, reap the hope of life, kindle for yourselves the light of
knowledge (cf. Hos. x. 12).
You see that the light of knowledge cannot be duly attained, except the seed of
righteousness [first] enter the soul, so that from it may grow the grain of
life, and not the mere husk of vainglory. What then? You have not yet sown to
yourself in righteousness, and therefore you have not yet reaped the sheaves of
hope; and do you pretend that you are acquiring the true knowledge? Perchance
for the true there is being substituted that which
puffeth up. You err foolishly, Spending
thy money for that which is not bread, and thy labour for that which satisfieth
not (Is. lv. 2). I
entreat you, return to the former wish of your heart, and realize that this year
of delay which you have allowed to yourself has been a wrong to God; is not a
year pleasing to the Lord, but a seedplot of discord, an incentive to wrath, a
food of apostasy, such as must quench the Spirit, shut off grace, and produce
that lukewarmness which is wont to provoke God to spue men out of His mouth (cf. Rev. iii.
16).
3. Alas! I think that, as you are called by the same name, so
you walk in the same spirit as that other Thomas, once, I mean, Provost of
Beverley. For after devoting himself, like you, to our Order and House with all
his heart, he began to beg for delay, and then by degrees to grow cold, until he
openly ended by being a Secular, an apostate, and, twofold more, a child of
hell, and was cut off prematurely by a sudden and terrible death (S. Matt. xxiii. 15)—a fate
which, if it may be, let the pitiful and clement Lord avert. The letter
No. 107.
which I wrote to him in vain still
survives. I simply freed my own mind, by warning him, so far as I could, how it
must soon end. How happy would he have been if he had taken my advice! He cloked
his sin. I am clean from his blood. But that is not enough for me. For though in
so acting I am quite at ease on my own account, yet that charity which seeketh not her own (1 Cor. xiii.
5) urges me to mourn for him who died not in safety, because he lived so
carelessly. Oh! the great depth of the judgments of God! Oh! my God, terrible in
Thy counsels over the sons of men! He bestowed the
Spirit, whom he was soon again to withdraw, so that a man sinned a sin beyond
measure, and grace found entrance that sin might abound; though this was the
fault, not of the Giver, but of him who added the transgression. For it was the
act of the man’s own freewill (whereby, using badly his freedom, he had the
power to grieve the free Spirit) to despise the grace instead of bringing to
good effect the inspiration of God, so as to be able to say: His
grace which was bestowed on me was not in vain (1 Cor. xv.
10).
4. If you are wise, you will let his folly profit you as a
warning; you will wash your hands in the blood of the sinner, and take care to
release yourself at once from the snare of perdition, and me from horrible fear
on your account. For, I confess, I feel your erring steps as the rending of my
heart, because you have become very dear to me, and I feel a father’s affection
for you. Therefore, at every remembrance of you that sword of fear pierces
through my heart the more sharply, as I consider that you have too little fear
and uneasiness. I know where I have read of such: For when they shall say
peace and safety, then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a
woman with child, and they shall not escape (1 Thess. v.
3). Yea, I foresee that many fearful consequences threaten you if you still
delay to be wise. For I have had much experience; and Oh! that you would share
and profit by it. So believe one who has had experience; believe one who loves
you. For if you know for the one reason that I am not deceived, for the other
you know also that I am not capable of deceiving you.
LETTER XLII
To the Illustrious Youth, Geoffrey de Perrone, and His Comrades.
He pronounces the youths noble because they
purpose to lead the religious life, and exhorts them to perseverance.
To his beloved sons, Geoffrey and his
companions, Bernard, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes the
spirit of counsel and strength.
1. The news of your conversion that has got abroad is edifying
many, nay, is making glad the whole Church of God, so that The
heavens rejoice and the earth is glad (Ps. xcvi. 11),
and every tongue glorifies God. The earth shook and the heavens
dropped at the presence of the God of Sinai (cf. Ps.
lxviii. 8, 9), raining on those days more abundantly than usual a gracious
rain which God keeps for His inheritance (Ps.
lxvii. 9, 10, Vulg.). Never more will the cross of Christ appear void of
effect in you, as in many sons of disobedience, who, delaying from day to day to
turn to God, are seized by sudden death, and go down straightway to hell. We see
flourish again under our eyes the wood whereon the Lord of Glory hung, who died
not for His own nation only, But also that He should gather
together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad (S. John xi. 52). He, yes, He
Himself draws you, who loves you as His own flesh, as the most precious fruit of
His cross, as the most worthy recompense of the blood he shed. If, then, the
Angels Rejoice over one sinner that repenteth (S. Luke xv. 10), how great must
be their joy over so
many, and those, too, sinners. The more illustrious
they seemed for rank, for learning, for birth, for youth, the wider was their
influence as examples of perdition. I had read, Not many noble,
not many wise, not many mighty hath God chosen (1
Cor. i. 26, 27). But to-day, through a miracle of Divine power, a multitude
of such is converted. They hold present glory cheap, they spurn the charm of
youth, they take no account of high birth, they regard the wisdom of the world
as foolishness, they rest not in flesh and blood, they renounce the love of
parents and friends, they reckon favours and honours and dignities as dung that
they may gain Christ. I should praise you if I knew that this, your lot, were
your own doing. But it is the finger of God, clearly a change due to the right
hand of the Most High (cf. Ps. lxxvii. 10, Vulg., lxxvi.
11). Your conversion is a good gift and a perfect gift, without doubt
descending from the Father of lights (S. James i. 17). And so to Him we rightly
bring every voice of praise who only doeth marvellous things, who hath caused
that plenteous redemption that is in Him to be no longer without effect in you.
2. What, then, dearly beloved, remains for you to do, except to
make sure that your praiseworthy purpose attain the end it deserves? Strive,
therefore, for perseverance, the only virtue that receives the crown. Let there
not be found among you Yea and Nay (2 Cor. i.
18, sq.), that ye may be the sons of your Father which is in Heaven,
with whom, you know, there is no variableness, neither shadow
of turning (S. James i.
17). You also, brethren, are changed into the same
image from glory to glory, even as by the
Spirit of the Lord (2 Cor. iii.
18). Take heed with all watchfulness not to be yourselves found light,
inconstant, or wavering. For it is written, A double-minded man is unstable
in all his ways (S. James i.
8), and again, Woe be . . . to the sinner that goeth
two ways (Ecclus. ii. 12). And for myself, dearly beloved, I congratulate
you, and myself not less, for, as I hear, I have been reckoned worthy of being
chosen to have a part in this, your good purpose. I both give you my counsel and
promise my help. If I am thought necessary, or, rather, if I be deemed worthy, I
do not decline the task, and so far as in me lies will not fail you. With eager
devotion I submit my shoulders to this burden,
Hence it is clear that Bernard was already approaching
old age when he wrote this Letter.
old though they be, since it is laid on me from heaven.
With a glad heart and open arms, as they say, I welcome the fellow-citizens of
the saints and servants of God. How gladly, according to the prophet’s command,
do I assist with my bread those that flee from the face of the
sword, and bring water to the thirsty (cf. Is. xxi. 14).
The rest I have left to the lips of my, or rather your, Geoffrey. Whatsoever he
shall say to you in my stead, that, doubt not, is my counsel.
LETTER XLIII
A Consolatory Letter to the Parents of Geoffrey.
There is no reason to mourn a son as lost who is
a religious, still less to fear for his delicacy of constitution.
1. If God makes your son His son also, what do you lose or what
does he himself lose? Being rich he becomes richer; being already high born, of
still nobler lineage; being illustrious, he gains greater renown; and—what is
more than all—once a sinner he is now a saint. He must be prepared for the
Kingdom that has been prepared for him from the beginning of the world; and for
this end, the short time that he has to live he must spend with us; until he has
scraped off the filth of the worldly life, and wiped away the earthly dust, and
at last is fit for the heavenly mansion. If you love your son, of course you
will rejoice, because he goes to His Father and to such a Father as He. Yea, he
goes to God. But you lose him not: nay, rather through him you gain many sons.
For all of us who are in or of Clairvaux, acknowledge him as a brother and you
as parents.
2. But perchance you fear the effect of a severe life upon his
body, which you know to be frail and delicate. But of such fear it is said,
“There were they brought in great fear where no fear was” (Ps. xiv. 9).
Reassure yourselves, and be comforted. I will be to him a father, and he shall
be to me a son, until the Father of mercies and the God of all
consolation (cf. Rom. xv. 5)
receive him from my hands. So do not mourn; do not
weep. For your Geoffrey is hastening to joy and not to grief. I will be to him
father, mother, brother, and sister. I will make the crooked straight for him and the rough way smooth (cf. S. Luke iii. 5). I will so
order and arrange everything for him that his soul shall profit and his body not
suffer loss. Moreover, he shall serve the Lord in joy and gladness, and shall
sing in the ways of the Lord that great is the glory of the Lord (Ps. cxxxviii. 5).
LETTER XLIV
Concerning the Maccabees But to Whom Written is Unknown.
Such is the title in almost all the MSS. But in one at
Cîteaux the Letter is inscribed To Bruno of Cologne, as is believed, on the
martyrdom of the Maccabees. In an old edition It is thought to have been
written to Hugo of S. Victor.
He relies to the question why the Church has
decreed a festival to the Maccabees alone of all the righteous under the ancient law.
1. Fulk, Abbot of Epernay, had already written to ask me the same
question as your charity has addressed to your humble servant by Brother
Hescelin. I have put off replying to him, being desirous to find, if possible,
some statement in the Fathers about this which was asked, which I might send to
him, rather than to reply by some new opinion of my own. But as I do not come
upon one, in the meantime I reply to each of you with my thoughts upon the
matter, on condition that if you discover anything better and more probable in
your reading, conversation, or by your meditations, you will not
omit to share it with me in turn. You ask, then, why it
seemed good to the Fathers to decree that an annual commemoration, with
veneration equal to our martyrs, should be solemnly made in the Church, by a
certain peculiar privilege, to the Maccabees alone out of all the ancient
saints? If I should say that having made proof of the same courage as those,
they were worthy now of the same honours, that would, perhaps, answer the
question why they were included, but not why they alone were; while it is quite
evident that there were others amongst the ancients who suffered with equal zeal
for righteousness, but yet have not attained to be reverenced with equal
solemnities. If I reply that the latter have not received the same honours as
our martyrs because, although their valour deserved it, the time when they lived
deprived them of it, why was not the same consideration applied also to the
Maccabees, if, indeed, they, too, on account of the era when they lived, did not
at once enter into the light of Heaven, but descended into the darkness of
Hades? For the Firstbegotten from the dead, He who opened to believers the
kingdom of Heaven, the Lamb of the tribe of Judah, who opens and no more shuts,
at Whose entrance with complete authority it was sung by the heavenly powers:
Lift up your heads, O ye gates, avid be ye lift up ye everlasting
doors, and the King of Glory shall come in (Ps. xxiv.
7),—He had not yet appeared. If on that account it appears unsuitable to
commemorate with joy the passing away of those which was not a passage of glory
and of joy, why was there an exception made for the Maccabees? Or if they
obtained favour on account of the courage
which they displayed, why was not the same favour
extended to those others? Or ought it to be said, in order to explain this
difference, that if the martyrs of the ancient law, as well as those of the new
law, have suffered for the same cause of religion, yet they did not suffer in
the same condition with those who have attained to the glory of martyrdom? It is
agreed that all the martyrs, whether of the Old or the New Testament, equally
suffered for the sake of religion; but there is a distinction, because the one
class suffered because they held it, the other because they censured those who
held it not; the one because they would not desert it, the other because they
declared that those would perish who deserted it, and to sum up in a word, that
in which the two differ, perseverance in the faith has done in our martyrs that
which zeal for the faith has done in those of the ancient law. The Maccabees are
alone among the ancient martyrs, because they possessed not only the same cause
as the new martyrdom, but also, as I have said, the form of it; and rightly,
therefore, they have attained the same glory and fame as the new martyrs of the
Church. For like our martyrs, they were urged to pour libations to false gods,
to renounce the law of their fathers, and even to transgress the commandments of
God, and like them they resisted and died.
2. Not so did Isaiah or Zecharias, or even that great prophet,
John the Baptist, die; of whom the first is said to have been sawn asunder, the
second slain between the temple and the altar (S. Matt. xxiii. 25), and the third
beheaded in prison. If you ask by whom? It was by the wicked and irreligious.
For what cause? For justice and religion. In what
manner? For confessing and openly upholding these. They openly upheld the truth
before those who hated it, and thus drew upon themselves the hatred which caused
their death. That which the unrighteous and wicked persecuted was not so much
religion in itself as those who brought it before them, nor was their object to
attack the righteousness of others, but to remain undisturbed in their own
unrighteousness. It is one thing to seize upon the good things of another, and
another to defend one’s own goods; to persecute the truth, and not to be willing
to follow it one’s self; to grudge at believers, and to be angry at their
reproofs; to stop the mouth of those who confess their faith, and not to be able
to bear patiently the taunts of those who contradict. Thus Herod sent and seized
John. Wherefore! Because he preached Christ, or because he was a good and just
man? On the contrary, he reverenced him the more on this account, and having heard him, did many things. But it was because John
reproached Herod because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife;
on that account he was bound and beheaded; no doubt he suffered for the
truth, but because he urged its interests with zeal, not because he was urged to
deny it. This is why the suffering of so great a martyr is observed with less
solemnity than those even of far less famous men.
3. It is certain that if the Maccabees had suffered in such a
matter, and for such a reason as S. John, there would not have been any mention
of them at all. But a confession of the truth, not unlike that of the Christian
martyrs, made them like those; and
rightly, therefore, a similar veneration follows. Let
it not be objected that they did not, like our martyrs, suffer for Christ
expressly by name; because it does not affect his status as a martyr whether a
person suffers under the Law, on behalf of the observances of the Law, or under
grace for the commandments of the Gospel. For it is recognized that each of
these equally suffers for the truth, and, therefore, for Christ, who said:
I am the Truth (S. John xiv. 6). Therefore the Maccabees are
more deserving of the honours that have been conferred upon them for the kind of
their martyrdom than for the valour displayed in it, since we do not see that
the Church has decreed such honour to the righteous of a former time, although
they have displayed equal courage on behalf of righteousness, for the time in
which they lived. I suppose that it was thought unfit to appoint a day of
festival for a death, however laudable, before the Death of Christ, especially
since before that saving Passion those who died, instead of entering into joy
and glory endured the darkness of the prison-house. The Church then, as I said
above, considered that an exception should be made in favour of the Maccabees,
since the nature of their martyrdom conferred upon them what the time of their
suffering denied to others.
4. Nor them only, but those also who preceded in their death,
the Death of Him who was the Life manifest in the flesh, either dying during His
life, as Simeon and John the Baptist, or for Him, as the Innocents, we venerate
with solemn rites, although they, too, descended into Hades; but for another
reason. Thus, in the case of the Innocents, it would
be unjust to deprive innocence dying on behalf of
righteousness of fame even in the present. John also, knowing that from his day
the kingdom of heaven suffered violence, therefore proclaimed, Do penitence, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand
(S. Matt.
iii. 2, Vulg.); and, seeing that the Life would immediately follow him, endured
death with joy. He, before his death, was careful to inquire from the Lord
Himself respecting this, and had the happiness to be informed of it. For when he
sent his disciples to ask of Jesus Art Thou He that should
come, or are we to look for another? he received for answer, after the
enumeration of very many miracles, And blessed is he who shall
not be offended in me (S. Matt. xi. 3–6). In which answer the Lord intimated
that He was about to die, and by such a death as might be to the Jews a
stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness. At this word the friend of the
Bridegroom went onward rejoicing and with a willing mind, because he could not
doubt that the Bridegroom also would speedily come. Therefore he who so joyfully
could die merited also to be held in joyful remembrance. And that old man, too,
as full of virtues as of days, who when death was already so near said, holding
in his arms Him who was the Life, Now lettest Thou Thy servant
depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation (S. Luke ii. 29, 30),
as if he had said, I go down without fear into Hades,
because I feel that my redemption is so nigh; he, too, who died with such
fearless joy and such joyful security rightly deserves to be commemorated with
joy in the Church.
5. But on what principle shall a death be accounted joyful
which is not accompanied by the joys of
heaven? or from whence should a dying person derive joy
who was sure that he was going down into the darkness of the prison-house, and
yet did not bear with him any certitude, how soon the consolation of a deliverer
thence should come to him? Thus it was that when one of the saints heard Set thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live, he
turned himself to the wall and wept bitterly, and so asked and obtained some
deferring of hateful death. Thus also he lamented miserably, saying, I shall go
to the gates of the grave; I am deprived of the half of my days (Is. xxxviii.
10); and a little after added, I shall not see the Lord in the
land of the living: I shall behold man no more with the inhabitants of the world
(Is. xxxviii. 11). Hence also another says: Who shall grant
me that Thou wouldest protect me in the grave, that Thou wouldest keep me secret
until Thy wrath be passed; that Thou wouldest appoint me a set time and remember
me? (Job xiv. 13). Israel also said to his sons, Ye will
bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave (Gen. xlii. 38). What
appearance is there in these deaths, of solemn joy, of rejoicing and festival?
6. But our martyrs desire to be unclothed and be with Christ,
knowing well that where the Body is there without delay will the eagles be
gathered together. There will the righteous rejoice in the sight of God, and be
in joy and felicity. There, there, O most blessed Jesus, shall every saint who
is delivered from this wicked world be filled speedily with the joy of Thy
countenance. There in the habitations of the just resounds for ever one song of
joy and salvation: Our soul is delivered as a bird out of the
net of the fowler: the net is broken and we are
delivered (Ps. cxxiv. 7). How could
those sing this song of gladness who in Hades sat in darkness and the shadow of
death, while as yet there was no Redeemer for them, no Saviour; while the Sun
rising from on high, Christ the first fruits of them that slept, had not yet
visited us? Rightly, then, does the Church, who has learnt to rejoice with them
that rejoice and to weep with them that weep, distinguish, because of the time
at which they lived, between those whom she judges equal in valour: and does not
think the descent into Hades proper to be followed with equal honour as is the
passage into life.
7. Therefore, though the motive makes martyrdom, yet the time
and the nature of it determine the difference between martyrdoms. Thus the time
in which they lived separates the Maccabees from the martyrs of the new law and
joins them with those of the old; but the nature of their martyrdom associates
them with the new and divides them from the old. From these causes come the
differences of observance with which they are kept in memory in the Church. But
that which is common to the whole company of the Saints before God is what the
holy prophet declares: Precious in the sight of the Lord is the
death of His saints (Ps. cxvi. 15). And why he calls it precious he explains
to us: When He has given sleep to His beloved, behold, children,
the heritage of the Lord; His reward, the fruit of the womb (Ps. cxxvii. 3).
Nor must we think that martyrs alone are beloved, since we remember that it was
said of Lazarus, Our friend Lazarus sleeps (S. John xi. 11),
and elsewhere, Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord
(Apoc. xiv. 13). Not those alone who die for the Lord, like the martyrs, but
without doubt
those also who die in the Lord as confessors are
blessed. There are two things, as it seems to me, which make death precious, the
life which precedes it and the cause for which it is endured; but more the cause
than the life. But when both the cause and the life concur that is the most
precious of all.
LETTER XLV (circa A.D. 1120)
To a Youth Named Fulk, Who Afterwards Was Archdeacon of Langres
He gravely warns Fulk, a Canon Regular, whom an
uncle had by persuasions and promises drawn back to the world, to obey God and
be faithful to Him rather than to his uncle.
To the honourable young man Fulk, Brother Bernard, a sinner,
wishes such joy in youth as in old age he will not regret.
1. I do not wonder at your surprise; I should wonder if you
were not suprised [sic] that I should write to you, a countryman to a citizen, a
monk to a scholastic,
Either a canon holding a prebend of theology or simply a student—here
probably the former. But see n. 7.—[E.]
there being no apparent or pressing reason for so doing.
But if you recall what is written—I am debtor both to the wise
and to the unwise (Rom. i. 14), and that Charity seeketh not
her own (1 Cor. xiii. 5)—perhaps you will understand that what it orders is
not mere presumption. For it is Charity which compels me to reprove you; to
condole with you, though you do not grieve; to pity
you, though you do not think yourself pitiable. Nor
shall it be unserviceable to you to hear patiently why you are compassionated.
In feeling your pain you may get rid of its cause, and knowing your misery begin
to cease to be miserable. O, Charity, good mother who both nourishest the weak,
employest the vigorous, and blamest the restless, using various expedients with
various people, as loving all her sons! She blames with gentleness, and with
simplicity praises. It is she who is the mother of men and angels, and makes the
peace not only of earth but of heaven. It is she who, rendering God favourable
to man, has reconciled man to God; she, my Fulk, makes those brethren, with whom
you once shared pleasant bread, to dwell in one manner of life in a house (Ps.
lxviii. 6). Such and so honourable a parent complains of being injured, of being
wounded by you.
2. But in what have I injured, you reply, or wounded her? In
this, without doubt, that you whom she had taken in her maternal bosom and
nourished with her milk, have untimely withdrawn yourself, and having known the
sweetness of the milk which can train you up for salvation, have rejected and
disdained it so quickly and carelessly. O, most foolish boy! boy more in
understanding than in age! who has fascinated you to depart so quickly from a
course so well begun? My uncle, you will say. So Adam once threw the blame of
sin upon his wife, and his wife upon the serpent, to excuse themselves; yet each
received the well-deserved sentence of their own fault. I am unwilling to accuse
the dean; I am unwilling that you should excuse yourself by this
means, for you are inexcusable. His fault does not
excuse yours. But what did he do? Did he use violence? Did he take you by force?
Nay, he begged, not insisted; attracted you by flatteries, not dragged you by
violence. Who forced you to yield to his flatteries? He had not yet given up
what was his own. What wonder that he should reclaim you, who wast his! If he
demands a lamb from the flock, a calf from the herd, and no one disputes his
right, who can wonder that having lost you, who are of more value in his sight
than many lambs or calves, he should reclaim you? Probably he does not aim at
that degree of perfection of which it is said, If any one has
taken away thy goods, seek them not again (S. Luke vi. 30). But you, who had
already rejected the world, what had you to do with following a man of the
world? The timid sheep flies when the wolf approaches; the gentle dove when she
sees the hawk; the mouse, though hungry, dares not leave his hole when the cat
is prowling around; and yet you, when thou sawest a thief thou
consentedst with him (Ps. l. 18). For what else than a thief shall I call
him who has not hesitated to steal that most precious pearl of Christ, your soul?
3. I should wish, if it were possible, to pass over his fault,
lest the truth should obtain for me only hatred and no result. But I am not
able, I confess, to pass a man untouched, who up to this very day is found to
have resisted the Holy Spirit with all his power. For he who does not hinder
evil when he can, even although the evil purpose may be frustrated, is not clear
of that purpose. Assuredly he tried to damp my fervour when it was new, but,
thanks to
God, he did not succeed. Another nephew of his,
Guarike, your kinsman, he much opposed, but what harm did he do? On the
contrary, he was of service. For the old man at length unwillingly desisted from
persecution, and as the youth, his nephew, remained unsubdued, he was the more
meritorious for his temptation. But, alas! how was he able to overcome you, who
was not able to overcome him? Was he stronger or more prudent than you?
Assuredly those who knew both before preferred Fulk to Guarike. But the event of
the combat showed that men’s judgment had erred.
4. But what shall I say concerning the malice of an uncle who
withdraws his own nephews from the Christian warfare to drag them with himself
to perdition? Is it thus he is accustomed to benefit his friends? Those whom
Christ calls to abide with Him for ever this uncle calls back to burn with him
for evermore. I wonder if Christ is not reproving him when he says, How often would I have gathered thy nephews
as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings and thou wouldest
not? Behold thy house is left unto thee desolate (S. Matt. xxiii. 37).
