Some Letters of Saint Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux [ThML]
<generalInfo> <description>"The letters of great and good men give us information about them which can be derived from no other source," say Frank Gasquet, one of the organizers of this book. Unlike any other literature, a letter provides us with a window into the soul of its author; it allows us to see the author's personal characteristics, cares, emotions, gifts, and vices. It addition to their great historical importance, the letters of Saint Bernard give us an indicator of St. Bernard's religious and political influence. St. Bernard exchanged letters with men and women of many different statures--his correspondents included monk, deacons, bishops, abbots, kings, holy virgins, countesses, popes, dukes, and duchesses. St. Bernard was always lively in his presentation and pleasant in his tone, even when he was fiercely defending his faith. He frequently incorporated biblical allusions in his writing. He also relied heavily on the trusted teachings of St. Ambrose and St. Augustine, two of his favorite church fathers. There is much truth and warmth to be found in the letters of St. Bernard.<br></br><br></br>Emmalon Davis<br></br>CCEL Staff Writer</description> <pubHistory></pubHistory> <comments></comments> </generalInfo> <printSourceInfo> <published>London: John Hodges, 1904</published> </printSourceInfo> <electronicEdInfo> <publisherID>ccel</publisherID> <authorID>bernard</authorID> <bookID>letters</bookID> <version>1.0</version> <editorialComments></editorialComments> <revisionHistory></revisionHistory> <status></status> <DC> <DC.Title>Some Letters of Saint Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux</DC.Title> <DC.Creator sub="Author" scheme="short-form">St. Bernard of Clairvaux</DC.Creator> <DC.Creator sub="Author" scheme="file-as">Bernard, of Clairvaux, Saint (1090 or 91-1153)</DC.Creator> <DC.Publisher>Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library</DC.Publisher> <DC.Subject scheme="LCCN">BX4700</DC.Subject> <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh1">Christian Denominations</DC.Subject> <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh2">Roman Catholic Church</DC.Subject> <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh3">Biography and portraits</DC.Subject> <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh4">Individual</DC.Subject> <DC.Subject scheme="lcsh5">Saints, A-Z</DC.Subject> <DC.Subject scheme="ccel">All; </DC.Subject> <DC.Contributor sub="Digitizer"></DC.Contributor> <DC.Date sub="Created">2000-06-13</DC.Date> <DC.Type>Text.Monograph</DC.Type> <DC.Format scheme="IMT">text/html</DC.Format> <DC.Identifier scheme="URL">/ccel/bernard/letters.html</DC.Identifier> <DC.Source></DC.Source> <DC.Language>en-us</DC.Language> <DC.Rights>Public Domain</DC.Rights> </DC> <comments></comments> </electronicEdInfo>
Title Page
iTHE COMPLETE WORKS OF
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.
From the Translation of the late Dr. EALES
Vicar of Stalisfield
SELECTED, WITH A PREFACE, BY
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.
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 vi 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 viioutline 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 viiiAbelard 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 ixthe 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.
xContents
xiLETTER | 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 |
xii 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 |
xiii 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 |
xiv 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. To the Canons Regular of Horricourt.
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
2practise 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 (
Letter II. To the Monk Adam.
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. 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
5discussion 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 (
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 (
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 8are, 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 9obedience 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 (
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
11speak 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 (
8. How then can either the permission of your
12abbot 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 (
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
13Pope. 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 (
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 15adequate 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
16heaven, Woe to him through whom scandal
cometh (
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
17to 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,[1] so that you had no occasion to discuss the least word
that fell from his lips, but only to obey it without hesitation! What exemplary
obedience! The least word, an iota, which drops from the lips of his superiors
finds him obedient! He does not examine what is enjoined, he is content because
it is enjoined![1] 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 (
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 (
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 21ancient 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, 22and 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?
23Every 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 (
In fact, the abbot himself ought to consider the 24advice 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 (
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 (
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 27what 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. To Bruno, Archbishop Elect of Cologne.
Bernard having been consulted by Bruno as to whether he ought to accept the See of Cologne, so replies as to hold him in suspense, and render him in awe of the burden of so great a charge. He advises him to seek counsel of God in prayer.
