__________________________________________________________________

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

                  Christian Denominations

                  Roman Catholic Church

                  Biography and portraits

                  Individual

                  Saints, A-Z
     __________________________________________________________________

GREAT LETTER WRITERS
     __________________________________________________________________

  S. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

   THE COMPLETE WORKS OF

S. BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX

   TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FROM

   THE EDITION OF DOM. JOANNES MABILLON,

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

   AND EDITED BY

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

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

   VOL. III.--LETTERS AND SERMONS.

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

   THE SONG OF SOLOMON.

   7s. 6d. each Vol.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

SOME LETTERS OF

SAINT BERNARD

ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX

   From the Translation of the late Dr. EALES

   Vicar of Stalisfield

   SELECTED, WITH A PREFACE, BY

FRANCIS AIDAN GASQUET, D.D.

   ABBOT PRESIDENT OF THE ENGLISH BENEDICTINE
   CONGREGATION

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

JOHN HODGES

HENRIETTA STREET, STRAND, LONDON
1904

   Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO
   At the Ballantyne Press
     __________________________________________________________________

  TO THE READER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   FRANCIS AIDAN GASQUET.

   Athenæum Club,

   All Saints' Day, 1903.
     __________________________________________________________________

CONTENTS

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

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

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

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

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

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

LETTER I (circa 1120)

  To the Canons Regular of Horricourt [1]

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

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

   Your letter, in which you have addressed to us an exhortation so
   salutary and profitable, brings us convincing proof of your knowledge
   and charity, which we admire, and for which we thank you. But that
   which you have so kindly prefixed by way of praise of me is, I fear,
   not founded on experience, although you have thus given me an excellent
   occasion to practise humility if I know how to profit by it. Yet it has
   excited great fear in me, who know myself to be far below what you
   imagine. For which of us who takes heed to his ways can listen without
   either great fear or great danger, to praises of himself so great and
   so undeserved? It is not safe for any one to commit himself to his own
   judgment or even to the judgment of another; for He who judgeth us is
   the Lord (1 Corinthians iv. 4.). As to the brothers concerning whose
   safety we recognize that your charity has been solicitous, that we
   should return them to you unharmed; know that by the advice and
   persuasion of many illustrious persons, and chiefly of that very
   distinguished man William, Bishop of Châlons, [2] they have taken
   refuge with us, and have begged us with earnest supplication to receive
   them, which we have done. Though they have quitted the rule of S.
   Augustine for that of S. Benedict in order to embrace a stricter life,
   yet they do not depart from the rule of Him, who is the one Master in
   heaven and in earth; nor do they make void that first faith which they
   promised among you, and which, indeed, they promised, first of all, in
   baptism. They being such, therefore, and having been so received, we
   are far from thinking that your sense of right will be injured by our
   having received them, or that you ought to take it ill if we retain
   them; yet if they desist from their resolution during the year of
   probation which the Rule requires, and desire to return to you, be
   assured that we shall not detain them against their will. In any case,
   most holy brethren, you would be wrong to resist, by an ill-considered
   and useless anathema, the spirit of liberty which is in them; unless,
   perchance (which may God avert!), you study more to promote your own
   interests than those of Jesus Christ.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER II (A.D. 1126)

  To the Monk Adam [3]

   1. If you remain yet in that spirit of charity which I either knew or
   believed to be with you formerly, you would certainly feel the
   condemnation with which charity must regard the scandal which you have
   given to the weak. For charity would not offend charity, nor scorn when
   it feels itself offended. For it cannot deny itself, nor be divided
   against itself. Its function is rather to draw together things divided;
   and it is far from dividing those that are joined. Now, if that
   remained in you, as I have said, it would not keep silent, it would not
   rest unconcerned, nor pretend indifference, but it would without doubt
   whisper, with groans and uneasiness at the bottom of your pious heart,
   that saying, Who is offended, and I burn not (2 Cor. xi. 29). If, then,
   it is kind, it loves peace, and rejoices in unity; it produces them,
   cements them, strengthens them, and wherever it reigns it makes the
   bond of peace. As, then, you are in opposition to that true mother of
   peace and concord, on what ground, I ask you, do you presume that your
   sacrifice, whatever it may be, will be accepted by God, when without it
   even martyrdom profiteth nothing (1 Cor. xiii. 3)? Or, on what ground
   do you trust that you are not the enemy of charity when breaking unity,
   rending the bond of peace, you lacerate her bowels, treating with such
   cruelty their dear pledges, which you neither have borne nor do bear?
   You must lay down, then, the offering, whatever it may be, which you
   are preparing to lay on the altar, and hasten to go and reconcile
   yourself not with one of your brethren only, but with the entire body.
   The whole body of the fraternity, grievously wounded by your
   withdrawal, as by the stroke of a sword, utters its complaints against
   you and the few with you, saying: The sons of my mother have fought
   against me (Cant. i. 5). And rightly; for who is not with her, is
   against her. Can you think that a mother, as tender as charity, can
   hear without emotion the complaint, so just, of a community which is to
   her as a daughter? Therefore, joining her tears with ours, she says, I
   have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against
   me (Isa. i. 2). Charity is God Himself. Christ is our peace, who hath
   made both one (Eph. ii. 14). Unity is the mystery even of the Holy
   Trinity. What place, then, in the kingdom of Christ and of God has he
   who is an enemy of charity, peace, and unity?

   2. My abbot, perhaps you will say, has obliged me to follow him--ought
   I then to have been disobedient? But you cannot have forgotten the
   conclusion to which we came one day after a long discussion together
   upon that scandalous project which even then you were meditating. If
   you had remained in that conclusion, now it might have been not unfitly
   said of you, Blessed is the man who hath not walked in the counsel of
   the ungodly (Ps. i. 1). But let it be so. Sons ought, no doubt, to obey
   a father; scholars a teacher. An abbot may lead his monks where he
   shall please, and teach them what he thinks proper; but this is only as
   long as he lives. Now that he is dead, whom you were bound to hear as a
   teacher and to follow as a guide, why are you still delaying to make
   amends for the grave scandal that you have occasioned? What hinders you
   now to give ear, I do not say to me when I recall you, but to our God,
   when He mercifully does so by the mouth of Jeremiah, Shall they fall
   and not arise? Shall he turn away and not return? (Jer. viii. 4.) Or
   has your abbot, when dying, forbidden you ever to rise again after your
   fall, or ever to speak of your return? Is it necessary for you to obey
   him even when dead--to obey him against charity and at the peril of
   your soul? You would allow, I suppose, that the bond between an abbot
   and his monks is by no means so strong or tenacious as that of married
   persons, whom God Himself and not man has bound with an inviolable
   sacrament--as the Saviour says: What God hath joined together let no
   man but asunder (S. Matt. xix. 6). But the Apostle asserts that when
   the husband is dead the wife is freed from the law of her husband (Rom.
   vii. 2), and do you consider yourself bound by the law of your dead
   abbot, and this against a law which is more binding still, that of
   charity?

   3. These things I say, yet I do not think that you ought to have
   yielded to him in this even when living, or that thus to have yielded
   ought to be called obedience. For it is of that kind of obedience that
   it is said in general: The Lord shall lead forth with the workers of
   iniquity those who deviate in their obedience (Ps. cxxv. 5, Vulg.). And
   that no one may contend that obedience to an abbot, even in things
   evil, is free from that penalty, there are words elsewhere still more
   precise: The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, and the
   father shall not bear the iniquity of the son (Ezek. xviii. 20). From
   these, then, it appears clearly that those who command things evil are
   not to be obeyed, especially when in yielding to wrong commands, in
   which you appear to obey man, you show yourself plainly disobedient to
   God, who has forbidden everything that is evil. For it is altogether
   unreasonable to profess yourself obedient when you know that you are
   violating obedience due to the superior on account of the inferior,
   that is, to the Divine on account of the human. What then! God forbids
   what man orders; and shall I be deaf to the voice of God and listen to
   that of man? The Apostles did not understand the matter thus when they
   said, We must obey God rather than men (Acts v. 29). Does not the Lord
   in the Gospel blame the Pharisees: Ye transgress the commandment of God
   on account of your traditions (S. Matt. xv. 3). And by Isaiah: In vain
   they worship Me, he says, teaching the commands and doctrines of men
   (Is. xxix. 13). And also to our first father. [4] hast obeyed thy wife
   rather than Me, the earth shall be rebellious to thy work (Gen. iii.
   17). Therefore to do evil, whosoever it be that bids, is shown not to
   be obedience, but disobedience.

   4. To make this principle clear, we must note that some actions are
   wholly good; others wholly evil: and in these no obedience is to be
   rendered to men. For the former are not to be omitted by us, even if
   they are prohibited [by men]: nor the latter done, even though they are
   commanded. But, besides these, there are actions between the two, and
   which may be good or evil according to circumstances of place, time,
   manner, or person, and in these obedience has its place, as it was in
   the matter of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which was in
   the midst of Paradise. When. these are in question, it is not right to
   prefer our own judgment to that of our superiors, so as to take no heed
   of what they order or forbid. Let us see whether it be not such a case
   that I have condemned in you, and whether you ought not to be
   condemned. For clearness, I will subjoin examples of the distinction
   which I have just made. Faith, hope, charity, and others of that class
   are wholly good; it cannot be wrong to command, or to practice them,
   nor right to forbid them, or to neglect the practice of them. Theft,
   sacrilege, adultery, and all other such vices are wholly evil; it can
   never be right to practice or to order them, nor wrong to forbid or
   avoid them. The law is not made for things of this kind, for the
   prohibition of no person has the power to render null the commandments
   given, nor the command of any to render lawful the things prohibited.
   There are, finally, things of a middle kind which are not in themselves
   good or evil; they may be indifferently either prescribed or forbidden,
   and in these things an inferior never sins in obeying. Such are, for
   example, fasting, watching, reading, and such like. But some things
   which are of this middle kind often pass the bounds of indifferency,
   and become the one or the other. Thus, marriage is neither prescribed
   nor forbidden, but when it is made may not be dissolved. That,
   therefore, which before the nuptials was a thing of the middle kind
   obtains the force of a thing wholly good in regard to the married pair.
   Also, it is a thing indifferent for a man in secular life to possess or
   not to possess property of his own; but to a monk, who is not allowed
   to possess anything, it is wholly evil.

   5. Do you see now, brother, to which branch of my division your action
   belongs? If it is to be put among things wholly good it is
   praiseworthy: if among those wholly evil it is greatly to be blamed:
   but if it is to be placed among those of the middle kind you may,
   perhaps, find in your obedience an excuse for your first departure, but
   your delay in returning is not at all excusable, since that was not
   from obedience. For when your abbot was dead, if he had previously
   ordered anything which was not fitting, the former discussion has shown
   you that you were no longer bound to obey him. And although the matter
   is now sufficiently clear by itself, yet because of some who seek for
   occasion to object when reason does not support them, I will put the
   matter clearly again, so that every shade of doubt may disappear, and I
   will show you that your obedience and your leaving your monastery, were
   neither wholly good nor partly good, but plainly wholly evil.
   Concerning him who is dead, I am silent; he has now God alone for his
   judge, and to his own Lord he either stands or falls; that God may not
   say with righteous anger, "Men have taken away from me even the right
   to judge." However, for the instruction of the living I discuss, not
   even what he has done, but what he has ordered; whether, that is to
   say, his order ought to have been obligatory, inasmuch as a
   widespreading scandal has followed upon it. And I say this first; that
   if there are any who followed him when he wrongly left his cloister,
   but who followed in simplicity, and without suspecting any evil,
   supposing that he had license to go forth from the Bishop of Langres
   and the Abbot of Cîteaux (for to each of these was he responsible); and
   it is not incredible that some of those who were of his company may so
   have believed; this, my censure, does not touch them, provided that
   when they knew the truth, they returned without delay.

   6. Therefore my discourse is against those only, or rather for those,
   who knowingly and purposely put their hands into the fire; who being
   conscious of his presumption, yet followed him who presumed, without
   caring for the prohibition of the Apostle, and his precept, to withdraw
   from every brother who walks disorderly (2 Thess. iii. 6). Despising
   also the voice of the Lord himself, He who gathereth not with me
   scattereth (S. Matt. xii. 30). To you, brethren, belongs clearly and
   specially that reproach spoken by Jeremiah, which I recall with grief:
   This is a nation that obeyeth not the voice of the Lord their God (Jer.
   vii. 28). For clearly that is the Voice of God pointing out His enemy
   from the work that he does, and, as it were, showing him with a
   stretched finger to ward off simple souls from his ungodly example: He
   who is not with Me, He says, scatters; ought you to have followed a
   disperser? And when God invites you to unite with Him, ought you rather
   to follow a man who wishes to disperse you? He scorned his superiors,
   he exposed his inferiors to danger, he deeply troubled his brethren,
   and yet ye seeing a thief joined yourself with him! I had determined to
   be silent concerning him who is dead, but I am obliged, I confess, to
   proceed still a little further, since I cannot blame your obedience, if
   his command is not shown to be altogether improper. Since the orders
   and the actions of the man were similar to each other, it seems
   impossible to praise or to blame the one without the other. Now it is
   very clear that orders of that kind ought not to have been obeyed,
   since they were contrary to the law of God. For who can suppose that
   the institutions of our Fathers are not to be preferred to those of
   lesser persons, or that the general rules of the Order must not prevail
   over the commands of private persons? For we have this in the Rule of
   S. Benedict. [5]

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

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

   9. You had then just reason to fear, and were rightly distrustful of
   the goodness of your cause when, in order to still the pangs of your
   consciences, you tried to have recourse to the Holy See. O, vain
   remedy! which is nothing else than to seek girdles, like our first
   parents, for your ulcerated consciences, that is, to hide the ill
   instead of curing it. We have asked and obtained (they say) the
   permission of the Pope. Would that you had asked not his permission,
   but his advice; that is to say, not that he would permit you to do it,
   but whether it was a thing permitted to you to do! Why, then, did you
   solicit his permission? Was it to render lawful that which was not so?
   Then you wished to do what was not lawful; but what was not lawful was
   evil. The intention, therefore, was evil, which tended towards evil.
   Perhaps, you would say that the wrong thing which you demanded
   permission to do ceased to be such if it was done by virtue of a
   permission. But that has been already excluded above by an irrefragable
   reason. For when God said, Do not despise one of these little ones who
   believe in Me, He did not add also, Unless with permission; nor when He
   said, Take care not to give scandal to one of these little ones (S.
   Matt. xviii. 6-10), did He limit it by adding, Without licence. It is
   then certain that except when the necessary interests of the truth
   require, it is not permitted to any one to give any scandal, neither to
   order it, nor to consent to it. Yet you think that permission is to be
   obtained to do so. But to what purpose? Was it that you might sin with
   more liberty and fewer scruples, and, therefore, with just so much the
   more danger? Wonderful precaution, marvellous prudence! They had
   already devised evil in their heart, but they were cautious not to
   carry it out in action except with permission. They conceived in
   sorrow, but they did not bring forth iniquity until the Pope had
   afforded his consent to that unrighteous birth. With what advantage?
   or, at least, with what lessening of the evil? Is it likely that either
   an evil will cease to be or even be rendered less because the Pope has
   consented to it? But who will deny it to be a bad thing to give consent
   to evil? Which, notwithstanding, I do not in any way believe that the
   Pope would have done, unless he had been either deceived by falsehood
   or overcome by importunity. In fact, unless it had been so, would he
   weakly have given you permission to sow scandal, to raise up schisms,
   to distress friends, to trouble the peace of brethren, to throw into
   confusion their unity, and, above all, to despise your own Bishop? And
   under what necessity he should have acted thus I have no need to say,
   since the issue of the matter sufficiently shows. For I see with grief
   that you have gone forth, but I do not see that you have profited in
   doing so.

   10. Thus, in your opinion, to give assent to so great and weighty evils
   is to show obedience, to render assistance, to behave with moderation
   and gentleness. Do you, then, endeavour to whitewash the most
   detestable vices under the name of virtues? Or do you think that you
   can injure virtues without doing injury to the Lord of virtues? You
   hide the vainest presumption, the most shameful levity, the cruellest
   division under the names of obedience, moderation, gentleness, and you
   soil those sacred names with the vices hidden under them. May I never
   emulate this obedience: such moderation can never be pleasing to me, or
   rather seems to resemble molestation; may gentleness of this kind ever
   be far from me. Such obedience is worse than any revolt: such
   moderation passes all bounds. Shall I say that it goes beyond them or
   does not come up to them? Perhaps it would be more adequate to say that
   it is altogether without measure or bound. Of what kind is that
   gentleness which irritates the ears of all the hearers? And yet I beg
   you to show some sign of it now on my behalf. Since you are so patient
   that you do not contend with anybody, even with one who tries to drag
   you away to forbidden ground, permit me, too, I beg of you, to treat
   with you now somewhat more unrestrainedly. Otherwise I have merited
   much evil from you if you think that you must resent from me alone what
   you are accustomed to resent from no one else.