Christ says, Suffer the little children to come unto Me, for of such is the
kingdom of heaven (S. Matt. xix. 14). This uncle says, Suffer my nephews to burn
with me. Christ says, They are Mine; they ought to serve Me. But their uncle
says, They ought to perish with me. Christ says, They are mine, I have redeemed
them. But I, says the uncle, have brought them up. You, indeed, says Christ,
have fed them, but with My bread, not thine; while I have redeemed them not
with thy blood, but Mine own. Thus the uncle,
according to the flesh, struggles against the Father of
spirits for his nephews, whom he disinherits of heavenly possessions while he
desires to load them with earthly. Yet Christ, not considering it robbery to
draw to Himself those whom He has made and redeemed with His own blood, has done
when they came to Him, what He had before promised, Him who
cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out (S. John vi. 37). He opened
gladly to Fulk, the first who knocked, and made him glad also. What more? he put
off the old man and put on the new, and showed forth in his character and life
the canonical function which had existed in name alone. The report of it flies
abroad, to Christ, a sweet savour; and the novelty of the thing diffused on all
sides brought it to the ears of his uncle.
5. What then did the carnal guardian, who lost the carnal
solace of the flesh which he had brought up and loved after a carnal fashion?
Although to others the event was a savour of life unto life
(2 Cor. ii. 16), not so to him. Wherefore? Because the
carnal man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are
foolishness unto him (1 Cor. ii. 14). For if he had the spirit of Christ he
would not so greatly lament on account of the flesh that which he rejoiced over
on account of the spirit. But because he relishes earthly things, not those
which are above, he is sad and troubled, and reflects thus within himself: What
do I hear? Woe is me! from what hope have I fallen! Ought he to do anything
without my advice and permission? What right, what law, what justice, what
reason is it, that him, whom I have nourished up from infancy, another person
should have the
good of when grown up? Now that my head is white, alas!
I shall spend the remainder of my life in grief, because the staff of my old age
has deserted me. Woe is me! if this night my soul is required of me, whose
shall those things be which I have prepared? My storehouses are full, disgorging
this one into that, my sheep fruitful, abounding in their goings forth; my oxen
fat, and for whom shall these remain? My lands, my meadows, my houses, my vases
of gold and of silver, for whom have they been amassed? Certain of the richer
and more profitable honours of my Church I had acquired for myself; the rest,
although I could not have them, I hoped that Fulk should. What then shall I do?
Because of him shall I lose so much? For whatever I possess, without him, I
reckon as lost. Rather than that I will both retain them, and recall him if I
can. What is done cannot be undone; what is heard cannot be concealed. Fulk is
a Canon Regular, and if he returns to the world will be remarked and disgraced.
But it is better to hear that about him than to live without him. Let integrity
yield to convenience, shame to necessity. I prefer not to spare the
ingenuousness of a youth, rather than to undergo miserable melancholy.
6. Adopting then this counsel of the flesh, forgetful of reason
and law, as it were a lion prepared for prey; and as a lioness robbed of her
whelp, raging and roaring, not respecting holy things, he burst into the
dwelling of the saints, in which Christ had hidden his young soldier from the
strife of tongues, who was one day to be adjoined to the company of Angels. He
demands that his nephew be restored to him; he
loudly complains that by him he had been wrongly
deserted; while Christ resists, saying, Unhappy man, what are you doing? Why do
you rob? Why persecute Me? Is it not enough that you have taken away your own
soul from Me, and the souls of many others by your example, but you must tear
him also from My hand with impious daring? Do you not fear the coming judgment,
or do you despise My terrors? Upon whom do you wage war? Upon the terrible One,
who takes away the spirit of princes (Ps. lxxvi. 12). Madman, return to thyself.
Remember thy last end and sin not, call to mind with salutary fear what you are.
And thou, O youth, He says, if thou dost assent and agree to his wishes thou
shaft die the death.
Bernard usually shows himself very doubtful of the
salvation of those who, having been tailed by God to the religious state, had
not yielded to their vocation, and much more of those who, having entered it,
though not made profession, had returned to the world. See Letters 107 and 108.
But Fulk had actually made profession.
Remember that Lot’s wife was, indeed, delivered from
Sodom because she believed God, but was transformed in the way because she
looked back (Gen. xix. 26). Learn in the Gospel that he who has once put his
hand to the plough to him it is not permitted to look back (Luke ix. 62). Your
uncle, who has already lost his own soul, seeks yours. The words of his mouth
are iniquity and guile. Do not learn, my son, to do evil (Ps. xxxvi. 4). Do not
turn aside to vanities and falsehoods (Ps. xl. 4). Behold in the way in which
you walk he hides snares—he has stretched nets. His discourses are smooth as
butter, and yet they are sharp spears (Ps. lv. 21). See, my son, that you are not
taken with lying lips and a deceitful tongue. Let
divine fear transfix your flesh, that the desire of the flesh may not deceive
you. It flatters, but under its tongue is suffering and sorrow; it weeps, but
betrays; it betrays to catch the poor when it has attracted him (Ps. x. 9).
Beware, I say, My son, that you do not confer with flesh and blood (Gal. i. 16),
for My sword shall devour flesh (Deut. xxxii. 42). Despise
entreaties and promises. He promises great things, but I greater; he offers
more, but I most of all. Will you throw away heavenly things for earthly,
eternal for temporal? Otherwise it behoves you to dissolve the vows which your
lips have pronounced. He is rightly required to dissolve who was not forced to
vow, for, although I did not repulse you when you knocked, I did not oblige you
to enter. You cannot, therefore, put aside what you promised of your own accord.
Behold each of you I warn, and to each give salutary counsel. Do not you, He
says to the uncle, draw back a regular to the world, for in so doing you make
him to apostatize. Do not you, a regular, follow the secular life, for in so
doing you persecute Me. If you seduce a soul for which I died you make yourself
an enemy of My cross. He who does not gather with Me
scatters (S. Matt. xii. 30). How much more he who scatters what has been
gathered? And you, if you consent to him you dissent from Me, for he who is not with Me is against Me (ibid.). How much more is
he who was with Me against Me if he deserts? You, if you lead astray a boy who
has come to Me, shall be adjudged a seducer and profaner, but you, if you
destroy what you had built, shall make yourself a deceiver. Both
of you must stand at My tribunal and by Me be judged—the one for his prevarication, the other for the leading astray; and if the one
shall die in his iniquity his blood shall be required at the hand of his seducer
(Ezek. iii. 18). These and similar warnings Thou, O Christ, didst invisibly
thunder to each, I appeal to their conscience as witness. Thou didst knock at
the doors of the mind of each with kindly terrors. Who would not fear them and
recover wisdom in fearing, unless it were one like the deaf
adder, that stoppeth her ear and refuseth to hear the voice of the charmer,
charm he never so wisely (Ps. lviii. 4, 5), who either does not hear, or
pretends that he hears not?
7. But how far do I draw out this letter, already too long,
before speaking of a thing that is worthy only of silence? In what circuitous
paths do I approach the truth, fearing to draw the veil from shame! I say with
shame. That what is known to many I cannot conceal if I would. But why with
shame? Why should I be ashamed to write what it did not shame them to do? If
they are ashamed to hear what they shamelessly did, let them not be ashamed to
amend what they were reluctant to hear. Alas! neither fear nor reason could keep
back the one from seduction, nor shame or his profession the other from
prevarication. What more? A deceitful tongue fits hasty words; it conceiveth
sorrow, and brings forth iniquity. Your Church received its scholar, whom it had
better have been without. So formerly Lyons recovered, without credit, by the
zeal and pertinacity of its dean, its canon whom it had well lost, the nephew of
the same dean. Just as the
one snatched Fulk from S. Augustine, so the other
Othbert from S. Benedict. How much more beautiful that a religious youth should
draw to himself a worldly old man, and so each should be victorious, than that
the worldly should draw back to himself the religious, in which each is
vanquished! Oh, unhappy old man! Oh, cruel uncle! who, already decrepit and soon
about to die, before dying have slain the soul of your nephew, whom you have
deprived of the inheritance of Christ in order that you might have an heir of
your sins. But he who is evil to himself, to whom is he good? He preferred to
have a successor in his riches rather than an intercessor for his iniquities.
8. But what have I to do with Deans, who are our instructors,
and have acquired authority in the Churches. They hold the key of knowledge, and
take the highest seats in the synagogues. They judge their subjects at their
will, they recall fugitives, and when they are recalled scatter them again as
they choose. What have I to do with that? I confess that because of you, my
Fulk, I have exceeded somewhat the degree proper to my humility in speaking of
these, since I wished to be indulgent to your fault, and make your shame little
in comparison. I pass over these that they may not have ground to rail, not at
the blame, but at him who blames, for they would rather find fault with my
presumption than occupy themselves with their own correction. At all events it
is not a prince of the Church that I have undertaken to reprimand, but a young
student, gentle and obedient. Unless, perhaps, you show yourself to be a child
in sense, not in malice, and
object to my boldness, saying, What has he to do with
me? What do the faults which I commit matter to him? Am I a monk? And to this I
confess I have nothing to answer, except that I counted, in addressing myself to
you, on the sweetness of character with which you are endowed by nature, and
that I was actuated by the love of God, to which I appealed in the first words
of my letter. It was in zeal for Him that, pitying your error and your
unhappiness, I was moved to interfere beyond my custom in order to save you,
although you were not mine.
i.e., not owing me obedience as a monk.
Your serious fall and miserable case has moved me thus to
presume. For whom of your contemporaries have you seen me reprimand? To whom
have I ever addressed even the briefest letter? Not that I regarded them as
saints, nor had nothing to blame in them.
9. Why, then, you will say, do you blame me especially, when in
others you see what you might, perhaps, more justly find fault with? To which I
reply: Because of the excessiveness of your error, of the enormity of your
fault, for although many others live loosely, without rule and discipline, yet
they have not yet professed obedience to these. They are sinners indeed, but not
apostates. But you, however honourably and quietly you may live, although you
may conduct yourself chastely, soberly, and religiously, yet your piety is not
acceptable to God, because it is rendered valueless by the violation of your
vow. Therefore, beloved, do not compare yourself with your contemporaries, from
whom the profession which you have made separates you,
nor flatter yourself so much because of your
self-restraint in comparison with men of the world, since the Lord says to you
I would thou wert hot or cold (Apoc. iii. 15, 16). Here is
plainly shown that you please God less, being lukewarm, than if you were even
such as those are, entirely cold towards Him. For them God waits patiently until
their cold shall pass into heat, but you He sees with displeasure to have fallen
away to lukewarmness, after having been fervent in warmth. And because I have
found thee lukewarm, He says, I will vomit thee from My mouth
(ibid.) and deservedly, because you have returned to your vomit and rejected
His grace!
10. Alas, how have you so soon grown weary of the Saviour, of
whom it is written, Honey and milk are under His tongue
(Cantic. iv. 11). I wonder that nourishment so sweet should be distasteful to
you, if you have tasted how sweet the Lord is. Or perhaps you have not yet
tasted and do not know how sweet is Christ, so that you do not desire what you
have not tried; or if you have, then your taste is surely depraved. He is the
Wisdom of God who says: He who eats of Me shall always hunger,
and he who drinks of Me shall never cease to desire to drink again (Ecclus.
xxiv. 29). But how can he hunger or thirst for Christ who is full of the husks
of wine? You cannot drink of the cup of Christ and of the cup of demons (1
Cor. x. 21). The cup of demons is pride, detraction, envy, debauch, and
drunkenness, with which when your mind and body are saturated, Christ will find
in you no place. Do not wonder at what I say. In the house of your uncle you are
not able you are not able to drink deep of the fulness of the house of God. Why, you
say? Because it is a house of [carnal] delights.
Now, as fire and water cannot be together, so the
delights of the spirit and those of the flesh are incompatible.
Christ will not deign to pour His wine,
which is more sweet than honey and the honeycomb,
into the soul of him whom He finds among his cups
breathing forth the fumes of wine. Where there is
delicate variety of food, where the richness and splendour
of the service of the table delights equally the
eyes and the stomach, the food of heaven is wanting
to the soul. Rejoice, O, young man, in thy youth!
but then, when temporal joy departs in time to come,
everlasting sorrow will possess thee! May God preserve
you, His child, from this: May He rather
destroy the deceiving and perfidious lips of those
who give you such advice, who say to you every
day, Good, good! and who seek your soul! They
are those with whom you are dwelling, and who
corrupt the good manners of a young man by their
evil communications (colloquia: otherwise counsels,
consilia
).
11. But now how long before you will come out
from their midst? What do you in the town who
had chosen the cloister, or what have you to do with
the world which you had renounced? The lines
have fallen to you in pleasant places, and do you
sigh after earthly riches? If you wish to have both
together, it will be said to you soon, Remember, my son,
that you have received your good things when you
were in life (S. Luke xvi. 25). You have received,
He said, not you have seized; so that you may not shelter
yourself under the vain excuse, that you are content
with what is your own, and do not seize what
belongs to another. And, after all, what are those goods which you call yours? The benefices of the Church? Certainly; you do well in rising to keep
vigil, in going to Mass, in assisting at the day and night offices,
so you do not take the præbend of the Church without return. It is just that he who serves
the Altar should live from the Altar. It is granted
therefore to you that if you serve well at the Altar you should live from it, but not that you should live in luxury and splendour
at its expense, that you should take its revenues to provide yourself with gilded reins, ornamented saddles, silver spurs, furs
of all kinds, and purple ornaments to cover your hands and adorn your neck. Whatsoever you take from the Altar, in short, beyond necessary
food and simple dress, is not yours, and it is rapine and even sacrilege. The Wise man prayed for necessary sustenance, not for things superfluous
(Prov. xxx. 8). The Apostle says, having food and clothing
(1 Tim. vi. 8), not food
and magnificent dress. And a certain other saint says,
if the Lord shall give me bread to eat and raiment to
cover me (Gen. xxviii. 20). Take notice, to cover me.
So then let us, too, be content with raiment to cover us, not with luxurious and costly clothing which is worn to please women,
and wakes the wearers like them. But you say: Those with whom I associate
do this; if I do not do as others, I shall be remarked for singularity. Wherefore I say, go forth from the midst of them; that you
may not either live with singularity in the eyes of the town or perish by the
example of others.
12. What do you do in the town at all, O effeminate soldier? Your fellow soldiers whom you have
deserted by flight are fighting and overcoming; they knock and they enter in, they seize heaven and reign
while you scour the streets and squares, sitting upon your ambling courser, and clad in purple and fine
linen. These are the ornaments of peace, not the weapons of war. Or do you say, Peace, and there is no peace
(Ezekiel xiii. 10). The purple tunic does not put to flight lust, and pride,
and avarice, nor does it protect against other fiery darts of the enemy. Lastly, it does not ward off from you the fever which
you more fear, nor secure you from death. Where are your warlike weapons, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation,
the breast-plate of patience? Why do you tremble? There are more with us than with our enemies. Take your arms, recover your
strength while yet the combat lasts; Angels are spectators and helpers, the Lord himself is your aid and your support, who will
teach your hands to war and your fingers to fight (Psalm cxliv. 1). Let us come to the help of our brothers, lest if they fight
without us they vanquish without us, and without us enter into heaven; lest, last of all, when the door has been shut it be replied from within to us knocking too late,
Verily I say unto you, I know you not (S. Matthew xxv. 12).
Make yourself known then and seen beforehand, lest you be unknown for glory and known only for punishment. If Christ recognizes you in the
strife, He will recognize you in heaven, and as He has promised, will manifest Himself to you (S. John xiv. 21).
If only you by repenting and returning will show yourself such as to be able to say with confidence
Then shall I know even as also I am known (1 Corinthians xiii. 12).
In the meantime I have by
these admonitions knocked sufficiently at the heart of a young man modest and docile; and nothing remains for me now than to knock by my
prayers also, for him, at the door of the Divine Mercy, that the Lord
may finish my work if my remonstrances have found his heart ever so little softened, so that I may speedily rejoice over him with great joy.
LETTER XLVI (circa A.D. 1125)
To Guigues, the Prior, And to the Other Monks of the Grand Chartreuse
He discourses much and piously of the law of true and sincere
charity, of its signs, its degrees, its effects, and of its perfection which is reserved for Heaven (Patria).
Brother Bernard, of Clairvaux, wishes health eternal to the most reverend among fathers, and to the dearest among friends,
Guigues, Prior of the Grande Chartreuse, and to the holy Monks who are with him.
1. I have received the letter of your Holiness as joyfully as I had long and eagerly desired it. I have read it, and the letters which I pronounced
with my mouth, I felt, as it were, sparks of fire in my heart, which warmed my heart within me; as coming from that fire which the Lord has sent upon
the earth (S. Luke xii. 49). How great a fire must glow in
those meditations from which such sparks fly forth! This, your inspired and inspiring salutation, was to
me, I confess, not as if coming from man, but like
words descending surely from Him who sent the
salutation to Jacob. It is not for me, in fact, a
simple salutation given in passing, according to the
custom and usage of men, but it is plainly from the
very bowels of charity, as I feel, that this benediction,
so sweet and so unhoped for, has come forth. I pray
God to bless you, who have had the goodness to
prevent me with benedictions of such sweetness, that
confidence is granted to me, your humble servant, to
reply, since you have first written; for though I had
meditated writing, I had hitherto not presumed to do
so. For I feared to trouble, by my eager scribbling,
the holy quiet which you have in the Lord, and the
religious silence which isolates you from the world.
I feared, also, to interrupt, even for a moment, those
mysterious whispers from God, and to pour my
words into ears always occupied with the secret
praises of heaven. I feared to become as one who
would trouble even Moses on the mountain, Elias in
the desert, or Samuel watching in the temple, if I
had tried to turn away ever so little, minds occupied
with divine communion. Samuel cries out: Speak,
Lord, for Thy servant heareth (1 Sam. iii. 10). And
should I presume to make myself heard? I feared,
I say, lest presenting myself out of season before
you, as it were to David engaged in flight, or abiding
in solitude, you might not wish to listen, and might
say, “Excuse me, I cannot hear thee now; I prefer
rather to give ear to words sweeter than thine.”
I will hear what the Lord God will say unto me; for He
shall speak peace unto His people, and to His saints, and
to those who are converted at heart (Ps. lxxxiv. 9 Vulg.).
Or, at least, this: Depart from me, ye evil-disposed, and
I will study the commandments of my God (Ps. cxix. 115).
For could I be so rash as to dare to arouse the
much-loved spouse sweetly resting in the arms of her
bridegroom as long as she will? Should I not hear
from her on the instant: Do not be troublesome to
me; I am for My Beloved, and My Beloved is for Me;
He feedeth among the lilies (Cant. ii. 16).
2. But what I do not dare to do, charity dares,
and with all confidence knocks at the door of a
friend, thinking that she ought by no means to suffer
repulse, who knows herself to be the mother of
friendships; nor does she fear to interrupt for an
instant your rest, though so pleasant, to speak to you
of her own task. She, when she will, causes you to
withdraw from being alone with God; she, also, when
she willed, made you attentive to me; so that you
did not regard it as unworthy of you, not merely to
benignantly endure my speaking, but more, to urge
me to break the silence. I esteem the kindness, I
admire the worthiness, I praise and venerate the pure
rejoicing with which you glory in the Lord, for the
advances in virtue which, as you suppose, I have
made. I am proud of so great a testimony, and
esteem myself happy in a friendship so grateful to
me as that of the servants of God towards me.
This is now my glory, this is my joy and the rejoicing
of my heart, that not in vain I have lifted
up mine eyes unto the mountains whence there has
now come to me help of no small value. These
mountains have already distilled sweetness for me;
and I continue to hope that they will do so until our
valleys shall abound with fruit. That day shall be
always for me a day of festival and perpetual
memorial, in which I had the honour to see and to
receive that worthy man, by whom it has come about
that I should be received into your hearts. And,
indeed, you had received me even before, if I may
judge by your letter; but now with a more close
and intimate friendship, since, as I find, he brought
back to you too favourable reports concerning me
which, doubtless, he believed, though without sufficient
cause. For, as a faithful and pious man, God
forbid that he should speak otherwise than he believed.
And truly I experience in myself what the Saviour
says: He who receives a righteous man in the name of a
righteous man shall receive a righteous man’s reward
(S. Matt. x. 41).
I have said, the reward of a righteous man, because I am
regarded as righteous, only through receiving one who is
righteous. If he has reported of me something more than
that, he has spoken not so much according to the truth
of the case as according to the simplicity and goodness
of his heart. You have heard, you have believed, you
have rejoiced, and have written, thereby giving me
no little joy, not only because I have been honoured
with a degree of praise and a high place in the estimation of your Holiness, but also because all the
sincerity of your souls has made itself known to me
in no small measure. In few words, you have shown
to me with what spirit you are animated.
3. I rejoice, therefore, and congratulate you on
your sincerity and goodness as I congratulate myself
on the edification which you have afforded to me.
That is, indeed, true and sincere charity, and must be
considered to proceed from a heart altogether pure
and a good conscience and faith unfeigned, with
which we love our neighbour as ourself. For he
who loves only the good that himself has done, or, at
least, loves it more than that of others, does not love
good for its own sake, but on account of himself, and
he who is such cannot do as the prophet says:
Give thanks unto the Lord, because He is good
(Ps. cxviii. 1).
He gives thanks, indeed, perhaps, because the Lord
is good to him, not because He is good in Himself.
Wherefore let him understand that this reproach from
the same prophet is directed against him:
They will praise thee when thou doest well unto thy own soul
(Ps. xlix. 18).
One man praises the Lord because He is
mighty; another because He is good unto him; and,
again, another simply because He is good. The first
is a slave, and fears for himself; the second mercenary, and desires somewhat for himself; but the
third is a son, and gives praise to his Father. Therefore both he who fears and he who desires are each
working for his own advantage; charity which is in
him alone who is a son, seeketh not her own.
Wherefore I think that it was of charity that was spoken,
The law of the Lord is pure, converting the soul
(Ps. xix. 7),
because it is that alone which can turn away the mind
from the love of itself and of the world and direct it
towards God. Neither fear nor selfish love converts
the soul. They change sometimes the outward appearance or the actions, but never affect the heart.
No doubt even the slave does sometimes the work of
God, but because he does it not of his own free will
he remains still in his hardness. The mercenary
person does it also, but not out of kindness, only as
drawn by his own particular advantage. Where
there is distinction of persons, there are personal
interests, and where there are personal interests there
is a limit of willingness, and there, without doubt, a
rusting meanness. Let the very fear by which he is
constrained be a law to the slave, let the greedy
desire, with which the mercenary is bound, be a law
to him, since it is by it that he is drawn away and
enticed. But of these neither is without fault or is
able to convert the soul. But charity does convert
souls when it fills them with disinterested zeal.
4. Now, I should say that this charity is faultless
in him who has become accustomed to retain nothing
for himself out of that which is his own. He who
keeps nothing for himself gives to God quite certainly
all that he has, and that which belongs to God cannot
be unclean. Thus that pure law of the Lord is no
other than charity, which seeks not what is advantageous
to herself, but that which profits others. But
law is said to be of the Lord, either because He
Himself lives by it or because no one possesses it
except by His gift. Nor let it seem absurd what I
have said, that even God lives by law, since I declared
that this law was no other than charity. For what
but charity preserves in the supreme and blessed
Trinity, that lofty and unspeakable unity which it has?
It is law, then, and charity the law of the Lord, which
maintains in a wonderful manner the Trinity in Unity
and binds It in the bond of peace. Yet let no one
think that I here take charity for a quality or a certain
accident in God, or otherwise to say that in God
(which God forbid) there is something which is not
God; but I say that it is the very substance of God.
I say nothing new or unheard of, for S. John says
God is love (1 S. John iv. 16).
It is then right to say that charity is God, and at
the same time the gift of God. Therefore Charity
gives charity, the substantial
Mabillon reads substantiva, but another reading is
substantia.—[E.]
gives the accidental.
Where the word signifies the Giver it is a name of
the substance, and where the thing given, it is a name
of the accident. This is the eternal law, Creator and
Ruler of the Universe. Since all things have been
made through it in weight and measure and number,
and nothing is left without law, not even He who is
the Law of all things, yet He is Himself none other
than the law which rules Him, a law untreated as He.
5. But the slave and the mercenary have a law,
not from God, but which they have made for themselves—the one by not loving God, the other by loving
something else more than Him. They have, I say, a
law which is their own and not of the Lord, to which,
nevertheless, their own is subjected; nor are they
able to withdraw themselves from the unchangeable
order of the divine law, though each should make a
law for himself. I would say, then, that a person
makes a law for himself when he prefers his own will
to the common and eternal law, perversely wishing
to imitate his Creator; so that as He is a law unto
Himself, and is under no authority but His Own, so
the man also will be his own master, will make his
own will a law to himself. Alas! what a heavy and
insupportable yoke upon all the sons of Adam, which
weighs upon and bows down our necks, so that our
life is drawn near to the grave. Unhappy man that
I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this
death? (Rom. vii. 24) with which I am so weighed
down that unless the Lord had helped me, my soul
would almost have dwelt in the grave (Ps. xciv. 17).