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?
28If 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 (
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 (
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
30honour 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 (
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 31secret things of His Providence, of which we are ignorant, I will beg Him, with humble prayer and earnest supplication, that He will work in you and with respect to you that which shall be for His glory, and at the same time for your good. And you have also the Lord Norbert,[1] whom you may conveniently consult in person on all such subjects. For that good man is more fitted than I to explain the mysterious acts of Providence, as he is nearer to God by his holiness.
Letter IV. To the Prior and Monks of the Grand Chartreuse.
He commends himself to their prayers.
To the very dear Lord and Reverend father Guigues, Prior of the Grande Chartreuse, and to the holy brethren who are with him, Brother Bernard of Clairvaux offers his humble service.
In the first place, when lately I approached your parts, I was
prevented by unfavourable circumstances from coming to see you and to make your
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
32endure, 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 (
Letter V. To Peter, Cardinal Deacon.
33He 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. 34You 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. 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
35should 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 (
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 (
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"
(
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
39thus 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 (
Letter VII. To Matthew, the Legate.
40He 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? (
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 41I 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. To Gilbert, Bishop of London, Universal Doctor.
42He 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
43money; 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 (
Letter IX. To Ardutio (or Ardutius, Bishop Elect of Geneva.
44He 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 45see, 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. 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 (
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. The Abbot of Saint Nicasius at Rheims.
47He 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
(
2. In order, then, that this dreadful tempest may not submerge you, nor the frightful abyss swallow you up, and the unfathomable pit shut her mouth upon you, employ all the efforts of your prudence not to be overcome of evil, but to overcome evil with good. You will overcome if you fix solidly your hope in God, and wait patiently the issue of the affair. If that monk shall return to a sense of his duty, whether for fear of you, or because of his own painful condition, well and good; but if not, it is good for you to humble yourself under the mighty hand of God, nor to wish uselessly to resist His supreme ordering; because if it is of God it cannot be undone. You should rather endeavour to repress the sparkles of your indignation, however just, by a reflection which a certain saint is said in a similar case to have uttered. For when some of his monks were mixing demands with bitter reproaches because he did not require back again a fugitive who had fled to another monastery in defiance of his authority, “By no means,” he said, “wheresoever he may be, if he is a good man, he is mine.”
3. I should be wrong to counsel you thus, if I did not oblige myself to act thus. For when one of my brethren, not only a professed religious, but also nearly akin to me,[1] was received and retained at Cluny against my will, I was afflicted, indeed, but 49endured 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. To Louis, King of France.
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.
501. The King of heaven and earth has given you a kingdom on earth,
and will bestow upon you one in heaven if you study to govern with justice and
wisdom that which you have received. This is what we wish for you, and pray for
on your behalf, that you may reign here faithfully, and there in happiness. But
why do you of late put so many obstacles in the way of our prayers for you,
which, if you recollect, you formerly with such humility requested? With what
confidence can we now presume to lift up our hands for you to the Spouse of the
Church, while you so inconsiderately, and without the slightest cause (as we
think), afflict the Church? Grave indeed is the complaint she lays against you
before her Spouse and Lord, that she finds you an opposer whom she accepted as a
protector. Have you reflected whom you are thus attacking? Not really the Bishop
of Paris,[1]
but the Lord of Paradise, a terrible God
who cuts off the spirit of Princes (
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 51honoured 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[1] 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. 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 53order 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. To Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln
54A 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 (
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 (
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 (
Letter XV. To Alvisus, Abbot of Anchin.
57He praises the fatherly gentleness of Alvisus towards Godwin. He excuses himself, and asks pardon for having admitted him.
To Alvisus, Abbot of Anchin.[1]
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 (
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 (
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
60consolation, indeed, but none the
less for a glory to you? “For a wise son is the glory of his father” (
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 61you 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 (
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
63bear? This weight was able to render fruitful the
Virgin’s womb, but not to burden it.[1]
This weight sustained the very arms of the aged Simeon,
in which He was received. This caught up Paul, though with weighty and
corruptible body, into the third heaven. I seek in all things to find if
possible something like to this weight which bears them who bear it, and I find
nothing but the wings of birds which in any degree resembles it, for these in a
certain singular manner render the body of birds at once more weighty and more
easily moved. Wonderful work of nature! that at the same time increases the
material and lightens the burden, and while the mass is greater the burden is in
the same degree less. Thus plainly in the wings is expressed the likeness of the
burden of Christ, because they 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 (
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 (
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?