   11. Well, then, I call your own conscience to witness. Was it willingly
   or unwillingly that you went forth? If willingly, then it was not from
   obedience. If unwillingly, you seem to have had some suspicion of the
   order which you carried out with reluctance. But when there is
   suspicion, there consideration is necessary. But you, either to display
   your patience or to exercise it, obeyed without discussion, and
   suffered yourself to be taken away, not only without your own volition,
   but even against your conscience. O, patience worthy of all impatience!
   I cannot, I confess, help being angry with this most questionable
   patience. You saw that he was a scatterer and yet you followed him; you
   heard him directing what was scandalous and yet you obeyed him! True
   patience consists in doing or in suffering what is displeasing to us,
   not what is forbidden to us. A strange thing! You listened to that man
   softly murmuring, but not to God openly protesting in such words as
   these, like a clap of thunder from heaven, Woe to him through whom
   scandal cometh (S. Matt. xviii. 7). And to be the better heard, not
   only does the Lord Himself cry aloud, but His Blood cries with a
   terrible voice to make even the deaf hear. Its pouring forth is its
   cry. Since it was poured forth for the children of God who were
   scattered abroad that it might gather them together into one, it justly
   murmurs against the scatterers. He whose constant duty it is to collect
   souls together hates without doubt those who scatter them. Loud is His
   voice and piercing which calls bodies from their graves and souls from
   Hades. That trumpet blast calls together heaven and earth and the
   things that are with them, giving them peace. Its sound has gone out
   unto the whole world, arid yet it has not been able to burst through
   your deafness! What a voice of power and magnificence when the words
   are spoken: Let the Lord arise and let His enemies be scattered (Ps.
   lxviii. 2). And again: Disperse them by Thy power, O Lord, my
   protector, and put them down (Ps. lix. 12). It is the blood of Christ,
   brother Adam, which raises its voice as a sounding trumpet on behalf of
   pious assemblies against wicked scatterers; it has been poured forth to
   bring together those who were dispersed, and it threatens to disperse
   those who scatter. If you do not hear His voice, then listen to that
   which rolls from His side. For how could He not hear His own blood who
   heard the blood of Abel?

   12. But what is this to me? you say. It concerns one whom it was not
   right for me to contradict. The disciple is not above his master; and
   it was to be taught, not to teach, that I attached myself to him. As a
   hearer, it became me to follow, not to go before, my preceptor. O,
   simple one, the Paulus of these times! If only he had shown himself
   another Antony, [6] so that you had no occasion to discuss the least
   word that fell from his lips, but only to obey it without hesitation!
   What exemplary obedience! The least word, an iota, which drops from the
   lips of his superiors finds him obedient! He does not examine what is
   enjoined, he is content because it is enjoined! [7] And this is
   obedience without delay. If this is a right view of duty, then without
   cause do we read in the Church: Prove all things, hold fast that which
   is good (2 Thess. v. 21). If this is a right view, let us blot out of
   the book of the Gospel Be ye wise as serpents, for the words following
   would suffice, and harmless as doves (S. Matt. x. 26). I do not say
   that inferiors are to make themselves judges of the orders of those set
   over them; in which it may be taken for granted that nothing is ordered
   contrary to the Divine laws, but I assert that prudence also is
   necessary to notice if anything does so contradict, and freedom firmly
   to pronounce against these. But you reply, I have nothing to do with
   examining what he orders; it is his duty to do that before ordering.
   Tell me, I pray you, if a sword were put into your hand and he bade you
   turn it against his throat, would you obey? Or if he ordered you to
   fling yourself headlong into the fire, or into the water, would you do
   it? If you did not even hinder him from such acts as these to the best
   of your ability, would not you be held guilty of the crime of homicide?
   Come, then, see that you have done nothing but co-operate in his crime
   under the pretext of obedience. Do you not know that it has been said
   by a certain person (for you would not, perhaps, give credence to me)
   that it would be better to be sunk in the depths of the sea than to
   give scandals (S. Matt. xviii. 6). Why has He said this unless that He
   wished to signify that in comparison to the terrible punishments that
   are reserved for the scandalous, temporal death would seem scarcely a
   punishment but an advantage? Why, then, did you help him to make a
   scandal? For you did so in following and obeying him. Would it not have
   been better, according to the declaration of the Truth I have quoted,
   to hang a millstone from his neck and so to plunge him in the depth of
   the sea? What then? You that were so obedient a disciple, who could not
   bear that he, your father and master, should be separated from you for
   a single instant, for a foot breadth (as it is said), you have not
   hesitated to fall into the ditch behind him with your eyes wide open,
   like another Balaam? Did you think that you were labouring for his
   happiness when you showed toward him an obedience more hurtful for him
   than death? Truly, now, I experience how true is that saying: A man's
   foes shall be they of his own household (Micah vii. 6). If you see and
   feel this do you not groan if you perceive what you have done? And if
   you do perceive, do you not tremble? For, indeed, your obedience (it is
   not my judgment, but that of the Truth Himself) has been worse for him
   than death.

   13. If you are now convinced of this, I do not know how you can help
   trembling and hastening to repair your fault. Otherwise what conscience
   of wrong will you carry hence to that terrible tribunal where the judge
   will not need witness, where the Truth will scan even purposes, and
   penetrate in search of faults to the hidden places of the heart, where,
   in short, that Divine look will try the most secret recesses of minds,
   and at the sudden shining of that Sun of justice all the windings of
   human souls will be spread open and give to the light whatever, whether
   good or evil, they were hiding? Then, brother Adam, those who commit a
   sin, and those who consent to it will be punished with equal
   chastisement. Then thieves and the associates of thieves will listen to
   a similar sentence; the seducers and the seduced will undergo an equal
   judgment. Cease, then, to say again, What is it to me? Let him see to
   it. Can you touch pitch and say I am not defiled? Can you hide fire in
   your bosom and not be burned? Can you have your portion with adulterers
   without resembling them in some respect? Isaiah did not think so, for
   he reproached himself not only because he was himself unclean, but also
   because he was the companion of the unclean: Because, he says, I am a
   man of unclean lips and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean
   lips (Isaiah vi. 5). For he blames himself not because he dwelt among
   sinners, but because he has not condemned their sins. For, so he says:
   Woe is me because I have been silent (Isaiah vi. 5, Vulg.). But when
   did he consent to the doing of evil, that he blames himself not to have
   condemned it in others? And did not David also feel that he was defiled
   by the contact of sin when he said: With men that work iniquity, and I
   will not communicate with their chosen friends (Ps. cxl. 4, Vulg.). Or
   when he made this prayer: Cleanse me O Lord from my secret sins, and
   spare Thy servant from the offences of others (Ps. xix. 12-13, Vulg.).
   Wherefore he strove to avoid the society of sinners in order not to
   share in their faults. For he says farther: I have not sat in the
   council of vanity, and I will not enter into the company of those who
   do unjustly (Ps. xxv. 4-5, Vulg.). And then he adds: I have hated the
   congregation of evil doers, and will not sit with the wicked (ibid.).
   Finally, hear the counsel of the wise man: My son, if sinners entice
   thee, consent thou not (Prov. i. 10).

   14. Have you, then, against these and innumerable other and similar
   testimonies of the truth, thought that you ought to obey anybody? O,
   odious perversity! The virtue of obedience which always wars on behalf
   of truth, is arrayed against truth. Happy the disobedience of brother
   Henry, who soon repenting of his error and retracing his steps, has the
   happiness of not persisting longer in such an obedience. The fruits of
   disobedience are sweeter and to be preferred [to this]; and now he
   tastes them with a good conscience in the peaceable and constant
   practice of the duties of his profession in the midst of his brethren,
   and in the bosom of the Order to which he has devoted himself; while
   some of his former companions are breaking the hearts of their ancient
   brethren by the scandals they are making! Whose disobedience of
   slackness and omission, if the choice were given me, I would even
   prefer, with his sense of penitence, than the punctilious obedience of
   such as these, with scandal. For I consider that he does better for the
   keeping unity in the bond of peace who obeys charity, though
   disobedient to his abbot, than those who so defer to a single man as to
   prefer one to the whole body. I might boldly add even this, that it is
   preferable to risk disobedience to one person than to endanger the vows
   of our own profession and all the other advantages of religion.

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

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

   17. Do you see, then, the proper scope of your obedience? How can it
   excuse your want of constancy, which is not even of weight to justify
   itself? Every one knows that a person makes his profession solemnly and
   regularly in the presence of the abbot. That profession is made,
   therefore, in his presence only, not at his discretion also. The abbot
   is employed as the witness, and not the arbiter of the profession; the
   helper of its fulfilment, not an assistant to the breach of it; to
   punish and not to authorise bad faith. What, then? Do I place in the
   hand of the abbot the vows that I have taken, without exception
   ratified by my mouth and signed by my hand in presence of God and His
   Saints? Do I not hear out of the Rule (Rule of S. Benedict, C. 58) that
   if I ever do otherwise I shall be condemned by God, whom I have mocked?
   If my abbot or even an angel from heaven should order me to do
   something contrary to my vow, I would boldly refuse an obedience of
   this kind, which would make me a transgressor of my own oath and make
   me swear falsely by the name of my God, for I know, according to the
   truth of Scripture, that out of my own mouth I must either be condemned
   or justified (S. Luke xix. 22), and because The mouth which lies slays
   the soul (Wisd. i. 11), and that we chant with truth before God, Thou
   wilt destroy all those who speak falsehood (Ps. v. 6), and because
   every one shall bear his own burden (Gal. vi. 5), and every one shall
   give account of himself to God (Rom. xiv. 12). If it were otherwise
   with me, with what front could I dare to lie in the presence of God and
   His angels, when singing that verse from the Psalm: I will render unto
   Thee my vows, which my lips have uttered (Ps. lvi. 13, 14).

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

   18. Let me, briefly, treat another objection which may possibly be made
   to me, and I will bring to a close an epistle which is already too
   long. It seems that I may be reproached with acting otherwise than I
   speak. For I may be asked, if I condemn those who have deserted their
   monastery, not only with the consent of their abbot, but at his
   command, on what principle do I receive and retain those who from other
   monasteries, who, breaking their vow of constancy and condemning the
   authority of their superiors, come to our Order? To which my reply will
   be brief, but dangerous; for I fear that what I shall say will
   displease certain persons. But I fear still more lest by concealing the
   truth I should sing untruly in the Church those words of the Psalmist:
   I have not hid my righteousness within my heart: my talk hath been of
   Thy truth and of Thy salvation (Ps. xl. 12). I receive them, then, for
   this reason, because I do not consider that they are wrong to quit the
   monastery, in which they were able, indeed, to make vows to God, but by
   no means to perform them, to enter into another house where they may
   better serve God, Who is everywhere, and who repair the wrong done by
   the breach of their vow of constancy by the perfect performance of all
   other duties of the religious life. If this displeasse any one, and he
   murmurs against a man thus seeking his own salvation, the Author of
   salvation Himself shall reply for him: Is thine eye evil because he is
   good? (S. Matt. xx. 15). Whosoever thou art who enviest the salvation
   of another, care rather for thine own. Dost thou not know that by the
   envy of the devil death entered into the world? (Wisd. ii. 24). Take
   heed, therefore, to thyself. For if there is envy there is death;
   surely, thou canst not both be envious and live. Why seek a quarrel
   with thy brother, since he seeks only the best means of fulfilling the
   vows which he has made? If the man seeks in what place or in what
   manner he may best discharge what he has promised to God, what wrong
   has he done to you? Perhaps, if you held him your debtor for a sum of
   money, however small, you would oblige him to compass sea and dry land
   until he rendered you the whole debt, even to the last farthing. What,
   then, has your God deserved from you that you are not willing for Him,
   too, to receive what is due? But in envying one you render two hostile;
   since you are trying both to defraud the lord of the service due from
   his servant, and to deprive the servant of the favour of his lord.
   Wherefore do you not imitate him, and yourself discharge what is due
   from you? Do you think that your debt, too, will not be required of
   you? Or do you not rather fear to irritate God against you the more by
   wickedly saying in your heart, He will not require it?

   19. What, you say to me, do you then condemn all who do not do
   likewise? No; but hear what I do think about them, and do not make
   futile accusations. Why do you wish to make me odious to many thousands
   of holy men, who, under the same profession as I, though not living in
   the same manner, either live holily or have died blessed deaths? I do
   not fail to remember that God has left to Himself seven thousand men
   who had not bowed the knee before Baal (1 Kings xix. 18). Listen to me,
   then, man envious and calumnious. I have said that I think men coming
   to us from other monasteries ought to be received. Have I blamed those
   who do not come? The one class I excuse, but I do not accuse the other.
   It is only the envious whom I cannot excuse, nor, indeed, am I willing
   to do so. These being excepted, I think that if any others wish to pass
   to a stricter Rule, but fear to do so because of scandal, or are
   hindered by some bodily weakness, do not sin, provided that they study
   to live a holy, pious, and regulated life in the place where they are.
   For if by the custom of their monastery relaxations of the Rule have
   been introduced, either that very charity, in which they hesitate to
   remove to a better on account of causing scandal, may, perhaps, be an
   excuse for this; according to that saying Charity covers a multitude of
   sins (1 Peter iv. 8), or the humility in which one conscious of his
   infirmity regards himself as imperfect, for it is said God gives grace
   unto the humble (S. James iv. 6).

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

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER III (A.D. 1131)

  To Bruno, [8] Archbishop Elect of Cologne

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

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

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

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

   4. In the meantime let these provisional replies to your queries
   suffice. If I do not express a decisive opinion, it is because I do not
   myself feel assured. This must needs be the case, for the gift of
   prophecy and of wisdom only could resolve your doubt. For who could
   draw clear water out of a muddy pool? Yet there is one thing that I can
   do for a friend without danger, and with the assurance of a good
   result; that is to offer to God my petition that He will assist you in
   this matter. Leaving, therefore, to Him the secret things of His
   Providence, of which we are ignorant, I will beg Him, with humble
   prayer and earnest supplication, that He will work in you and with
   respect to you that which shall be for His glory, and at the same time
   for your good. And you have also the Lord Norbert, [10] whom you may
   conveniently consult in person on all such subjects. For that good man
   is more fitted than I to explain the mysterious acts of Providence, as
   he is nearer to God by his holiness.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

   [9] Unlikeness.

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

LETTER IV

  To the Prior and Monks of the Grand Chartreuse

   He commends himself to their prayers.

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

   In the first place, when lately I approached your parts, I was
   prevented by unfavourable circumstances from coming to see you and to
   make your acquaintance; and although my excuse may perhaps be
   satisfactory to you, I am not able, I confess, to pardon myself for
   missing the opportunity. It is a vexation to me that my occupations
   brought it about, not that I should neglect to come to see you, but
   that I was unable to do so. This I frequently have to endure, and
   therefore my anger is frequently excited. Would that I were worthy to
   receive the sympathy of all my kind friends. Otherwise I shall be
   doubly unhappy if my disappointment does not excite your pity. But I
   give you an opportunity, my brethren, of exercising brotherly
   compassion towards me, not that I merit it. Pity me not because I am
   worthy, but because I am poor and needy. Justice inquires into the
   merit of the suppliant, but mercy only looks to his unhappiness. True
   mercy does not judge, but feels; does not discuss the occasion which
   presents itself, but seizes it. When affection calls us, reason is
   silent. When Samuel wept over Saul it was by a feeling of pity, and not
   of approval (1 Samuel xv. 13). David shed tears over his parricidal
   son, and although they were profitless, yet they were pious. Therefore
   do ye pity me (because I need it, not because I merit it), ye who have
   obtained from God the grace to serve Him without fear, far from the
   tumults of the world from which ye are freed. Happy those whom He has
   hidden in His tabernacle in the day of evil men; they shall trust in
   the shadow of His wings until the iniquity be overpast. As for me,
   poor, unhappy, and miserable, labour is my portion. I seem to be as a
   little unfledged bird almost constantly out of the shelter of its nest,
   exposed to wind and tempest. I am troubled, and I stagger like a
   drunken man, and my whole conscience is gnawed with care. Pity me,
   then; for although I do not merit pity I need it, as I have said.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER V (circa A.D. 1127)

  To Peter, Cardinal Deacon

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

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

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

   Some of the brethren have drawn up in their own way certain fragments
   of my instructions as they have heard them. Of whom one is conveniently
   near to you, viz., Gebuin, Precentor and Archdeacon of Troyes. You can
   easily, if you wish, obtain of him the notes drawn up by him. Yet if
   your occupation would leave you the time, and you should think fit to
   pay to your humble sons the visit which you promised, and which they
   have been expecting, I would do all in my power to give you
   satisfaction, if I have in my writings anything which could please you,
   or if I were able to compose any work which should seem worthy of you;
   for I greatly esteem your high reputation. I respect that care and zeal
   about holy things which I have heard of in you, and I should regard
   myself as very happy if these unpolished writings, which are a part of
   my duty, should be in any respect agreeable to you.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER VI (circa A. D. 1127)

  To the Same

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

   I. Even if I should give myself to you entirely that would be too
   little a thing still in my eyes, to have recompensed towards you even
   the half of the kindly feeling which you express towards my humility. I
   congratulate myself, indeed, on the honour which you have done me; but
   my joy, I confess, is tempered by the thought that it is not anything I
   have accomplished, but only an opinion of my merit which has brought me
   this favour. I should be greatly ashamed to permit myself in vain
   complacency when I feel assured that what is loved or respected in me
   is not, indeed, what I am, but what I am thought to be; for when I am
   thus loved it is not then I that am loved, but something in me, I know
   not what, and which is not me, is loved in my stead. I say that I know
   not, but, to speak more truly, I know very well that it is nothing. For
   whatever is thought to exist, and does not, is nothing. The love and he
   who feels it is real enough, but the object of the love does not exist.
   That such should be capable of inspiring love is wonderful, but still
   more it is regrettable. It is from that we are able to feel whence and
   whither we go, what we have lost, what we find. By remaining united to
   Him, who is the real Being, and who is always happy, we also shall
   attain a continued and happy existence. By remaining united to Him, I
   said; that is, not only by knowledge, but by love. For certain of the
   sons of Adam when they had known God, glorified Him not as God, nor
   were thankful, but became vain in their imaginations (Rom. i. 21).
   Rightly, then, were their foolish hearts darkened, because since they
   recognised the truth and despised it, they were justly punished for
   their fault by losing the power to recognise it. Alas! in thus adhering
   to the truth by the mind, but with the heart departing from it, and
   loving vanity in its place, man became himself a vain thing. And what
   is more vain than to love vanity, and what is more repugnant to justice
   than to despise the truth? What is more just than that the power to
   recognise the truth should be withdrawn from those who have despised
   it, and that those who did not glorify the truth when they recognised
   it should lose the power of boasting of the knowledge? Thus the love of
   vanity is the contempt of truth, and the contempt of truth the cause of
   our blindness. And because they did not like, he says, to retain God in
   their knowledge, He gave them over unto a reprobate mind (Rom. i. 28).