With this load was he burdened who groaned, saying:
Why hast Thou set me as a mark against Thee, so that I
am a burden to myself? (Job vii. 20). Where he says,
I am made a burden to myself, he showed that he was a
law unto himself, and the law no other than he himself had made it. But when, speaking to God, he
commenced by saying, Thou hast set me as a mark
against Thee,
he showed that he had not escaped from
the Divine law. For this is the property of that
eternal and just law of God, that he who would not
be ruled with gentleness by God, should be ruled as
a punishment by his own self; and that all those
who have willingly thrown off the gentle yoke and
light burden of charity should bear unwillingly the
insupportable burden of their own will.
6. Thus the everlasting law does in a wonderful
manner, to him who is a fugitive from its power,
both make him an adversary and retain him as a
subject; for while, on the one hand, he has not
escaped from the law of justice, by which he is dealt
with according to his merits, on the other he does
not remain with God in His light, or peace, or glory.
He is subjected to power, and excluded from happiness. O Lord, my God, why dost Thou not take away
my sin, and pardon my transgression? (Job vii. 21).
So that throwing down the heavy weight of my own
will, I may breathe easily under the light burden of
charity; that I may not be overborne any longer by
servile fear, nor allured by selfish cupidity, but may
be impelled by Thy spirit, the spirit of liberty, which
is that of Thy children. Who is it, who witnesses to
my spirit that I, too, am one of Thy children, since
Thy law is mine, and as Thou art, so am I also, in
this world? For it is quite certain that those who
do this which the Apostle says owe no one anything except
to love one another (Rom. xiii. 8) are themselves as
God is in this world, nor are they slaves or mercenaries, but sons. Therefore neither are sons without
law, unless, perhaps, some one should think the contrary because of this which is written, the law is not
made for a righteous man (1 Tim. i. 9). But it ought
to be remembered that the law promulgated in fear
by a spirit of slavery is one thing, and that given
sweetly and gently by the spirit of liberty is another.
Those who are sons are not obliged to submit to the
first, but they are always under the rule of the second.
Do you wish to hear why it is said that law is not
made for the righteous? You have not received,
he says, the spirit of slavery again in fear.
Or why, nevertheless, they are always under the rule of the law of
charity? But ye have received the spirit of the adoption of
sons (Rom. viii. 15). Listen, now, in what manner
the righteous man confesses that at the same time he
is and is not under the law. I became, he says, to
those which were under the law as being under the law,
although I myself was not under the law: but to those who
were without law, I was as being without law, since I was
not without the law of God but in the law of Christ (1 Cor.
ix. 20, 21). Whence it is not accurately said the
righteous have no law, or the righteous are without
law, but that the law was not made for the righteous;
that is, it is not, as it were, imposed upon unwilling
subjects, but given freely to willing hearts by Him to
whose sweet inspiration it is due. Wherefore the
Lord also beautifully says, Take My yoke upon you
(S. Matt. xi. 29). As if He would say, I do not
impose it upon you against your will, take it if you
are willing; otherwise you will find not rest, but
labour, for your souls.
7. The law of charity, then, is good and sweet, it
is not only light and sweet to bear, but it renders
bearable and light the laws even of slaves and mercenaries. But it does not destroy these, but brings
about their fulfilment, as the Lord says, I am not
come to destroy the law, but to fulfil (S. Matt. v. 17).
The one it moderates, the other it reduces to order,
and each it lightens. Charity will never be without
fear, but that fear is good; it will never be without
any thought of interest, but that a restrained and
moderated one. Charity, therefore, perfects the law
of the slave when it inspires a generous devotion, and
that of the mercenary when it gives a better direction
to interested wishes. So, then, devotion mixed with
fear does not annul those last, but purifies them, only
it takes away the fear of punishment which servile
fear is never exempt from; and this fear is clean and
filial, enduring for ever (Ps. xix. 9). For that which is
written, perfect love takes away fear (1 S. John iv. 18),
is to be understood of the fear of punishment, which
is never wanting, as we have said, to slavish fear. It
is, in fact, a common mode of speech which consists
in putting the cause for the effect. As for cupidity,
it is then rightly directed by the charity which is
joined with it, since ceasing altogether to desire
things which are evil, it begins to prefer those which
are better, nor does it desire good things except in
order to reach those which are better; which when,
by the grace of God, it has fully obtained, the body
and all the good things which belong to the body
will be loved only for the sake of the soul, the soul
for the sake of God, and God alone for Himself.
8. However, as we are in fleshly bodies, and are
born of the desire of the flesh, it is of necessity that
our desire, or affection, should begin from the flesh;
but if it is rightly directed, advancing step by step
under the guidance of grace, it will at length be
perfected by the Spirit, because that is not first which is
spiritual, but that which is natural, and afterwards that
which is spiritual; and it is needful that we should first
bear the image of the earthly and afterwards that of the
heavenly (1 Cor. xv. 46, 49). First, then, a man loves
his own self for self’s sake, since he is flesh, and he
cannot have any taste except for things in relation
with him; but when he sees that he is not able to
subsist by himself, that God is, as it were, necessary
to him, he begins to inquire and to love God by
faith. Thus he loves God in the second place, but
because of his own interest, and not for the sake of
God Himself. But when, on account of his own
necessity, he has begun to worship Him and to
approach Him by meditation, by reading, by prayer,
by obedience, he comes little by little to know God
with a certain familiarity, and in consequence to find
Him sweet and kind; and thus having tasted how
sweet the Lord is, he passes to the third stage, and
thus loves God no longer on account of his own
interest, but for the sake of God Himself. Once
arrived there, he remains stationary, and I know not
if in this life man is truly able to rise to the fourth
degree, which is, no longer to love himself except for
the sake of God. Those who have made trial of this
(if there be any) may assert it to be attainable; to
me, I confess, it appears impossible. It will be so
without doubt when the good and faithful servant
shall have been brought into the joy of his Lord, and
inebriated with the fulness of the house of God.
For being, as it were, exhilarate, he shall in a
wonderful way be forgetful of himself, he shall lose
the consciousness of what he is, and being absorbed
altogether in God, shall attach himself unto Him with
all his powers, shall thenceforth be one spirit with
Him.
9. I consider that the prophet referred to this when
he said: I will enter into the powers of the Lord: O, Lord,
I will make mention of Thy righteousness only (Ps. lxxi. 16).
He knew well that when he entered into the spiritual
powers of God he would be freed from all the
infirmities of the flesh, and would have no longer to
think of them, but would be occupied only with the
perfections of God. Then, for certain, each of the
members of Christ would be able to say of himself,
what Paul said of their Head: If we have known Christ
according to the flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him no
more (2 Cor. v. 16).There no one knows himself
according to the flesh, because flesh and blood will not
inherit the kingdom of God (1 Cor. xv. 50). Not that the
substance of flesh will not be there, but that every
fleshly necessity will be away; the love of the flesh is to
be absorbed into the love of the spirit, and the weak
human passions which exist at present will be
absorbed into powers divine. Then the net of charity,
which is now drawn through a great and vast sea, and
does not cease to bring together from every kind of
fish, at length drawn to the shore, shall retain only
the good, rejecting the bad. And while in this life
charity fills with all kinds of fishes the vast spaces of
its net, suiting itself to all according to the time,
making, in a sense, its own, and partaking of the good
and evil fortunes of all, it is accustomed not only to
rejoice with them that rejoice, but to weep with them
that weep. But when it shall have reached the shore
[of eternity], casting away as evil fish all that it bore
with grief before, it will retain those only which are
sources of pleasure and gladness. Then Paul will no
longer be weak with the weak, or be scandalized with
those who are scandalized, since scandal and
weakness will be far away. We ought not to think that he
will still let fall tears over those who have not
repented here below; and as it is certain that there
will no longer be sinners, so there will be no one to
repent. Far be it from us to think that he will
mourn and deplore those whose portion is everlasting
fire with the devil and his angels, when in that City
of God which the streams of that river make glad
(Ps. xlvi. 4), the gates of which the Lord loves more
than all the dwellings of Jacob (Ps. lxxxvii. 2), because
in those dwellings, although the joy of victory is
sometimes tasted, yet the combat always continues,
and sometimes the struggle is for life; but in that
dear country there is no place for adversity or sorrow,
as in that Psalm we sing: The abiding place of all those
who rejoice is in Thee (Ps. lxxxvii. 7, Vulg.), and again:
Everlasting joy shall be unto them (Is. lxi. 7). How,
then, shall any remembrance be of mercy, where the
justice of God shall be alone remembered? There
can be no feeling of compassion called into exercise
where there shall be no place for misery, or occasion
for pity.
10. I am impelled to prolong this already lengthy
discourse, dearly beloved and much longed-for
brethren, by the very strong desire I have of conversing with you;
but there are three things which show
me that I ought to come to an end. First, that I fear
to be burdensome to you; that I am ashamed to
show myself so loquacious; third, that I am pressed
with domestic cares. In conclusion, I beg you to
have compassion for me, and if you have rejoiced for
the good things you have heard of me, sympathize
with me also, I pray, in my too real temptations and
cares. He who related these things to you has, no
doubt, seen some few little things, and has valued
these little things as great, while your indulgence has
easily believed what it willingly heard. I felicitate
you, indeed, on that charity which believes all things (1
Cor. xiii. 7). But I am confounded by the truth
which knows all things. I beg you to believe me in
what I say of myself rather than another who has
only seen me from without. No man knoweth the things
that are in a man save the spirit of man which is in him
(1 Cor. ii. 11). I assure you that I do not speak of
myself by conjecture, but out of full knowledge, and
that I am not such as I am believed and said to be.
I fell assured of this, and confess it frankly; that so
I may obtain your special prayers, and thus may
become such as your letter sets forth, than which
there is nothing I desire more.
LETTER XLVII
To the Brother of William, a Monk of Clairvaux.
Such of the title of the Letter in two Vatican MSS. and in certain
others. In those of Citeaux it is inscribed Letter of exhortation to a friend.
But at the end of Letter 106 I conjecture the reference to be to Ivo, who
signs it with William.
Bernard, after having made a striking commendation of religious poverty, reproaches in him an affection too great for
worldly things, to the detriment of the poor and of his own
soul, so that he preferred to yield them up only to death, rather than for the love of Christ.
1. Although you are unknown to me by face, and
although distant from me in body, yet you are my
friend, and this friendship between us makes you to
be present and familiar to me. It is not flesh and
blood, but the Spirit of God which has prepared for
you, though without your knowledge, this friendship,
which has united your brother William and me with
a lasting bond of spiritual affection, which includes
you, too, through him, if you think it worth acceptance. And if you are wise you will not despise the
friendship of those whom the Truth declares blessed,
and calls kings of heaven; which blessedness we
would not envy to you, nor if communicated to you
would it be diminished to us, nor would our boundaries be at all narrowed if you should reign over
them too. For what cause can there be for envy
where the multitude of those who share a blessing
takes nothing from the greatness of the share which
each enjoys? I wish you to be the friend of the
poor, but especially their imitator. The one is the
grade of beginner, the other of the perfect, for the
friendship of the poor makes us the friend of kings,
but the love of poverty makes us kings ourselves.
The kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of the poor,
and one of the marks of royal power is to do good
to friends according to our will. Make to yourselves friends, it is said,
of the mammon of unrighteousness, that
when ye fail they may receive you into everlasting habitations
(S. Luke xvi. 9): You see what a high dignity
sacred poverty is, so that not only does it not seek
protection for itself, but extends it to those who
need. What a power is this, to approach by one’s
self to the Throne of God without the intervention
of any, whether angels or men, with simple confidence in the Divine favour, thus reaching the summit
of existence, the height of all glory!
2. But would that you, without pretence, would
consider how you hinder your own attainment of
these advantages. Alas! that a vapour which appears but for a moment should block up the entrance
to eternal glory, hide from you the clearness of the
unbounded and everlasting light, prevent you from
recognizing the true nature of things, and deprive
you of the highest degree of glory! How long will
you prefer to such glory the grass of the field, which
to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven? I
mean carnal and worldly glory. For all fresh is
grass, and its glory as the flower of the field (Is. xl. 6).
If you are wise, if you have a heart to feel and eyes
to see, cease to pursue those things which it is misery
to attain. Happy is he who does not toil at all after
those things, which when possessed are a burden,
when loved a defilement, and when lost a torment,
Will it not be better to have the honour to renounce
them than the vexation to lose them? Or will it be
more prudent to yield them up for the love of Christ
than to have them taken away by death?—death,
which is a robber lying in wait for you, into whose
hands you cannot help falling, with all that belongs
to you. When he shall do so you cannot foresee,
because he will come as a thief in the night. You
brought nothing into this world, and it is certain you can
carry nothing out (1 Tim. vi. 7). You shall sleep your
sleep, and find nothing in your hands. But these
things you know well, and it would be superfluous
laboriously to teach them to you. Rather I will
pray God that you may have the grace to fulfil
in practice what it has been given you already to
know.
LETTER XLVIII
To Magister
S. Bernard usually designates thus Doctors and Professors of Belles
Lettres. See Letters 77, 106, and others. It is thus that in the Spicilegium
iii. pp. 137, 140, Thomas d’Etampes is called sometimes Magister,
sometimes Doctor. In a MS. at the Vatican we read, “To Magister
Gaucher.”
Walter de Chaumont.
He exhorts him to flee from the world, advising him to prefer the
cause and the interests of his soul to those of parents.
MY DEAR WALTER,
I often grieve my heart about you whenever
the most pleasant remembrance of you comes back
to me, seeing how you consume in vain occupations
the flower of your youth, the sharpness of your intellect, the store of your learning and skill, and also,
what is more excellent in a Christian than all of
these gifts, the pure and innocent character which
distinguishes you; since you use so great endowments to serve not Christ their giver, but things
transitory. What if (which God forbid!) a sudden
death should seize and shatter at a stroke all those
gifts of yours, as it were with the rush of a burning
and raging wind, just like the winds whirl about and
dry grass or as the leaves of herbs quickly fall.
What, then, will you carry with you of all your
labour which you have wrought upon the earth?
What return will you render unto the Lord for all
the benefits that He hath done unto you? What
gain will you bring unto your creditor for those
many talents committed to you? If He shall find
your hand empty, who, though a liberal bestower
of His gifts, exacts a strict account of their use!
“For he that shall come will come and will not
tarry, and will require that which is His own with
usury.” For He claims all as His own, which seems
to ennoble you in your land, with favours full at
once of dignity and of danger. Noble parentage,
sound health, elegance of person, quick apprehension,
useful knowledge, uprightness of life, are glorious
things, indeed, but they are His from whom they
are. If you use them for yourself “there is One
who seeketh and judgeth.”
2. But be it so; suppose that you may for a
while call these things yours, and boast in the praise
they bring you, and be called of men Rabbi and
make for yourself a great name, though only upon
the earth; what shall be left to you after death of
all these things? Scarcely a remembrance alone—and that, too, only upon earth. For it is written,
They have slept their sleep, and all the men whose hands
were mighty have found nothing (Ps. lxxvi. 5). If this
be the end of all your labours—allow me to say so—what have you more than a beast of burden?
Indeed, it will be said even of your palfrey when
he is, dead that he was good. Look to it, then, how
you must answer it before that terrible judgment
throne if you have received your soul in vain, and
such a soul! if you are found to have done nothing
more with your immortal and reasonable soul than
some beast with his. For the soul of a brute lives
no longer than the body which it animates, and at
one and the same moment it both ceases to give life
and to live. Of what will you deem yourself worthy,
who, being made in the image of your Creator, do
not guard the dignity of so great a majesty? And
being a man,
Some add “in honour” from Ps. xlviii., but it is wanting in the
MSS., and certainly is redundant here.
but not understanding your honour,
art compared unto the foolish beasts and made like
unto them, seeing that forsooth, you labour at nothing
of a spiritual or eternal nature, but, like the spirit of
a beast which as soon as it is loosed from the body
is dissolved with the body, have been content to
think of nothing but material and temporal goods,
turning a deaf ear to the Gospel precept: Labour not
for the meat that perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life
(S. John vi. 27). But you
know well that it is written that only he ascends into
the hill of the Lord who hath not Lift up his mind
unto vanity (Ps. xxiv. 3).
Hath not received it in vain,
Vulg.
And
not even he except he hath clean hands and a pure heart. I leave you
to decide if you dare to claim this of your deeds and
thoughts at the present. But if you are not able to
do so, judge what is the reward of iniquity, if mere
unfruitfulness is enough for damnation. And, indeed,
the thorn or thistle will not be safe when the axe
shall be seen laid to the root of the fruit tree, nor
will He spare the thorn which stings, who threatens
even the barren plant. Woe, then; aye! double
woe to him of whom it shall be said, I looked that
he should bring forth grapes, and he hath brought forth
wild grapes (Is. v. 4).
3. But I know how freely and fully you can
nourish these thoughts, though I be silent, but yet I
know that, constrained by love of your mother, you
are not as yet able to abandon what you have long
known how to despise. What answer shall I make to
you in this matter? That you should leave your
mother? That seems inhuman. That you should
remain with her? But what a misery for her to be a
cause of ruin to her son! That you should fight at
once for the world and for Christ? But no man can
serve two masters. Your mother’s wish being contrary to your salvation is equally so to her own.
Choose, therefore, of these two alternatives which you
will; either, that is, to secure the wish of one or the
salvation of both. But if you love her much, have
the courage to leave her for her sake, lest if you leave
Christ to remain with her she also perish on your
account. Else you have ill-served her who bare you
if she perish on your account. For how doth she
escape destruction who hath ruined him whom she
bare? And I have spoken this in order in some way
to stoop to assist your somewhat worldly affection.
Moreover, it is a faithful saying and worthy of all
acceptation, although it is impious to despise a mother,
yet to despise her for Christ’s sake is most pious.
For He who said, Honour thy father and mother (S. Matt. xv. 4), Himself also said,
He who loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me (S. Matt. x. 37).
LETTER XLIX
To Romanus, Sub-Deacon of the Roman Curia.
He urges upon him the proposal of the religious life, recalling the thought of death.
Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, to his dear Romanus, as to his friend.
MY DEAREST FRIEND,
How good you are to me in renewing by a
letter the sweet recollection of yourself and in excusing my tiresome delay. It is not possible that any
forgetfulness of your affection could ever invade
the hearts of those who love you; but, I confess, I
thought you had almost forgotten yourself until I
saw your letter. So now no more delays; fulfil
quickly the promise that you have written; and if
your pen truly expresses your purpose, let your acts
correspond to it. Why do you delay to, give birth to
that spirit of salvation which you have so long conceived? Nothing is more certain to mortals than
death, nothing more uncertain than the hour of death,
since it is to come upon us as a thief, in the night.
Woe unto them who are still with child [of that good
intention] in that day! If it shall anticipate and prevent this birth of salvation, alas! it will pierce through
the house and destroy the holy seed: For when they
shall say Peace and safety, then sudden destruction shall
come upon them as travail upon a woman with child, and
they shall not escape (1 Thess. v. 3). 1 wish you not to
flee from death, but only to fear it. For the just,
though he avoids it not, because he knows that it
is inevitable, yet does not fear it. Moreover, he
awaits it as a rest (Wisdom iv. 7) and receives it in
perfect security; for as it is the exit from the present
life, so it is the entrance into a better. Death is good
if by it thou die to sin, that thou mayest live unto
righteousness. It is necessary that this death should
go before, in order that the other which follows after
may be safe. In this life, so long as it lasts, prepare
for yourself that life which lasts for ever. While you
live in the flesh, die unto the world, that after the
death of the flesh you may begin to live unto God.
For what if death rend asunder the coarse envelope
Saccus.
of your body so long as from that moment it clothes
you with a garment of joy? O, how blessed are the
dead which die in the Lord (Apoc. xiv. 13), for they hear
from the Spirit, that “they may rest from their
labours.” And not only so, but also from new life
comes pleasure, and from eternity safety. Happy,
therefore, is the death of the just because of its rest;
better because of its new life, best because of its
safety (Ps. xxxiv. 21). On the other hand, worst of
all is the death of sinners. And hear why worse. It
is bad, indeed, through loss of the world; it is worse
through separation from the flesh; worst of all
through double pain of worm and fire. Up, then,
hasten; go forth out of the world, and renounce it
entirely; let your soul die the death of the righteous,
that your last end also may be like His: Oh, how dear
in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints (Ps. cxvi. 13).
Flee, I pray you, lest you stand in the way of
sinners. How canst thou live where thou durst not
die?
A familiar figure of speech with Bernard. See Letter 107, § 13; 124, § 2, &c.
LETTER L
To Geoffrey, of Lisieux
Some have “Luxeuil.” This word Ordericus also generally uses to designate Lisieux,
in Neustria, so that there is no uniform distinction of names between Lisieux and Luxeuil, in the County of Burgundy, found among writers of this period.
He grieves at his having abandoned his purpose to enter the religious life and returned to the world. He exhorts him to be wise again.
I. I am grieved for you, my son Geoffrey, I am
grieved for you. And not without reason. For who
would not grieve that the flower of your youth, which,
amid the joy of angels, you offered unimpaired to
God for the odour of a sweet smell (Phil. iv. 18), should
now be trampled under the feet of devils, stained
by the filthiness of vice and the uncleanness of the
world? How can you, who once wast called by
God, follow the devil who calls you back? How is
it that you, whom Christ began to draw after Himself, have suddenly withdrawn your foot from the
very threshold of glory? In you I now have proof
of the truth of the Lord’s word, when He said: A
man’s foes shall be they of his own household
(S. Matt. x. 36). Your friends and kinsfolk have approached
and stood against you. They have called you back
into the jaws of the lion, and have placed you once
more in the gates of death. They have placed you
in dark places, like the dead of this world; and now
it is a matter for little surprise that you are descending into the belly of hell, which is hasting to swallow
you up, and to give you over as a prey to be devoured by those who roar in their hunger.
2. Return, I pray you; return before the deep
swallow thee up and the pit shut her mouth upon thee
(Ps. lxix. 16); before you sink whence you shall
never more rise; before you be bound hand and foot
and cast into outer darkness, where there is weeping and
gnashing of teeth (S. Matt. xxii. 13); before you be
thrust down to the place of darkness and covered
with the gloom of death. Perhaps you blush to
return, because you gave way for an hour. Blush,
indeed, for your flight, but do not blush to return to
the battle after your flight, and to fight again. The
fight is not over yet. Not yet have the opposing
lines drawn off from each other. Victory is still in
your power. If you will, we are unwilling to conquer
without you, and we do not grudge to you
your share of glory. I will even gladly come to
meet you and gladly welcome you with open arms,
saying: It is meet that we should make merry and be
glad; for this thy brother was dead and is alive again;
he was lost and is found (S. Luke xv. 32).
LETTER LI
To the Virgin Sophia
He praises her for having despised the glory of the world:
and, setting forth the praises, privileges, and rewards of Religious Virgins, exhorts her to persevere.
Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, to the Virgin
Sophia, that she may keep the title of virginity and attain its reward.
I. Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain; but a woman
that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised (Prov. xxxi. 31).
I rejoice with you, my daughter, in the glory of your
virtue, whereby, as I hear, you have been enabled to
reject the deceitful glory of the world. That, indeed,
deserves rejection and disdain. But whereas many
who in other respects are wise, are in their estimation
of worldly glory become foolish, you deserve to be
praised for not being deceived. It is as the flower of
the grass—(James i. 10)—a vapour that appeareth for a little time
(S. James iv. 14). And every degree of that
glory is without doubt more full of care than joy.
At one time you have claims to advance, at another,
yourself to defend; you envy others, or are suspicious
of them; you are continually aiming to acquire what
you do not possess, and the passion for acquiring is
not satisfied even by success; and as long as this is
the case, what rest is there in your glory? But if
any there be, its enjoyment quickly passes, never to
return; while care remains, never to leave. Besides, see how many fail to attain that enjoyment,
and yet how few despise it. Why so? Just because
though many of necessity endure it [i.e., the deprivation of pleasure], yet but few make of doing so a
virtue. Few, I say, very few, and particularly of the nobly-born. Indeed,
not many noble are called; but God
hath chosen the base things of the world (1 Cor. i. 26–28).