(
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 66our 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 67tried, 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 68rather 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 69mind, 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—
<verse> <l>“When have I not made the perils which I feared </l> <l>Greater than they really were?”[1]</l> </verse>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 70 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. 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,[1]
but have only heard of you, what you were and what you
are now, wonder and
71glorify 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 (
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 (
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, 74the pomp, which followed you everywhere.[1] At length you laid down your pride, you put off your splendid dress, and the universal indignation ceased at once. Thus you had at the same time satisfied those who complained of you, and even merited our praises. For what in human doings is deserving of praise, if this is not considered most worthy of admiration and approval? It is true that a change so sudden and so complete is not the work of man, but of God. If in heaven the conversion of one sinner arouses great joy, what gladness will the conversion of an entire community cause, and of such a community as yours?
4. That spot so noble by its antiquity and the royal favour, was
made to serve the convenience of worldly business, and to be a meeting-place for
the royal troops. They used to render to Caesar the things which were Caesar’s
promptly and fully; but not with equal fidelity did they render the things of
God to God. I speak what I have heard, not what I have seen: the very cloister
itself of your monastery was frequently, they say, crowded with soldiers,
occupied with the transaction of business, resounding with noise and quarrels,
and sometimes even 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
75quiet 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 (
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
76and 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 (
6. When your breasts are beaten with penitent hands, and your
pavements worn with your knees, your altars heaped with vows and devout
prayers,
77your 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
(
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 (
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 Scripture79
refers to: The sons of men are vain; they are
deceitful upon the weights, so that they deceive even more than vanity (
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 (
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
81words; 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 (
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,[1] 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 82of 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 83may 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.[1] What king has ever put at the head of his army an unwarlike clerk instead of some brave soldier? What clerk, again, has ever thought it otherwise than unworthy of him to be bound to obey any lay person whatsoever? The very sign which he bears upon his head[1] 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 84priest, 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 85a 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. 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,[1]
you ought to receive with the same
cheerfulness troubles from the hand of the Lord as you do blessings. Indeed, you
ought, after the example of holy David,[1]
not so much to be angry with those people who have caused
you such great sufferings, although they are your own servants, as to
86know 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 (
Letter XXI. 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
87I 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 (
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 (
Letter XXII. To Simon, Abbot of S. Nicholas
90Bernard 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? (
2. All those, indeed, who wish to live piously in
Christ suffer persecution (
Letter XXIII. 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.”[1] 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[1] 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 93until 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 94the 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. To Oger, Regular Canon.
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 95opportunity 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, 96to 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;[1] it must be decided also by those 97wiser 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 98done, 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[1]
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 (
4. But to what end do I strive in these arguments?
99To 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 (
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
(
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 101I 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 102master. For you were able, when freed from your pastoral charge, to remain under your own authority, since in becoming abbot you were released from the obedience owed to your former abbot.[1] But you did not wish to be under no authority but your own, and as you had declined to rule over others, so you shrunk from rule over yourself; and inasmuch as you thought yourself not fit to be the master of others, so also you did not trust yourself to be your own master, and in your distrust of yourself, even for your own guidance, would not be your own 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 103what 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 104for 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,[1]
out of my poverty all that I had. Why art thou ashamed,
and why does thy countenance fall? You have obliged me. You have asked for a
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
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 (
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 (
Letter XXV. 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 108for 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
109and 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 (
3. As for the little treatise which you ask for, I 110had asked for it back again from the person to whom I had lent it, even before your messenger came to me, but I have not yet received it; but I will take care that at all events when you come here, if you are ever coming, you shall find it here, see and read it, but not transcribe it. For that other treatise which you mention that you have transcribed I had sent to you to be read, indeed, but not to be copied; and I do not know to what good purpose or for whose good you can have done it. In sending it to you I did not intend that the Abbot of S. Thierry should have it,[1] and I had not bidden you to send it; but I am not displeased that you have done so. For why should I be afraid that my little book should pass under his eyes, under whose gaze I would willingly spread my whole soul if I were able? But, alas! why does the mention of so good a man present itself at such a time of hurried discourse, when it is not permitted to me to linger, as would be fitting, and converse with you about that excellent man, when I ought already to have come to the end of my letter? I entreat you to make an opportunity of going to see him, and do not give out my book to be read or copied until you shall have gone over the whole of it with him; read it then together and correct what in it needs correction, that every word in it may have the support of two witnesses. After that, I commit to the judgment of each of you 111whether 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[1] 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. To the Same.