   2. From this blindness, then, it follows that we frequently love and
   approve that which is not for that which is; since while we are in this
   body we are wandering from Him who is the Fulness of Existence. And
   what is man, O God, except that Thou hast taken knowledge of Him? If
   the knowledge of God is the cause that man is anything, the want of
   this makes him nothing. But He who calls those things which are not as
   though they were, pitying those reduced in a manner to nothing, and not
   yet able to contemplate in its reality, and to embrace by love that
   hidden manna, concerning which the Apostle says: Your life is hidden
   with Christ in God (Cor. iii. 3). But in the meantime He has given us
   to taste it by faith and to seek for by strong desire. By these two we
   are brought for the second time from not being, to begin to be that His
   (new) creature, which one day shall pass into a perfect man, into the
   measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ. That, without doubt,
   shall take place, when righteousness shall be turned into judgment,
   that is, faith into knowledge, the righteousness which is of faith into
   the righteousness of full knowledge, and also the hope of this state of
   exile shall be changed into the fulness of love. For if faith and love
   begin during the exile, knowledge and love render perfect those in the
   Presence of God. For as faith leads to full knowledge, so hope leads to
   perfect love, and, as it is said, If ye will not believe ye shall not
   understand (Is. vii. 9, acc. to lxx.), so it may equally be said with
   fitness, if you have not hoped, you will not perfectly love. Knowledge
   then is the fruit of faith, perfect charity of hope. In the meantime
   the just lives by faith (Hab. ii. 4), but he is not happy except by
   knowledge; and he aspires towards God as the hart desires the
   water-brooks; but the blessed drinks with joy from the fountain of the
   Saviour, that is, he delights in the fulness of love.

   3. Thus understanding and love, that is, the knowledge of and delight
   in the truth, are, perhaps, as it were, the two arms of the soul, with
   which it embraces and comprehends with all saints the length and
   breadth, the height and depth, that is the eternity, the love, the
   goodness, and the wisdom of God. And what are all these but Christ? He
   is eternity, because "this is life eternal to know Thee the true God
   and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent" (S. John xvii. 3). He is Love,
   because He is God, and God is Love (1 S. John iv. 16). He is both the
   Goodness of God and the Wisdom of God (I Cor. i. 24), but when shall
   these things be? When shall we see Him as He is? For the expectation of
   the creature waiteth for the revelation of the sons of God. For the
   creature was subjected unto vanity, not willingly (Rom. viii. 19, 20).
   It is that vanity diffused through all which makes us desire to be
   praised even when we are blameable, and not to be willing to praise
   those whom we know to be worthy of it. But this too is vain, that we,
   in our ignorance, frequently praise what is not, and are silent about
   what is. What shall we say to this, but that the children of men are
   vain, the children of men are deceitful upon the weights, so that they
   deceive each other by vanity (Ps. lxi. 9; lxx.). We praise falsely, and
   are foolishly pleased, so that they are vain who are praised, and they
   false who praise. Some flatter and are deceptive, others praise what
   they think deserving, and are deceived; others pride themselves in the
   commendations which are addressed to them, and are vain. The only wise
   man is he who says with the Apostle: I forbear, lest any man should
   think of me above that which he seeth me to be or that he heareth of me
   (2 Cor. xii. 6).

   4. For the present I have noted down these things too hastily (because
   of this in not so finished a way), rather than dictated them for you,
   perhaps also at greater length than I should, but to the best of my
   poor ability. But that my letter may finish at the point whence it
   began, I beg you not to be too credulous of uncertain rumour about me,
   which, as you know well, is accustomed to be wrong both in giving
   praise and in attaching blame. Be so kind, if you please, as to weigh
   your praises, and examine with care how far your friendship for me and
   your favour are well-founded, thus they will be the more acceptable
   from my friend as they are fitted to my humble merit. Thus when praise
   shall have proceeded from grave judgment, and not from the error of the
   vulgar, if it is more moderate it will be at the same time more easy to
   bear. I assure you that what attaches me (humble person as I am), to
   you is the zeal, industry, and sincerity with which you employ
   yourself, as they say, in the accomplishment of your charge in holy
   things. May it be always thus with you that this may be said of you
   always with truth. I send you the book which you desire to have in
   order to copy; as for the other treatises of mine which you wish that I
   should send, they are but few, and contain nothing which I should think
   worthy of your attention, yet because I should prefer that my want of
   intelligence should be blamed rather than my goodwill, and I would
   rather endanger my inexperience than my obedience in your sight, be so
   good as to let me know by the present messenger which of my treatises
   you wish that I should send you, so that I may ask for them again from
   those persons to whom they have been lent, and send them wherever you
   shall direct. That you may know what you wish for, I may say that I
   have written a little book on Humility, four Homilies on the Praises of
   the Virgin Mother (for the little book has this title), upon that
   passage of S. Luke where it is said the Angel Gabriel was sent (S. Luke
   i. 26). Also an Apology dedicated to a certain friend of mine, in which
   I have treated of some of our observances, that is to say, those of
   Cîteaux, and those of Cluny. I have also written a few Letters to
   various persons, and finally, there are some of my discourses which the
   brethren who heard them have reproduced in their own words and keep
   them in their hands. Would that any of the simple productions of my
   humble powers might be of any service to you, but I do not dare to
   expect it.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

  To Matthew, the Legate

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

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

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

LETTER VIII (circa A.D. 1130)

  To Gilbert, Bishop of London, Universal Doctor

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

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

LETTER IX (circa A.D. 1135)

  To Ardutio (or Ardutius, Bishop Elect of Geneva

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

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

LETTER X (in the Same Year)

  The Same, When Bishop

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

   1. Charity gives me boldness, my very dear friend, to speak to you with
   great confidence. The episcopal seat which you have lately obtained
   requires a man of many merits; and I see with grief none of these in
   you, or at least not sufficient, to have preceded your elevation. For
   your mode of life and your past occupations seem in nowise to have been
   befitting the episcopal office. What then? Would you say, Is not God
   able of this stone to raise up a son of Abraham? Is not God able to
   bring about that the good works which ought to have gone before my
   episcopate may follow it? Certainly He is, and I desire nothing better
   than this, if it should be so. I know not why, but that sudden change
   wrought by the right hand of the Highest will please me more than if
   the merits of your former life pleaded for you. Then I could say, This
   is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in our eyes (Ps. cxviii. 23). So
   Paul, from a persecutor, became the Doctor of the Gentiles; so Matthew
   was called from the toll-booth, so Ambrose was taken from the palace,
   the one to the Episcopate, the other to the Apostolate. So I have known
   many others who have been usefully raised to the Episcopate, from the
   habits and pursuits of secular life. How many times it has been the
   case that where sin abounded, grace also did much more abound?

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

LETTER XI (circa A.D. 1120)

  The Abbot of Saint Nicasius at Rheims

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

   1. How much I sympathize with your trouble only He knows who bore the
   griefs of all in His own body. How willingly would I advise you if I
   knew what to say, or help you if I were able, as efficaciously as I
   would wish that He who knows and can do all things should advise and
   assist me in all my necessities. If brother Drogo had consulted me
   about leaving your house I should by no means have agreed with him; and
   now that he has left, if he were to apply to enter into mine I should
   not receive him. All that I was able to do in those circumstances I
   have done for you, and have written, as you know, to the abbot who has
   received him. After this, reverend father, what is there more that I am
   able to do on your behalf? And as regards yourself, your Holiness knows
   well with me that men are accustomed to be perfected not only in hope,
   but also to glory in tribulation. The Scripture consoles them, saying:
   The furnace proveth the potter's vessels, and temptation the righteous
   man (Ecclus. xxvii. 6, Vulg.); The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a
   contrite heart (Ps. xxxiv. 18); and We must through much tribulation
   enter into the kingdom of God (Acts xiv. 21); and All who will live
   godly in Christ suffer persecution (2 Tim. iii. 12). Yet none the less
   ought we to sympathize with our friends whom we see placed in care and
   grief; because we do not know what will be the issue of such, and fear
   lest it may be for ill; since whilst, indeed, to saints and the elect
   tribulation worketh patience, patience experience, experience hope, and
   hope maketh not ashamed (Rom. v. 3-5), to the condemnable and
   reprobate, on the contrary, tribulation causes discouragement, and
   discouragement confusion, and confusion despair, which destroys them.

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

   3. I should be wrong to counsel you thus, if I did not oblige myself to
   act thus. For when one of my brethren, not only a professed religious,
   but also nearly akin to me, [11] was received and retained at Cluny
   against my will, I was afflicted, indeed, but endured it in silence,
   praying both for them that they might be willing to return the
   fugitive, and for him, that he might be willing of his own accord to
   return; but if not, leaving the charge of my vengeance to Him who shall
   render judgment to the patient and contend in equity for the meek of
   the earth. Please to warn brother Hugo, of Lausanne, with your own
   mouth, and as from me, not to believe every spirit, and not to be
   induced rashly to desert the certain for the uncertain. Let him
   remember that perseverance alone is always attacked by the devil,
   because it is the only virtue which has the assurance of being crowned.
   It will be safer for him simply to persevere in the vocation wherein he
   is called than to renounce it under the pretext of a life more perfect,
   at the risk of not being found equal to that which he had the
   presumption to attempt.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

LETTER XII (A.D. 1127)

  To Louis, King of France [12]

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

   To LOUIS, the glorious King of France, Stephen, Abbot of Cîteaux, and
   the whole assembly of the abbots and brethren of Cîteaux, wish health,
   prosperity, and peace in Christ Jesus.

   1. The King of heaven and earth has given you a kingdom on earth, and
   will bestow upon you one in heaven if you study to govern with justice
   and wisdom that which you have received. This is what we wish for you,
   and pray for on your behalf, that you may reign here faithfully, and
   there in happiness. But why do you of late put so many obstacles in the
   way of our prayers for you, which, if you recollect, you formerly with
   such humility requested? With what confidence can we now presume to
   lift up our hands for you to the Spouse of the Church, while you so
   inconsiderately, and without the slightest cause (as we think), afflict
   the Church? Grave indeed is the complaint she lays against you before
   her Spouse and Lord, that she finds you an opposer whom she accepted as
   a protector. Have you reflected whom you are thus attacking? Not really
   the Bishop of Paris, [13] but the Lord of Paradise, a terrible God who
   cuts off the spirit of Princes (Ps. lxx. 12), and who has said to
   Bishops, He who despiseth you despiseth me (S. Luke x. 16).

   2. That is what we have to say to you. Perhaps we have to say it with
   boldness, but at the same time in love; and for your sake we pray you
   heartily, in the name of the friendship with which you have honoured
   us, and of the brotherhood with which you deigned to associate
   yourself, but which you have now so grievously wounded, quickly to
   desist from so great a wrong; otherwise, if you do not deign to listen
   to us, nor take any account of us whom you called brethren, who are
   your friends, and who pray daily for you and your children and realm,
   we are forced to say to you that, humble as we are, there is nothing
   which we are not prepared to do within the limits of our weakness for
   the Church of God, and for her minister, the venerable Bishop of Paris,
   our father and our friend. He implores the help of poor religious
   against you, and begs us by the right of brotherhood [14] to write in
   his favour to the Lord Pope. But we judge that we ought first to
   commence by this letter to your royal Excellence, especially as the
   same Bishop pledges himself by the hand of all our Congregation to give
   every satisfaction provided that his goods, which have been unjustly
   taken away from him, be restored, which it seems to us justice itself
   requires; in the meantime, we put off the sending of his petition. And
   if God inspires you to lend an ear to our prayers, to follow our
   counsels, and to restore peace with your Bishop, or rather with God
   which we earnestly desire, we are prepared to come to you wherever you
   shall pleased to fix for the sake of arranging this affair; but if it
   be otherwise, we shall be obliged to listen to the voice o£ our friend,
   and to render obedience to the priest of God. Farewell.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

LETTER XIII (A.D. 1127)

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

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

   It is superfluous to recall to you, very holy Father, the cause and
   order of a very afflicting history, and to linger over what you have
   already heard from the pious Bishop of Paris, and which must have
   profoundly affected your paternal heart. Yet my testimony also ought
   not to be wanting to my brother and co-bishop; what I have seen and
   heard respecting this matter, this I have undertaken to make you
   acquainted with in few words. When the before-mentioned Bishop had
   brought forward his complaint, which he did with great moderation, in
   our provincial assembly, where had gathered with our venerable
   metropolitan the Archbishop of Sens, all the bishops of the province,
   and certain religious also whom we had summoned, we determined to
   represent to the King, with all becoming humility, his unjust
   proceeding, and to beg that he would restore to the Bishop unjustly
   maltreated what had been taken from him; but we obtained no
   satisfaction from him. Understanding, at length, that in order to
   defend the Church we had decided to have recourse to the weapons of the
   Church, he was afraid, and promised the restitution demanded. But
   almost in the same hour arrived your letter, ordering that the
   interdict over the royal domains should be raised, thus, unfortunately,
   strengthening the King in his evil doings, so that he did not perform
   at all what he had promised. Nevertheless, as he had given a fresh
   promise that he would do what we required, we presented ourselves on
   the day appointed. We laboured for peace, and it did not come; but
   instead of it worse confusion. Thus the effect of your letter has been
   that the goods unjustly seized are more unjustly retained, and those
   which remain are seized day by day, and that so much more securely, as
   he is assured of entire impunity in retaining them. The just (as we
   consider) interdict of the Bishop has been raised by your order, and as
   the fear of displeasing you has made us suspend that which we proposed
   to send forth by our own authority, and by which we hoped to obtain
   peace, we are made in the meantime the derision of our neighbours. How
   long is this to be? Let the compassion of your piety be exercised in
   our behalf.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XIV (circa A.D. 1129)

  To Alexander, [15] Bishop of Lincoln

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

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

   1. Your Philip, wishing to go to Jerusalem, has found his journey
   shortened, and has quickly reached the end that he desired. He has
   crossed speedily this great and wide sea, and after a prosperous voyage
   has now reached the desired shore, and anchored at length in the
   harbour of salvation. His feet stand already in the Courts of
   Jerusalem, and Him whom he had heard of in Ephrata he has found in the
   broad woods, and willingly worships in the place where his feet have
   stayed. He has entered into the Holy City, and has obtained an heritage
   with those of whom it is rightly said: Now ye are no longer strangers
   and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints and of the
   household of God (Ephesians ii. 19). He goes in and out with the
   saints, and is become as one of them, praising God and saying as they:
   Our conversation is in heaven (Philip. iii. 20). He is become,
   therefore, not a curious spectator only, but a devoted inhabitant and
   an enrolled citizen of Jerusalem; but not the Jerusalem of this world
   with which is joined Mount Sinai, in Arabia, which is in bondage with
   her children, but of her who is above, who is free, and the mother of
   us all (Gal. iv. 25-26).

   2. And this, if you are willing to perceive it, is Clairvaux. This is
   Jerusalem, and is associated by a certain intuition of the spirit, by
   the entire devotion of the heart, and by conformity of daily life, with
   her which is in heaven. This shall be, as he promises himself, his rest
   for ever. He has chosen her for his habitation, because with her is,
   although not yet the realisation, at least the expectation, of true
   peace of which it is said: The peace of God which passes all
   understanding (Philip. iv. 17). But this is true happiness; although he
   has received it from above, he desires to embrace it with your good
   permission, or rather he trusts that he has done this according to your
   wish, knowing that you are not ignorant of that sentence of the wise
   man, that a wise son is the glory of his father. [16] He makes request,
   therefore, of your Paternity, and we also make request with him and for
   him, to be so kind as to allow the payments which he has assigned to
   his creditors [17] from his prebend to remain unaltered, so that he may
   not be found (which God forbid) a defaulter and breaker of his
   covenant, and so that the offering of a contrite heart, which he makes
   daily, may not be rejected by God, inasmuch as any brother has a claim
   against him. And lastly, he entreats that the house which he has built
   for his mother upon Church land, with the ground which he has assigned
   there, may be preserved to his mother during her life. Thus much with
   regard to Philip.