You are, then, blessed and privileged among women
of your rank in that, while others strive in rivalry
for worldly glory, you by your contempt of this glory
are raised to a greater height of glory, and are elevated by glory of a higher kind. Certainly you are
the more renowned and illustrious for having made
yourself voluntarily humble than for your birth in
a high rank. For the one is your own achievement
by the grace of God, the other is the doing of your
ancestors. And that which is your own is the more
precious, as it is the most rare. For if among men
virtue is rare—a “rare bird on the earth”—how
much rarer is it in the case of a weak woman of high
birth? Who can find a virtuous woman? (Prov. xxxi. 10).
Much more “a virtuous woman” of high birth as
well. Although God is not by any means an accepter
of persons, yet, I know not how, virtue is more pleasing
in those of noble birth. Perhaps that may be because
it is more conspicuous. For if a man is of mean
birth and is devoid of glory, it is not easily clear
whether he lacks virtue because he does not wish for
it or because he cannot attain it. I honour virtue
won under stress of necessity. But I honour more
the virtue which a free choice adopts than that which
necessity imposes.
2. Let other women, then, who have not any other
hope, contend for the cheap, fleeting, and paltry glory
of things that vanish and deceive. Do you cling to
the hope that confounds not. Do you keep yourself,
I say, for that far more exceeding weight of glory, which
our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh
(2 Cor. iv. 17) for you on high. And if the daughters
of Belial reproach you, those who walk with stretched
forth necks mincing as they go (Isaiah iii. 16), decked out
and adorned like the Temple, answer them: My kingdom is not of this world
(S. John xviii. 36); answer them: My
time is not yet come, but your time is always ready (S. John vii. 6); answer them:
My glory is hid with
Christ in God (Col. iii. 3); When Christ, who is my life,
shall appear, then shall I also appear with Him in glory
(Col. iii, 4). And yet if one needs must glory, you
also may glory freely and fearlessly, only in the Lord.
I omit the crown which the Lord hath prepared for
you for ever. I say nothing of the promises which
await you hereafter, that as a happy bride you are to
be admitted to behold with open face the glory of
your Bridegroom; that He will present you to Himself
a glorious bride, not having spot or wrinkle or any such
thing (Eph. v. 27); that He will receive you in an
everlasting embrace, will place His left hand under your
head and His right hand shall embrace you (Cant. ii. 6).
I pass over the appointed place, which being set
apart by the prerogative of virginity, you shall without
doubt gain among sons and daughters in the kingdom. I say nothing of that new song which you, a
virgin among virgins, shall likewise sing in tones of
unrivalled sweetness, rejoicing therein and making
glad the city of God, singing and running and following the Lamb whithersoever he goeth.
In fact, eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart
of man the things which He path prepared (1 Cor. ii. 9)
for you, and for which it behoves you to be prepared.
3. All this I omit, that is laid up for you hereafter.
I speak only of the present, of those things which
you already have, of the first fruits of the Spirit (Rom. viii. 23), the gifts of the Bridegroom, the earnest
money of the espousals, the blessings of goodness (Ps. xxi. 3), wherewith he hath prevented you, whom you
may expect to follow after you, and complete what
still is lacking. Let Him, yea let Him, come forth
to be beheld in His great beauty, so adorned as to be admired of the very angels, and if the daughters of Babylon,
whose glory is in their shame (Phil. iii. 19),
have aught like Him, let them bring it forth, Though they be clothed in purple and fine linen
(S. Luke xvi. 19). Yet their souls are in rags; they have sparkling necklaces, but tarnished minds. You, on the other hand,
though ragged without, are all glorious within (Ps. xlv. 14), though to Divine and not human gaze. Within
you have that which delights you, for He is within
whom it delights; for certainly you do not doubt that you have Christ dwelling in your heart by faith
(Eph. iii. 17). In truth, The King’s daughter is all
glorious within (Ps. xlv. 4). Rejoice greatly, O daughter
of Zion: shout, O daughter of Jerusalem, because the King hath desired thy beauty; if
thou art clothed with confession and honour (Ps. civ. i, Vulg.),
and deckest
thyself with light as it were with a garment-For confession and worship are before Him
(Ps. xcvi. 6, Vulg.). Before whom? Him who is
fairer than the sons of men (Ps. xlv. 3), even Him whom the angels desire
to look upon.
4. You hear, then, to whom you are pleasing.
Love that which enables you to please, love “confession,” if you desire “honour.” “Confession” is
the handmaid of “honour,” the handmaid of “worship.” Both are for you. “Thou art clothed with
confession and honour,” and “Confession and worship
are before Him.” In truth, where confession is, there
is worship, and there is honour. If there are sins,
they are washed away in confession; if there are
good works, they are commended by confession.
When you confess your faults, it is a sacrifice to God
of a troubled spirit; when you confess the benefits
of God, you offer to God the sacrifice of praise.
Confession is a fair ornament of the soul, which
both cleanses a sinner and makes the righteous
more thoroughly cleansed. Without confession the
righteous is deemed ungrateful, and the sinner accounted dead.
Confession perisheth from the dead as
from one that is not (Ecclus. xvii. 28).
Confession, therefore, is the life of the sinner, the glory of the
righteous. It is necessary to the sinner, it is equally
proper to the righteous. For it becometh well the just
to be thankful (Ps. xxxiii. 1).
Silk and purple and rouge and paint have beauty, but impart it not.
Every such thing that you apply to the body exhibits
its own loveliness, but leaves it not behind. It takes
the beauty with it, when the thing itself is taken away.
For the beauty that is put on with a garment and is
put off with the garment, belongs without doubt to
the garment, and not to the wearer of it.
5. Do not you, therefore, emulate those evil disposed persons who, as mendicants, seek an extraneous
beauty when they have lost their own. They only
betray how destitute they are of any proper and
native beauty, when at such great labour and cost
they study to furnish themselves outside with the
many and various graces of the fashion of the world
which passeth away, just that they may appear graceful in the eyes of fools. Deem it a thing unworthy
of you to borrow your attractiveness from the furs
of animals and the toils of worms; let your own
suffice you. For that is the true and proper beauty
of anything, which it has in itself without the aid
of any substance besides. Oh! how lovely the flush
with which the jewel of inborn modesty colours a
virgin’s cheeks! Can the earrings of queens be compared to this? And self-discipline confers a mark of
equal beauty. How self-discipline calms the whole
aspect of a maiden’s bearing, her whole temper of
mind. It bows the neck, smooths the proud brows,
composes the countenance, restrains the eyes, represses laughter, checks, the tongue, tempers the
appetite, assuages wrath, and guides the deportment.
With such pearls of modesty should your robe be,
decked. When virginity is girt with divers colours
such as these, is there any glory to which it is not
rightly preferred? The Angelic? An angel has
virginity, indeed, but not flesh; and in that respect
his happiness exceeds his virtue. Surely that adornment is best and most desirable which even an angel
might envy.
6. There remains still one more remark to be
made about the adornment of the Christian virgin.
The more peculiarly your own it is, the more secure
it remains to you. You see women of the world
burdened, rather than adorned, with gold, silver,
precious stones; in short, with all the raiment of a
palace. You see how they draw long trains behind
them, and those of the most costly materials, and
raise thick clouds of dust into the air. Let not such
things disturb you. They must lay them aside when
they come to die; but the holiness which is your
possession will not forsake you. The things which
they wear are really not their own. When they die
they can take nothing with them, nor will this their
glory go down with them. The world, whose such
things are, will keep them and dismiss the wearers
naked; and will beguile with them others equally
vain. But that adornment of yours is not of such
sort. As I said, you may be quite sure that it will
not leave you, because it is your own. You cannot
be deprived of it by the violence, nor defrauded of it
by the deceit of any man. Against such possessions
the cunning of the thief and the cruelty of the tyrant
avail nothing. It is not eaten of moths, nor corrupted
by age, nor spent by use. It lives on even in death.
Indeed, it belongs to the soul and not to the body;
and for this reason it leaves the body together with
the soul, and does not perish with the body. And
even those who kill the body have absolutely nothing
that they can do to the soul.
LETTER LII
To Another Holy Virgin.
Under a religious habit she had continued to have a spirit
given
up to the world, and Bernard praises her for coming to a
sense of her duty; he exhorts her not to neglect the grace given to her.
1. It is the source of great joy to me to hear that
you are willing to strive after that true and perfect
joy, which belongs not to earth but to heaven; that
is, not to this, vale of tears, but to that city of God
which the rivers of the flood thereof make glad (Ps. xlvi. 4). And in very truth that is the true and only joy
which is won, not from the creature, but from the
Creator; which, if once you possess it, no man shall
take from you. For, compared with it, all joy from
other sources is sorrow, all pleasure is pain, all sweetness is bitter, all beauty is mean, everything else, in
fine, whatever may have power to please, is irksome.
Indeed, you are my witness in this matter. Ask
yourself, for you will believe yourself more readily.
Does not the Holy Spirit proclaim this very truth in
your heart? Have you not been persuaded of the
truth hereof by Him long before I spoke? For how
would you, being a woman, or rather a young girl
so fair and ingenuous, have thus overcome the weakness of your sex and years; how could you thus
hold cheap your extreme beauty and noble birth,
unless all such things as are subject to the bodily
senses were already vile in your eyes, in comparison
with those which inwardly strengthen you to overcome
the earthly, and charm you to prefer things heavenly?
2. And this is right. Poor and transient and
earthly are the things which you despise, but the
things you wish for are grand, heavenly, and everlasting. I will say still more, and still speak the
truth. You leave the darkness to approach the light;
you come forth from the depth of the sea and gain
the harbour; you breathe again in happy freedom
after a wretched slavery; in a word, you pass from
death to life; though up till now, living according to
your own will and not God’s, to your own law and
not that of God, while living you were dead—living
to the world, but dead to God; or rather, to speak
more truly, living neither to the world nor to God.
For when you wished while wearing the habit and
name of religion to live like one in the world, you
alone had rejected God from you by your own wish.
But when you could not effect your foolish wish,
then it was not you that rejected the world, but the
world you. And so, rejecting God, and rejected by
the world, you had fallen between two stools,
Compare in this place Imitation of Christ, Bk. i. c. 25. “A religious
person who has become slothful and lukewarm has trouble upon trouble,
and suffers anguish on every side, because he lacks consolation from
within, and is debarred from seeking it without.” Read also Sermons 3 and 5 upon the Ascension.
as
they say. You were not living unto God, because
you would not, nor to the world, because you could
not: you were anxious for one, unwelcome to the
other, and yet dead to both. So it must happen to
those who promise and do not perform, who make one show to the world, and in their hearts desire
something else. But now, by the mercy of God,
you are beginning to live again, not to sin, but to
righteousness, not to the world, but to Christ, knowing that to live to the world is death, and even to die
in Christ is life. Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord (Rev. xiv. 13).
3. So from this time I shall not mention again
your unfulfilled vow, nor your disregard of your
profession. From henceforth your purity of body
will not be impaired by a corrupt mind, nor your
name of virgin disgraced by disorderly conduct;
from henceforth the name you bear will not be a
deception, nor the veil you wear meaningless. For
why hitherto have you been addressed as “nun”
This expression is borrowed from the Rule of S. Benedict, in which it
is said that the younger shall call their elders nonna (in monasteries for men
nonnus), Chap. lxiii.
and “holy virgin” when, professing holiness, you
did not live holily? Why did you let the veil on
your head give a false impression of the reverence
due to you, while your eye launched burning and
passionate glances? Your head was clothed, indeed,
with a veil, but it was lifted up with pride, and
though you were under the symbol of modesty,
your speech sounded far from modest. Your immoderate laughter,
unreserved demeanour, and showy dress would have accorded better with
the wimpleWimple. So all the MS. codices that I have seen, viz., at the Royal
Library, Colbert Library, Sorbonne, Royal College of Navarre, S. Victor
of Paris MS., MS. of Compiègne, and others at other libraries, which have
“with the wimple” (wimplatæ), though all editions except two (viz., that
of Paris, 1494, and of Lyons, 1530) have “one puffed up” (uni inflatæ).
They ask what “with the wimple” (wimplatæ) means. Of course it is a
word formed from wimple or guimple, owing to the easy change of g to w.
In French “guimpe” or “guimple” is a woman’s head-dress, once
common with women of noble birth (as we learn from the old pictures of
noble ladies), but the more simple and modest refrained from wearing
it. So we read in the French poet, contained in Borellus’ Glossarium
Gallicum:—
Moult fut humiliant et simple
Elle eut une voile en lieu de guimple.
Which may be
rendered—
She was a lowly girl and simple,
And wore a veil in place of wimple.
Now, however, the word “wimple” is scarcely heard outside the cloisters of nuns.
than the veil. But behold now, at the bidding of
Christ, the old things have passed away, and all
things begin to be made new, since you are changing
the care of the body for that of the soul, and are
desirous of a beautiful life more than beautiful
raiment. You are doing what you ought to do, or
rather what you ought to have done long ago, for
long ago you had vowed to do it. But the Spirit,
who breathes not only where He will but when He
will, had not then breathed on you, and so, perhaps,
you are to be excused for what you have done
hitherto. But if you suffer the ardent zeal wherewith,
beyond a doubt, your heart is now hot again, and
the divine flame that burns in your thoughts, to be
quenched, what remains for you but the certain
knowledge that you must be destined for that flame
which cannot be quenched. Nay, let the same Spirit
rather quench in you all carnal affections, lest haply
(which God forbid!) the holy desires of your soul,
so late conceived, should be stifled by them, and you
yourself be cast into hell fire.
LETTER LIII
To Another Holy Virgin of the Convent of S. Mary of Troyes
This convent still exists under the rule of S. Benedict. It had lately
been, as Bernard testifies, the object of a reform when he wrote.—[Mabillon’s note.]
He dissuades her from the rash and imprudent design which she had in her mind of retiring into some solitude.
1. I am told that you are wishing to leave your
convent, impelled by a longing for a more ascetic
life, and that after spending all their efforts to dissuade and prevent you, seeing that you paid no
heed to them, your spiritual mother or your sisters,
determined at length to seek my advice on the matter,
so that whatever course I approved, that you might
feel it your duty to adopt. You ought, of course, to
have chosen some more learned man as an adviser;
yet since it is my advice you desire to have, I do not
conceal from you what I think the better course.
Ever since I learnt your wish, though I have been
turning the matter over in my mind, I cannot easily
venture to decide what temper of mind suggested it.
For you may in this thing have a zeal towards God,
so that your purpose may be excusable. But how
such a wish as yours can be fulfilled consistently
with prudence I entirely fail to see. “Why so?”
you ask. “Is it not wise for me to flee from wealth
and the throng of cities, and from the good cheer
and pleasure of life? Shall I not keep my purity
more safely in the desert, where I can live in peace
with just a few, or even alone, and please Him alone
to whom I have pledged myself?” By no means.
If one would live in an evil manner, the desert brings
abundant opportunity: the wood a protecting shade,
and solitude silence. The evil that no one sees, no
one reproves. Where no critic is feared, there the
tempter gains easier access, there wickedness is more
readily committed. It is otherwise in a convent. If
you do anything good no one prevents you, but if
you would do evil you are hindered by many
obstacles. If you yield to temptation, it is at once
known to many, and is reproved and corrected. So,
on the other hand, when you are seen to do anything
good, all admire, revere, and copy it. You see, then,
my daughter, that in a convent a larger renown
awaits your good deeds, and a more speedy rebuke
your faults, because there are others there to whom
you may set an example by good deeds and whom
you will offend by evil.
2. But I will take away from you every excuse for
your error, by that alternative in the parable we read
in the Gospel. Either you are one of the foolish
virgins, if, indeed, you are a virgin, or one of the
wise (S. Matt. xxv. 1–12).
If you are one of the
foolish, the convent is necessary to you; if of the
wise, you are necessary to the convent. For if you
are wise and well-approved, without doubt the reform
which, though newly introduced into that place, has
already won universal praise, will be greatly discredited, and, I fear, be weakened by your departure.
It will not fail to be said that, being good yourself,
you would not desert a house where the Rule was
well carried out.
Cf. the French equivalent “Le bon ordre,” i.e., the strict Rule of
Monastic Life.
If you have been known to be
foolish, and you go away, we shall say that since
you are not suffered to live an evil life among good
companions, you could not endure longer the society
of holy women, and are seeking a dwelling where
you may live in your own way. And we shall be
quite right. For before the reform of the Rule you
never, I am told, were wont to talk of this plan; but
no sooner did observances become stricter, than you,
too, became suddenly holier, and in hot haste to
think of the desert. I see, my daughter, I see in
this, and I would you also saw as I do, the serpent’s
venom, the guile of the crafty one, and the trickery
of his changing skin. The wolf dwells in the wood.
If a poor little sheep like you should enter the shades
of the wood alone you would be simply seeking to
be his prey. But listen to me, my daughter; listen
to my faithful warning. Whether sinner or saint,
do not separate yourself from the flock, lest the
enemy seize upon you, and there be none to deliver
you. Are you a saint? Strive by your example to
gain associates in sanctity. A sinner? Do not add
sin to sin, but do penance where you are, lest by
departing, not without danger, as I have shown, to
yourself, you bring scandal upon your sisters, and
provoke the tongues of may scoffers against you.
LETTER LIV
To Ermengarde, Formerly Countess of Brittany
She was the wife of Count Alan, and a great benefactress to Clairvaux.
She built the monks a monastery near the town of Nantes (see Ernald,
Life of S. Bernard, ii. 34, and according to Mabillon’s Chronology,
1135 A.D.). The name of the monastery is Buzay; it is presided over by
the most illustrious Abbot Caumartin, who has communicated to me the
first charter founding the convent. In this charter Duke Conan, son of
Alan and Ermengarde, asserts that he and his mother had determined to
build the Abbey of Buzay, but that, misled by evil counsel of certain
persons, they had desisted from their undertaking. At length Bernard,
Abbot of Clairvaux, came into those parts. The House of Buzay was
dependent upon his abbey. Bernard, seeing the place almost desolate,
was deeply grieved, “and,” says Conan, “rebuked me with the most
severe reproofs as false and perfidious; and then ordered the abbot and
monks who tarried there to abandon the place and return to Clairvaux.”
Conan interposed, and after restoring the property of the monastery which
he had taken away, took steps for the completion of the building. The
charter is signed by Bishops Roland, of Vannes; Alan, of Rennes; John,
of St. Malo; Iterius, of Nantes; and also by Peter, Abbot of the monastery, and Andrew, a monk. But to return to Ermengarde. Godfrey,
Abbot of Vendôme (Bk. v. Letter 23), urges her to resume her purpose of
entering the religious life, which she appears to have abandoned. The
same Godfrey, in the next Letter, speaks of her as of royal blood.
He gently, and tenderly assures her that he has for her all the sentiments of pure and religious
affection.
To his beloved daughter in Christ, Ermengarde, once the most noble Countess, now the humble handmaid of Christ,
Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, offers the pious affection of holy love.
Would that, as I now open this page before me,
so I could open my mind to you! Oh! that you
could read in my heart what God has deigned to
write there with His own finger concerning my
affection for you! Then, indeed, you might. understand, how no tongue or pen can suffice to express,
what the spirit of God hath been able to impress on
my inmost heart! And even now I am, present: with
you in the spirit, though absent in the body. It is
neither in your power nor mine to be in the presence
of the other. Yet you have with you the means
whereby you may not yet know, but at any rate guess
what I mean. Within your own heart. behold mine;
and ascribe to me as great affection toward you
as you know to be in yourself towards me. Yet do
not think that you have more for me than I for you;
nor have a better opinion of your own heart than of
mine, in respect of affection. Besides, you are too
humble and modest not to believe that He who has
brought you so to love me and to follow my counsel
for your salvation has inspired me also with feelings
of affectionate concern for you. So you are thinking
how you may keep me with you; and I; to confess
the truth, am nowhere without you or away from
you. I was anxious to write this short note to you
about my journey while on the way, hoping to send
you a longer one when I have more leisure, if God
will.
LETTER LV
To the Same
He commends her readiness in God’s service, and expresses his desire to see her.
I have received the joy of my heart, good news
from you. I am happy to hear of your happiness;
and your ready service, now so well known, makes
me quite easy in mind. This great happiness comes
in no way from flesh and blood, for you are living
in lowliness instead of state, in mean, not high place,
in poverty instead of wealth. You are deprived of
the consolation of living in your own country, and
of the society of your brother and your son. Without doubt, then, the willing devotion that hath been
born in you is the work of the Holy Spirit. You
have long since conceived by the fear of God the
design of labouring for your salvation, and have at
last brought your design to execution, the spirit of
love casting out fear in your soul. How much more
gladly would I be present to say this to you, than be
absent and write! Believe me, I am annoyed at my
business, which constantly seems to hinder me from
the sight of you; and I hail with joy the chances,
which I seldom seem to get, of seeing you. Such
opportunities are rare; but, I confess, their very rarity
makes them sweet. For, indeed, it is better to see
you just sometimes than never at all. I hope to
come unto you shortly; and I already offer you a
foretaste of the joy that shall shortly come in full.
LETTER LVI
To Beatrice, a Noble and Religious Lady
He commends her love and anxious care.
I wonder at your zealous devotion and loving
affection towards me. I ask, excellent lady, what
can possibly inspire in you such great interest and
solicitude for us? If we had been sons or grandsons, if we had been united to you by the most
distant tie of relationship, your constant kindnesses,
frequent visits, in a word, the numberless proofs of
your affection that we experience daily, would seem
to deserve, not so much our wonder, as our acceptance as a matter of obligation. But as, in common
with the rest of mankind, we recognize in you only a
great lady, and not a mother, the wonder is not that
we should wonder at your goodness, but that we can
wonder sufficiently. For who of our kinsfolk and
acquaintances takes care of us? Who ever asks of
our health? Who, I ask, is, I will not say anxious,
but even mindful of us in the world? We are become, as it were, a broken vessel to friends, relatives,
and neighbours. You alone cannot forget us. You
ask of the state and condition of my health, of the
journey I have just accomplished, of the monks whom
I have transferred to another place. Of them I may
briefly reply, that out of a desert land, from a place
of grim and vast solitude, they have been brought
into a place where nothing is wanting to them,
neither possessions, nor buildings, nor friends; into
a rich land and a lovely dwelling-place. I left them
happy and peaceful; in happiness and peace, too,
I returned; except that for a few days I was troubled
with so severe a return of fever that I was in fear of
death. But by God’s mercy I soon got well again,
so that now I think I am stronger and better after
my journey is over than before it began.
LETTER LVII
To the Duke and Duchess of Lorraine
That is, Simon and Adelaide, not Gertrude, as most write. For the
account of the conversion of this Duchess by, S. Bernard see Life,
Bk. i. c. 14. She took the veil of a Religious in the Nunnery of Tart,
in the environs of Dijon, as is clear from the autograph Letters of her
son, Duke Matthew, who calls his mother Atheleïde. These Letters
P. F. Chifflet refers to at the end of his four Opuscula, ed. Paris, 1679.
I do not refer to the pretended Letters of Gertrude to Bernard, and
Bernard to Gertrude, translated by Bernard Brito, from French into
Portuguese and thence into Latin.
He thanks them for having hitherto remitted customs [or tolls,
but asks that they will see that their princely liberality is
not interfered with by the efforts of their servants.
To the Duke and Duchess of Lorraine, Bernard,
Abbot of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and prays that
they may so lovingly and purely rejoice in each
other’s affection that the love of Christ alone maybe
supreme in them both.
Ever since the needs of our Order obliged me to
send for necessaries into your land I have found
great favour and kindness in the eyes of your Grace.
You freely displayed the blessings of your bounty on
our people when they needed it. You freely remitted to them when travelling their
toll,
Passagium, a fixed payment from travellers entering or passing
through a country;
droit de passage
or “toll.”
the dues on
their purchases, and any other legal due of yours.