112He 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 (
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.
114Therefore, 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 (
3. But what am I doing? It will be wonderful if you do not smile, seeing with what a flood of words I condemn those who are too full of words, and while I desire to commend silence to you, I plead against silence by my loquacity. Our dear Guerric,[1] concerning whose penitence and whose manner of life you wished to be assured, as far as I can judge from his actions, is walking worthy of the grace of God, and bringing forth works worthy of 115penitence. The little book which you ask of me I have not beside me just now. A certain friend of ours, with the same desire to read it as you, has kept it a long time, but not to frustrate altogether the desire of your piety,[1] I send you another which I have just completed on the Glories of the Virgin Mother, which, as I have no other copy of it, I beg that you will return to me as soon as possible, or bring it with you if you will be coming here soon.
Letter XXVII. 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 116quite convinced that it will be the same for me when you receive my letter, and that when you read it I shall not be absent. It is a labour for each of us to scribble to the other, and for our messengers a fatigue to carry our letters from the one to the other, but the heart feels neither labour nor fatigue in loving. Let those things cease, then, which without labour cannot be carried on, and let us practise only that which, the more earnestly it is done, seems to cost the less labour. Let our minds, I say, rest from dictating, our lips from conversing, our fingers from writing, our messengers from running to and fro.[1] But let not our hearts rest from meditating day and night on the law of the Lord, which is the law of love. The more we cease to be occupied in doing this the less quiet shall we enjoy, and the more engrossed we are in it, so much the more calm and repose we shall feel from it. Let us love and be loved, striving to benefit ourselves in the other, and the other in ourselves. For those whom we love, on those do we rely, as those who love us rely in turn on us. Thus to love in God is to love charity, and therefore it is to labour for charity, to strive to be loved for the sake of God.
2. But what am I doing? I promised brevity, and I am sliding into prolixity. If you desire news of Brother Guerric, or rather since you do so, he so runs not as uncertainly, so fights not as one that beateth the air. But since he knows that salvation depends not on him who fights, nor on him who 117runs, 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. To the Abbots Assembled at Soissons.
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, 118Abbot 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 (
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
119may 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 (
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
(
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 (
Letter XXIX. To Henry, King of England.
121He 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[1] 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 122you. And these scouts whom you see before you I have sent beforehand on this business to investigate wisely the state[1] 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[1] 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. To Henry, 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.
123It 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, 124if 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. To the Abbot of a Certain Monastery at York, from Which the Prior Had Departed, Taking Several Religious with Him.
1. You write to me from beyond the sea to ask of me advice which
I should have preferred that you
125had 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,
126like that of the Apostle, did not reproach them, their
peace would not have been disturbed (
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,
127accusing 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 (
Letter XXXII. 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,
128has 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.[1] 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 (
Letter XXXIII. To Richard, Abbot of Fountains, 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 130have 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 131for you within the narrow limits of this billet. But if anything is wanting, brother Geoffrey[1] will supply it by word of mouth.
Letter XXXIV. Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours, to the Abbot Bernard.
The reputation of Bernard for sanctity induces Hildebert to write to him and ask for his friendship.
1. Few, I believe, are ignorant that balsam is known by its scent, and the tree by its fruit. So, dearly beloved brother, there has reached even to me the report of you—how you are steadfast in holiness, and sound in doctrine. For though I am 132far 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 133held 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. 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
134you 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 (
Letter XXXVI. 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 (
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 (
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
(
Letter XXXVII. To Magister Geoffrey, of Loretto.