   3. I have thought well to add these few words for yourself, of my own
   accord, or rather at the inspiration of God, and venture to exhort you
   in all charity, not to look to the glory of the world which passeth
   away, and to lose that which abides eternally; not to love your riches
   more than yourself, nor for yourself, lest you lose yourself and them
   also. Do not, while present prosperity smiles upon you, forget its
   certain end, lest adversity without end succeed it. Let not the joy of
   this present life hide from you the sorrow which it brings about, and
   brings about while it hides. Do not think death far off, so that it
   come upon you unprepared, and while in expectation of long life it
   suddenly leaves you when ill-prepared, as it is written: When they say
   Peace and safety, then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail
   upon a woman with child, and they shall not escape (1 Thess. v. 3).
   Farewell.
     __________________________________________________________________

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

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

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

LETTER XV (circa A.D. 1129)

  To Alvisus, Abbot of Anchin

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

   To Alvisus, Abbot of Anchin. [18]

   1. May God render to you the same mercy which you have shown towards
   your holy son Godwin. I know that at the news of his death you showed
   yourself unmindful of old complaints, and remembering only your
   friendship for him, behaved with kindness, not resentment, and putting
   aside the character of judge, showed yourself a father in circumstances
   that required it. Therefore, you strove to render to him all the duties
   of charity and piety which a father ought to render to a son. What
   better, what more praiseworthy, what more worthy of yourself could you
   have done? But who believed this? Truly no one knows what is in man,
   except the spirit of man which is in him (1 Cor. ii. 11). Where is now
   that austerity, that severity, that indignation which tongue, eyes, and
   countenance were accustomed to display and terribly to pour upon him?
   Scarcely is the death of your son named to you than your fatherly bosom
   is moved. Suddenly all these sentiments which were adopted for a
   purpose, and therefore only for a time, disappeared, and those which
   were truly yours, but were concealed--charity, piety,
   benignity--appeared. Therefore, in your pious mind, mercy and truth
   have met together, and because mercy has certainly prevailed over
   judgment, righteousness and peace have kissed each other (Ps. lxxxv.
   10). For as far as I seem to be able to form an idea, I think I see
   what passed in your mind then, when truth, fired with zeal for justice,
   prepared to avenge the injury which it seemed to you had been done. The
   sentiment of mercy which, after the example of Joseph, prudently
   dissimulated at first, yet not enduring longer to be concealed, and in
   this also like to Joseph (Gen. xlv. 1), burst forth from the hidden
   fount of piety, and making common cause with truth, repressed
   agitation, calmed wrath, made peace with justice.

   2. Then from the pure and peaceful fountain of your heart poured forth
   like limpid streams such thoughts as these: What need have I to be
   angry? Would it not be better to pity him, and not to forget what is
   written, I will have mercy and not sacrifice (Hos. vi. 6), and to
   fulfil what is ordered, Study to keep the unity of the Spirit in the
   bond of peace (Eph. iv. 3), so as to be able to count on what is
   promised, Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy (S.
   Matt. v. 7)? After all, was not that man my son? And who can rage
   against his son?--unless, perhaps, he was only then my son when he was
   with me, and not also when he deserted me. In withdrawing from me in
   body for a time, has he withdrawn equally from my heart, or can even
   death take him away from me? Must the necessity of the body and of
   place so hamper the freedom of souls which love each other? I am quite
   sure that neither distance of places, nor the absence, or even the
   death, of our bodies would be able to disjoin those whom one spirit
   animates, one affection binds together. Finally, if the souls of the
   righteous are in the hand of God (Wisd. iii. 1), we, both those who are
   already at rest, having laid down the burden of the flesh, and those
   who, being still in the flesh, do not war according to the flesh,
   beyond a doubt are still together. Mine he was when living, mine he
   will be dead, and I shall recognize him as mine in the common
   fatherland. If there is any who is able to tear him from the Hands of
   God, then he may be able to separate him from me also.

   3. Thus your affection, father, has enabled you to make excuses for
   your son. But what has it said of me, or what satisfaction from me will
   be worthy of you, which you could impose for the great injury inflicted
   upon you, because when your son left you he was received by me? What
   can I say? If I should plead I have not received him (would I were able
   to say so without sin) it would be a falsehood. If I should plead I
   received him, indeed, but with good reason, I should seem to wish to
   excuse myself, The safer way will be to answer, I did wrong. But how
   far did I do wrong? I do not say it by way of defence, but by whom
   would he not be received? Who, I say, would repel that good man from
   his door when he knocked, or expel him when once received? But who
   knows if God did not wish to supply our need out of your abundance, so
   that He directed to us one of the many holy men who were then in great
   number in your house, for our consolation, indeed, but none the less
   for a glory to you? "For a wise son is the glory of his father" (Prov.
   x. 1). Moreover, I did not make any solicitation to him beforehand. I
   did not gain him over by promises to desert you or to come to us. Quite
   on the contrary, God is my witness. I did not consent to receive him
   until he begged me to do so, until he knocked at my door and entreated
   to have it opened, until I had tried to send him back to you, but as he
   would not agree to that I at length yielded to his importunity. But if
   it is a fault that I received him, a monk, a stranger, alone, and
   received him in the way I did, it will not be unworthy of you to pardon
   such a fault, which was committed once only, for it is not lawful for
   you to deny forgiveness even to those who sin against you seventy times
   seven.

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

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

LETTER XVI

  To Rainald, Abbot of Foigny

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

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

   2. We cannot but wonder how light is the burden of Truth. Is not that
   truly light which does not burden, but relieves him who bears it? What
   lighter than that weight, which not only does not burden, but even
   bears every one upon whom it is laid to bear? This weight was able to
   render fruitful the Virgin's womb, but not to burden it. [20] This
   weight sustained the very arms of the aged Simeon, in which He was
   received. This caught up Paul, though with weighty and corruptible
   body, into the third heaven. I seek in all things to find if possible
   something like to this weight which bears them who bear it, and I find
   nothing but the wings of birds which in any degree resembles it, for
   these in a certain singular manner render the body of birds at once
   more weighty and more easily moved. Wonderful work of nature! that at
   the same time increases the material and lightens the burden, and while
   the mass is greater the burden is in the same degree less. Thus plainly
   in the wings is expressed the likeness of the burden of Christ, because
   they themselves bear that by which they are borne. What shall I say of
   a chariot? This, too, increases the load of the horse by which it is
   drawn, but at the same time renders capable of being drawn a load which
   without it could not be moved. Load is added to load, yet the whole is
   lighter. See also how the Chariot of the Gospel comes to the weighty
   load of the Law, and helps to carry it on to perfection, while
   decreasing the difficulty. His word, it is said, runneth very swiftly
   (Ps. cxlvii. 15). His word, before known only in Judea, and not able,
   because of its weightiness, to extend beyond, which burdened and
   weighed down the hands of Moses himself, when lightened by Grace, and
   placed upon the wheels of the Gospel, ran swiftly over the whole earth,
   and reached in its rapid flight the confines of the world.

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

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

   5. I wish to reply now to the rest of your letter. You complain that I
   do not come to see you. I could complain equally of you for the same
   reason, unless, indeed (which you yourself do not deny), the will of
   God must be preferred to our feelings and our needs. If it were
   otherwise, if it were not the work of Christ that was in question,
   would I suffer to be so far away from me a companion so dear and
   necessary to me, so obedient in labour, so persevering in studies, so
   useful in conference, so prompt in recollection? Blessed are we if we
   still remain thus until the end always and in everything, seeking not
   our own interests, but those of Jesus Christ.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [19] Rule of S. Benedict cap. 63.

   [20] Gravidare; gravare. --[E.]
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XVII

  To the Same

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

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

   1. You complain, my very dear son, of your many tribulations, and by
   your pious complaints you excite me also to complain, for I am not able
   to feel that you are sorrowing without sharing your sorrow, nor can I
   be otherwise than troubled and anxious when I hear of your troubles and
   anxieties. But since I foresaw these very difficulties which you say
   have happened to you, and predicted them to you, if you remember--it
   seems to me that you ought to be better prepared to endure them, and to
   spare me vexation when you can, For am I not sufficiently tried, and
   more than sufficiently, to lose you, not to see you, nor to enjoy your
   society, which was so pleasant to me; so that I have almost regretted
   that I should have sent you away from me. And although charity obliged
   me to send you, yet not being able to see you where you have been sent,
   I mourn you as if lost to me. When, then, besides this, you who ought
   to be the staff of my support, belabour me as it were with the rod of
   your faintheartedness, you heap sorrow upon sorrow, and torment upon
   torment; and if it is a mark of your filial affection towards me that
   you do not hide any of your difficulties from me, yet it is hard to add
   fresh trouble to one already burdened. Why is it needful to occupy with
   fresh anxieties one already more than anxious enough, and to torture
   with sharper pains the bosom of a father, already wounded by the
   absence of his son? I have shared with you my weight of cares, as a
   son, as an intimate friend, as a trusty assistant; but how do you help
   to bear your father's burden, if, instead of relieving me, you burden
   me still more? You, indeed, are loaded, but I am not lightened of my
   load.

   2. For this burden is that of sick and weak souls. Those who are in
   health do not need to be carried, and are not, therefore, a burden.
   Whomsoever, then, of your brethren you shall find sad, mean-spirited,
   discontented, remember well that it is of these and for their sakes,
   you are father and abbot. In consoling, in exhorting, in reproving, you
   do your duty, you bear your burden; and those whom you bear in order to
   cure, you will cure by bearing. But if any one is in such spiritual
   health that he rather helps you than is helped by you, recognize that
   to him you are not father and abbot, but equal and friend. Do not
   complain if you find more trials than consolations from those among
   whom you are. You were sent to sustain and console others, because you
   are spiritually stronger and better able to bear than they, and because
   with the grace of God you are able to aid and sustain all without
   needing yourself to be aided and sustained by any. Finally, if the
   burden is great, so also is the reward; but, on the other hand, the
   more assistance you receive, the more your own reward is diminished.
   Choose, therefore; if you prefer those who are for you a burden, your
   merit will be the greater; but if, on the contrary, you prefer those
   who console you, you have no merit at all. The former are the source
   whence it arises for you; the second as the abyss in which it is
   swallowed up; for it is not doubtful that those who are partakers of
   the labour, will be also sharers of the reward. Knowing, then, that you
   were sent to help, not to be helped, bear in mind that you are the
   vicar of Him who came not to be ministered unto, but to minister. I
   could have wished to write at greater length, in order to comfort you,
   but that it was not necessary; for what need is there of filling a dead
   leaf with superfluous words, while the living voice is speaking? I
   think that when you have seen our prior, these words will be sufficient
   for you, and your spirit will revive at his presence, so that you will
   not require the consolation of written words, in the delight and help
   which his discourse will give you. Do not doubt that I have
   communicated to him, as far as was possible, my inmost mind, which you
   begged in your letters might be sent to you. For you know well that he
   and I are of one mind and one will.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XVIII

  To the Same,

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

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


   "When have I not made the perils which I feared

   Greater than they really were?" [21]

   I fear all things because I am uncertain of all things, and feel often
   real sorrow for imaginary evils. The mind which affection dominates is
   hardly master of itself. It fears what it knows not; it grieves when
   there is no need; it is troubled more than it wished, and even when it
   does not wish; unable to rule its sensibility, it pities or sympathizes
   against its will. And because you see, my son, that neither my timid
   industry nor your pious prudence in this respect are of service to me,
   do not, I pray you, conceal from me henceforth anything that concerns
   you, that you may not increase my uneasiness by seeking to spare me.
   The little books of mine which you have, please return to me when you
   can.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [21] Heroid. Ep. I. v. 11.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XIX (A.D. 1127)

  To Suger, Abbot of S. Denis

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

   1. A piece of good news has reached our district; it cannot fail to do
   great good to whomsoever it shall have come. For who that fear God,
   hearing what great things He has done for your soul, do not rejoice and
   wonder at the great and sudden change wrought by the Right Hand of the
   Most High. Everywhere your courage is praised in the Lord; the gentle
   hear of it and are glad, and even those who do not know you, [22] but
   have only heard of you, what you were and what you are now, wonder and
   glorify God in you. But what adds still more to their admiration and
   joy is that you have been able to make your brethren partake of the
   counsel of salvation poured upon you from above, and so to fulfil what
   we read, Let him that heareth say, Come (Rev. xxii. 17), and that What
   I tell you in darkness that speak ye in light, and what ye hear in the
   ear that preach ye upon the house tops (S. Matt. x. 27). So a soldier
   intrepid in war, or rather a general full of bravery and devotedness,
   when he sees almost all his soldiers turned to flight and falling
   everywhere under the hostile blades, although he may see that he would
   be able to escape alone, yet he prefers to die with those, without whom
   he would think it shame to live. He holds firm on the field of battle
   and combats bravely; he ranges, sword in hand, along the ranks, through
   the bloody blades which seek him; he terrifies his adversaries and
   reanimates his followers with all his powers of voice and gesture.
   Wherever the enemy press on more boldly and there is danger of his
   friends giving ground, there he is present; the enemy who strikes he
   opposes, the friend who sinks exhausted he succours; and he is the more
   prepared to die for each one, that he despairs to save them all. But
   while he makes heroic efforts to hinder and to stop the pursuers who
   press upon his followers, he raises as best he can those who are fallen
   and recalls those who have taken flight. Nor is it rare that his
   splendid valour procures a safety as welcome as unhoped for, throws
   into confusion the hostile ranks, forces them to fly from those whom
   they were pursuing, and overcomes those who bore themselves almost as
   victors, so that they who a little before were struggling for life are
   now rejoicing in victory.

   2. But why do I compare an event so profoundly religious to things
   secular, as if examples were wanting to us from religion itself? Was
   not Moses quite certain of what God had promised him, that if, indeed,
   the people over whom he ruled should have perished, he himself should
   not only not perish with them, but should be besides the chief of a
   great nation? Nevertheless, with what affection, with what zeal, with
   what bowels of piety did he strive to save his people from the wrath of
   God? And, finally, interposing himself on behalf of the offenders, he
   cries: If Thou wilt forgive their sin--; and if not, blot me, I pray
   Thee, out of Thy book which Thou hast written (Exod. xxxii. 32). What a
   devoted advocate! who, because he does not seek his own interests,
   easily obtains everything which he seeks. What a benign chief, who,
   binding together his people with bonds of charity as the head is united
   with the members, will either save them with himself or else encounter
   the same danger as they! Jeremiah, also bound [23] inseparably to his
   people, but by the bond of compassion, not by sympathy for their
   revolt, quitted voluntarily his native soil and his own liberty [24] to
   embrace in preference the common lot of exile and slavery. He was free
   to remain in his own country had he chosen, while others must remove,
   but he preferred to be carried away captive with his people, to whom he
   knew that he could render service even in captivity. Paul, animated
   beyond doubt by the same spirit, desired that he might be anathema even
   from Christ Himself for his brethren (Romans ix. 3). He experienced in
   his own heart how true is that saying, Love is as strong as death,
   jealousy is cruel as the grave (Cant. viii. 6). Do you see of whose
   great examples you have shown yourself an imitator? But I add one more
   whom I had almost passed over, that of the holy king David, who,
   perceiving and lamenting the slaughter of his people, wished to devote
   himself for them, and desired that the Divine vengeance should be
   transferred to himself and to his father's house (2 Sam. xxiv. 17).

   3. But who made you aspire to this degree of perfection? I confess that
   though I earnestly desired to hear such things of you, I never hoped to
   see it come to pass. Who would have believed that you would reach, so
   to speak, by one sudden bound, the practice of the highest virtues, and
   approach the most exalted merit? Thus we learn not to measure by the
   narrow proportions of our faith and hope the infinite pity of God,
   which does what It will and works upon whom It will, lightening the
   burden which It imposes upon us, and hastening the work of our
   salvation. What then? the zeal of good people blamed your errors at
   least, if not those of your brethren: it was against your excesses more
   than theirs that they were moved with indignation; and if your brothers
   in religion groaned in secret, it was less against your entire
   community than against you; it was only against you that they brought
   their accusation. You corrected your faults, and their criticisms had
   no longer an object; your conversion at once stilled the tumult of
   accusation. The one and only thing with which we were scandalized was
   the luxury, the pride, the pomp, which followed you everywhere. [25] At
   length you laid down your pride, you put off your splendid dress, and
   the universal indignation ceased at once. Thus you had at the same time
   satisfied those who complained of you, and even merited our praises.
   For what in human doings is deserving of praise, if this is not
   considered most worthy of admiration and approval? It is true that a
   change so sudden and so complete is not the work of man, but of God. If
   in heaven the conversion of one sinner arouses great joy, what gladness
   will the conversion of an entire community cause, and of such a
   community as yours?