For all these things your reward is surely great in
heaven, if, indeed, we believe that to be true which
the Lord promises in His Gospel: Inasmuch as ye
have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren ye
have done it unto me (S. Matt. xxv. 40). But why is
it that you allow your servants to take away again
what you bestow? It seems to me that it is worthy
of you and for your honour, that when you have
been pleased to bestow anything for the safety of
your souls no one should venture to demand it back
again. If, then (which God forbid), you do not
repent of your good deed, and your general intention in respect to us is still the same, be pleased to
order it to be a firm and unshaken rule; that henceforward our brethren may never fear to be disturbed
in this matter by any of your servants. But otherwise we do not refuse to follow our Lord’s example,
who did not disdain to pay the dues. We also are
ready willingly to render to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s
(S. Matt. xvii. 26), custom to whom custom, and
tribute to whom tribute is due (Rom. xiii. 7), especially
because, according to the Apostle, we ought not to
seek our gift so much as your gain (Phil. iv. 17).
LETTER LVIII
To the Duchess of Lorraine
He thanks her for kindnesses shown, and deters her from an unjust war.
I thank God for your pious goodwill which I know
that you have towards Him and His servants. For
whenever the tiniest little spark of heavenly love is
kindled in a worldly heart ennobled with earthly
honours, that, without doubt, is God’s gift, not man’s
virtue. For our part we are very glad to avail ourselves of the kind offers made to us of your bounty
in your letter. But having heard of the sudden and
serious stress of business, which, of course, must be
delaying you at this time, we think it meet to await
your opportunity as it shall please you. For, as far
as in me lies, I would riot be a burden to any one,
particularly in things pertaining to God, where we
ought to seek not so much the profit of the gift as
advantage abounding to the giver. And so, if you
please, name a day and place in your answer by this
messenger, when, by God’s help, having brought to
an end the business which now occupies, you will be
able to approach these regions, where our brother
Wido
I think this is Wido [or Guy?], Abbot of Trois Fontaines, who
frequently went to Lorraine. Cf. 63, 69.
will meet you, so that if he finds anything
in your country profitable for our Order you may
fulfil your promise with greater ease and speed. For
God loveth a cheerful giver (2 Cor. ix. 7). Otherwise,
if perchance the delay please you not, let me know
this also: for in this matter I am ready, as reason
allows, to obey your wishes. I salute the Duke, your
husband, through your mouth, and I venture to urge
him and you both, if you know that the castle for
which you are going to war does not belong to your
rightful domain, for the love of God to let it alone.
For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world
and lose his own soul? (S. Matt. xvi. 26).
LETTER LIX
To the Duchess of Burgundy
Matilda, wife of Hugo I., Duke of Burgundy, who was cherishing her
anger against Hugo de Bèse. This place was situate four leagues from
Dijon, and famous for the Monastery of that name (Bèse) of the Benedictine Order. About this Hugo see Perard, pp.
221, 222.
He tries to appease her anger against Hugo, and asks her assent to a certain marriage.
The special friendship with which your Grace is
pleased, as it is supposed, to honour me, a poor
monk, is so widely known that whenever any one
thinks your Grace has him in displeasure, he applies
to me as the best medium for being restored to your
favour. Hence it is that some time ago, when I was
at Dijon, Hugo de Bèse urged me with many entreaties to appease your displeasure, which he had
deserved, and to obtain, for the love of God, and by
your kindness towards me, your assent to the marriage
of his son, which, though it did not meet with your
approval, he had irrevocably determined to make,
since it was, as he thinks, an advantage to himself.
And for this reason he has been besieging my ears,
not as before, by his own prayers, but by the lips of
his friends. Now, I do not much care about worldly
advantages, but since the matter, as he himself says,
seems to have reached such a narrow pass that he
cannot prevent the marriage except by perjuring
himself, I have thought it meet to tell you this, since
that must be a serious object which should be preferred to the good faith of a Christian man and your
servant. For, he cannot be perjured and yet at the
same time keep faith with his Prince
legalitati, i.e., good faith, which consists in performing promises
once made.
Aye, and I
see not only no gain to you, but also much danger
arising, if those whom perhaps God has determined
to join together should be put asunder by you. May
the Lord grant His grace to you, most noble lady,
so dear to me in Christ, and to your children,
Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day
of salvation. Spend your corn on Christ’s poor, that
in eternity you may receive it with usury.
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE
1. The following Letter, which is the 190th of
S. Bernard, was ranked by Horst among the Treatises,
on account of its length and importance. It was
written on the occasion of the condemnation of the
errors of Abaelard by the Council of Sens, in 1140,
in the presence of a great number of French Bishops,
and of King Louis the Younger, as has been described
in the notes to Letter 187. In the Synodical Epistle,
which is No. 191 of S. Bernard, and in another,
which is No. 337, the Fathers of the Council announced to Pope Innocent that they had condemned
the errors of Abaelard, but had pronounced no
sentence against him personally out of respect for
the appeal which he had made to the Holy See; and
they add that “the chief heads of his errors are more
fully detailed in the Letter of the Bishop of Sens.”
I think that the Letter of which mention is thus
made can be no other than that given here, and in
which we find, in fact, the chief heads of Abaelard’s
errors, with a summary refutation of each. They
are also the same as those which William, who had
become a simple monk at Igny, after having been
Abbot of Saint Thierry, had addressed to Geoffrey,
Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard, in a Letter
which is inserted among those of Bernard.
2. As regards the different errors imputed to
Abaelard, there are some which he complained were
wrongly attributed to him. Others, on the contrary,
he recognized as his, and corrected them in his
Apology, in which he represents Bernard as being
his only opponent, his malignant and hasty denouncer. Two former partizans of Abaelard himself,
but who had long recoiled from his errors, Geoffrey,
who afterwards was the Secretary of Bernard, and
“a certain Abbot of the Black Monks,” whose name
is unknown, attempted to justify Bernard against
these calumnies. Duchesne had spoken of these two
writers in his notes to Abaelard, but the Treatises of
both of them were lately printed in Vol. iv. of the
“Bibliotheca Cisterciensis,” whose learned Editor,
Bertrand Tissier, remarks that this unknown Abbot
is some other person than William of Saint Thierry.
3. Of the heads of errors attributed to Abaelard,
some are wanting in his printed works, which has
given occasion to some writers for accusing Bernard,
as if he had attributed errors to Abaelard without
foundation, and so had himself been fighting against
shadows and phantoms. But it is certain that most
of these errors are to be found even in his printed
writings, as we shall show each in its place. As for
those which are no longer discoverable, William of
Saint Thierry, Geoffrey, and this unknown Abbot,
who had been once a disciple of Abaelard, and was
perfectly acquainted with his doctrine, quote word
for word statements both from his Apology and from
his Theology, which do not appear in the printed
editions; and certainly Abaelard himself, in Book ii.
of his “Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans,”
p. 554, reserves certain points to be treated in his
Theology of which there is no mention in the printed
copies, which close thus: “The rest is wanting,” so
that it appears that the printed copies of the Theology
have been mutilated.
4. Those writers have, therefore, done a very ill
service to Religion, to say nothing of the injury to
Bernard, who, in order to justify Abaelard, accuse
Bernard of having been hurried on by the impulse
of a blind zeal. They ought at least to acknowledge,
as Abaelard himself did, and also Berengarius, his
defender, that he had erred in various matters. And,
indeed, Abaelard himself, in his Apology, acknowledges, though perhaps not quite sincerely, that in
some respects he was wrong. “It is possible,” he
says, “that I have fallen into some errors which I
ought to have avoided, but I call God as a witness
and judge upon my soul that in these points upon
which I have been accused, I have presumed to say
nothing through malice or through pride.” It may
well be that he might be able to clear himself of the
reproach of malice, and even of that of heresy; but,
a least, he could not deny that he had fallen into
various errors—a liking for new words and phrases,
levity, and perhaps even pride and an excessive desire
for disputation. However this maybe, Pope Innocent
bade the Bishops by a rescript that the man was to
be imprisoned and his books burned, and Godfrey
declares that the Pope himself had them thrown into
the flames at Rome. But Peter Abaelard at length
returned to better views. He desisted from his
Appeal by the advice and request of Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, who has described his last days
in pleasing terms in a Letter which he wrote to
Heloïse.
5. Bernard did not attack Abaelard in his discourses and writings with impunity. Not only was
Abaelard impatient of his censure, but also Berengarius, his disciple and defender, dared to accuse
Bernard of having spread certain errors in his books.
“You have certainly erred,” says Berengarius, addressing Bernard, “in asserting the origin of souls
from Heaven” (p. 310). And on p. 315: “The
origin of souls from Heaven is a fabulous thing, and
this I remember that you taught in these words (Serm. in Cantica, No. 17): ‘The Apostle has rightly said,
our conversation is in heaven.’ These words which you
have expounded with great subtilty, savour much
to the palate of a Christian mind of heresy.” But
enough of this foolish and impudent slanderer. The
unknown Abbot reports another calumny of Abaelard
against Bernard at the end of his second book: “It
is very astonishing to me that for such a long time
no reply should have been made by so many great
men whose teaching enlightens the Church, as the
light of the sun is reflected upon the moon, to our
Abaelard, who accused the Abbot of saying that God,
and Man assumed by God, are one Person in the
Trinity. Whereas Man is a material body composed
of various limbs and dissoluble, while God is neither
a material body, nor has any limbs, nor can be dissolved. Wherefore, neither ought God to be called
Man, nor Man to, be called God,” etc. Thus Abaelard shows himself a Nestorian, while petulantly
accusing Bernard of error. Rightly does William of
Saint Thierry reply in his 8th chapter to Abaelard with
regard to this passage: “Thus we say similarly that
Christ is the Son of Man in the nature of His
Humanity, but not from that according to which
He. has union with God, and is One of the Three
Persons in the Trinity; because, as God Incarnate
was made the Son of Man on account of the human
nature which He assumed, so the man united to the
Son of God has become the Son of God on account
of the Divine Nature which has united him to itself.”
6. Besides the heads of errors which Bernard
refutes in these books, he groups together some
others in No. 10, contenting himself with exposing
them; these have been refuted by other authors, viz.,
by William, and by the unknown Abbot. As to the
Eucharistic species or the accidents, which, according
to Abaelard, remain in the air after consecration,
this was the view of William: “It appears to me, if
you agree with me,” he says, writing to Geoffrey,
Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard, “that those
accidents, i.e., the form of the earlier substance,
which, I believe, is nothing else than a harmonious
combination of accidents into one, if they still exist,
do so in the Body of the Lord, not forming it, but by
the power and wisdom of God working upon them,
shaping and modifying it, that it may become capable,
according to the purpose of the mystery and the
manner of a Sacrament, of being touched and tasted
in a form different from that proper to it, which it
could not do in its own.” He says again in his book
to Rupertus, De Corpore et Sanguine Domini, c. 3: “In
opposition to every conception and mode of reasoning in secular philosophy, the substance of bread is
changed into another substance, and has carried with
it certain accidents into the Eucharistic mystery, but
without altering them from what they were, and in
such a manner that the Body of the Lord is not
either white or round, though whiteness and roundness are associated with it. Arid it so retains these
accidents that although they are truly present with
His Human Body, yet they are not in It, do not
touch it, or affect it,” etc.
7. It was not only with respect to the Incarnation
of Our Lord that Abaelard thought, or at least expressed himself, in an erroneous manner. He was
equally in error on the subject of the grace of Christ,
which he reduced simply to the reason granted to
man by God, to the admonitions of the Holy Scriptures, and to good examples, and thus made it
common to all men. “We may say, then,” he
taught, “that man, by the reason which he has
received from God, is able to embrace the grace
which is offered him; nor does God do any more
for a person who is saved before he has embraced
the offered grace, than for one who is not saved.
But just as a man who exposes precious jewels for
sale, in order to excite in those who see them the
wish to purchase; thus God makes His grace known
before all, exhorts us by the Scriptures, and reminds
us by examples, so that men, in the power of that
liberty of will which they have, may decide to embrace the offer of grace.” And a little farther on he
continues: “That vivification is attributed to grace:
because Reason, by which man discerns between
good and evil, and understands that he ought to
abstain from the one and to do the other, comes
from God. And therefore it is said that he does this
under the inspiration of God: because God enables
him by the gift of Reason which He has bestowed to
recognize what is sinful.” Such were the errors
William has extracted, among many others, from the
writings of Abaelard, and without doubt from his
Theology, which, perhaps because of these and other
similar passages, was mutilated by his scholars.
Nor can we refuse to credit the good faith of
William, who was a learned and pious man: especially as Abaelard in his Book iv., on the Epistle to
the Romans, teaches the same hurtful doctrine (p.
653 and following). We learn from all these expressions of Abaelard that he thought, or at least certainly
wrote, with the same impiety concerning the grace
of Christ as he did on the Incarnation, and that
Bernard was perfectly correct in saying (Letter 192):
“He speaks of the Trinity like Arius, of grace like
Pelagius, and of the Person of Christ like Nestorius.”
Proof of the truth of these words of Bernard as concerns the two last charges will be found in reading
the letter given here; and as to the third, it will be
sufficient to show that Bernard has in nowise exaggerated, to read the end of Book iii. of the
Theology of Abaelard; there it will be found in his own words,
« that those who abhor our words respecting the
faith may be easily convinced when they hear that
God the Father and God the Son are joined with us
according to the sense of the words.” In what
manner? “Let us ask, then,” he continues, i, if
they believe in the wisdom of God of which it is
written: Thou hast made all things with wisdom, O Lord,
and they will reply without hesitation that they do
so believe. But this is to believe in the Son; as for
believing in the Holy Ghost, it is nothing else than
believing in the goodness of God.” These words
seem clearly to be not only Arian, but even Sabellian,
although, as I must frankly confess, Abaelard formally
rejects that error in its logical consequences in
another passage on p, 1069. But especially in
matters of faith, it is a matter of importance, not
only to think rightly, but also to speak and write
with exactness. Thus it is with reason that William
of Saint Thierry says in citing the very words of
Abaelard with respect to the brass and the seal,
and with respect to power in general and a certain
power: “As for the Divine Persons, he destroys
them like Sabellius, and when he speaks of their
unlikeness and their inequality, he goes straight to
the feet of Arius in his opinion.” I only cite
these passages to make those persons ashamed who,
although they detest these errors, yet take up the
defence of Abaelard against Bernard, and do not
hesitate to accuse the latter of precipitation and of
excess of zeal against him. William de Conches
expresses himself in almost the same manner as
Abaelard with respect to the mystery of the Holy
Trinity, and Abbot William of S. Thierry confutes
his errors also in his letter to Bernard. Nor is there
anything worse that can happen to religion than that
philosophers should attempt to explain the mysteries
of our faith by the power of Reason alone.
8. Geoffrey, secretary of S. Bernard, gives an
account of the whole business of Abaelard in a letter
to Henry, Cardinal and Bishop of Albano: “I have
heard also that your Diligence desires to know the
entire truth respecting the condemnation of Peter Abaelard, whose books Pope Innocent II., of pious memory,
condemned to be burned solemnly at Rome in the
Church of S. Peter, and declared him by Apostolical
authority to be a heretic. Some years before a
certain venerable Cardinal, Legate of the Roman
Church, by name Conon, once a Canon of the
Church of S. Nicholas of Artois, had already condemned his
Theology in the same way to be burned,
during a council at Soissons in which he presided,
the said Abaelard having been present and having
been condemned of heretical pravity. If you desire
it he will satisfy you by the book of The Life of S.
Bernard, and by his letters sent to Rome on that
subject. I have found also at Clairvaux a little book
of a certain Abbot of Black Monks, in which the
errors of the same Peter Abaelard are noted, and I
remember to have seen it on a previous occasion;
but for many years, as the keepers of the books
assert, the first four sheets of this little book, although
diligently sought for, could not be found. Because
of this I have had the intention to send some one
into France to the Abbey of the writer of that little
book, so as, if I should be able to recover it, to
have it copied, and send it to you. I believe that
your curiosity will be completely satisfied in, learning in what respects, how, and wherefore he was
condemned.”
It is thus that Geoffrey expresses himself. (Notes
of Duchesne to Abaelard.) I pass over the vision
related by Henry, Canon of Tours, to the Fathers of
the Synod of Sens and to Bernard (Spicileg., Vol. xii.
p. 478 et seqq.).
9. After I had written what precedes, our brother,
John Durand, who was then occupied at Rome, sent
me the Capitula Hæresum Petri Abaelardi, which were
placed at the head of the following letter, taken from
the very faulty MS. in the Vatican, No. 663. These
were, without doubt, those which Bernard, at the
end of this letter, states that he had collected, and
transmitted to the Pontiff. It seems well to place
them here for the illustration of the letter.
HEADS OF HERESIES OF PETER ABAELARD.
I.-The shocking analogy made between a brazen seal, and between genus and species, and the Holy Trinity.
The Wisdom of God being a certain power, as a
seal of brass is a certain [portion of] brass; it follows
clearly that the Wisdom of God has its being from
His Power, similarly as the brazen is said to be what
it is from its material: or the species derives what it
is from its genus, which is, as it were, the material of
the species, as the animal is of man. For just as, in
order that there may be a brazen seal, there must be
brass, and in order that there may be man, there
must be the genus Animal, but not reciprocally: so
in order that there may be the Divine Wisdom,
which is the power of discernment, there must be
the Divine Power; but the reciprocal does not
follow.” And a little further on we read: “The
Beneficence, the name under which the Holy Spirit
is designated, is not in God Wisdom or Power.”
II.—That the Holy Spirit is not of the Substance of the Father.
“The Son and the Holy Spirit are of the Father,
the One by the way of generation, the Other by that
of procession. Generation differs from procession
in that He who is generated is of the very Substance
of the Father, whilst the essence of Wisdom itself is,
as was said, to be a certain Power.” And a little
further on we read: “As for the Holy Spirit,
although He be of the same Substance with the
Father and the Son, whence even the Trinity itself
is called consubstantial (homoousion), yet He is not at
all of the Substance of the Father or of the Son,
as He would be if generated of the Father or the
Son; but rather He has of them the Procession,
which is that God, through love, extends Himself to
another than Himself. For like as any one proceeds
through love from his own self to another, since, as
we have said above, no one can be properly said
to have love towards himself, or to be beneficent
towards himself, but towards another. But this is
especially true of God, who having need of nothing,
cannot be moved by the feeling of beneficence
towards His own self, to bestow something on
Himself out of beneficence, but only towards
creatures.”
III.—That God is able to do what He does, or to refrain from
doing it, only in the manner or at the time in which He
does so act or refrain, and in no other.
“By the reasoning by which it is shown that God
the Father has generated the Son of as great goodness as He was able, since otherwise He would have
yielded to envy; it is also clear that all which He
does or makes, He does or makes as excellent as He
is able to do; nor does He will to withhold a single
good that He is capable of bestowing.” And a little
farther on we read: “In everything that God does,
He so proposes to Himself that which is good, that
it may be said of Him that He is made willing to do
that which He does rather by the price (as it were)
of good, than by the free determination of His own
Will.” Also: “From this it therefore appears, and
that both by reason and by the Scriptures, that God
is able to do that only which He does.” And a little
farther: “Who, if He were able to interfere with the
evil things which are done, would yet only do so at
the proper time, since He can do nothing out of the
proper time; consequently I do not see, in what
way He would not be consenting to sinful actions.
For who can be said to consent to evil, except he
by whom it may be interfered with at the proper
time?” Also: “The reason which I have given
above and the answers to objections seem to me to
make clear that God is able to do what He does, or
to refrain from doing it, only in the manner or at
the time, in which He does so act or refrain, and in
no other.”
IV.—That Christ did not assume our flesh in order to free us from the yoke of the devil.
“It should be known that all our Doctors who
were after the Apostles agree in this, that the devil
had dominion and power over man, and held him
in bondage of right.” And a little farther on: “It
seems to me that the devil has never had any right
over man, but rightly held him in bondage as a
jailer, God permitting; nor did the Son of God
assume our flesh in order to free us from the yoke
of the devil.” And again: “How does the Apostle
say that we are justified or reconciled to God by the
death of His Son, when on the contrary, He ought
to have been more angry still against man, who had
committed in putting His Son to death, a fault much
more great than in transgressing His first precept by
eating one apple; and would it not have been more
just? For if that first sin of Adam was so great,
that it could not be expiated except by the death of
Christ; what is there which can be capable of expiating the Death of Christ itself, and all the great
cruelties committed upon Him and His Saints?
(See Letter V. 21.) Did the death of His innocent
Son please God so much, that for the sake of it He
has become reconciled to us, who have caused it by
our sins, on account of which the innocent Lord was
slain? And could He forgive us a fault much less
great, only on condition that we committed a sin so
enormous? Were multiplied sins needful in order
to the doing of so great a good, as to deliver us from
our sins and to render us, by the death of the Son
of God, more righteous than we were before?”
Again: “To whom will it not seem cruel and unjust that one should have required the innocent
blood, or any price whatever, or that the slaughter
of the innocent, under any name or title, should be
pleasing to him? Still less that God hell the death
of His Son so acceptable that He would, for its sake,
be reconciled to the world. These and similar considerations raise questions of great importance, not
only concerning redemption, but also concerning
our justification by the death of our Lord Jesus
Christ. But it seems to me that we were nevertheless justified by the Blood of Christ, and reconciled
with God by the special grace shown to us when
His Son took upon Him our nature, and in it gave
us an example both by word and deed, until His
Death. He has united us so closely with Him by
His love for us, that we are fired by so great benefit
of Divine grace, and will hesitate at no suffering,
provided it be for Him. Which benefit indeed we
do not doubt aroused the ancient Fathers, who
looked forward to this by faith, to an ardent love
of God, as well as those of more recent time.” And
below: “I think then that the cause and design of
the Incarnation was to enlighten the world with the
wisdom of God, and arouse it to love of Him.”
V.—Neither God-and-Man, nor the Man who is Christ, is one of the three Persons in the Trinity.
“When I say that Christ is one of the Three
Persons in the Trinity I mean this: that the Word,
who was from eternity one of the Three Persons in
the Trinity, is so; and I think that this expression
is figurative. For if we should regard it as literal,
since the name of Christ means He who is God-and-Man, then the sense would be, that God-and-Man is
one of the Three Persons of the Trinity. Which is
entirely false.” And a little farther on: “It should
be stated that although we allow that Christ is one
of the Three Persons in the Trinity, yet we do not
allow that the Person who is Christ is one of the
Three Persons in the Trinity.”
VI.—That God does no more for a person
who is saved, before he has accepted grace offered, than for one who is not saved.
“It is frequently asked whether it is true, as is
said by some persons, that all men need to be saved
by the mercy of God, and that their need is such
that no one is able to have the will to do good
unless by the preventing grace of God, which influences his heart and inspires in him the will to
do good, and multiplies it when produced, and
preserves it after having been multiplied. If it is true
that man is not able to do anything good by himself, and that he is incapable of raising himself up
in any way whatever by his free will for the reception of Divine grace, without the help of that grace,
as is asserted, it does not appear on what ground,
if he sins, he can be punished. For if he is not able
to do anything good of himself, and if he is so constituted that he is more inclined to evil than to good,
is he not free from blame if he sins, and is God who
has given to him a nature so weak and subvertible
deserving of praise for having created such a being?
Or, on the contrary, does it not rather seem that He
merits to be reproached?” And a little farther on:
“If it were true that man is unable to raise himself
up without the grace of another, in order to receive
the Divine grace, there does not seem to be any
reason wherefore man should be held culpable; and
it would seem that if he has not the grace of God the
blame should be rather reflected upon his Creator.
But this is not so, but very far otherwise, according
to the truth of the case, for we must lay down that
man is able to embrace that grace which is offered
to him by the reason which has, indeed, been bestowed upon him by God; nor does God do anything more for a person, who is saved before he has
accepted the grace offered to him, than for another
who is not saved. In fact, God behaves with regard
to men in like manner as a merchant who has
precious stones to sell, who exhibits them in the
market, and offers them equally to all, so that he
may excite in those who view them a desire to purchase. He who is prudent, and who knows that he
has need of them, labours to obtain the means, gains
money and purchases them; on the contrary, he
who is slow and indolent, although he desires to
have the jewels, and although her may be also more
robust in body than the other, because he is indolent does not labour, and, therefore, does not purchase them, so that the blame for being without
them belongs to himself. Similarly, God puts His
grace before the eyes of all, and advises them in the
Scriptures and by eminent doctors to avail themselves of their freedom of will to embrace this offered
grace; certainly he who is prudent and provident
for his future, acts according to his free will, in
which he can embrace this grace. But the slothful,
on the contrary, is entangled with carnal desires,
and although he desires to attain blessedness, yet
he is never willing to endure labour in restraining
himself from evil, but neglects to do what he ought,
although he would be able by his free will to embrace
the grace offered him, and so he finds himself passed
over by the Almighty.”