138He 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
139done its own work. It is now the time for action,
because they have destroyed the law. That beast of the Apocalypse (
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 140to 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. 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,[1] and the novices, their brother 141Bernard 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 142the 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 143Him 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. 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 (
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 145grant 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 146God, 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[1] 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[1]—who 147show themselves as brothers. They who are with me—Brother Bruno and Brother Gerard[1]—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
148given Me to finish, the same works bear
witness of Me (
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 149would 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 (
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? (
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 (
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 154by 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 (
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
156proof, 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 (
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
157nothing (
10. This, then, is that holy and secret counsel which the Son has
received from the Father by the Holy Spirit. This by the same Spirit He imparts
to His own whom He knows, in their justification, and by the imparting He
justifies. Thus in his justification each of the faithful receives the power to
begin to know himself even as he is known: when, for instance, there is given to
him some foretaste of his own future happiness, as he sees how it lay hid from
eternity in God, who foreordains it, but will appear more fully in God, who is
effecting it. But concerning the knowledge that he has now, for his part,
attained, let a man glory at present in the hope, not in the secure possession
of it. How must we pity those who possess as yet no token of their own calling
to this glad assembly of the righteous. Lord,
158
who hath believed our report? (
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 (
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
159perversity. This is a nation, he
says, that obeyeth not the voice of the Lord their God (
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 (
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.
1611. 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.[1] I saw it and rejoiced; and my prayer is
that my joy may be full—which it will not be until your promise is fulfilled.
You have fixed a time which you ought not to have transgressed. You have
transgressed it. What is that to me? To your own lord you shall stand or fall. I
have determined, because the danger is so imminent, to deal with you neither by
reproofs nor threats, but only by advice—and that only so far as you take it
kindly. If you shall hear me, well. If not, I judge no man; there is One who
seeketh and judgeth; for He who judgeth us is the Lord (
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.
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 (
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 (
Letter XLII. To the Illustrious Youth, Geoffrey de Perrone, and His Comrades.
165He 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 (
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 (
Letter XLIII. A Consolatory Letter to the Parents of Geoffrey.
168There 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” (
Letter XLIV. Concerning the Maccabees But to Whom Written is Unknown.
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
170omit 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 (
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 (
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
173rightly, 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 (
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
174be 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
(
5. But on what principle shall a death be accounted joyful
which is not accompanied by the joys of
175heaven? 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 (
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
176delivered (
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 (
Letter XLV. 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,[1] 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 (
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
179means, 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 (
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 180God, 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 (
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
(
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
183loudly 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 (
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 186one 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 187object 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.[1] Your serious fall and miserable case has moved me thus to presume. For whom of your contemporaries have you seen me reprimand? To whom have I ever addressed even the briefest letter? Not that I regarded them as saints, nor had nothing to blame in them.
9. 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,
188nor 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 (
10. Alas, how have you so soon grown weary of the Saviour, of
whom it is written, Honey and milk are under His tongue
(
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 (
12. What do you do in the town at all, O effeminate soldier? Your fellow soldiers whom you have
191deserted 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
(
Letter XLVI. 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 (
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
195memorial, 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
(
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
196which 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
(
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 (
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[1] 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? (
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? (
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 (
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 (
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 (
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 (
Letter XLVII. To the Brother of William, a Monk of Clairvaux.
206Bernard, 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
207each 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
(
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 (
Letter XLVIII. To Magister 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 209to 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
210make 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 (
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
212if 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 (
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
213that 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 (
Letter L
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 (
2. Return, I pray you; return before the deep
swallow thee up and the pit shut her mouth upon thee
(
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 (
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
(
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 (
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 (
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.
2226. 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.