   4. That spot so noble by its antiquity and the royal favour, was made
   to serve the convenience of worldly business, and to be a meeting-place
   for the royal troops. They used to render to Caesar the things which
   were Caesar's promptly and fully; but not with equal fidelity did they
   render the things of God to God. I speak what I have heard, not what I
   have seen: the very cloister itself of your monastery was frequently,
   they say, crowded with soldiers, occupied with the transaction of
   business, resounding with noise and quarrels, and sometimes even
   accessible even to women. How, in the midst of all that, could place be
   found for thoughts of heaven, for the service of God, for the interests
   of the spiritual life? But now there is leisure for God's service, for
   practising self-restraint and obedience, for attention to sacred
   reading. Consider that silence and constant quiet from all stir of
   secular things disposes the soul to meditation on things above. And the
   laborious exercise of the religious life and the rigour of abstinence
   are lightened by the sweetness of psalms and hymns. Penitence for the
   past renders lighter the austerity of the new manner of life. He who in
   the present gathers the fruits of a good conscience, feels in himself a
   desire for future good works, which shall not be frustrated, and a
   well-founded hope. The fear of the judgment to come gives way to the
   pious exercise of brotherly charity, for love casteth out fear (1 S.
   John iv. 18). The variety of holy services drives far away weariness
   and sourness of temper, and I repeat these things to the praise and
   glory of God, who is the Author of all; yet not without praise to
   yourself as being His co-worker in all things. He was able, indeed, to
   do them without you, but He has preferred to have you for the sharer of
   His works, that He might have you for the sharer of His glory also. The
   Saviour once reproached certain persons because they made the house of
   prayer a den of thieves (S. Matt. xxi. 13). He will doubtless then have
   in commendation the man who has accomplished the task of freeing His
   holy place from the dogs, of rescuing His pearl from the swine; by
   whose ardour and zeal the workshop of Vulcan is restored to holy
   studies, or rather the house of God is restored to Him from being a
   synagogue of Satan to be that which it was before.

   5. If I recall the remembrance of past evils it is not in order to cast
   confusion or reproach on any one, but from the comparison with the old
   state of things to make the beauty of the new appear more sharply and
   strikingly; because there is nothing which makes the present good shine
   forth more clearly than a comparison with the evils which preceded it.
   As we recognize similar things from similar, so things which are unlike
   either please or displease more when compared with their opposites.
   Place that which is black beside that which is white, and the
   juxtaposition of the two colours makes each appear more marked. So, if
   beautiful things are put beside ugly, the former are rendered more
   beautiful, the ugliness of the latter is more apparent. That there may
   be no occasion of offence or confusion, I am content to repeat with the
   Apostle: Such, indeed, ye were, but ye are washed, ye are sanctified (1
   Cor. vi 11). Now, the house of God ceases to open to people of the
   world, there is no access to sacred precincts for the curious; no
   gossip about trifling things with the idle; the chatter of boys and
   girls is no longer heard. The holy place is open and accessible only to
   the children of Christ, of whom it is said: Behold I and the children
   whom the Lord hath given me (Isaiah viii. 18). It is reserved for the
   praises of God and the performance of sacred vows with due care and
   reverence. How gladly do the martyrs, of whom so great a number ennoble
   that place, listen to the loud songs of these children, to whom they in
   turn reply no less with a voice of charity: Praise, O ye servants of
   the Lord, praise the name of the Lord (Ps. cxiii. 1), and again, Sing
   praises to our God, sing praises, sing praises to our King, sing
   praises (Ps. xlvii. 6).

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

   7. You are wearied, perhaps, with my praises, but you ought not to be
   so; they are far different from the flatteries of those who call evil
   good and good evil (Isaiah v. 20), and so please a person to lead him
   into error. Sweet but perilous is the praise when the wicked is praised
   in the desire of his heart, and the unjust is blessed (Ps. ix. 3,
   Vulg.). The warmth of my praises comes from charity, and does not once
   pass, as I believe, the limits of truth. He is safely praised, who is
   praised in the Lord, that is, in the truth. I have not called evil
   good, but have pointed out as evil what was evil. But if I boldly raise
   my voice against that which is evil, ought I to be silent in presence
   of good, and not give my testimony to it? That would be to show myself
   an envious critic, not a corrector; and to prefer to mangle rather than
   to mend, if I am silent as to good and raise my voice only about evil.
   The just reproves in mercy, the wicked flatters in impiety; the one
   that he may cure, the other in order to hide that which needs to be
   cured. Do not be afraid that those among us who in the fear of the Lord
   praise you will pour upon your head that ointment of the sinner with
   which they were wont to anoint you. I praise you because you are doing
   right. But I do not flatter you; I only accomplish in your case, by the
   gift of God, those words of the Psalmist: Those who fear Thee shall see
   me and shall rejoice, because I have hoped in Thy word (Ps. cxix. 74);
   and again: Many shall show forth his wisdom (Ecclus. xxxix. 10). It is,
   then, your wisdom which more praised than blamed the former folly.

   8. I would that you should take pleasure in the praises of such as fear
   just as much to flatter vice as to depreciate virtue. That is the true
   praise, which, as it is wont to extol nothing but what is good, so it
   knows not how to caress what is evil. All other is pretended praise,
   but really blame, which Scripture refers to: The sons of men are vain;
   they are deceitful upon the weights, so that they deceive even more
   than vanity (Ps. lxii. 10). Such are altogether to be avoided according
   to the counsel of the wise man: My son, if sinners entice thee consent
   thou not (Prov. i. 10), since their milk and their oil, though they be
   sweet, are poisonous and deadly. Their words, he says (that is, those
   of flatterers), are softer than oil, and yet are they very swords (Ps.
   lv. 21). The righteous has oil, too, but of mercy, of sanctification,
   of spiritual joy. He has wine, which he pours into the wounds of the
   haughty soul. But for the soul of him that mourns, and for him of
   contrite heart, he has the oil of mercy, with which he is wont to
   soften its sorrow. Where he corrects, he pours in wine; when he
   soothes, oil; but wine without bitterness, and oil without guile. Thus,
   not every praise is flattery, nor every blame mixed with rancour.
   Blessed is he who can say: Let the righteous smite me in mercy, and
   reprove me: but let not the oil of the sinner break my head (Ps. cxli.
   5), which when you have put far from you, you have shown yourself
   worthy of the oil and wine of the saints.

   9. Let the children of Babylon seek for themselves pleasant mothers,
   but pitiless, who will feed them with poisoned milk, and soothe them
   with caresses which will make them fit for everlasting flames; but
   those of the Church, fed at the breasts of her wisdom, having tasted
   the sweetness of a better milk, already begin to grow up in it unto
   salvation, and being fully satiated with it they cry: Thy fulness is
   better than wine, Thy fragrance than the sweetest ointments (Cant. i.
   1, 2). This to their mother. But, then, having tasted and known how
   sweet the Lord is, how truly the best of fathers, they say to Him: How
   great is Thy goodness, O Lord, which Thou hast laid up for them that
   fear Thee (Ps. xxxi. 19). Now my whole desire is accomplished. Formerly
   when I saw with regret with what avidity you sucked in [26] from the
   lips of flatterers their mortal poison, the seed of sin, I used, with
   grief, to desire better things for you, saying: Who shall give thee to
   me, my brother, who sucked the breasts of my mother (Cant. viii. 1)?
   Far from thee henceforth be those men with caresses and dishonest
   praises, who bless you before your face and expose you at the same time
   to the reproach and derision of all men, whose applause in your
   presence is the world's by-word, or rather makes you a by-word to the
   world. If they murmur even now, say to them: If I yet pleased you, I
   should not be the servant of Christ (Gal. i. 10). Those whom we please
   in evil things we cannot please in good things, unless they are
   themselves changed, and begin to hate what we were, and so at length to
   love what we are.

   10. In our time two new and detestable abuses have arisen in the
   Church, of which one (permit me to say it) was no stranger to you when
   you lived in forgetfulness of the duties of your profession; but this,
   thanks to God, has been amended to His glory, to your everlasting gain,
   to our joy and an example to all. God is able to bring about that we
   may soon be consoled for the second of these evils, the odious novelty
   of which I do not dare to speak of in public, and yet am afraid to pass
   over in silence. My grief urges my tongue to speak, but fear restrains
   the words; fear only lest I may offend some one if I speak openly of
   what troubles me, since truth sometimes makes enemies. But for enmity
   of this kind thus incurred I hear the truth consoling me. It is
   needful, he says, that offences should come. And I do not think that
   those words which follow, Woe to that man by whom the offence cometh
   (S. Matt. xviii. 7) concern me. For when vices are attacked and a
   scandal results thence, it is not he who makes the accusation who is to
   answer for the scandal, but he who renders it necessary. In short, I am
   neither more cautious in word nor circumspect in action than he who
   says, "It is better that a scandal should arise than that the truth be
   compromised" (S. Greg. Magn. Hom. 7 in Ezech. near the beginning, and
   S. Aug. de Lib. Arbitr. et de Prædest. sanctor.). Although I know not
   what advantage it would be were I to hold my tongue about that which
   all the world proclaims with a loud voice, nor can I alone pretend to
   overlook the pest whose ill odour is in all nostrils, and not dare to
   guard my own nose from its ill effect.

   11. For whose heart is not indignant, and whose tongue does not murmur
   either openly or secretly to see a deacon equally serving God and
   Mammon, [27] against the precept of the Gospel heaping up
   ecclesiastical dignities, so that he seems not to be inferior to
   Bishops, yet so mixed up in military offices that he is preferred even
   to Dukes. What monster is this, that being a clerk, and wishing at the
   same time to appear a soldier, is neither? It is equally an abuse that
   a deacon should serve at the table of the King, and that the server of
   the King should minister at the altar during the holy mysteries. Is it
   not a wonder, or rather a scandal, to see the same person clothed in
   armour march at the head of armed soldiery, and vested in alb and stole
   read the Gospel in the midst of the Church; at one time give the signal
   for battle with the trumpet, and at another convey the orders of the
   Bishop to the people? Unless, perhaps, that man (which would be
   scandalous) is ashamed of the Gospel of which S. Paul, that Vessel of
   election, was so proud? Perhaps he is ashamed to appear a cleric, and
   thinks it more honourable to be supposed a soldier, preferring the
   Court to the Church, the table of the King to the Altar of Christ, and
   the cup of demons to the chalice of Christ. This seems the more
   probable, because he is prouder (they say) to be called by the name of
   that one post which he has obtained at the palace than by any of those
   titles of ecclesiastical dignities which, in defiance of the canons, he
   has heaped upon himself, and instead of delighting to be called
   Archdeacon, Dean, or Provost to his various Churches, he prefers to be
   styled Dapifer to H.M. the King. O, unheard of and hateful perversity!
   thus to prefer the title of servant of a man to that of the servant of
   God, and to consider the position of an official of an earthly king one
   of higher dignity than that of an heavenly! He who prefers military
   warfare to the work of the ministry places the world before the Church,
   is convicted of preferring human things to Divine, earthly to heavenly.
   Is it then more honourable to be called the King's Dapifer than Dean or
   Archdeacon? It may be to a layman, not to a cleric; to a soldier, not
   to a deacon.

   12. It is a strange but blind ambition to delight more in the lowest
   things than in the highest, and that the man whose lines had fallen to
   him in pleasant places should recreate himself upon a dunghill with
   eager desire, and count his precious lands as nothing worth. This man
   mingles the two orders and cunningly abuses each. Military pomps
   delight him, but not the risks and labours of warfare; the revenues of
   religion, but not its duties. Who does not see how great is the
   disgrace, as much to the State as to the Church? for just as it is no
   part of clerical duty to bear arms at the pay of the King, so it is no
   part of the royal duties to administer lay affairs by means of clerics.
   [28] 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 [29] is rather
   the mark of royalty than of servitude; on the other hand, the throne
   finds a better support in the force of arms than in chanting of Psalms.
   Still, if the abasement of the one contributes to the greatness of the
   other, as is sometimes the case; if, for example, the humiliation of
   the King raised higher the dignity of the priest, or the abasement of
   the clerk added something to the royal honour; as it happens, for
   instance, if a woman of noble rank marries a man of the people, she
   indeed loses in grade by him, but he gains by her; if, then, I say,
   either the King had advantage from the clerk, or the clerk from the
   King, it would be an evil only in part, and perhaps ought to be borne
   with; but, on the contrary, since there is no gain to either from the
   humiliation of the other, but there is loss to each; since neither does
   it become a cleric, as has been said, to be or to be called the server
   of the King; nor is it for the King's advantage to put the reins of
   government into any but strong and brave hands. Truly then it is
   strange that either power endures such a man as this; that the Church
   does not repulse the deacon-soldier, or the State the
   prince-ecclesiastic.

   13. I had wished to inculcate these principles by still stronger and
   more detailed arguments, and perhaps ought to do so, did not the
   necessary limits of a letter oblige me to defer this for the present;
   and because, most of all, I fear to offend you, I have spared a man for
   whom, it is said, you had formerly a great regard. I would not that you
   should have a friend at the expense of the truth. But you have still a
   friendship for him; show yourself a true friend, and exert yourself to
   make him, too, a friend of the Truth. Then at length there will be a
   true friendship between you, if it is bound together by a common love
   of truth. And if he will not yield to you in this, hold fast what you
   have; join the tail to the head of the sacrifice. You have received by
   the grace of God a robe of many colours; take pains to make it reach
   even to the feet, for what will it profit you to have put your hand to
   the work if (which, God forbid) you do not attain finally to presevere?
   I end my letter by warning you to make a good ending of your good work.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XX (circa A.D. 1130)

  To Guy, Abbot of Molêsmes

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

   God who knows the hearts of all men, and is the inspirer of all good
   dispositions, knows with what sympathy I condole with you in this your
   adversity, of which I have heard. But, again, when I consider rather
   the person who has caused you this trial than Him who permits it, just
   as much as I feel with you in the present misfortune, so much I hope
   soon to rejoice with you in the prosperity which must speedily come.
   But only do not let yourself be at all crushed by discouragement; think
   with me how, by the example of holy Job, [30] 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, [31] not
   so much to be angry with those people who have caused you such great
   sufferings, although they are your own servants, as to know that you
   ought to humble yourself under the mighty hand of God, who doubtless
   has sent them to bring about this misfortune to you. But since it
   appears that their correction devolves upon you, as they are serfs of
   the Church committed to your government, it is proper that these
   unfaithful serfs should be punished for their very wicked presumption,
   and that the loss of the monastery should be recompensed in some degree
   out of their goods. But that you may not seem rather to be avenging
   your own injury in this than punishing their fault; I beg you and also
   advise you not to think so much of what they deserve as what is fitting
   for you to do, so that mercy may be exalted above strict justice, and
   that in your moderation God may be glorified. For the rest, I beg you
   to press upon that your son, who is dear to me as well for your sake as
   in a great degree for his own, with your own lips, as with my spirit,
   not to show in his accusations a bitterness and a violence such as
   prove that he forgets that precept of our Lord--Whosoever shall smite
   thee on thy right cheek turn to him the other also (S. Matt. v. 39).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [30] Job ii. 10.

   [31] 2 Sam. xvi. 10.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXI (circa A.D. 1128)

  To the Abbot of S. John at Chartres

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

   1. As regards the matters about which you were so good as to consult so
   humble a person as myself, I had at first determined not to reply. Not
   because I had any doubt what to say, but because it seemed to me
   unnecessary or even presumptuous to give counsel to a man of sense and
   wisdom. But considering that it usually happens that the greater number
   of persons of sense--or I might say that all such--trust the judgment
   of another person rather than their own in doubtful cases, and that
   those who have a clear judgment in the affairs of others, however
   obscure, frequently hesitate and are undecided about their own, I
   depart from my first resolution, not, I hope, without reason, and
   without prejudice to any wiser opinion explain to you simply how the
   matter appears to me. You have signified to me, if I do not mistake, by
   the pious Abbot Ursus of S. Denis, that you have it in contemplation to
   desert your country and the monastery over which, by the Providence of
   God, you are head, to undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, to occupy
   yourself henceforth only with God and the salvation of your own soul.
   Perhaps, if you aspire unto perfection, it may be expedient for you to
   leave your country, when God says, Go forth from thy country and from
   thy kindred (Gen. xii. 1). But I do not see at all on what ground you
   ought to risk, by your departure, the safety of the souls entrusted to
   you. For is it pleasant to enjoy liberty after having laid down your
   burden? But charity does not seek her own interests. Perhaps the wish
   for quiet and rest attracts you? But it is obtained at the price of the
   peace of others. Freely will I do without the enjoyment of any desire,
   even a spiritual one, which cannot be obtained except at the price of a
   scandal. For where there is scandal, there, without doubt, is loss of
   charity: and where there is loss of charity, surely no spiritual
   advantage can be hoped for. Finally, if it is permitted to any one to
   prefer his own quiet to the common good, who is there that can say with
   truth: For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain (Phil. i. 21)? And
   where will that principle be which the Apostle declares: No one lives
   to himself, and no one dies to himself (Rom. xiv. 7); and, Not seeking
   mine own profit, but the profit of many (1 Cor. x. 33); and, That he
   who lives should not any longer live unto himself, but unto Him who
   died for all (2 Cor. v. 15)?