VII.—That God ought not to hinder evil actions.
“In the first place, we must determine what it is
to consent to evil, and what not to do so. He, then,
is said to consent to evil who, when he can and
ought to prevent it, does not do so; but if he ought
to prevent it, but has not the power, or if, on the
contrary, though he has the power, he ought not to
do so, he is blameless. Much less if he neither has
the power, nor ought, if he had, to prevent it, is he
to be blamed. And, therefore, God is far from giving
consent to evil actions, since He neither ought, nor
has the power, to interfere with them. He ought
not, since if an action develops by His goodness in
a particular manner, than which none can be better,
in no wise ought He to wish to interfere with it.
He is, furthermore, not able, because His goodness,
though it has chosen a minor good, cannot put an
obstacle to that which is greater.”
VIII.—That we have not contracted from Adam guilt, but penalty.
“It should be known that when it is said, Original
sin is in infants, this is spoken of the penalty, temporal
and eternal, which is incurred by them through
the fault of their first parent.” And a little farther
on: “Similarly it is said, In whom all have sinned
(Rom. v. 12), in the sense that when he (our first
parent) sinned we were all in him in germ. But it
does not, therefore, follow that all have sinned, since
they did not then exist; for whoever does not exist
does not sin.”
IX.—That the Body of the Lord did not fall to the ground.
“On the subject of this species of Bread and Wine
which is turned into the Body of Christ it is asked
whether they continue to exist in the Body of Christ,
in the substance of bread and wine as they were
before, or whether they are in the air. It is probable
that they exist in the air, since the Body of Christ
had its form and features, as other human bodies.
As for the Eucharistic species of bread and wine,
they serve only to cover and conceal the Body of
Christ in the mouth.” And a little farther on:
“It is asked again concerning this, that it seems to be
multiple . . . wherefore it is ordered to be preserved
from one Saturday to the next, as we read was done
with the shew bread. It seems also to be gnawed by
mice, and to fall to the ground from the hands of a
priest or deacon. And, therefore, it is asked, wherefore God permits such things to happen to His Body;
or whether, perhaps, these things do not really happen
to the Body, but are only so done in appearance, and
to the species? To which I reply, that these things
do not really affect the Body, but that God allows
them to happen to the species in order to reprove.
the negligence of the ministers. As for His Body,
He replaces and preserves it as it pleases Him to do.”
X.—That man is made neither better nor worse by works.
“It is frequently asked what it is that is recompensed by the Lord: the work or the intention, or
both. For authority seems to decide that what God
rewards eternally are works, for the Apostle says
God will render to every man according to his works (Romans ii. 6). And Athanasius says:
‘They will have to give account of their own works.’ And a
little farther on he says: And those who have done good
shall go into life eternal, but those who have done evil into eternal fire
(S. Matt. xxv. 46, and S. John v. 29).
But I say that they were eternally recompensed by
God either for good or for evil; nor is man made
either better or worse because of works, at least only
so far as, that while he is doing them his will towards
either good or evil gathers force. Nor is this contrary to the Apostle, or to other authors, because
when the Apostle says God will render to each, etc., he
puts the effect for the cause, that is to say, the action
for the will or intention.
XI.—That those who crucified Christ ignorantly committed no
sin; and that whatsoever is done through ignorance ought not to be counted as a fault.
“There is objected to us the action of the Jews
who have crucified Christ; that of the men who in
persecuting the Martyrs thought that they were doing
God service; and finally that of Eve, who did not
act against her conscience since she was tempted,
and yet it is certain that she committed sin. To
which I say that in truth those Jews in their simplicity were not acting at all against their conscience,
but rather persecuted Christ from zeal for their law;
nor did they think that they were acting wickedly,
and, therefore, they did not sin; nor were any of
them eternally condemned on account of this, but
because of their previous sins, because of which they
rightly fell into that state of darkness. And among
them were even some of the elect, for whom Christ
prayed, saying: Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do (S. Luke xxxiii. 34). He did not ask in
this prayer that this particular sin might be forgiven
to them, since it was not really a sin, but rather their
previous sins.”
XII.—Of the power of binding and loosing.
“That which is said in S. Matthew, whatsoever thou
shall bind on earth, etc. (xvi. 19) is thus to be understood:
Whatsoever thou shah bind on earth, i.e., in the
present life, shall be bound also in heaven, i.e., in the
present Church.” And a little farther on: “The
Gospel seems to contradict us when we say that God
alone is able to forgive sins, for Christ says to His
disciples receive ye the Holy Ghost; whosoever’s sins ye
remit, they are remitted unto them (S. John xx. 22, 23),
But I say that this was spoken to the Apostles alone,
not to their successors.” And immediately he adds
“If, however, any one shall say that this applies also
to their successors, it will be needful in that case to
explain this passage also in the same manner in which
I have explained the preceding.”
XIII.—Concerning suggestion, delectation, and consent.
“It should be known also that suggestion is not a
sin for him to whom the suggestion is made, nor the
delectation which follows the suggestion, which delectation is produced in the soul because of our
weakness, and by the remembrance of the pleasure
which is bound in the accomplishment of the thing
which the tempter suggests to our mind. It is only
consent, which is also called a contempt of God, in
which sin consists.” And a little farther on: “I do
not say that the will of doing this or that, nor even
the action itself is sin, but rather, as has been said
above, that the contempt itself of God in some act of
the will that constitutes sin.”
XIV.—That Omnipotence belongs properly and specially to the Father.
“If we refer power as well t0 the idea of Being as
to efficacy of working, we find Omnipotence to attach
properly and specially to the proprium of the Person
of the Father: since not only is He Almighty with
the Two other Persons, but also He alone possesses
His Being from Himself and not from another. And
as He exists from Himself, so He is equally Almighty
by Himself.”
LETTER LX (A.D. 1140)
To the Same, Against Certain Heads of Abaelard’s Heresies.
To his most loving Father and Lord, Innocent,
Supreme Pontiff, Brother Bernard, called Abbot of
Clairvaux, sends humble greeting.
The dangers and scandals which are coming to
the surface in the Kingdom of God, especially those
which touch the faith, ought to be referred to your
Apostolic authority. For I judge it fitting that there
most of all, the losses suffered by the faith should
be repaired, where faith cannot suffer defect. This,
truly, is the prerogative of your see. For to what
other person [than Peter] has it ever been said, I
have prayed for thee, Peter, that thy faith fail not?
(S. Luke xxii. 32). Therefore that which follows is
required from the successor of Peter: And when thou
art converted strengthen thy brethren. That, indeed, is
necessary now. The time is come, most loving
Father, for you to recognize your primacy, to prove
your zeal, to do honour to your ministry. In this
plainly you fulfil the office of Peter, whose seat you
occupy, if by your admonition you strengthen the
hearts that are wavering in the faith, if by your
authority you crush the corrupters of the faith.
CHAPTER I
He explains and refutes the dogmas of Abaelard respecting the Trinity.
1. We have in France an old teacher turned into
a new theologian, who in his early days amused
himself with dialectics, and now gives utterance to
wild imaginations upon the Holy Scriptures. He is
endeavouring again to quicken false opinions, long
ago condemned and put to rest, not only his own,
but those of others; and is adding fresh ones as
well. I know not what there is in heaven above
and in the earth beneath which he deigns to confess
ignorance of: he raises his eyes to Heaven, and
searches the deep things of God, and then returning
to us, he brings back unspeakable words which it
is not lawful for a man to utter, while he is presumptuously prepared to give a reason for everything, even of those things which are above reason;
he presumes against reason and against faith. For
what is more against reason than by reason to attempt
to transcend reason? And what is more against
faith than to be unwilling to believe what reason
cannot attain? For instance, wishing to explain that
saying of the wise man: He who is hasty to believe is
light in mind (Ecclus. xix. 4). He says that a hasty
faith is one that believes before reason; when
Solomon says this not of faith towards God, but of
mutual belief amongst ourselves. For the blessed
Pope Gregory denies plainly that faith towards God
has any merit whatever if human reason furnishes
it with proof. But he praises the Apostles, because
they followed their Saviour when called but once
(Hom. in Evang. 26). He knows doubtless that this
word was spoken as praise: At the hearing of the ear
he obeyed me (Ps. xviii. 44), that the Apostles were
directly rebuked because they had been slow in
believing (S. Mark xvi. 14). Again, Mary is praised
because she anticipated reason by faith, and Zacharias
punished because he tempted faith by reason (S. Luke i. 20, 45), and Abraham is commended in that
against hope he believed in hope (Rom. iv. 18).
2. But on the other hand our theologian says:
“What is the use of speaking of doctrine unless
what we wish to teach can be explained so as to
be intelligible?” And so he promises understanding
to his hearers, even on those most sublime and
sacred truths which are hidden in the very bosom
of our holy faith; and he places degrees in the
Trinity, modes in the Majesty, numbers in the
Eternity. He has laid down, for example, that God
the Father is full power, the Son a certain kind of
power, the Holy Spirit no power. And that the
Son is related to the Father as force in particular to
force in general, as species to genus, as a thing
formed of material, to matter,
Materiatum; materia.
as man to animal, as
a brazen seal to brass. Did Arius ever go further?
Who can endure this? Who would not shut his
ears to such sacrilegious words? Who does not
shudder at such novel profanities of words and
ideas? He says also that “the Holy Spirit proceeds indeed from the Father and the Son, but
not from the substance of the Father or of the
Son.” Whence then? Perhaps from nothing, like
everything created. But the Apostle does riot deny
that they are of God, nor is he afraid to say: Of
whom are all things (Rom. xi. 36). Shall we say then
that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the
Son in no other way than all things do, that is, that
He exists not essentially but by way of creation, and
is therefore a creature like all other things. Or will
this man, who is always seeking after new things,
who invents what he does not find, affirms those
things which are not, as though they are, will he
find for himself some third way, in which he may
produce Him from the Father and the Son? But,
he says, “if He were of the substance of the Father,
He would surely have been begotten, and so the
Father would have two Sons.” As though everything which is from any substance has always as its
father that from which it is. For lice and phlegm
and such things, are they sons of the flesh, and not
rather of the substance of the flesh? Or worms
produced by rotten wood, whence derive they their
substance but from the wood? yet are they not sons
of the wood. Again, moths have their substance
from the substance of garments, but not their generation. And there are many instances of this kind.
3. Since he admits that the Holy Spirit is consubstantial with the Father and the Son, I wonder how an
acute and learned man (as at least he thinks himself)
can yet deny that He proceeds in substance from the
Father and the Son, unless perchance he thinks that the
two first persons proceed from the substance of the
third. But this is an impious and unheard of opinion.
But if neither He proceeds from their substance, nor
They from His, where, I pray, is the consubstantiality?
Let him then either confess with the Church
that the Holy Spirit is of their substance, from whom
He does not deny that He proceeds, or let him with
Arius deny His consubstantiality, and openly preach
His creation. Again he says, if the Son is of the
substance of the Father, the Holy Spirit is not; they
must differ from each other, not only because the
Holy Spirit is not begotten, as the Son is, but also
because the Son is of the substance of the Father,
which the Holy Spirit is not. Of this last distinction
the Catholic Church has hitherto known nothing. If
we admit it, where is the Trinity? where is the
Unity? If the Holy Spirit and the Son are really
separated by this new enumeration of. differences,
and if the Unity is split up, then especially let it be
made plain that that distinction which he is endeavouring to make is a difference of substance. Moreover, if the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the
substance of the Father and the Son, no Trinity
remains, but a duality. For no Person is worthy to
be admitted into the Trinity whose. substance is not
the same as that of the others. Let him, therefore,
cease to separate the procession of the Holy Spirit
from the substance of the Father and the Son, lest
by a double impiety he both take away number from
the Trinity and attribute it to the Unity, each of
which the Christian faith abhors. And, lest I seem
in so great a matter to depend on human reasonings
only, let him read the letter of Jerome to Avitus; and
he will plainly see, that amongst the other blasphemies of Origen which he confutes, he also rejects
this one, that, as he said, the Holy Spirit is not of
the substance of the Father. The blessed Athanasius
thus speaks in his book on the Undivided Trinity:
“When I spoke of God alone I meant not the Person
only of the Father, because I denied not that the
Son and the Holy Spirit are of this same Substance
of the Father.”
CHAPTER II
In the Trinity it is not possible to admit any disparity: but equality in every way to be predicated.
4. Your holiness sees how in this man’s scheme,
which is not reasoning but raving,
Non disputante, sed dementante.
the Trinity does
not hold together and the Unity is rendered doubtful, and that this cannot be without injury to the
Majesty. For whatever That is which is God, it is
without doubt That than which nothing greater can
be conceived.
Anselm greatly approves this idea respecting God in his Monologium
and his Apologeticus at the commencement.
If, then, in this One and Supreme
Majesty we have found anything that is insufficient
or imperfect in our consideration of the Persons, or
if we have found that what is assigned to one is taken
from another, the whole is surely less than That, than
which nothing greater can be conceived. For indubitably the greatest which is a whole is greater than
that which consists of parts. That man thinks
worthily, as far as man can, of the Divine Majesty
who thinks of no inequality in It where the whole is
supremely great; of no separation where the whole
is one; of no chasm where the whole is undivided;
in short, of no imperfection or deficiency where the
whole is a whole. For the Father is a whole, as are
the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit; the Son is
a whole, as are He Himself and the Father and the
Holy Spirit; the Holy Spirit is a whole, as are
He Himself and the Father and the Son. And
the whole Unity is a whole neither superabounding in the Three, nor diminished in Each Person. For they do not individually divide between
Them that real and highest Good which they are,
since they do not possess It in the way of participation, but are essentially the very Good. For those
phrases which we most rightly use, as One from
Another, or One to Another, are designations of the
Persons, not division of the Unity. For although in
this ineffable and incomprehensible essence of the
Deity we can; by the requirements of the properties
of the Persons, say One and Another in a sober and
Catholic sense, yet there is not in the essence One
and Another, but simple Unity; nor in the confession
of the Trinity any derogation to the Unity, nor is the
true assertion of the Unity any exclusion of the
propria
of the Persons. May that execrable similitude of
genus and species be accordingly as far from our
minds as it is from the rule of truth. It is not a
similitude, but a dissimilitude, as is also that of brass
and the brazen seal; for since genus and species are
to each other as higher and lower, while God is One,
there can never be any resemblance between equality
so perfect and disparity so great. And again, with
regard to his illustration of brass, and the brass which
is made into a seal, since it is used for the same kind
of similitude, it is to be similarly condemned. For
since, as I have said, species is less than and inferior
to genus, far be it from us to think of such diversity
between the Father and the Son. Far be it from us
to agree with him who says that the Son is related to
the Father as species to genus, as man to animal, as
a brazen seal to brass, as force to force absolutely.
For all these several things by the bond of their common nature are to each other as superiors and inferiors, and therefore no comparison is to be drawn
from these things with That in which there is no inequality, no dissimilarity. You see from what unskilfulness or impiety the use of these similitudes descends.
CHAPTER III
The absurd doctrine of Abaelard, who attributes properly and
specically the absolute and essential names to one Person, is opposed.
5. Now notice more clearly what he thinks,
teaches, and writes. He says that Power properly
and specially belongs to the Father, Wisdom to the
Son, which, indeed, is false. For the Father both, is,
and is most truly called, Wisdom, and the Son Power,
and what is common to Both is not the
proprium
, of
Each singly. There are certainly some other names
which do not belong to Both, but to One or the
Other alone, and therefore His own Name is peculiar
to Each, and not common to the Other. For the
Father is not the Son, nor the Son the Father, for
He is designated by the name of Father, not because He is the Father with regard to Himself,
but with regard to His Son, and in like manner
by the name of Son is expressed not that He is
Son with regard to Himself, but to the Father.
It is not so with power and many other attributes
which are assigned to the Father and the Son in
common, and not singly to Each taken by Himself.
But he says, “No; we find that omnipotence belongs
especially to the
proprium
of the Person of the
Father, because He not only can do all things in
union with the other two Persons, but also because
He alone has His existence from Himself, and
not from Another, and as He has His existence
from Himself, so has He His power.” O, second
Aristotle! By parity of reasoning, if such were
reasoning, would not Wisdom and; Kindness belong
properly to the Father, since equally the Father has
His Wisdom and Kindness from Himself, and not
from another, just as He has His Being and His
Power? And if he does not deny this, as he cannot
reasonably do, what, I ask, will he do with that
famous partition of his in which, as he has assigned
Power to the Father and Wisdom to the Son, so he
has assigned Loving Kindness to the Holy Spirit
properly and specially? For one and the same
thing cannot well be the
proprium
of two, that is,
to be the exclusive property of each. Let him
choose which alternative he will: either let him
give Wisdom to the Son and take It from the
Father, or assign It to the Father and deny It to
the Son; and again, let him assign Loving Kindness
to the Spirit without the Father, or to the Father
without the Spirit; or let him cease to call attributes
which are common,
propria
; and though the Father
has His Power from Himself, yet let him not dare
to concede It to Him as being a
proprium
, lest on his
own reasoning he be obliged to assign Him Wisdom
and Loving Kindness which He has in precisely the
same way, as His
propria
also.
6. But let us now wait and see in how theoretic a
manner our theologian regards the invisible things of
God. He says, as I have pointed out, that omnipotence properly belongs to the Father, and He makes
it to consist in the fulness and perfection of Rule and
discernment. Again, to the Son he assigns Wisdom,
and that he defines to be not Power simply, but a
certain kind of Power in God, namely, the Power of
discernment only. Perhaps he is afraid of doing an
injury to the Father if he gives as much to the Son
as to Him, and since he dares not give Him complete
power, he grants Him half. And this that he lays
down he illustrates by common examples, asserting
that the Power of discernment which the Son is, is a
particular kind of Power, just as a man is a kind of
animal, and a brazen seal a particular form of brass,
which means that the power of discernment is to the
power of Rule and discernment, i.e., the Son is to the
Father, as a man to an animal, or as a brazen seal to
brass. For, as he says, “a brazen seal must first be
brass, and a man to be a man must first be an animal,
but not conversely. So Divine Wisdom, which is the
power of discernment, must be first Divine Power,
but not conversely” (Abael. Theol. B. ii. p. 1083).
Do you, then, mean that, like the preceding similitudes, your similitude demands that the Son to be
the Son must first be the Father, i.e., that He who is
the Son is the Father, though not conversely? If
you say this you are a heretic. If you do not your
comparison is meaningless.
7. For why do you fashion for yourself the comparison,
and with such beating about the bush, apply
it to questions long ago settled and ill-fitted for
debate? Why do you bring it forward with such
waste of energy, impress it on us with such a useless
multiplicity of words, produce it with such a flourish,
if it does not effect the purpose for which it was
adduced, viz., that the members be harmonized with
each other in fitting proportions? Is not this a
labour and a toil, to teach us by means of it, the
relation which exists between the Father and the
Son? We hold according to you, that a man being
given an animal is given, but not conversely, at
least by the rule of your logic; for by it it is not
that when the genus is given we know the species,
but the species being given we know the genus.
Since, then, you compare the Father to the genus,
the Son to the species, does not the condition
of your comparison postulate, that in like manner,
when the Son is known you declare the Father to be
known and not conversely; that, as he who is a man
is necessarily an animal, but not conversely, so also,
He who is the Son is necessarily the Father, but not
conversely? But the Catholic faith contradicts you
on this point, for it plainly denies both, viz., that the
Father is the Son, and that the Son is the Father.
For indubitably the Father is one Person, the Son
another; although the Father is not of a different
substance from the Son. For by this distinction the
godliness of the Faith knows how to distinguish
cautiously between the propria of the Persons, and
the undivided unity of the Essence; and holding a
middle course, to go along the royal road, turning
neither to the right by confounding the Persons, nor
looking to the left by dividing the Substance. But
if you say that it rightly follows as a necessary truth
that He who is the Son is also the Father, this helps
you nothing; for an identical proposition is necessarily capable of being converted in such a way that
what was true of the original proposition is true of
the converse; and your comparison of genus and
species, or of brass and the brazen seal does not
admit of this. For as it does not follow as a necessary
consequence that the Son is the Father, and the
Father the Son, so neither can we rightly produce a
convertible consequence between man and animal,
and between a brazen seal and brass. For though it
be true to say, “If he is a man he is an animal,”
still the converse is not true, “If he is an animal he
is a man.” And again, if we have a brazen seal it
necessarily follows that it is brass; but if we have
brass it does not necessarily follow that it is a brazen
seal. But now let us proceed to his other points.
8. Lo! according to him we have omnipotence in
the Father, a certain power in the Son. Let him tell
us also what he thinks of the Holy Spirit. That
loving-kindness, he says, which is denoted by the
name of the Holy Spirit is not in God power or
wisdom (Theol. ii. 1085). I saw Satan as lightning fall
from heaven (S. Luke x. 18). So ought he to fall
who exercises himself in great matters, and in things
that are too high for him. You see, Holy Father,
what ladders, nay what dizzy heights, he has set up
for his own downfall. All power, half power, no
power. I shudder at the very words, and I think
that very horror enough for his confutation. Still, I
will bring forward a testimony which occurs to my
troubled mind, so as to remove the injury done to
the Holy Spirit. We read in Isaiah: The Spirit of
wisdom, the Spirit of ghostly strength (Is. xi. 2). By
this his audacity is plainly and sufficiently answered,
even if it is not crushed. Be it that blasphemy against
the Father or the Son may be forgiven, will blasphemy
against the Spirit? The Angel of the Lord is waiting
to cut you asunder; for you have said “The Holy
Spirit in God is not power or wisdom.” So the foot
of pride stumbles where it intrudes [where it ought
not].
CHAPTER IV
Abaelard had defined faith as an opinion or estimate: Bernard refutes this.
9. It is no wonder if a man who is careless of
what he says should, when rushing into the mysteries
of the Faith, so irreverently assail and tear asunder
the hidden treasures of godliness, since he has neither
piety nor faith in his notions about the piety of faith.
For instance, on the very threshold of his theology (I
should rather say his stultology) he defines faith as
private judgment; as though in these mysteries it is
to be allowed to each person to think and speak as
he pleases, or as though the mysteries of our faith
are to hang in uncertainty amongst shifting and
varying opinions, when on the contrary they rest on
the solid and unshakable foundation of truth. Is
not our hope baseless if our faith is subject to
change? Fools then were our martyrs for bearing
so cruel tortures for an uncertainty, and for entering,
without hesitation, on an everlasting exile, through a
bitter death, when there was a doubt as to the recompense of their reward. But far be it from us to
think that in our faith or hope anything, as he supposes, depends on the fluctuating judgment of the
individual, and that the whole of it does not rest on
sure and solid truth, having been commended by
miracles and revelations from above, founded and
consecrated by the Son of the Virgin, by the Blood
of the Redeemer, by the glory of the risen Christ.
These infallible proofs have been given us in superabundance. But if not, the Spirit itself, lastly, bears
witness with our spirit that we are the sons of God.
How, then, can any one dare to call faith opinion,
unless it be that he has not yet received that Spirit,
or unless he either knows not the Gospel or thinks it
to be a fable? I know in whom I have believed, and I
am confident (2 Tim. i. 12),
cries the Apostle, and you
mutter in my ears that faith is only an opinion. Do
you prate to me that that is ambiguous than which
there is nothing more certain? But Augustine says
otherwise: “Faith is not held by any one in whose
heart it is, by conjectures or opinions, but it is sure
knowledge and has the assent of the conscience.”
Far be it from us, then, to suppose that the Christian
faith has as its boundaries those opinions of the
Academicians, whose boast it is that they doubt of
everything, and know nothing. But I for my part
walk securely, according to the saying of the teacher
of the Gentiles, and I know that I shall not be confounded. I am satisfied, I confess, with his definition
of faith, even though this man stealthily accuses it.
Faith, he says, is the substance of things hoped for, the
evidence of things not seen (Heb. xi. 1). The substance,
he says, of things hoped for, not a phantasy of empty
conjectures. You. hear, that it is a substance; and
therefore it is not allowed you in our faith, to suppose
or oppose at your pleasure, nor to wander hither and
thither amongst empty opinions, through devious
errors. Under the name of substance something
certain and fixed is put before you. You are enclosed in known bounds, shut in within fixed limits.