223Under 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 (
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,[1] as
they say. You were not living unto God, because
you would not, nor to the world, because you could
not: you were anxious for one, unwelcome to the
other, and yet dead to both. So it must happen to
those who promise and do not perform, who make one show to the world, and in their hearts desire
something else. But now, by the mercy of God,
225you 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 (
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”[1] and “holy virgin” when, professing holiness, you did not live holily? Why did you let the veil on your head give a false impression of the reverence due to you, while your eye launched burning and passionate glances? Your head was clothed, indeed, with a veil, but it was lifted up with pride, and though you were under the symbol of modesty, your speech sounded far from modest. Your immoderate laughter, unreserved demeanour, and showy dress would have accorded better with the wimple[1] 226 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.
227He 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 228more 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 (
Letter LIV. To Ermengarde, Formerly Countess of Brittany.
230He 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 231affection 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; 232and 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 233solicitude 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.
234He 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,[1] 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
235have done it unto me (
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
236virtue. 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[1]
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 (
Letter LIX. To the Duchess of Burgundy.
237He 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 238servant. For, he cannot be perjured and yet at the same time keep faith with his Prince[1] Aye, and I see not only no gain to you, but also much danger arising, if those whom perhaps God has determined to join together should be put asunder by you. May the Lord grant His grace to you, most noble lady, so dear to me in Christ, and to your children, Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation. Spend your corn on Christ’s poor, that in eternity you may receive it with usury.
Letter LX
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.” 239I 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 240writings, 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, 241levity, 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, 242and 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, 243shaping 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 244before 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, 245« that those who abhor our words respecting the faith may be easily convinced when they hear that God the Father and God the Son are joined with us according to the sense of the words.” In what manner? “Let us ask, then,” he continues, 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 246his 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 247your 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.
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 248in 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.”
249III.—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.”
250IV.—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?” 251Again: “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 252is 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 253merits 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 254which 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
255and 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
(
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. 256the 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 (
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
257God 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 (
XII.—Of the power of binding and loosing.
“That which is said in S. Matthew, whatsoever thou
shall bind on earth, etc. (
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. To the Same, Against Certain Heads of Abaelard’s Heresies.
259To 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?
(
Chapter I.
260He 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 (
2. But on the other hand our theologian says:
“What is the use of speaking of doctrine unless
what we wish to teach can be explained so as to
be intelligible?” And so he promises understanding
to his hearers, even on those most sublime and
sacred truths which are hidden in the very bosom
of our holy faith; and he places degrees in the
Trinity, modes in the Majesty, numbers in the
Eternity. He has laid down, for example, that God
the Father is full power, the Son a certain kind of
power, the Holy Spirit no power. And that the
Son is related to the Father as force in particular to
force in general, as species to genus, as a thing
formed of material, to matter,[1] as man to animal, as
a brazen seal to brass. Did Arius ever go further?
Who can endure this? Who would not shut his
ears to such sacrilegious words? Who does not
shudder at such novel profanities of words and
ideas? He says also that “the Holy Spirit 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
262everything created. But the Apostle does riot deny
that they are of God, nor is he afraid to say: Of
whom are all things (
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? 263Let 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 264thus speaks in his book on the Undivided Trinity: “When I spoke of God alone I meant not the Person only of the Father, because I denied not that the Son and the Holy Spirit are of this same Substance of the Father.”
Chapter II.
In the Trinity it is not possible to admit any disparity: but equality in every way to be predicated.
4. Your holiness sees how in this man’s scheme, which is not reasoning but raving,[1] the Trinity does not hold together and the Unity is rendered 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.[1] 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 265the 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 266between 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. 267It 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 268and 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, 269and 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 270looking 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 (
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
272bitter 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 (
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.
274He 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 (
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 (
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 (
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
278them 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 (
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
280he 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 (
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,
281he 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 (
Chapter VII.
283He 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 (
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 (
Chapter VIII.
286Wherefore 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
287is 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 (
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.