   2. But you will say: Whence comes my great desire, if it is not from
   God? With your permission I will say what I think. Stolen waters are
   sweet (Prov. ix. 17); and for whosoever knows the devices of the devil,
   it is not doubtful that the angel of darkness is able to change himself
   into an angel of light, and to pour upon the thirsting soul those
   waters of which the sweetness is more bitter than wormwood. In truth,
   what other can be the suggester of scandals, the author of dissension,
   the troubler of unity and peace, except the devil, the adversary of
   truth, the envier of charity, the ancient foe of the human race, and
   the enemy of the Cross of Christ? If death entered into the world
   through his envy, even so now he is jealous of whatever good he sees
   you doing; and since he is a liar from the beginning, he falsely
   promises now better things which he does not see. For when did the
   Truth oppose that most faithful saying, Art thou bound unto a wife?
   seek not to be loosed (1 Cor. vii. 27). Or when did charity urge to
   scandal, who at the scandals of all shows herself burning with regret?
   He, then, the most wicked one, opposed to charity by envy, and to truth
   by falsehood, mixing falsehood and gall with the true honey, promises
   doubtful things as certain, and gives out that true things are false,
   not that he may give you what you vainly hope for, but that he may take
   away what you are profitably holding now. He prowls around and seeks
   how he may take away from the flock the care of the pastor, to make a
   prey of it when there is none to defend it from his attacks; and,
   besides this, to bring down upon the pastor that terrible rebuke, Woe
   to him by whom scandal cometh (S. Matt. xviii. 7). But I have full
   confidence in the wisdom given to you by God, that by no cunning
   devices of the wicked one you will be seduced or made to renounce
   certain good, and for the hope of uncertain advantage to incur certain
   evil.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXII (circa A.D. 1129)

  To Simon, Abbot of S. Nicholas

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

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

   2. All those, indeed, who wish to live piously in Christ suffer
   persecution (2 Tim. iii. 12). The intention to live piously is never
   wanting to them, but it is not always possible to carry it perfectly
   out, for just as it is the mark of the wicked constantly to struggle
   against the pious designs of the good; so it is not a reproach to the
   piety [of the latter], even although they are frequently unable to
   perfect their just and holy desires, because they are few against many
   opposers. Thus Aaron yielded against his will to the impious clamours
   of the riotous people (Exod. xxxii.). So Samuel unwillingly anointed
   Saul, constrained by the too eager desires of the same people for a
   king (1 Sam. x.). So David, when he wished to build a Temple, yet
   because of the numerous wars which that valorous man had constantly to
   sustain against enemies who molested him, he was forbidden to do what
   he piously proposed (2 Sam. vii.). Similarly, venerable father, I
   counsel you, without prejudice to the better advice of wiser persons,
   so to soften, for the present only, the rigour of your purpose of
   reform, and that of those who share it with you, that you may not be
   unmindful of the salvation of the weaker brethren. Those, indeed, over
   whom you have consented to preside in that Order of Cluny ought to be
   invited to a stricter life, but they ought not to be obliged to embrace
   it against their will. I believe that those who do desire to live more
   strictly ought to be persuaded either to bear with the weaker out of
   charity as far as they can without sin, or permitted to preserve the
   customs which they desire in the monastery itself, if that may be done
   without scandal to either party; or at least that they should be set
   free from the Order to associate themselves where it may seem good with
   other brothers who live according to their proposal.
     __________________________________________________________________

Letter XXIII (circa A.D. 1130)

  To the Same

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

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

   1. You have given me this formula of salutation when you wrote, "to his
   friend all that a friend can wish." [32] 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 [33] had
   dawned; and being obliged to devote myself entirely to its solemnities,
   I had no leisure to think of anything else. Your messenger also was
   anxious to be gone; scarcely would he stay even until to-morrow morning
   that I might write to you these few words after all the Offices of the
   festival. I send back to you a fugitive brother after having subjected
   him to severe reprimand suited to his hard heart. It seemed to me that
   there was nothing better to do than to send him back to the place
   whence he had fled, since I ought not, according to our rules, to
   detain any monk in the house without the consent of his abbot. You
   ought to reprove him very severely also, and press him to make humble
   satisfaction and then comfort him a little by a letter from yourself
   addressed to his abbot on his behalf.

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

   [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. Ep. 23).
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXIV (circa A.D. 1126)

  To Oger, Regular Canon [34]

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

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

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

   2. You explain to me also for what reason you have not followed my
   advice, not only not to allow yourself to be discouraged or overcome by
   despondency, but to bear patiently the burden laid upon you, which once
   undertaken you were not at liberty to lay down; and I accept your
   explanations. I am well aware, indeed, of the infertility of my wisdom,
   and I always hold myself in suspicion for rashness and inexperience, so
   that I ought not to take it ill, nor do I, when the course which I
   approve is not taken; and I wish, on the contrary, that action should
   be taken on better advice than mine. As often as my opinion is chosen
   and followed I feel myself weighed down, I confess it, with
   responsibility, and await with inquietude, never with confidence, the
   issue of the matter. Yet it is for you to see if you have acted wisely
   in not following my advice about this thing; [35] it must be decided
   also by those wiser persons than I, on whose authority you have relied,
   whether you have done according to reason. They will tell you, I say,
   whether it is lawful for a Christian man to lay down the burden of
   obedience before his death, when Christ was made obedient to the Father
   even unto death. You will reply, "I have acted by license, asked and
   received from the Bishop." True, you have, indeed, asked for license,
   but in a manner you ought not to have done, and, therefore, have rather
   extorted than asked it. But an extorted or compelled license should
   rather be called violence. What, therefore, the Bishop did unwillingly,
   when overcome by your importunity, was not to release you from your
   obligations, but violently to break them.

   3. You may indeed be congratulated, since you are thus exonerated; but
   I fear lest you have, as much as lieth in you, taken from the glory
   [36] of God, whose will you, beyond doubt, resist in casting yourself
   down from the post to which He had advanced you. Perhaps you excuse
   yourself by pleading the necessity of religious poverty; but it is
   necessity that brings the crown, in rendering achievements difficult
   and almost impossible; for all things are possible to him who has
   faith. But answer to me what is most true, that you have consulted your
   own quiet, rather than the advantage of others. Nor is this strange. I
   confess that I, too, am pleased that quiet should delight you, if only
   it does not delight you too much. For that, even although a great
   thing, which pleases us to such a degree that we wish to bring it
   about, even although by wrong means, pleases us too much; and because
   it cannot be brought about by right means, it ceases to be good. For if
   you offer rightly, but do not divide rightly, you have sinned (Gen. iv.
   7, lxx.). Either, therefore, you ought not to have accepted the cure of
   the Lord's flock, or, having accepted it, ought not to have
   relinquished it, according to those words: Art thou bound unto a wife?
   seek not to be loosed (2 Cor. vii. 27).

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

   5. There is something, however, which I fear still more for you,
   namely, that which is written of certain sinners, that they rejoice in
   having done evil and delight in wicked actions (Prov. ii. 14); that you
   should be deceived, and not only think that what you have done is not
   wrong, but also (which, God forbid) glory in your heart, thinking that
   you have done something great, and which is usually done by few, in
   renouncing voluntarily the power to command others, and, despising
   rule, have preferred to be subjected again to a ruler. That would be a
   false humility, causing real pride in the heart of him that should
   think such thoughts. For what can be more proud than to ascribe to
   spontaneous and, as it were, free choice that which the force of
   necessity or fainthearted weakness obliges us to do? But if you have
   not been forced by necessity or exhausted by labour, but have done it
   willingly, there is nothing more proud than this; for you have put your
   own will before that of God, you have chosen to taste the sweetness of
   repose rather than serve diligently in the work to which He has set
   you. If, then, you have not only despised God, but glory in utterly
   contemning Him, your glorying is not good. Beware of boastfulness and
   self-satisfaction; more useful for you were it to be always in care,
   always humbly trembling, not, as I have said, with the fear that
   provokes wrath, but with that which softens it.

   6. If that horrible fear ever knocks at the door of your soul to
   terrify it, and to suggest that your service to God cannot be accepted,
   and that your penitence is unfruitful because that in which God has
   been offended by you cannot be amended; do not receive it even for a
   moment, but reply with confidence: I have done wrong indeed, but it is
   done and cannot be undone. Who knows if God has foreseen that good
   should come to me out of it, and that He who is good has willed to do
   me good even from my evil? Let Him then punish the evil which I have
   done, but let the good which He had provided for remain. The goodness
   of God knew how to use our ill-governed wills and actions to the beauty
   of the order which He established, and often, in His goodness, even to
   our benefit. O indulgent bounty of Divine love towards the sons of
   Adam! which does not cease to load us with benefits, not only where no
   merit was found, but often even where entire demerit was seen. But let
   us return to you. According to the two kinds of fear which are
   distinguished above, I wish you to fear, and yet not to fear; to
   presume, and yet not to presume. To feel that you may repent, not to
   feel that you may have confidence; and again, to have confidence that
   you may not distrust, and not to be confident that you may not grow
   inactive.

   7. You perceive, brother, how much confidence I have in you, since I
   permit myself to blame you so sharply, to judge and disapprove so
   freely what you have done, when perhaps you have had better reasons for
   doing it than have hitherto been made known to me. For you have not
   perhaps wished to state those reasons in your letters, by which your
   action might well be excused, either through your humility or through
   want of space. Leaving, then, undecided for the present my opinion
   about any part of the matter with which I may not be fully acquainted,
   one thing that you have done I unreservedly praise, namely, that when
   you had laid down the yoke of ruling, yet without a yoke you were not
   willing to continue, but took up again a discipline to which you were
   attached, without being ashamed to become a simple disciple when you
   had borne the title of master. For you were able, when freed from your
   pastoral charge, to remain under your own authority, since in becoming
   abbot you were released from the obedience owed to your former abbot.
   [37] But you did not wish to be under no authority but your own, and as
   you had declined to rule over others, so you shrunk from rule over
   yourself; and inasmuch as you thought yourself not fit to be the master
   of others, so also you did not trust yourself to be your own master,
   and in your distrust of yourself, even for your own guidance, would not
   be your own disciple. And rightly. For he who makes himself his own
   master, subjects himself to a fool as master. I know not what others
   may think of this; as for me, I have had experience of what I say, that
   it is far more easy and safe to govern many others than my own single
   self. It was, therefore, a proof of prudent humility and of humble
   prudence that, by no means believing that you were sufficient for your
   own salvation, you proposed to live henceforth by the judgment of
   another person.

   8. I praise you also that you did not seek out another master nor
   another place, but returned to the cloister whence you had gone forth,
   and to the master under whom you had made progress in good. It was very
   right that the house which had nurtured you, but had sent you forth
   through brotherly charity, should receive you when freed from your
   charge, rather than that another house should have in its place the joy
   of possessing you. As, however, you have not obtained the sanction of
   the Bishop for what you have done, do not be negligent in seeking it,
   but either yourself, or through some third person, be prompt to give
   him satisfaction as far as is in your power. After this, study to lead
   a simple life among your brethren, devoted to God, submissive to your
   superior, respectful towards the older monks, and obliging towards the
   younger. Be profitable in word, humble in heart, pleasing to the
   Angels, courteous to all. But beware of thinking that you have a right
   to be honoured more than others because you were once placed in a
   position of dignity, but show yourself as one among the rest, only more
   humble than all. For it is not becoming that you should be honoured on
   account of a post, the labour of which you have shunned.

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

   10. This is the whole of the wisdom of that most accomplished and
   eloqueut Doctor, by whom you have wished to be taught from such a
   distance. This is the eulogy, desired and waited for, which you have
   been so eager to hear. This is the sum of all my wisdom. Do not look
   for any other great thing from me; you have heard all. What can you
   require more? The fountain is drained, and would you seek water from
   the dry sand? I have sent you, according to the example of that widow
   in the Gospel, [38] out of my poverty all that I had. Why art thou
   ashamed, and why does thy countenance fall? You have obliged me. You
   have asked for a discourse; a discourse you have. A discourse, I say,
   long enough, indeed, but saying nothing; full of words, empty of
   meaning. Such is the discourse which ought to be received by you with
   charity, as you have requested it, but which only seems to reveal my
   lack of knowledge. Perhaps it would not be impossible for me to find
   excuses for it. Thus I might say that I have dictated it while
   labouring under a tertian fever, as also while occupied with the cares
   of my office, while yet it is written, Write at leisure of wisdom
   (founded on Ecclus. xxxviii. 25). I should rightly put these reasons
   forward if I had adventured upon some great and laborious work. But
   now, in such a brief treatise that my engagements afford me no excuse,
   I can allege nothing, as I have often said already, but the
   insufficiency of my knowledge.

   11. But I console myself in my mortification by considering that if I
   had not done as you requested, if I had not sent what you hoped for,
   you would not have been quite sure of my goodwill to-day. I hope that
   my good intention will content you when you see that the power to do
   more was wanting to me. And although my Letter be without utility to
   you, it will profit me in promoting humility. Even a fool when he
   holdeth his peace is counted wise (Prov. xvii. 28), for that he holds
   his peace is counted to him as the reserve of humility, not as want of
   sense. If, then, I had still kept silence, I should have had the
   benefit of a similar judgment, and have been called wise without being
   so. But now some will ridicule me as a man of little wisdom, some laugh
   at me as ignorant, and others indignantly accuse me of presumption. Do
   not think that all this serves little to the profit of religion, since
   humility, which humiliation teaches us to practise, is the foundation
   of the entire spiritual fabric. Thus humiliation is the way to
   humility, as patience to peace, as reading is to knowledge. If you long
   for the virtue of humility, you must not flee from the way of
   humiliation. For if you do not allow yourself to be humiliated, you
   cannot attain to humility. It is a benefit to me, therefore, that my
   ignorance should be made known, and that I should be rightly put to
   confusion by those who are instructed, since I have often been
   undeservedly praised by those who could not form a correct opinion. The
   fear of the Apostle makes me fear when he says, I forbear, lest any man
   should think of me above that which he seeth me to be, or that he
   heareth of me (2 Cor. xii. 6). How finely he has said I spare
   [restrain] you. The arrogant, the proud, the desirous of vainglory, the
   boaster of his own deeds, who either takes merit to himself for what he
   has done, or even claims what he has not done, he does not restrain
   himself. He alone who is truly humble, he restrains his own soul, who
   is even afraid to let the excellency that is in him be known, that he
   may not be thought to be what he is not.

   12. Great in truth is the danger, that any one should speak of us above
   what we feel our desert to be. Who shall give me to be as deservedly
   humiliated among men for well-founded reasons as I have been
   undeservedly praised for ill-founded ones? I should, then, be able to
   take to myself the word of the Prophet: After having been exalted I
   have been cast down and filled with confusion (Ps. lxxxviii. 15,
   Vulg.), and this, I will play and will be yet more vile (2 Sam. vi. 21,
   22). Yes, I will play this foolish game that I may be ridiculed. It is
   a good folly, at which Michal is angry and God is pleased. A good folly
   which affords a ridiculous spectacle, indeed, to men, but to angels an
   admirable one. Yes, I repeat; an excellent folly, by which we are
   exposed to disgrace from the rich and disdain from the proud. For, in
   truth, what do we appear to people of the world to do except indulge in
   folly, since what they seek with eagerness in this world we, on the
   contrary, shun, and what they avoid we eagerly seek? Upon the eyes of
   all we produce the effect of jugglers and tumblers, who stand or walk
   on their hands, contrary to human nature, with their heads downwards
   and feet in the air. But our foolish game has nothing boyish in it,
   nothing of the spectacle at the theatre, which represents low actions,
   and with effeminate and corrupt gestures and bendings provoke the
   passions, but it is cheerful, honourable, grave, decent, and capable of
   delighting even the celestial beings who gaze upon it. This it was he
   was engaged in, who said, We are made a spectacle to Angels and to men
   (1 Cor. iv. 9). May it be ours also in this meantime, that we may be
   ridiculed, confounded, humiliated, until He shall come who puts down
   the powerful and exalts the humble, to fill us with joy and glory, and
   to raise us up for ever and ever.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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 (Ps. lxxxvii. 5, Ps. lxviii. 12 Vulg. and lxx.).
   Oger was the first Dean of the Regular Canons of S. Nicholas des Pres,
   near Tournay. Picard states this upon the authority of Denis Viller,
   Canon and Chancellor of Tournay.

   [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 Ps. 1. [li.]
   and give himself the discipline every day for a hundred years; and this
   he completed entirely in the space of one year. This I remember to have
   read somewhere (Works, Vol. i. ep. 10, new ed., Vol. iii. opusc. 20).
   To Pope Alexander and Cardinal Hildebrand, who became Pope later under
   the name of Gregory VII., he tries to justify his quitting his see, and
   opposes numerous examples of conduct similar to his, to the blame of
   the Pope and the cardinals. But it is necessary to hold to what the law
   prescribes rather than to the examples of other persons. The Angelical
   Doctor says: "Every pastor is obliged by his function to labour for the
   salvation of others, and it is not permitted to him to cease to do so,
   not even to have leisure for peaceful meditation upon spiritual things.
   For the Apostle regards the obligation to occupy himself with the
   salvation of others who depend upon him as being of such importance
   that it must not be postponed even to heavenly meditation: I know not
   what to choose, he says, for I am in a strait betwixt two, having a
   desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better;
   nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you (Phil. i.
   22-23). It may be added that the Episcopate being a state more perfect
   than that of the monk, it follows that just as it is not permitted to
   quit the second to re-enter the world, so it is not allowable to
   renounce the first in order to embrace the second, considering that the
   latter is less perfect than the former. That would precisely be to look
   back after having put one's hand to the plough, and to show one's self
   unfit for the kingdom of God" (S. Luke ix. 62).