For faith is not an opinion, but a certitude.
10. But now notice other points. I pass over his
saying that the spirit of the fear of the Lord was not
in the Lord; that there will be no holy fear of the
Lord in the world to come; that after the consecration of the bread and of the cup, the former accidents which remain are suspended in the air; that
the suggestions of devils come to us, as their sagacious
wickedness knows how, by the contact of stones
and herbs; and that they are able to discern in
such natural objects strength suited to excite various
passions; that the Holy Spirit is the anima mundi;
that the world, as Plato says, is so much a more
excellent animal, as it has a better soul in the Holy
Spirit. Here while he exhausts his strength to make
Plato a Christian, he proves himself a heathen. All
these things and his other numerous silly stories of
the same kind I pass by, I come to graver matters.
To answer them all would require volumes. I speak
only of those on which I cannot keep silence.
CHAPTER V
He accuses Abaelard for preferring his own opinions and even
fancies to the unanimous consent of the Fathers, especially
where he declares that Christ did not become incarnate in
order to save man from the power of the devil.
11. I find in a book of his sentences, and also in
an exposition of his of the Epistle to the Romans,
that this rash inquirer into the Divine Majesty attacks
the mystery of our Redemption. He admits in the
very beginning of his disputation that there has never
been but one conclusion in our ecclesiastical doctors
on this point, and this he states only to spurn it, and
boasts that he has a better; not fearing, against the
precept of the Wise Man, To cross the ancient boundaries
which our fathers have marked out (Prov. xxii. 28). It
is needful to know, he says, that all our doctors since
the Apostles agree in this, that the devil had power
and dominion over man, and that he rightly possessed it, because man, by an act of the free will
which he had, voluntarily consented to the devil.
For they say that if any one conquers another, the
conquered rightly becomes the slave of his conqueror. Therefore, he says, as the doctors teach,
the Son of God became incarnate under this necessity, that since man could not otherwise be freed,
he might, by the death of an innocent man, be set
free from the yoke of the devil. But as it seems to
us, he says, neither had the devil ever any power
over man, except by the permission of God, as a
jailer might, nor was it to free man that the Son
of God assumed flesh. Which am I to think the
more intolerable in these words, the blasphemy or
the arrogance? Which is the more to be condemned, his rashness or his impiety? Would not
the mouth of him who speaks such things be more
justly beaten with rods than confuted with reasons?
Does not he whose hand is against every man, rightly
provoke every man’s hand to be raised against him?
All, he says, says so, but so do not I. What, then,
do you say? What better statement have you?
What more subtle reason have you discovered?
What more secret revelation do you boast of which
has passed by the Saints and escaped from the wise?
He, I suppose, will give us secret waters and hidden
bread.
12. Tell us, nevertheless, that truth which has
shown itself to you and to none else. Is it that
it was not to free man that the Son of God became
man? No one, you excepted, thinks this; you stand
alone. For not from a wise man, nor prophet, nor
apostle, nor even from the Lord Himself have you
received this. The teacher of the Gentiles received
from the Lord what he has handed down to us (1 Cor. xi. 23).
The Teacher of all confesses that His
doctrine is not His own, for I do not, He says, speak
of Myself (S. John vii. 16 and xiv. 10), while you
give us of your own, and what you have received
from no one. He who speaketh a lie speaketh of his own (ibid. viii. 44). Keep for yourself what is your
own. I listen to Prophets and Apostles, I obey the
Gospel, but not the Gospel according to Peter. Do
you found for us a new Gospel? The Church does
not receive a fifth Evangelist. What other Gospel
do the Law, the Prophets, apostles, and apostolic
men preach to us than that which you alone deny,
viz., that God became man to free man? And if an
angel from heaven should preach to us any other
Gospel, let him be anathema.
13. But you do not accept the Doctors since the
Apostles, because you perceive yourself to be a man
above all teachers. For example, you do not blush
to say that all are against you, when they all agree
together. To no purpose, therefore, should I place
before you the faith and doctrine of those teachers
whom you have just proscribed. I will take you to
the Prophets. Under the type of Jerusalem the
prophet speaks, or rather the Lord in the prophet
speads to His chosen people: I will save you and
deliver you, fear not (Wisd. iii. 16). You ask, from
what power? For you do not admit that the devil
has or ever has had power over man. Neither; I
confess, do I. It is not, however, that he has it riot
because you and I wish it not. If you do not confess it, you know it not; they whom
the Lord has redeemed out of the hand of the enemy, they know it
and confess it. And you would by no means deny
it, if you were not under the hand of the enemy.
You cannot give thanks with the redeemed, because
you have not been redeemed. For if you had been
redeemed you would recognize your Redeemer, and
would not deny your redemption. Nor does the
man, who knows not himself to be a captive, seek
to be redeemed. Those who knew it called unto
the Lord, and the Lord heard them, and redeemed
them from the hand of the enemy. And that you
may understand who this enemy is, He says: Those
whom He redeemed from the hand of the enemy He
gathered out of all lands (Ps. cvii. 2, 3). But first,
indeed, recognize Him Who gathered them, of Whom
Caiaphas in the Gospel prophesied, saying that Jesus
should die for the people, and the Evangelist proceeds thus:
And not for that nation only, but that He
might gather together into one all the children of God
which were scattered abroad (S. John xi. 51, 52).
Whither had they been scattered? Into all lands.
Therefore those whom He redeemed He gathered
together from all lands. He first redeemed, then
gathered them. For they were not only scattered,
but also taken captive. He redeemed and gathered
them; but redeemed them from the hand of the
enemy. He does not say of the enemies, but of
the enemy. The enemy was one, the lands many.
Indeed, he gathered them not from one land, but
from the lands, from the east and from the west,
from the north and from the south. What Lord
was there so powerful, who governed not one land
but all lands? No other, I suppose, than He who
by another prophet is said to drink up a river, that
is, the human race, and not to wonder; and to trust
that he can also, draw up into his mouth Jordan,
i.e., the elect (Job xl. 18). Blessed are they who so
flow in that they can flow out, who so enter that they can go out.
14. But now perhaps you do not believe the
Prophets, thus speaking with one accord of the
power of the devil over man. Come with me then
to the Apostles. You said, did you not? that you
do not agree with those who have come since the
Apostles; may you agree then with the Apostles;
and perhaps that may happen to you which one of
them describes, speaking. of certain persons: If God,
peradventure, will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth, and that they may recover themselves out
of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at
his will (2 Tim. ii. 25, 26).
It is Paul who thus asserts
that men are taken captive by the devil at his will.
Do you hear? “at his will;” and do you deny his
power? But if you do not believe Paul, come now
to the Lord Himself, if perchance you may listen to
Him and be put to silence. By Him the devil is
called the prince of this world (S. John xiv. 30), and
the strong man armed (S. Luke xi. 21), and the possessor of goods
(S. Matt. xii. 29), and yet you say that
he has no power over men. Perhaps you think the
house in this place is not to be understood of the
world, nor the goods of men. But if the world is
the house of the devil and men his goods, how can
it be said he has no power over men? Moreover,
the Lord said to those who took Him: This is your
hour and the power of darkness (S. Luke xxii. 53).
That power did not escape him who said: Who hath
delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of His dear Son
(Col. i. 13)The Lord then neither denied the power of the devil
even over Him, nor that of Pilate, who was a member of the devil. He said:
Thou couldst have no power against me at all except it were given thee from above
(S. John xix. 11). But if that power given from
above so violently raged against the green tree, how
is it that it did not dare to touch the dry? Nor I
suppose will he say, that it was an unjust power
which was given from above. Let him, therefore,
learn that not only had the devil power over man,
but also a just power, and in consequence let him
see this, that the Son of God came in the flesh to
set man free. But though we say that the power of
the devil was a just one we do not say that his will
was. Whence it is not the devil who usurped the
power, who is just, nor man who deservedly was subjected to it; but the Lord is just, who permitted the
subjection. For any one is called just and unjust,
not from his power but from his will. This power
of the devil over man though not rightly acquired,
but wickedly usurped, was yet justly permitted. And
in this way man was justly taken captive, viz., that
the justice was neither in the devil, nor in man, but in God.
CHAPTER VI
In the work of the Redemption of man, not only the mercy, but also the justice, of God is displayed.
15. Man therefore was lawfully delivered up, but
mercifully set free. Yet mercy was shown in such
a way that a kind of justice was not lacking even in
his liberation, since, as was most fitting for man’s
recovery, it was part of the mercy of the liberator
to employ justice rather than power against man’s
enemy. For what could man, the slave of sin, fast
bound by the devil, do of himself to recover that
righteousness which he had formerly lost? Therefore he who lacked righteousness had another’s imputed to him, and in this way: The prince of this
world came and found nothing in the Saviour; and
because he notwithstanding laid hands on the Innocent
he lost most justly those whom he held captive;
since He who owed nothing to death, lawfully freed
him who was subject to it, both from the debt of
death, and the dominion of the devil, by accepting
the injustice of death; for with what justice could
that be exacted from man a second time? It was man
who owed the debt, it was man who paid it. For if one,
says S. Paul, died for all, then were all dead (2 Cor. v. 14), so that, as One bore the sins of all, the
satisfaction of One is imputed to all. It is not that
one forfeited,
Forefecit, i.e., offended or transgressed.
Forisfactura
or
forefactum
denoted the crime or offence: and the former word is also used to signify
the penalty of a crime.
Forisfactus
is the criminal himself.
Servus forisfactus
is a free man who
has been reduced to slavery as a punishment for
crime (Legibus Athelstan. Reg. c. 3). From this word is the French
forfaire, forfait
; and the English forfeit, forfeiture.
It will be seen that the word is a legal term adopted into the language
of theology. The earliest instance of its use is apparently in the Glossa of Isidore.
See Du Cange’s Glossary s.v. Forisfacere. Forcellini’s ed. of Facciolati
does not give the word.—[E.]
another satisfied; the Head and body
is one, viz., Christ. The Head, therefore, satisfied for
the members, Christ for His children, since, according
to the Gospel of Paul, by which Peter’s
i.e., Abaelard.
falsehood is
refuted, He who died for us, quickened us together with
Himself, forgiving us all our trespasses, blotting out the
handwriting of ordinances that was against us, and took
it out of the way, nailing it to His cross, having spoiled
principalities and powers (Col. ii. 13, 14).
16. May I be found amongst those spoils of which
the opposing powers were deprived, and be handed
over into the possession of my Lord. If Laban pursue
the and reproach me for having left him by stealth,
he shall be told that I came to him by stealth, and
therefore so left him. The secret power of sin subjected me, the hidden plan of righteousness freed
me from him; or I will reply, that if I was sold for
nothing shall I not be freely redeemed? If Asshur
has reproached me without cause, he has no right to
demand the cause of my escape. But if he says,
“Your father sold you into captivity,” I will reply,
“But my Brother redeemed me.” Why should not
righteousness come to me from another when guilt
came upon me from another? One made me a
sinner, the other justifies me from sin; the one by
generation, the other by His blood. Shall there be
sin in the seed of the sinner and not righteousness in
the blood of Christ? But he will say,
“Let righteousness be whose it may, it is none of yours.” Be it so.
But let guilt also be whose it may, it is none of mine.
Shall the righteousness of the righteous be upon him, and
the wickedness of the wicked not be upon him?
It is not fitting for the son to bear the iniquity of the father,
and yet to have no share in the righteousness of his
brother. But now by man came death, by Man also
came life. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ
shall all be made alive (1 Cor. xv. 21, 22). I attain to
une and to the other in the same way: to the one by
the flesh, to the other by faith. And if from the one
I was infected with concupiscence from my birth, by
Christ spiritual grace was infused into me. What
more does this hired advocate bring against me?
If he urges generation, I oppose regeneration; and
add that the former is but carnal, while the latter is
spiritual. Nor does equity suffer that they fight as
equals, but the higher nature is the more efficacious
cause, and therefore the spirit must necessarily overcome the flesh. In other words, the second birth is
so much the more beneficial as the first was baneful.
The offence, indeed, came to me, but so did grace;
and not as the offence so also is the free gift; for the
judgment was by one to condemnation, but the free gift is of many offences unto justification
(Rom. v. 16). From
the first man flowed down the offence, from the
highest heaven came down the free gift: both from
our father, one from our first father, the other from
the Supreme Father. My earthly birth destroys me,
and does not my heavenly much more save me I?
And I am not afraid of being rejected by the Father
of lights when I have been rescued in this way from
the power of darkness, and justified through His
grace by the blood of His Son: It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth?
He who had mercy on the sinner will not condemn the righteous; I mean
that I am righteous, but it is in His righteousness, for
Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one
that believeth (Rom. x. 4). In short,
He was made our righteousness by God the Father (1 Cor. i. 30).
Is not that righteousness mine which was made for me? If
my guilt was inherited, why should not my righteousness be accorded to me? And, truly, what is given
me is safer than what was born in me. For this,
indeed, has whereof to glory, but not before God;
but that, since it is effectual to my salvation, has
nothing whereof to glory save in the Lord. For if I
be righteous, says Job, yet will I not lift up my head
(Job x. 15), lest I receive the answer: What hast thou
that thou didst not receive? now if thou didst receive it,
why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received it?
(1 Cor. iv. 7).
CHAPTER VII
He severely reproves Abaelard for scrutinizing rashly and impiously, and extenuating the power of,
the secret things of God.
17. This is the righteousness of man in the blood
of the Redeemer: which this son of perdition, by his
scoffs and insinuations, is attempting to render vain;
so much so, that he thinks and argues that the whole
fact that the Lord of Glory emptied Himself, that He
was made lower than the angels, that He was born of
a woman, that He lived in the world, that He made
trial of our infirmities, that He suffered indignities,
that at last He returned to His own place by the way
of the Cross, that all this is to be reduced to one
reason alone, viz., that it was done merely that He
might give man by His life and teaching a rule of life,
and by His suffering and death might set before him
a goal of charity. Did He, then, teach righteousness
and not bestow it? Did He show charity and not
infuse it, and did He so return to His heaven? Is
this, then, the whole of the great mystery of godliness,
which was manifested in the flesh, justified in the Spirit,
seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in
the world, received up into glory (1 Tim. iii. 16). O,
incomparable doctor! he lays bare to himself the
deep things of God, he makes them clear and easy
to every one, and by his false teaching he so renders
plain and evident the most lofty sacrament of grace,
the mystery hidden from the ages, that any uncircumcised and unclean person can lightly penetrate to the
heart of it: as though the wisdom of God knew not
how to guard or neglected to guard against what Itself
forbade, but had Itself given what is holy to the dogs
and cast its pearls before swine. But it is not so.
For though it was manifested in the flesh, yet it was
justified in the Spirit: so that spiritual things are
bestowed upon spiritual men, and the natural man
does not perceive the things which are of the Spirit
of God. Nor does our faith consist in wisdom of
words but in the power of God. And, therefore, the
Saviour says: I thank Thee, Father, Lord of heaven
and earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the
wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes (S. Matt. xi. 25).
And the Apostle says: If our Gospel
be hid, it is hid to them that are lost (2 Cor. iv. 3).
18. But see this man scoffing at the things which
are of the Spirit of God, because they seem to him
folly, and insulting the Apostle who speaks the hidden
wisdom of God in a mystery, inveighing against the
Gospel and even blaspheming the Lord. How much
more prudent would he be if he would deign to believe what he has no power to comprehend, and
would not dare to despise or tread under foot this
sacred and holy mystery! It is a long task to reply
to all the follies and calumnies which he charges
against the Divine counsel. Yet I take a few, from
which the rest may be estimated. “Since,” he says,
“Christ set free the elect only, how were they more
than now, whether in this world or the next, under
the power of the devil?” I answer: It was just
because they were under the power of the devil, by
whom, says the Apostle, they were taken captive at his
will (2 Tim. ii. 26), that there was need of a liberator
in order that the purpose of God concerning them
might be fulfilled. But it behoved Him to set them
free in this world, that He might have them as freeborn sons in the next. Then he rejoins: “Well, did
the devil also torture the poor man who was in the
bosom of Abraham as he did the rich man who was
condemned, or had he power over Abraham himself
and the rest of the elect?” No, but he would have had
if they had not been set free by their faith in a future
Deliverer, as of Abraham it is written:
Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness (Gen. xv. 6). Again:
Abraham rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it and was glad (S. John viii. 56). Therefore even then the Blood of Christ was bedewing
Lazarus, that he might not feel the flames, because he
had believed on Him who should suffer. So are we
to think of all the saints of that time, that they were
born just as ourselves under the power of darkness,
because of original sin, but rescued before they died,
and that by nothing else but the blood of Christ. For
it is written: The multitudes that went before and that
followed, cried saying, Hosanna to the Son of David,
Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord (S. Matt. xxi. 9). Therefore blessing was given to
Christ coming in the flesh, both before He came and
afterwards, by multitudes of those who had been
blessed by Him, although those who went before did
not obtain a full blessing, this, of course, having been
kept as the prerogative of the time of grace.
CHAPTER VIII
Wherefore Christ undertook a method of setting us free so painful and laborious, when a word from Him, or an act of
His will, would alone have sufficed.
19. Then he labours to teach and persuade us that
the devil could not and ought not to have claimed for
himself any right over man, except by the permission
of God, and that, without doing any injustice to the
devil, God could have called back His deserter, if He
wished to show him mercy, and have rescued him by
a word only, as though any one denies this; oxen
after much more he proceeds: “And so what necessity, or what reason, or what need was there, when
the Divine compassion by a simple command could
have freed man from sin, for the Son of God to take
flesh for our redemption, to suffer so many and such
great privations, scorn, scourgings, and spittings on,
in short, the pain and ignominy of the cross itself,
and that with evil doers?” I reply: The necessity
was ours, the hard necessity of those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death. The need, equally
ours, and God’s, and the Holy Angels! Ours, tat
He might remove the yoke of our captivity; His own,
that He might fulfil the purpose of His will; the
Angels’, that their number might be filled up. Further,
the reason of this deed was the good pleasure of the
Doer. Who denies that there were ready for the
Almighty other and yet other ways to redeem us, to
justify us, to set us free? But this takes nothing from
the efficacy of the one which He chose out of many.
And, perhaps, the greatest excellence of the way chosen
is that in a land of forgetfulness, of slowness of spirit,
and of constant offending, we are more forcibly and
more vividly warned by so many and such great sufferings of our Restorer. Beyond that no man knows,
nor can know to the full, what treasures of grace,
what harmony with wisdom, what increase of glory,
what advantages for salvation the inscrutable depth of
this holy mystery contains within itself, that mystery
which the Prophet when considering trembled at, but
did not penetrate (Habak. iii. 2 in LXX), and which the
forerunner of the Lord thought himself unworthy to
unloose (S. John i. 27).
20. But though it is not allowed us to scrutinize the
mystery of the Divine Will, yet we may feel the effect
of its work and perceive the fruit of its usefulness.
And what we may know we may not keep to ourselves,
for to conceal their word is to give glory to kings,
but God is glorified by our investigating His sayings.
[Prov. xxv. 2. But the sense of the text is the reverse
of this.] Faithful is the saying and worthy of all acceptation, that
while we were yet sinners we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son
(Rom. v. 10).
“Where there is reconciliation there is also remission
of sins. For if, as the Scripture says, our sins separate between us and God” (Is. lix. 2),
there is no reconciliation while sin remains. In what, then, is remission
of sins? This cup, He says, is the new testament in My Blood which shall be shed for you for the remission of sins
(S. Matt. xxvi. 28). Therefore where there is reconciliation
there is remission of sins. And what is that
but justification? Whether, therefore, we call it
reconciliation, or remission of sins, or justification,
or, again, redemption, or liberation from the chains
of the devil, by whom we were taken captive at his
will, at all events by the death of the Only Begotten,
we obtain that we have been justified freely by His
blood, in whom, as S. Paul says again, we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according
to the riches of His grace (Eph. i. 7). You say, Why by
His blood when He could have wrought it by His
Word? Ask Himself. It is only allowed me to know
that it is so, not why it is so. Shall the thing formed
say to Him that formed it, “Why hast Thou made me thus?”
21. But these things seem to him foolishness, he,
cannot restrain his laughter; listen to his jeering.
“Why does the Apostle say,” he asks, “that we are
justified, or reconciled to God by the death of His
Son, when He ought to have been the more angry
with man, as he sinned more deeply in crucifying Ibis
Son, than in transgressing His first command by tasting of the apple?” As if the iniquity of the malignant
were not able to displease, and the godliness of the
sufferer to please God, and that in one and the same
act. “But,” he replies, “if that sin of Adam was
so heinous that it could not be expiated but by the
death of Christ, what expiation shall suffice for that
homicide which was perpetrated upon Christ?” I
answer in two words, That very Blood which they
shed, and the prayer of Him whom they slew. Ire
asks again: “Did the death of His innocent Son so
please God the Father that by it He was reconciled to
us, who had committed such a sin in Adam, that because of it our innocent Lord was slain? Would He
not have been able to forgive us much more easily if
so heinous a sin had not been committed?” It was
not His death alone that pleased the Father, but His
voluntary surrender to death; and by that death destroying death, working salvation, restoring innocence,
triumphing over principalities and powers, spoiling
hell, enriching heaven, making peace between things
in heaven and things on earth, and renewing all things.
And since this so precious death to be voluntarily
submitted to against sin could not take place except
through sin, He did not indeed delight in, but He
made good use of, the malice of the wrong-doers, and
found the means to condemn death and sin by the
death of His Son, and the sin [of those who condemned Him]. And the greater their iniquity, the
more holy His will, and the more powerful to salvation; because, by the interposition of so great a power,
that ancient sin, however great, would necessarily give
way to that committed against Christ, as the less to the
greater. Nor is this victory to be ascribed to the sin
or to the sinners, but to Him who extracted good from
their sin, and who bore bravely with the sinners, and
turned to a godly purpose whatever the cruelty of the
impious ventured on against Himself.
22. Thus the Blood which was shed was so powerful for pardoning that it blotted out that greatest sin
of all, by which it came to pass that it was shed; and,
therefore, left no doubt whatever about the blotting
out of that ancient and lighter sin. Thus he rejoins:
“Is there any one to whom it does not seem cruel and
unjust, that any one should require the blood of an
innocent man as the price of some thing, or that the
death of an innocent man should in any way give him
pleasure, not to say that God should hold so acceptable
the death of His Son as by it to be reconciled to the
whole world?” God the Father did not require the
Blood of His Son, but, nevertheless, He accepted it
when offered; it was not blood He thirsted for, but
salvation, for salvation was in the blood. He died, in
short, for our salvation, and not for the mere exhibition of charity, as this man thinks and writes. For he
so concludes the numerous calumnies and reproaches,
which he as impiously as ignorantly belches out against
God, as to say that “the whole reason why God appeared in the flesh was for our education by His word
and example,” or, as he afterwards says, for our instruction; that the whole reason why He suffered and
died was to exhibit or commend to us charity.
CHAPTER IX
That Christ came into the world, not only to instruct us, but also to free us from sin.
23. But what profits it that He should instruct us if
He did not first restore us by His grace? Or are we
not in vain instructed if the body of sin is not first
destroyed in us, that we should no more serve sin?
If all the benefit that we derive from Christ consists in
the exhibition of His virtues, it follows that Adam must
be said to harm us only by the exhibition of sin. But
in truth the medicine given was proportioned to the
disease. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall
all be made alive (1 Cor. xv. 22).
As is the one, so is
the other. If the life which Christ gives is nothing
else but His instruction, the death which Adam gave
is in like manner only his instruction; so that the one
by his example leads men to sin, the other by His
example and His Word leads them to a holy life and
to love Him. But if we rest in the Christian faith,
and not in the heresy of Pelagius, and confess that by
generation and not by example was the sin of Adam
imparted to us, and by sin death, let us also confess
that it is necessary for righteousness to be restored to
us by Christ, not by instruction, but by regeneration,
and by righteousness life (Rom. v. 18). And if this
be so, how can Peter say that the only purpose and
cause of the Incarnation was that He might enlighten
the world by the light of His wisdom and inflame
it with love of Him? Where, then, is redemption?