[
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 289not 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 290whole 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 (
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
292to 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 (
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,
293another 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 (
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. 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 (
2. But I yield to Him that disposeth otherwise, to contend with whom in wisdom or strength is neither prudent nor possible for either me or the King. He is, indeed, terrible among the kings of the earth. It is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God, even for you, O King. How grieved have I been to hear things of you so contrary to the fair promise of your early days! How much more bitter will be the grief of the Church, after having tasted first of such great joys, if, which God forbid, she shall chance to be deprived of her pleasant hope of protection under the shield of your good disposition, which up to the present has been held over her. Alas! the Virgin, the Church of Rheims, has fallen,[1] and there is none to lift her up. Langres, too, has fallen, and there is none to stretch out the hand to help. May the goodness of God divert your heart and mind from adding yet more to our grief, and from heaping sorrow upon sorrow. Would that I may die before seeing a king of whom 296good 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 297out 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. 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 298was 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. 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 299me 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. 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. [1] Whatsoever you do to one of them you will do to me, nay, to Christ. For they are both poor, and they live amongst the poor. I especially implore you to prevent the monks of Savigny from molesting them, for they are calumniating them unjustly, as I consider. Or if they think that they have justice on their side, judge between them. I ask also that my son, Abbot Alberic, 300though 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 LXV. 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. 301Wherefore 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
302have 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 (
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
304of whom an angel singularly said, and
many shall rejoice in his birth (
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,
305and then to their parents, and so on ad
infinitum? Thus we should have festivals without number. Such a frequency of
joys befits Heaven, not this state of exile. It is the happy lot of those who
dwell there, not of strangers and pilgrims. But a writing is brought forward,
given, as they say, by revelation from on high,[1]
as if any one would not be able to bring forward another
writing in which the Virgin should seem to demand the same honours to her
parents also, saying, according to the commandment of the Lord,
Honour thy father and thy mother (
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 (
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 (
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 308the simplicity of inexperienced persons ought not to have been followed so thoughtlessly and precipitately. And, indeed, I had before noted that error in some persons; but I appeared not to take notice of it, dealing gently with a devotion which sprang from simplicity of heart and love of the Virgin. But now that the superstition has taken hold upon wise men, and upon a famous and noble Church, of which I am specially the son,[1] I know not whether I could longer pass it over without gravely offending you all. But what I have said is in submission to the judgment of whosoever is wiser than myself; and especially I refer the whole of it, as of all matters of a similar kind, to the authority and decision of the See of Rome, and I am prepared to modify my opinion if in anything I think otherwise than that See.
Letter LXVI. 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 309the 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.
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Index of Pages of the Print Edition
i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309
[1] The title of this letter follows a MS. at Corbey. It does not appear who these regular canons were.
[2] This was William of Champeaux, a friend of S. Bernard, who died in 1121.
[3] 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.
[4] Protoplastus, the first formed. Tertullian, Exhort. ad Castit., cap. 2 and Adv. Jud., c. 13, calls Adam and Eve Protoplasti.—[E.]
[5] Reg. Cap. 71.
[6] Antony, who was called by S. Athanasius “the founder of asceticism,” and “a model for monks,” is called “Abbas,” though he was more properly a hermit, and always refused to take oversight of a monastery. He was born at Coma, in Upper Egypt, about A.D. 250. The Paulus here mentioned was a disciple of Antony. He was remarkable for his childlike docility, on account of which he was surnamed Simplex, and notwithstanding a certain dulness of intellect seems to have shown sometimes remarkable discernment of character.—[E.]
[7] This clause is wanting in some MSS.
[8] Bruno, son of Englebert, Count of Altena, was consecrated, in 1132.
[9] Unlikeness.
[10] The founder of the Præmonstratensian Order. See respecting him Letter lvi.
[11] This was Robert, to whom Letter I. was addressed.
[12] Louis VI., “the Fat.”
[13] Stephen, who was Bishop of Paris from 1124 to 1144. The cause of these persecutions was the withdrawal of Stephen from the Court, and the liberty of the Church which he demanded. Henry, Archbishop of Sens, had a similar difficulty, and for causes not unlike (Letter 49). The mind of the King was not induced to yield by this Letter, and the death of his son Philip, who was already associated with him as King, passed for a punishment from heaven for his obstinacy. It is astonishing that after his death the nobles and bishops should have had thoughts of hindering the succession of Louis the Younger (Ordericus, Book xiii. p. 895 sqq.).
[14] All those who in a Society had the right of suffrage were regarded as brothers. So the monks of Chaise-Dieu call Louis Le Jeune by the name of brother (Duchesne, Vol. iv. Letter 308).