   [36] Exoneratus; exhonoratus.

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

   [38] S. Luke xxi. 2-4
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXV. (circa A.D. 1127)

  To the Same

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

   1. I pass over now my want of experience, my humble profession, or
   rather my profession of humility, nor do I shelter myself behind (I do
   not say my lowness, but, at least) my mediocrity of position or name,
   since whatever I should allege of that kind you would declare to be
   rather a pretext for delay than a reasonable excuse. It seems to me
   that you interpret my shyness and modesty at your will, now as
   indiscretion, now, as false humility, and now as real pride. Of these
   reasons, therefore, since they would appear doubtful to you, I say
   nothing. Only I wish that your friendship should be fully convinced of
   one thing, that since the departure of your messenger (not the one who
   carries this letter, but the other) left me I have not had a single
   instant of leisure to do what you asked, so busy are my days and so
   short my nights. Even now your latest letter has found me so engrossed
   that it would take me too long to write to you the mere occupations,
   which would be my excuse with you. I have scarcely been able even to
   read your letter through, except during my dinner, for at that hour it
   was delivered to me, and scarcely have I been able to write back to you
   these few words hastily and, as it were, furtively. You will see that
   you must not complain of the brevity of my letter.

   2. To speak the truth, my dear Oger, I am forced to be angry with all
   these cares, and that on your account, although in them, as my
   conscience bears witness, I desire to serve only charity, by the
   requirements of which, as I am debtor both to the wise and to the
   unwise, I have been made unable as yet to satisfy your wishes. What,
   then? Does Charity deny to you what you ask in the name of Charity? You
   have requested and begged, you have knocked at the door, and Charity
   has rendered your requests unavailing. Why are you angry with me? It is
   Charity whom you must be angry with, if you will and dare to be so,
   since it is she who is the cause that you have not obtained what you
   expected to have by her means. Already she is displeased at my long
   discourse, and is angry with you who have imposed it. Not that the
   ardour with which you do this is displeasing to her, since it is she
   which has inspired you with it, but she wishes that your zeal should be
   ruled according to knowledge, and that you should be careful not to
   hinder greater things for the sake of lesser. You see how unwillingly I
   am torn away from writing to you at greater length, since the pleasure
   of conversing with you, and the wish to satisfy you, make me
   troublesome to my mistress, Charity, who has long since been bidding me
   to make an end, and I am not yet silent. How wide is the matter for
   reply in your letter, if it were permissible to do as you would wish,
   and as I, too, should, perhaps, be well enough pleased to do! But she
   who requires otherwise of me is mistress, or rather is the Master. For
   God is charity (1 S. John iv. 16), and it is very evident that such is
   her authority, that I ought to obey her rather than either myself or
   you. And since it is incumbent on Charity to obey God rather than men,
   I unwillingly, and with grief, put off for a time the doing what you
   ask, not refuse altogether to do it, and I fear in endeavouring humbly
   to respond to your desires to appear to wish, under the pretext of a
   pretended humility, which is only pure pride, to revolt here below, I,
   who am only a miserable worm of the earth, against the strength of that
   power which, as you truly declare, rules even the Angels in heaven.

   3. As for the little treatise which you ask for, I had asked for it
   back again from the person to whom I had lent it, even before your
   messenger came to me, but I have not yet received it; but I will take
   care that at all events when you come here, if you are ever coming, you
   shall find it here, see and read it, but not transcribe it. For that
   other treatise which you mention that you have transcribed I had sent
   to you to be read, indeed, but not to be copied; and I do not know to
   what good purpose or for whose good you can have done it. In sending it
   to you I did not intend that the Abbot of S. Thierry should have it,
   [39] and I had not bidden you to send it; but I am not displeased that
   you have done so. For why should I be afraid that my little book should
   pass under his eyes, under whose gaze I would willingly spread my whole
   soul if I were able? But, alas! why does the mention of so good a man
   present itself at such a time of hurried discourse, when it is not
   permitted to me to linger, as would be fitting, and converse with you
   about that excellent man, when I ought already to have come to the end
   of my letter? I entreat you to make an opportunity of going to see him,
   and do not give out my book to be read or copied until you shall have
   gone over the whole of it with him; read it then together and correct
   what in it needs correction, that every word in it may have the support
   of two witnesses. After that, I commit to the judgment of each of you
   whether it be expedient that it should be shown publicly, or only to a
   few persons, or to some particular person only, or not at all to any
   one. And I make you judge equally if that little preface [40] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXVI. (circa A.D. 1127)

  To the Same

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

   1. You will, perhaps, be angry, or, to speak more gently, will wonder
   that in place of a longer letter which you had hoped for from me you
   receive this brief note. But remember what says the wise man, that
   there is a time for all things under the heaven; both a time to speak
   and a time to keep silence (Eccles. iii. 1-7). But when shall silence
   have its time, if our chatter shall occupy even these sacred days of
   Lent? Correspondence is more absorbing than conversation, inasmuch as
   it is more laborious; since when in each other's presence we may say
   with little labour what we will, but when absent we require diligently
   to dictate in turn the words which we mutually seek, or which are
   sought from us. But while being absent from you I meditate, dictate or
   write down what you are in time to read, where, I pray you, is the
   silence and quiet of my retreat? [41] But all these things, you say,
   you can do in silence; yet, if you think, you will not answer thus. For
   what a tumult there is in the mind of those who dictate, what a crowd
   of sentiments, variety of expressions, diversity of senses jostle; how
   frequently one rejects that word which presents itself and seeks
   another which, still escapes; what close attention one gives to the
   consecutiveness of the line of thought and the elegance of the
   expression! How it can be made most plain to the intellect, how it can
   be made most useful to the conscience, what, in short, shall be put
   before and what after for a particular reader, and many other things do
   those who are careful in their style, attend to most closely. And will
   you say that in this I shall have quiet; will you call this silence,
   even though the tongue be still?

   2. Besides, it is not only the time, but also my profession and my
   insufficiency which prevent my undertaking what you desire, or being
   able to fulfil it. For it is not the profession of a monk, which I seem
   to be, or of a sinner, which I am, to teach, but to mourn for sin. An
   unlearned person (as I truly confess myself to be) never acts more
   unlearnedly than when he presumes to teach what he knows not.
   Therefore, to teach is the business neither of the unlearned in his
   rashness, nor of the monk in his boldness, nor of the penitent in his
   distress. It is for this reason I have fled from the world and abide in
   solitude, and propose to myself with the prophet, to take heed to my
   ways that I offend not with my tongue (Ps. xxxix. 2) since, according
   to the same prophet, A man full of words shall not prosper upon the
   earth (Ps. cxl. 11), and to another Scripture, Death and life are in
   the power of the tongue (Prov. xviii. 21). But silence, says Isaiah, is
   the work of righteousness (Is. xxxii. 21), and Jeremiah teaches us to
   wait in silence for the salvation of the Lord (Lam. iii. 26). Thus to
   this pursuit and desire of righteousness, since righteousness is the
   mother, the nurse, and the guardian of all virtues, I would not seem
   entirely to deny what you have asked, and I invite and entreat you and
   all those who, like you, desire to make progress in virtue, if not by
   the teaching of my words, at least by the example of my silence, to
   learn from me to be silent, you who press me in your words to teach
   what I do not know.

   3. But what am I doing? It will be wonderful if you do not smile,
   seeing with what a flood of words I condemn those who are too full of
   words, and while I desire to commend silence to you, I plead against
   silence by my loquacity. Our dear Guerric, [42] concerning whose
   penitence and whose manner of life you wished to be assured, as far as
   I can judge from his actions, is walking worthy of the grace of God,
   and bringing forth works worthy of penitence. The little book which you
   ask of me I have not beside me just now. A certain friend of ours, with
   the same desire to read it as you, has kept it a long time, but not to
   frustrate altogether the desire of your piety, [43] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXVII (circa A.D. 1127)

  To the Same

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

   1. I have sent you a short letter in reply to a short one from you. You
   have given me an example of brevity, and I willingly follow it. And
   truly what need have true and lasting friendship, as you truly say, of
   exchanging empty and fugitive words? However great be the variety of
   quotations and verses, and the multiplicity of the phrases by which you
   have endeavoured to display or to prove your friendship for me, I feel
   more certain of your affection than I do that you have succeeded in
   expressing it, and you will not be wrong if you think the same in
   respect to me. When your letter came into my hands you were present in
   my heart, and I am quite convinced that it will be the same for me when
   you receive my letter, and that when you read it I shall not be absent.
   It is a labour for each of us to scribble to the other, and for our
   messengers a fatigue to carry our letters from the one to the other,
   but the heart feels neither labour nor fatigue in loving. Let those
   things cease, then, which without labour cannot be carried on, and let
   us practise only that which, the more earnestly it is done, seems to
   cost the less labour. Let our minds, I say, rest from dictating, our
   lips from conversing, our fingers from writing, our messengers from
   running to and fro. [44] But let not our hearts rest from meditating
   day and night on the law of the Lord, which is the law of love. The
   more we cease to be occupied in doing this the less quiet shall we
   enjoy, and the more engrossed we are in it, so much the more calm and
   repose we shall feel from it. Let us love and be loved, striving to
   benefit ourselves in the other, and the other in ourselves. For those
   whom we love, on those do we rely, as those who love us rely in turn on
   us. Thus to love in God is to love charity, and therefore it is to
   labour for charity, to strive to be loved for the sake of God.

   2. But what am I doing? I promised brevity, and I am sliding into
   prolixity. If you desire news of Brother Guerric, or rather since you
   do so, he so runs not as uncertainly, so fights not as one that beateth
   the air. But since he knows that salvation depends not on him who
   fights, nor on him who runs, but on God, who shows mercy, he begs that
   he may have the help of your prayers for him, so that He who has
   already granted to him both to fight and to run, may grant also to
   overcome and to attain. Salute for me with my heart and by your mouth
   your abbot, who is most dear to me, not only on your account, but also
   because of his high character. It will be most agreeable to me to see
   him at the time and place which you have promised. I do not wish to
   leave you ignorant that the hand of God has for a little while been
   laid heavily upon me. It seemed that I had been stricken to the fall,
   that the axe had been laid to the root of the barren tree of my body,
   and I feared that I might be instantly cut down; but lo! by your
   prayers and those of my other friends, the good Lord has spared me this
   time also, yet in the hope that I shall bear good fruits in the future.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXVIII (circa A.D. 1130)

  To the Abbots Assembled at Soissons [45]

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

   To the Reverend Abbots met in the name of the Lord in Chapter at
   Soissons, brother Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, the servant of their
   Holiness, health and prayer that they may see, establish, and observe
   the things which are right.

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

   2. That those who now applaud you may not hereafter ridicule you as
   having assembled to no purpose (which God forbid!), strive, I beseech
   you, to make your conduct holy and your resolutions good, for too good
   they cannot be. Grant that you may be too just or even too wise, yet it
   is plain that you cannot be good beyond measure. And indeed I read: Do
   not carry justice to excess (Eccles. vii. 17, Vulg.). I read: Be not
   wiser than is befitting (Rom. xii. 3, Vulg.). But is it ever said: Do
   not carry goodness to excess? or, Take care not to be too good? No one
   can be more good than it behoves him to be. Paul was a good man, and
   yet he was not at all content with his state; he reached forward gladly
   to the things that were before, forgetting those that were behind
   (Phil. iii. 23), and striving to become continually better than
   himself. It is only God who does not desire to become better than He
   is, because that is not possible.

   3. Let those depart both from me and from You who say: We do not desire
   to he better than our fathers; declaring themselves to be the sons of
   lukewarm and lax persons, whose memory is in execration, since they
   have eaten sour grapes, and their children's teeth are set on edge. Or
   if they pretend that their fathers were holy men, whose memory is
   blessed, let them imitate their sanctity, and not defend, as laws
   instituted by them, the indulgences and dispensations which they have
   merely endured. Although holy Elias says, I am not better than my
   fathers (2 Kings xix. 4), yet he has not said that he did not wish to
   be. Jacob saw upon the ladder Angels ascending and descending (Gen.
   xxviii. 12); but was any one of them either sitting, or standing still?
   It was not for angels to stand still on the uncertain rounds of a frail
   ladder; nor can anything remain fixed in the same condition during the
   uncertain period of this mortal life. Here have we no continuing city;
   nor do we yet possess, but always seek for, that which is to came. Of
   necessity you either ascend or descend, and if you try to stand still
   you cannot but fall. It may be held as certain that the man is not good
   at all who does not wish to be better; and where you begin not to care
   to make advance in goodness there also you leave off being good.

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

   [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. Ep. 43): "It is he who first spread
   the divine Order of Cluny through the whole of France, who was its
   author and propagator; and, far more, it was he who expelled the old
   dragon' from his resting-places in so many monasteries, and who roused
   monks from their torpor." Innocent II, determined that these general
   Chapters should be held every year in future.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXIX (A.D. 1132)

  To Henry, King of England

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

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

   There is in your land a property [46] belonging to your Lord and mine,
   for which He preferred to die rather than it should be lost. This I
   have formed a plan for recovering, and am sending a party of my brave
   followers to seek, recover, and hold it with strong hand, if this does
   not displease you. And these scouts whom you see before you I have sent
   beforehand on this business to investigate wisely the state [47] 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
   [48] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXX (circa A.D. 1132)

  To Henry, [49] Bishop of Winchester

   Bernard salutes him very respectfully.

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

   It is with great joy that I have learned from the report of many
   persons that so humble a person as myself has found favour with your
   Highness. I am not worthy of it, but I am not ungrateful for it. I
   return you, therefore, thanks for your goodness; a very unworthy
   return, but all that I am able to make. I do not fear but that you will
   receive the humble return that I make, since you have been so kind as
   to forestall me by your affection and the honour that you have done to
   me; but I defer writing more until I shall know by some token from your
   hand, if you think fit to send one, how you receive these few words.
   You may easily confide your reply, in writing, or by word of mouth if
   it shall so please you, to Abbot Oger, who is charged to convey to you
   this note. I beg your Excellency also to be so good as to honour that
   Religious with your esteem and confidence, inasmuch as he is a man
   commendable for his honour, knowledge, and piety.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXI (A.D. 1132)

  To the Abbot of a Certain Monastery at York, from Which the Prior Had
  Departed, Taking Several Religious with Him. [50]

   1. You write to me from beyond the sea to ask of me advice which I
   should have preferred that you had sought from some other. I am held
   between two difficulties, for if I do not reply to you, you may take my
   silence for a sign of contempt; but if I do reply I cannot avoid
   danger, since whatever I reply I must of necessity either give scandal
   to some one or give to some other a security which they ought not to
   have, or at all events more than they ought to have. That your brethren
   have departed from you was not with the knowledge nor by the advice or
   persuasion of me or of my brethren. But I incline to believe that it
   was of God, since their purpose could not be shaken by all your
   efforts; and that the brethren themselves thought this also who so
   earnestly sought my advice about themselves; their conscience troubling
   them, as I suppose, because they quitted you. Otherwise, if their
   conscience, like that of the Apostle, did not reproach them, their
   peace would not have been disturbed (Rom. xiv. 22). But what can I do
   that I may be hurtful to no one neither by my silence nor by my reply
   to the questions asked me? Thus, perhaps, I may relieve myself of the
   difficulty if I shall send those who question me to a person more
   learned, and whose authority is more reverend and sacred than mine.
   Pope S. Gregory says in his book on the Pastoral Rule, "Whosoever has
   proposed to himself a greater good does an unlawful thing in
   subordinating it to a lesser good." And he proves this by a citation
   from the Gospel, saying, No one putting his hand to the plough and
   looking back is fit for the kingdom of God (S. Luke ix. 62); and he
   proceeds: "He who renounces a more perfect state which he has embraced,
   to follow another which is less so, is precisely the man who looks
   back" (Part iii. c. 28). The same Pope in his third Homily on Ezekiel,
   adds: "There are people who taste virtue, set themselves to practise
   it, and while doing so contemplate undertaking actions still better;
   but afterwards drawing back, abandon those better things which they had
   proposed to themselves. They do not, it is true, leave off the good
   practices they had begun, but they fail to realize those better ones
   which they had meditated. To human judgment these seem to stand fast in
   the good work, but to the eyes of Almighty God they have fallen, and
   failed in what they contemplated."

   2. Here is a mirror. In it let your Religious consider, not the
   features of their faces, but the fact of their turning back. Here let
   them determine and distinguish their motives, their thoughts, accusing
   or excusing them with that sentence which the spiritual man passes who
   judges all things, and is himself judged by no one. I, indeed, cannot
   rashly determine whether the state which they have left or that which
   they have embraced was the greater or less, the higher or lower, the
   severer or the more lax. Let them judge according to the rule of S.
   Gregory. But to you, Reverend Father, I declare, with as much positive
   assurance as plain truth, that it is not at all desirable that you
   should set yourself to quench the Spirit. Hinder not him, it is said,
   who is able to do good, but if thou canst, do good also thyself (Prov.
   iii. 27, Vulg.). It more befits you to be proud of the good works of
   your sons, since a wise son is the glory of his father (Prov. x. 1).
   For the rest, let no one make it a cause of complaint against me that I
   have not hidden in my heart the righteousness of God, unless, perhaps,
   I have spoken less of it than I ought, for the sake of avoiding
   scandal.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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).
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXII (A.D. 1132)

  To Thurstan, Archbishop of York

   Bernard praises his charity and beneficence towards the Religious.