There come from Christ, as he deigns to confess,
merely illumination and enkindling to love. Whence
come redemption and liberation?
24. Grant that the coming of Christ profits only
those who are able to conform their lives to His, and
to repay to Him the debt of love, what about babes?
What light of wisdom will he give to those who have
barely seen the light of life? Whence will they gain
power to ascend to God who have not even learned
to love their mothers? Will the coming of Christ
profit them nothing? Is it of no avail to them that
they have been planted together with Him by baptism
in the likeness of His death, since through the weakness of their age they are not able to know of, or to
love, Christ? Our redemption, he says, consists in
that supreme love which is inspired in us by the
passion of Christ. Therefore, infants have no redemption because they have not that supreme love. Perhaps
he holds that as they have no power to love, so neither
have they necessity to perish, that they have no need
to be regenerated in Christ because they have received
no damage from their generation from Adam. If
he thinks this, he thinks foolishness with Pelagius.
Whichever of these two opinions he holds, his ill-will
to the sacrament of our salvation is evident; and in
attributing the whole of our salvation to devotion, and
nothing of it to regeneration, it is evident too that, as
far as he can, he would empty of meaning the dispensation of this deep mystery; for he places the glory of
our redemption and the great work of salvation, not
in the virtue of the Cross, not in the blood paid as its
price, but in our advances in a holy life. But God
forbid that I should glory save in the Cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ (Gal. vi. 14), in which are our salvation, life, and resurrection.
25. And, indeed, I see three chief virtues in this
work of our salvation: the form of humility in which
God emptied Himself; the measure of charity which
He stretched out even to death, and that the death of
the Cross; the mystery of redemption, by which He
bore that death which He underwent. The former
two of these without the last are as if you were to
paint on the air. A very great and most necessary
example of humility, a great example of charity, and
one worthy of all acceptation, has He set us; but they
have no foundation, and, therefore, no stability, if redemption be wanting. I wish to follow with all my
strength the lowly Jesus; I wish Him, who loved me
and gave Himself for me, to embrace me with the
arms of His love, which suffered in my stead; but I
must also feed on the Paschal Lamb, for unless I eat
His Flesh and drink His Blood I have no life in me.
It is one thing to follow Jesus, another to hold Him,
another to feed on Him. To follow Him is a life-giving
purpose; to hold and embrace Him a solemn joy;
to feed on Him a blissful life. For His flesh is meat
indeed, and His blood is drink indeed. The bread of God
is He who cometh down from Heaven and giveth life to
the world (S. John vi. 56, 33). What stability is there
for joy, what constancy of purpose, without life?
Surely no more than for a picture without a solid
basis. Similarly neither the examples of humility nor
the proofs of charity are anything without the sacrament
of our redemption.
26. These results of the labour of the hands of your
son, my lord and father, you now hold, such as they
are, against a few heads of this new heresy; in which
if you see nothing besides my zeal, yet I have meanwhile satisfied my own conscience. For since there
was nothing that I could do against the injury to the
faith, which I deplored, I thought it worth while to
warn him, whose arms are the power of God, for the
destruction of contrary imaginations, to destroy every
high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of
God, and to bring every thought into captivity to the
obedience of Christ. There are other points in his
other writings, not few nor less evil; but the limits of
my time and of a letter do not allow me to reply to
them. Moreover, I do not think it necessary, since
they are so manifest, that they may be easily refuted
even by ordinary faith. Still, I have collected some
and sent them to you.
LETTER LXI (A.D. 1138)
To Louis the Younger, King of the French.
He endeavours to defend the election of Geoffrey, Prior of Clairvaux, to the See of
Langres; to which the King had appeared adverse.
1. If the whole world were to conjure me to join it in some
enterprise against your royal Majesty, I should still through fear of God not
dare lightly to offend a King ordained by Him. Nor am I ignorant who it is that
has said, Whosoever resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance
of God (Rom. xiii. 2).
Nor yet do I forget how contrary is lying to the Christian calling and still
more so to my profession. I say the truth, I lie not; what was done at Langres
in the matter of our Prior
This refers to Geoffrey, Bernard’s kinsman, who after
many disagreements had been at length unanimously taken from being third Prior
of Clairvaux to be Bishop of Langres, A.D. 1138.
was contrary to my expectation and my intention and that
of the Bishops. But there is One who knows how to gain the assent of the
unwilling, and who compels, as He wills, the adverse wills of man to subserve
His counsel. Why should I not fear for him whom I love as my own soul, that
danger which I have ever feared for myself? Why should I not shrink from the
companionship of those who bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay
them on men’s shoulders, but they themselves will not move them with one of
their fingers? Still, what has been done, has been done; nothing against you,
very much
against me. The staff of my weakness has been taken
from me, the light of mine eyes removed from me, my right arm cut off. All these
waves and storms have gone over me. Wrath has swallowed me up, and on no side do
I see any way to escape. When I fly from burdens, then I have them placed upon
me to my great discomfort. I feel that it is hard for me to kick against the
pricks. It would perhaps have been more tolerable for a willing horse than for
one that is restive and obstinate. For if there were any strength in me, would
it not be easier for me to bear these burdens on my own shoulders than on those
of others?
2. But I yield to Him that disposeth otherwise, to contend with
whom in wisdom or strength is neither prudent nor possible for either me or the
King. He is, indeed, terrible among the kings of the earth. It is a terrible
thing to fall into the hands of the living God, even for you, O King. How
grieved have I been to hear things of you so contrary to the fair promise of
your early days! How much more bitter will be the grief of the Church, after
having tasted first of such great joys, if, which God forbid, she shall chance
to be deprived of her pleasant hope of protection under the shield of your good
disposition, which up to the present has been held over her. Alas! the Virgin,
the Church of Rheims, has fallen,
This was after the death of Archbishop Reginald, which
happened A.D. 1139, on January 13th.
and there is none to lift her up. Langres, too, has
fallen, and there is none to stretch out the hand to help. May the goodness of
God divert your heart and mind from adding yet more to our grief, and from
heaping sorrow upon sorrow. Would that I may die before seeing a king of whom
good things were thought, and still better hoped for,
endeavouring to go against the counsel of God, stirring up against himself the
anger of the supreme Judge, bedewing the feet of the Father of the fatherless
with the tears of the afflicted, knocking at heaven’s door with the cries of the
poor, the prayers of the saints, and with the just complaints of Christ’s
beloved Bride, the Church of the living God. May all this never happen. I hope
for better things, and expect things more joyful. God will not forget to be
gracious, nor shut up His loving kindness in displeasure. He will not make His
Church sad through him, and because of him, by whom He has already made her so
much to rejoice. By His long-suffering He will preserve him whom He freely gave
us, and if you think anything otherwise, this also He will reveal to you, and
will teach your heart in wisdom. This is my wish, this is my prayer night and
day. Think this of me, think it of my brethren. The truth shall not be sinned
against by us, nor the King’s honour and the good of his kingdom diminished.
3. We give thanks to your clemency for the kindly answer which
you deigned to send us. But still we are terrified to delay, as we see the land
given over to plunder and robbery. The land is yours; and we plainly see and
mourn the disgrace brought on your kingdom by your orders that we should abstain
from our rights, inasmuch as there is no one to defend them. For in what else
that has been done can the king’s majesty be truly said to have been diminished?
The election was duly held; the person elected is faithful, which he would not
be if he wished to hold your lands otherwise than through you. He has not yet
stretched
out his hand to your lands, he has not yet entered your
city, he has not yet put himself forward in any affair,
though most earnestly pressed to do so by the united
voice of clergy and people, by the oppression of the
afflicted, and by the prayers of all good men. And
since this is the state of affairs there is, you see, need
for counsel to be quickly taken, not less for the sake of
your honour than our necessity. And unless your
Serenity give answer according to their petition, by
the messengers who bring this, to your faithful people
who look to you, the hearts of many religious men
who are now devoted to you will be turned against
you (which would not be expedient), and I fear that
no little loss will accrue to the regalia belonging to the
Church, which yet are yours.
LETTER LXII (A.D. 1139)
To Pope Innocent.
On behalf of Falco, Archbishop elect of Lyons.
I think that I, who have so many times been listened
to in the affairs of others, shall not be confounded in
my own. I, my lord, hold the cause of my Archbishop
to be my own, being a member of him, and knowing
that there is nothing that affects the head but what
touches me, which, nevertheless, I would not say if
the man had taken this honour to himself, and had not
been called by God, as was Moses. Nor can I think
that it was the work of any but Him that the votes of
so many men were so readily given him, that there
was not even any hesitation, still less opposition. And
deservedly so. He is distinguished not only for his
high birth, but also for the nobility of his mind, for
his knowledge, and his irreproachable life. In short,
the integrity of his name fears not the tooth even of a
foe. What, therefore, has been so done for so good a
man is surely worthy to obtain the favour of the
Apostolic See, the fulness of honour, which is the
only thing now lacking, to increase the joy of its
people that has grown accustomed to its kindness, or,
I may say, to the liberality which he has fully deserved.
This is what the whole Church, with most earnest
supplication, implores; this is what your son, with
his usual presumption, entreats of you.
LETTER LXIII (A.D. 1139)
To the Same, in the Name of Godfrey, Bishop of Langres.
He expresses the same thought as in the preceding Letter.
Amidst the numerous evils which. nowadays are
seen in the churches on the occasion of elections the
Lord hath looked down from heaven upon our Mother
Church of Lyons, and has without strife given it a
worthy successor to Peter of pious memory, its Archbishop, in the person of Falco, its Dean. I ask, my
lord, that he who has been unanimously elected by his
fellows, promoted for the good of all, and duly consecrated, may receive at your hands the fulness of
honour that belongs to his office. And what makes
me seek this is not so much consciousness of his
merits, but of my duty-duty laid upon me not only
by the metropolitan dignity of that Church, but
because I am placed in this position in order that
I may bear my testimony to the truth.
LETTER LXIV (A.D. 1139)
To the Above-Named Falco.
Bernard recommends to hint the interests of certain Religious.
The Lord Bishop and I have written, as we thought
we ought to do, to my lord the Pope on your behalf,
and you have a copy of your letters. It is our determination to stand by you with all our might, because
of the good which we hope for from you for the
Church. It concerns you so to act that we may not
be disappointed of our hope. For the rest, if I have
found favour in your sight I pray you think of those
poor and needy ones at the house of Benissons Dieu.
Benissons Dieu was a Cistercian Abbey, an offshoot of Clairvaux, in
the Diocese of Lyons, and was founded A.D. 1138. Alberic was its first
Abbot. Not far from it was the monastery of Savigny, of the order of S.
Benedict, in the same diocese. Its Abbot was Iterius, of whom Bernard
here complains.
Whatsoever you do to one of them you will do to me,
nay, to Christ. For they are both poor, and they live
amongst the poor. I especially implore you to prevent
the monks of Savigny from molesting them, for they
are calumniating them unjustly, as I consider. Or if
they think that they have justice on their side, judge
between them. I ask also that my son, Abbot Alberic,
though well deserving of your favour through his own
merits, may still be in even greater regard through my
recommendation. For I love him tenderly, as a
mother loves her only child, and he that loveth me
will love him. In fact, I shall find out whether you
care for me by the way you treat him. For the farther
he is away from me the more necessary is it that he
should have consolation from your fatherly care.
LETTER XLV (circa A.D. 1140)
To the Canons of Lyons, on the Conception of S. Mary.
Bernard states that the Festival of the Conception was new;
that it rested on no legitimate foundation; and that it
should not have been instituted without consulting the
Apostolic See, to whose opinion he submits.
1. It is well known that among all the Churches of
France that of Lyons is first in importance, whether
we regard the dignity of its See, its praiseworthy
regulations, or its honourable zeal for learning. Where
was there ever the vigour of discipline more flourishing, a more grave and religious life, more consummate
wisdom, a greater weight of authority, a
more imposing antiquity? Especially in the Offices of the Church,
that of Lyons has always shown itself opposed to
attempts at sudden innovation, and it is a proof of her
fulness of judgment that she has never suffered herself
to be stained with the mark of rash and hasty levity.
Wherefore I cannot but wonder that there should have
been among you at this time some who wished to
sully this splendid fame of your Church by introducing a new Festival, a rite which the Church knows
nothing of, and which reason does not prove, nor
ancient tradition hand down to us. Have we the pretension to be more learned or more devoted than the
Fathers? It is a dangerous presumption to establish
in such a matter what their prudence left unestablished.
And the matter in question is of such a nature that it
could not possibly have escaped the diligence of the
Fathers if they had not thought that they ought not to
occupy themselves with it.
2. The Mother of the Lord, you say, ought greatly
to be honoured. You say well, but the honour of a
queen loves justice. The royal Virgin does not need
false honour, since she is amply supplied with true
titles to honour and badges of her dignity. Honour
indeed the purity of her flesh, the sanctity of her life,
wonder at her motherhood as a virgin, adore her
Divine offspring. Extol the prodigy by which she
brought into the world without pain the Son, whom
she had conceived without concupiscence. Proclaim
her to be reverenced by the angels, to have been
desired by the nations, to have been known beforehand by Patriarchs and Prophets, chosen by God out
of all women and raised above them all. Magnify
her as the medium by whom grace was displayed, the
instrument of salvation, the restorer of the ages; and
finally extol her as having been exalted above the
choirs of angels to the celestial realms. These things
the Church sings concerning her, and has taught me
to repeat the same things in her praise, and what I
have learnt from the Church I both hold securely
myself and teach to others; what I have not received
from the Church I confess I should with great difficulty admit. I have received then from the Church
that day to be reverenced with the highest veneration,
when being taken up from this sinful earth, she made
entry into the heavens; a festival of most honoured
joy. With no less clearness have I learned in the
Church to celebrate the birth of the Virgin, and from
the Church undoubtedly to hold it to have been holy
and joyful; holding most firmly with the Church,
that she received in the womb that she should come
into the world holy. And indeed I read concerning
Jeremiah, that before he came forth from the womb
[
ventre
: otherwise de vulva]
he was sanctified, and I
think no otherwise of John the Baptist, who, himself
in the womb of his mother, felt the presence of his
Lord in the womb (S. Luke i. 41). It is matter for
consideration whether the same opinion may not be
held of holy David, on account of what he said in
addressing God: In Thee I have been strengthened
from the womb: Thou art He who took me out of my
mother’s bowels (Ps. lxxi. 6); and
again: I was cast
upon Thee from the womb: Thou art my God from my
mother’s belly (Ps. xxii. 10). And Jeremiah is thus
addressed: Before I formed thee in the belly I knew
thee; and before thou camest out of the womb I sanctified
thee (Jer. i. 5). How beautifully the Divine oracle has
distinguished between conception in the womb and
birth from the womb! and showed that if the one
was foreseen only, the other was blessed beforehand
with the gift of holiness: that no one might think that
the glory of Jeremiah consisted only in being the
object of the foreknowledge of God, but also of His
predestination.
3. Let us, however, grant this in the case of Jeremiah. What
shall be said of John the Baptist, of whom an angel announced beforehand that he
should be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother’s womb? I cannot
suppose that this is to be referred to predestination or to foreknowledge. For
the words of the angel were without doubt fulfilled in their time, as he
foretold; and the man (as cannot be doubted) filled with the Holy Ghost at the
time and place appointed, as he predicted. But most certainly the Holy Ghost
sanctified the man whom He filled. But how far this sanctification availed
against original sin, whether for him, or for that prophet, or for any other who
was thus prevented by grace, I would not rashly determine. But of these holy
persons whom God has sanctified, and brought forth from the womb with the same
sanctification which they have received in the womb, I do not hesitate to say
that the taint of original sin which they contracted in conception, could not in
any manner take away or fetter by the mere act of birth, the benediction already
bestowed. Would any one dare to say that a child filled with the Holy Ghost,
would remain notwithstanding a child of wrath; and if he had died in his
mother’s womb, where he had received this fulness of the Spirit, would endure
the pains of damnation? That opinion is very severe; I, however, do not dare to
decide anything respecting the question by my own judgment. However that may be,
the Church, which regards and declares, not the nativity, but only the death of
other saints as precious, makes a singular exception for him
of whom an angel singularly said, and
many shall rejoice in his birth (Luke i. 14., 15), and with rejoicing
honours his nativity. For why should not the birth be holy, and even glad and
joyful, of one who leaped with joy even in the womb of his mother?
4. The gift, therefore, which has certainly been conferred upon
some, though few, mortals, cannot for a moment be supposed to have been denied
to that so highly favoured Virgin, through whom the whole human race came forth
into life. Beyond doubt the mother of the Lord also was holy before birth; nor
is holy Church at all in error in accounting the day of her nativity holy, and
celebrating it each year with solemn and thankful joy. I consider that the
blessing of a fuller sanctification descended upon her, so as not only to
sanctify her birth, but also to keep her life pure from all sin; which gift is
believed to have been bestowed upon none other born of women. This singular
privilege of sanctity, to lead her life without any sin, entirely befitted the
queen of virgins, who should bear the Destroyer of sin and death, who should
obtain the gift of life and righteousness for all. Therefore, her birth was
holy, since the abundant sanctity bestowed upon it made it holy even from the
womb.
5. What addition can possibly be made to these honours? That her
conception, also, they say, which preceded her honourable birth, should be
honoured, since if the one had not first taken place, neither would the other,
which is honoured. But what if some one else, following a similar train of
reasoning, should assert that the honours of a festival ought to be given to
each of her parents, then to her grand-parents,
and then to their parents, and so on ad
infinitum? Thus we should have festivals without number. Such a frequency of
joys befits Heaven, not this state of exile. It is the happy lot of those who
dwell there, not of strangers and pilgrims. But a writing is brought forward,
given, as they say, by revelation from on high,
A writing of this kind is attributed to an English
abbot named Elsin in the works of Anselm, pp. 505, 507 of the new edition.
as if any one would not be able to bring forward another
writing in which the Virgin should seem to demand the same honours to her
parents also, saying, according to the commandment of the Lord,
Honour thy father and thy mother (Exod. xx. 12).
I easily persuade myself not to be influenced by such writings, which are
supported neither by reason nor by any certain authority. For how does the
consequence follow that since the conception has preceded the birth, and the
birth is holy, the conception should be considered holy also? Did it make the
birth holy because it preceded it? Although the one came first that the other
might be, yet not that it might be holy. From whence came that holiness to the
conception which was to be transmitted to the birth which followed? Was it not
rather because the conception preceded without holiness that it was needful for
the being conceived to be sanctified, that a holy birth might then follow? Or
shall we say that the birth which was later than the conception shared with it
its holiness? It might be, indeed, that the sanctification which was worked in
her when conceived passed over to the birth which followed; but it could not be
possible that it should
have a retrospective effect upon the conception which
had preceded it.
6. Whence, then, was the holiness of that conception? Shall it be
said that Mary was so prevented by grace that, being holy before being
conceived, she was therefore conceived without sin; or that, being holy before
being born, she has therefore communicated holiness to her birth? But in order
to be holy it is necessary to exist, and a person does not exist before being
conceived. Or perhaps, when her parents were united, holiness was mingled with
the conception itself, so that she was at once conceived and sanctified. But
this is not tenable in reason. For how can there be sanctity without the
sanctifying Spirit, or the co-operation of the Holy Spirit with sin? Or how
could there not be sin where concupiscence was not wanting? Unless, perhaps,
some one will say that she was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and not by man,
which would be a thing hitherto unheard of. I say, then, that the Holy Spirit
came upon her, not within her, as the Angel declared: The Holy
Spirit shall come upon thee (S. Luke i. 35). And if it is permitted to say
what the Church thinks, and the Church thinks that which is true, I say that she
conceived by the Holy Spirit, but not that she was conceived by Him; that she
was at once Mother and Virgin, but not that she was born of a virgin. Otherwise,
where will be the prerogative of the Mother of the Lord, to have united in her
person the glory of maternity and that of virginity, if you give the same glory
to her mother also? This is not to honour the Virgin, but to detract from her
honour. If, therefore, before her conception she could not
possibly be sanctified, since she did not exist, nor in
the conception itself, because of the sin which inhered in it, it remains to be
believed that she received sanctification when existing in the womb after
conception, which, by excluding sin, made her birth holy, but not her
conception.
7. Wherefore, although it has been given to some, though few, of
the sons of men to be born with the gift of sanctity, yet to none has it been
given to be conceived with it. So that to One alone should be reserved this
privilege, to Him who should make all holy, and coming into the world, He alone,
without sin should make an atonement for sinners. The Lord Jesus, then, alone
was conceived by the Holy Ghost, because He alone was holy before He was
conceived. He being excepted, all the children of Adam are in the same case as
he who confessed of himself with great humility and truth, I was
shapen in iniquity, and in sin hath my mother conceived me (Ps. li. 6).
8. And as this is so, what ground can there be for a Festival of
the Conception of the Virgin? On what principle, I say, is either a conception
asserted to be holy which is not by the Holy Ghost, not to say that it is by
sin, or a festival be established which is in no wise holy? Willingly the
glorious Virgin will be without this honour, by which either a sin seems to be
honoured or a sanctity supposed which is not a fact. And, besides, she will by
no means be pleased by a presumptuous novelty against the custom of the Church,
a novelty which is the mother of rashness, the sister of superstition, the
daughter of levity. For if such a festival seemed advisable, the authority of
the Apostolic See ought first to have been consulted, and
the simplicity of inexperienced persons ought not to
have been followed so thoughtlessly and precipitately.
And, indeed, I had before noted that error in some
persons; but I appeared not to take notice of it,
dealing gently with a devotion which sprang from
simplicity of heart and love of the Virgin. But now
that the superstition has taken hold upon wise men,
and upon a famous and noble Church, of which I am
specially the son,
The Church of Lyons was the Mother Church of Bernard because of
its “metropolitan rights,” as he himself says in Letter 172, since he was
born at Fontaines, near Dijon, and lived at the monastery of Clairvaux,
both of which places were in the Diocese of Langres and Province of
Lyons.
I know not whether I could longer
pass it over without gravely offending you all. But
what I have said is in submission to the judgment of
whosoever is wiser than myself; and especially I refer
the whole of it, as of all matters of a similar kind, to
the authority and decision of the See of Rome, and I
am prepared to modify my opinion if in anything I
think otherwise than that See.
LETTER LXVI (A.D. 1135)
To the Patriarch of Jerusalem.
Having received many letters from him, Bernard replies in a friendly manner, and praises the soldiers of the Temple.
I shall seem ungrateful if I do not reply to the
many patriarchal letters which you have vouchsafed
me. But what more can I do than salute him who
has saluted me? For you have prevented me with
the blessings of goodness, you have graciously set me
the example of sending letters across the sea, you
have deprived me of the first share of humility and
charity. What fitting return can I now make? In
truth, you have left me nothing which in my turn I
can give back; for even of your worldly treasures you
have been careful to make me a sharer in giving me
part of the Cross of the Lord. What then? Ought I
to omit what I can do because I cannot do what I
ought? I show you my affection at least and my
goodwill by merely replying and returning your salutation, which is all that I can do at present, separated
as we are by so great a tract of sea and land. I will
show, if ever I have the opportunity, that I love not
in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth. Give
a thought, I pray you, to the soldiers of the Temple,
and of your great piety take care of these zealous defenders of the Church. If you cherish those who have
devoted their lives for their brethren’s sake you will do
a thing acceptable to God and well-pleasing to man.
Concerning the place to which you invite me, my
brother Andrew will tell you my mind.
THE END
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
Edinburgh & London
Indexes
Index of Scripture References
Index of Latin Words and Phrases
- Ecce timor Domini ipsa est sapientia:
1
- Esse:
1
- Exoneratus; exhonoratus.:
1
- Filius sapiens lætificat patrem.:
1
- Forefecit:
1
- Forisfactura:
1
- Forisfactus:
1
- Gravidare; gravare.:
1
- Materiatum; materia.:
1
- Non disputante, sed dementante.:
1
- Saccus:
1
- Servus forisfactus:
1
- Suus ille quod suus.:
1
- Vinctus:
1
- anima mundi:
1
- colloquia:
1
- concilio:
1
- consilia:
1
- consilio:
1
- conversi:
1
- forefactum:
1
- junctus:
1
- propria:
1
2
3
- proprium:
1
2
3
4
- substantia:
1
- substantiva:
1
- ventre:
1
- viderunt:
1
- voluntatem:
1
Index of Pages of the Print Edition