[15] This Alexander was Bishop of Lincoln in England from 1123 to 1147
[16]
[17] Letter 18 from the Abbot Philip to Alexander the Third is on a very similar subject, and begs that the property of the Archdeacon of Orleans, who had become a monk, should be given up to his creditors (Biblioth. Cisterc. Vol. i. p. 246).
[18] A monastery of the Benedictine Order on the river Scarpe two miles from Douai. It dates from 1029, and was at first named S. Saviour.
[19] Rule of S. Benedict cap. 63.
[20] Gravidare; gravare. —[E.]
[21] Heroid. Ep. I. v. 11.
[22] Otherwise viderunt , have seen.
[23] Vinctus , otherwise junctus .
[24] Otherwise voluntatem .
[25] 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.”
[26] Sugere. Bernard is playing upon the name of his correspondent Suger.
[27] This deacon was Stephen de Garlande, seneschal or officer of the table to the King of France.
[28] 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.
[29] The tonsure, or clerical crown.
[30]
[31]
[32] Suus ille quod suus.
[33]
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.
[34]
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 (
[35]
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
[36] Exoneratus; exhonoratus.
[37] Because a monk, when he became an abbot, was freed from the control of his own abbot.
[38]
[39] 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.
[40] 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.
[41] 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).
[42] This Guerric was made Abbot of Igny in 1138. He is mentioned again in the following Letter.
[43] Or benignity.
[44] 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.
[45]
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.
[46] 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.
[47] Esse. The word is a common one with Bernard to signify the state of a man or a business. See Letters 118, 304.
[48] Since kings and princes are, as it were, vassals to God.
[49] 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.
[50] 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).
[51] 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.
[52] 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.
[53] 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.
[54] 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.
[55]
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. (
[56] Christus.
[57] 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.
[58] Gerard of Angoulême.
[59] “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.
[60] 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.
[61] 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.
[62] 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.
[63] 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.
[64] 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?
[65]
This must be the reading, not “congregation” [
concilio
], as in
[66] 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.
[67] No. 107.
[68] Hence it is clear that Bernard was already approaching old age when he wrote this Letter.
[69] 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.
[70] Either a canon holding a prebend of theology or simply a student—here probably the former. But see n. 7.—[E.]
[71] 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.
[72] i.e., not owing me obedience as a monk.
[73] Mabillon reads substantiva, but another reading is substantia.—[E.]
[74] 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.
[75] 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.”
[76]
Some add “in honour” from
[77] Hath not received it in vain, Vulg.
[78] Saccus.
[79] A familiar figure of speech with Bernard. See Letter 107, § 13; 124, § 2, &c.
[80] 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.
[81] 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.
[82] 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.
[83]Wimple. So all the MS. codices that I have seen, viz., at the Royal Library, Colbert Library, Sorbonne, Royal College of Navarre, S. Victor of Paris MS., MS. of 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:— <l>Moult fut humiliant et simple</l> <l>Elle eut une voile en lieu de guimple.</l> Which may be rendered— <l>She was a lowly girl and simple,</l> <l>And wore a veil in place of wimple.</l> Now, however, the word “wimple” is scarcely heard outside the cloisters of nuns.
[84] 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.]
[85] Cf. the French equivalent “Le bon ordre,” i.e., the strict Rule of Monastic Life.
[86] 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.
[87] 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.
[88] Passagium, a fixed payment from travellers entering or passing through a country; droit de passage or “toll.”
[89] I think this is Wido [or Guy?], Abbot of Trois Fontaines, who frequently went to Lorraine. Cf. 63, 69.
[90] 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.
[91] legalitati, i.e., good faith, which consists in performing promises once made.
[92] Materiatum; materia.
[93] Non disputante, sed dementante.
[94] Anselm greatly approves this idea respecting God in his Monologium and his Apologeticus at the commencement.
[95] 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.]
[96] i.e., Abaelard.
[97] 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.
[98] This was after the death of Archbishop Reginald, which happened A.D. 1139, on January 13th.
[99] 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.
[100] 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.
[101] 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.