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

   The general good report of men, as I have experienced, has said nothing
   in your favour which the splendour of your good works does not justify.
   Your actions, in fact, show that your high reputation, which fame had
   previously spread everywhere, was neither false nor ill-founded, but
   manifest and certain. Especially of late how brilliantly has your zeal
   for righteousness and your sacerdotal energy shone forth in the defence
   of the poor Religious who had no other helper. [51] Once, indeed, the
   whole assembly of the saints used to venerate your works of mercy and
   alms deeds; but in doing so it narrated always what is common to you
   with very many, since whosoever possesses the goods of this world is
   bound to share them with the poor. But this is your episcopal task,
   this the noble proof of your paternal affection, this your truly divine
   fervour, the zeal which no doubt has inspired and aroused in you who
   makes His angels spirits and His ministers a flaming fire. This, I say,
   belongs entirely to you. It is the ornament of your dignity, the badge
   of your office, the adornment of your crown. It is one thing to fill
   the belly of the hungry, and quite another thing to have a zeal for
   holy poverty. The one serves nature, the other grace. Thou shalt visit
   thy kind, He says, and thou shalt not sin (Job v. 24, Vulg.). Therefore
   he who nourishes the flesh of another sins not in so doing, but he who
   honours the sanctity of another does good to his own soul; therefore he
   says again, Keep your alms in your own hand until you shall find a
   righteous man to whom to give it. For what advantage? Because He who
   receives a righteous man in the name of a righteous man shall receive a
   righteous man's reward (S. Matt. x. 41). Let us, then, discharge the
   debt that nature requires of us, that we may avoid sin; but let us be
   co-workers with grace, that we may merit to become sharers of it. It is
   this that I so admire in you, as I acknowledge that it was given to you
   from above. O, Father, truly reverend and to be regarded with the
   sincerest affection; the praise for what you have laid out of your
   temporal means to the relief of our necessities, will be blended with
   the praises of God for ever.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXIII (A.D. 1132)

  To Richard, [52] Abbot of Fountains, [53] and His Companions, Who Had Passed,
  Over to the Cistercian Order from Another.

   He praises them for the renewal of holy discipline.

   How marvellous are those things which I have heard and learned, and
   which the two Geoffries have announced to me, that you have become
   newly fervent with the fire from on high, that from weakness you have
   become strong, that you have flourished again with new sanctity.

   This is the finger of God secretly working, softly renewing,
   healthfully changing not, indeed, bad men into good, but making good
   men better. Who will grant unto me to cross over to you and see this
   great sight? For that progress in holiness is not less wonderful or
   less delightful than that conversion. It is much more easy, in fact, to
   find many men of the world converted to good than one Religious who is
   good becoming better than he is. The rarest bird in the world is the
   monk who ascends ever so little from the point which he has once
   reached in the religious life. Thus the spectacle which you present,
   dearest brethren, is the more rare and salutary, not only to men who
   desire greatly to be the helper of your sanctity, but it rightly
   rejoices the whole Church of God as well; since the rarer it is the
   more glorious it is also. For prudence made it a duty to you to pass
   beyond that mediocrity so dangerously near to defect, and to escape
   from that lukewarmness which provokes God to reject you, it was even a
   duty of conscience for you to do so, since you know that it is not safe
   for men who have embraced the holy Rule to halt before having attained
   the goal to which it leads. I am exceedingly grieved that I am obliged
   by the pressing obligations of the day and the haste of the messenger
   to express the fulness of my affection with a pen so briefs and to
   comprise the breadth of my kindness for you within the narrow limits of
   this billet. But if anything is wanting, brother Geoffrey [54] will
   supply it by word of mouth.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXIV (circa A.D. 1130)

  Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours, to the Abbot Bernard. [55]

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

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

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

   [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. (Ep. 101)
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXV (circa A.D. 1130)

  Reply of the Abbot Bernard to Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours.

   He repays his praises with praises.

   A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth forth good
   things. Your letter so redounded to your honour, as well as to mine,
   that I gladly welcomed it, Most Reverend Sir, as giving me an occasion
   of addressing to you the praises of which you are so well worthy, and
   as affording me just satisfaction that you have done me so much honour
   as that your Highness should deign to stoop to me, and to show so much
   esteem for my humble person. Indeed, for one in high place not to be
   studious of high things, but to condescend to those of low estate, is a
   thing than which there is nothing more pleasing to God or more rare
   among men. Who is the wise man, except he who listens to the counsel of
   Wisdom, which says: The greater thou art, the more humble thyself
   (Ecclus. iii. 18) before all. This humility you have shown towards me,
   the greater towards the less, an elder to a younger. I, too, could
   extol your proved wisdom in due praises, perhaps more just than those
   of which your wisdom deemed me worthy. It is of great importance in
   order to gain assured knowledge of things, to rely on exact
   acquaintance with facts, rather than on the uncertain testimony of
   public rumour; and then what we have proved for certain we may proclaim
   without hesitation. What you were pleased to write to me about myself,
   it is for you to ascertain. I find an undoubted proof of your own merit
   in your letter, though it be so full of my praises. For though another,
   perhaps, might be pleased with the marks of learning therein, with its
   sweet and graceful language, its clear style, its easy and commendable
   art, I place before all this the wonderful humility, whereby your
   Greatness has cared to approach one so humble as I, to overwhelm me
   with praises, and to seek for my friendship. As for what refers to me
   in your letter I read it not as describing what I am, but what I would
   wish to be, and what I am ashamed of not being. Yet whatever I am, I am
   yours; and if, by the grace of God, I ever become anything better, be
   sure, Most Reverend and dear Father, that I shall still remain yours.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXVI (circa A.D. 1131)

  To the Same Hildebert, Who Had Not Yet Acknowledged the Lord Innocent as Pope.

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

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

   1. To address you in the words of the prophet, Consolation is hid from
   their eyes, because death divideth between brethren (Hosea xiii. 14,
   Vulg.). For it seems as if according to the language of Isaiah they
   have made a covenant with death, and are at agreement with hell (Is.
   xxviii. 15). For behold, Innocent, that anointed [56] of the Lord, is
   set for the fall and rising again of many (cf. S. Luke ii. 34). Those
   who are of God, gladly join themselves to him; but he who is of the
   opposite part, is either of Antichrist, or Antichrist himself. The
   abomination is seen standing in the holy place; and that he may seize
   it, like a flame he is burning the sanctuary of God. He persecutes
   Innocent, and in him all innocence. Innocent, in sooth, flees from the
   face of Leo, as saith the prophet: The lion hath roared; who will not
   fear (Amos iii. 8). He flees according to the bidding of the Lord,
   which says, When they persecute you in one city flee ye into another
   (S. Matt. x. 23). He flees, and thereby proves himself an apostolic
   man, by ennobling himself with the apostle's example. For Paul blushed
   not to be let down in a basket over a wall (Acts ix. 25), and so to
   escape the hands of those who were seeking his life. He escaped not to
   spare his life, but to give place unto wrath; not to avoid death, but
   to attain life. Rightly does the Church yield his place to Innocent,
   whom she sees walking in the same steps.

   2. However, Innocent's flight is not without fruit. He suffers, no
   doubt, but is honoured in the midst of his sufferings. Driven from the
   city, he is welcomed by the world. From the ends of the earth, men meet
   the fugitive with sustenance; although the rage of that Shimei, Gerard
   of Angoulême, has not yet entirely ceased to curse David. Whether it
   pleases or does not please that sinner who sees it with discontent, he
   cannot prevent Innocent being honoured in the presence of kings, and
   bearing a crown of glory. Have not all princes acknowledged that he is
   in truth the elect of God? The Kings of France, England, and Spain, and
   finally the King of the Romans, receive Innocent as Pope, and recognise
   him alone as bishop of their souls (2 Sam. xvii.). Only Ahitophel is
   now unaware that his counsels have been exposed and brought to nought.
   In vain the wretch labours to devise evil counsel against the people of
   God, and to plot against the saints who stoutly adhere to their saintly
   Pontiff, scorning to bow the knee to Baal. By no guile shall he avail
   to procure for his parricide the kingdom over Israel and the holy city,
   which is the church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the
   truth. A threefold cord is not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes iv. 12).
   The threefold cord of the choice of the better sort, the assent of the
   majority, arid, what is more effective yet in these matters, the
   witness of a pure life, commend Innocent to all, and establish him as
   chief Pontiff.

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

   [56] Christus.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXVII (circa A.D. 1131)

  To Magister Geoffrey, of Loretto. [57]

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

   1. We look for scent in flowers and for savour in fruits; and so, most
   dearly beloved brother, attracted by the scent of your name which is as
   perfume poured forth, I long to know you also in the fruit of your
   work. For it is not I alone, but even God Himself, who has need of no
   man, yet who, at this crisis, needs your co-operation, if you do not
   act falsely towards us. It is a glorious thing to be able to be a
   fellow-worker with God; but perilous to be able and not to be so.
   Moreover, you have favour with God and man; you have knowledge, a
   spirit of freedom, a speech both lively and effectual, seasoned with
   salt; and it is not right that with all these great gifts you should
   fail the bride of Christ in such danger, for you are the friend of the
   Bridegroom. A friend is best tried in times of need. What then? Can you
   continue at rest while your Mother the Church is grievously distressed?
   Rest has had its proper time, and holy peace has till now freely and
   duly done its own work. It is now the time for action, because they
   have destroyed the law. That beast of the Apocalypse (Apoc. xiii. 5-7),
   to whom is given a mouth speaking blasphemies, and to make war with the
   saints, is sitting on the throne of Peter, like a lion ready for his
   prey. Another [58] beast also stands hissing at your side, like a whelp
   lurking in secret places. The fiercer here and the craftier there are
   met together in one against the Lord and his annointed. Let us, then,
   make haste to burst their bonds and cast away their cords from us.

   2. I, for my part, together with other servants of God who are set on
   fire with the Divine flame, have laboured, with the help of God, to
   unite the nations and kings in one, in order to break down the
   conspiracy of evil men, and to destroy every high thing that exalts
   itself against the knowledge of God. Nor have I laboured in vain. The
   Kings of Germany, France, England, Scotland, Spain, and Jerusalem, with
   all the clergy and people, side with and adhere to the Lord Innocent,
   like sons to a father, like the members to their head, being anxious to
   preserve the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. And the Church
   is right in acknowledging him, whose reputation is discovered to be the
   more honourable and whose election is found to be the more sound and
   regular, having the advantage as well by the merit as well as by the
   number of the electors. And now, brother, why do you hold back? How
   long will the serpent by your side lull your careless energies to
   repose? I know that you are a son of peace, and can by no reason be led
   to desert unity. But, of course, that alone is not enough, unless you
   study both to maintain it and to make war with all your might upon the
   disturbers thereof. And do not fear the loss of peace, for you shall be
   rewarded by no small increase of glory if your efforts succeed in
   quieting, or even silencing, that wild beast near you; and if the
   goodness of God, through your means, rescue from the mouth of the lion
   so great a prize for the Church as William, Count of Poitiers.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXVIII (circa A.D. 1135)

  To His Monks of Clairvaux.

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

   To his dearly-loved brethren the Monks of Clairvaux, the converts, [59]
   and the novices, their brother Bernard sends greeting, bidding them
   rejoice in the Lord always.

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

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

   3. In the meanwhile, brethren, until I come, serve the Lord in fear,
   that in Him being delivered from the hand of your enemies you may serve
   Him without fear. Serve Him in hope, for He is faithful that promised;
   serve Him by good works, for He is bountiful to reward. To say nothing
   else, He rightly claims this life of ours as His own, because He laid
   down His own to obtain it. Let none, therefore, live to himself, but to
   Him who died for him. For whom can I more justly live than for Him
   whose death was my life? for whom with more profit to myself than for
   Him who promises eternal life? for whom under a greater necessity than
   for Him who threatens me with everlasting flames? But I serve Him
   willingly, because love gives liberty. To this I exhort my children.
   Serve Him in that love which casteth out fear, which feels no labours,
   seeks for no reward, thinks of no merit, and yet is more urgent than
   all. No terror is so powerful, no rewards so inviting, no righteousness
   so exacting. May it join me to you never to be divided, may it also
   bring me before you, especially at your hours of prayer, my brethren,
   dearly beloved and greatly longed for.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XXXIX (A.D. 1137)

  To the Same.

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

   1. My soul is sorrowful until I return, and it refuses to be comforted
   till it see you. For what is my consolation in the hour of evil, and in
   the place of my pilgrimage? Are not you in the Lord? Wherever I go, the
   sweet memory of you never leaves me; but the sweeter the memory the
   more I feel the absence. Ah, me! that the time of my sojourning here is
   not only prolonged, but its burden increased, and truly, as the Prophet
   says, they who for a time separate me from you have added to the pain
   of my wounds (Ps. lxix. 26). Life is an exile, and one that is dreary
   enough, for while we are in the body we are absent from the Lord. To
   this is added the special grief which almost makes me impatient, that I
   am forced to live without you. It is a protracted sickness, a wearisome
   waiting, to be so long subject to the vanity which possesses everything
   here, to be imprisoned within the horrid dungeon of a noisome body, to
   be still bound with the chains of death, and the ropes of sin, and all
   this time to be away from Christ. But against all these things one
   solace was given me from above, instead of His glorious countenance
   which has not yet been revealed, and that is the sight of the holy
   temple of God, which is you. From this temple it used to seem to me an
   easy passage to that glorious temple, after which the Prophet sighed
   when he said: One thing have I desired of the Lord, which I will
   require, even that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of
   my life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord and to visit His temple
   (Ps. xxvi. 4).

   2. What shall I say? how often has that solace been taken from me? Lo,
   this is now the third time, if I mistake not, that my children have
   been taken from me. The babes have been too early weaned, and I am not
   allowed to bring up those whom I begot through the Gospel. In short, I
   am forced to abandon my own children and look after those of others,
   and I hardly know which is the more distressing, to be taken from the
   former, or to have to do with the latter. O, good Jesu! is my whole
   life thus to waste away in grief, and my years in mourning? It is good
   for me, O Lord, rather to die than to live, only let it be amongst my
   brethren, those of my own household, those who are dearest to my heart.
   That, as all know, is sweeter and safer, and more natural. Nay, it
   would be a loving act to grant to me that I might be refreshed before I
   go away, and be no more seen. If it please my Lord that the eyes of a
   father, who is not worthy to be called a father, should be closed by
   the hands of his sons, that they may witness his last moments, soothe
   his end, and raise his spirit by their loving prayers to the blissful
   fellowship, if you think him worthy to have his body buried with the
   bodies of those who are blessed because poor, if I have found favour in
   Thy sight, this I most earnestly ask that I may obtain by the prayers
   and merits of these my brethren. Nevertheless, not my will but Thine be
   done. Not for my own sake do I wish for either life or death.

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

   4. Moved by the pressing request of the Emperor, by the Apostolic
   command, as well as by the prayers of the Church and the princes,
   whether with my will or against my will, weak and ill, and, to say
   truth, carrying about with me the pallid image of the King of terrors,
   I am borne away into Apulia. Pray for the things which make for the
   Church's peace and our salvation, that I may again see you, live with
   you, and die with you, and so live that ye may obtain. In my weakness
   and time of distress, with tears and groanings, I have dictated these
   words, as our dear brother Baldwin [60] 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 [61] --who show themselves as brothers.
   They who are with me--Brother Bruno and Brother Gerard [62] --salute
   you and ask for your prayers.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XL

  To Thomas, Prior of Beverley

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

   Bernard to his beloved son Thomas, as being his son.

   1. What is the good of words? An ardent spirit and a strong desire
   cannot express themselves simply by the tongue. We want your sympathy
   and your bodily presence to speak to us; for if you come you will know
   us better, and we shall better appreciate each other. We have long been
   held in a mutual bond as debtors one to another; for I owe you faithful
   care and you owe me submissive obedience. Let our actions and not our
   pens, if you please, prove each of us. I wish you would apply to
   yourself henceforth and carry out towards me those words of the Only
   Begotten: The works which the Father hath given Me to finish, the same
   works bear witness of Me (S. John v. 36). For, indeed, only thus does
   the spirit of the Only Son bear witness with our spirit that we also
   are the sons of God, when, quickening us from dead works, He causes us
   to bring forth the works of life. A good or bad tree is distinguished,
   not by its leaves or flowers, but by its fruit. So By their fruits, He
   saith, ye shall know them (S. Matt. vii. 16). Works, then, and not
   words, make the difference between sons of God and sons of unbelief. By
   works, accordingly, do you display your sincere desire and make proof
   of mine.

   2. I long for your presence; my heart has long wished for you, and
   expected the fulfilment of your promises. Why am I so pressing?
   Certainly not from any personal or earthly feeling. I desire either to
   be profited by you or to be of service to you. Noble birth, bodily
   strength and beauty, the glow of youth, estates, palaces, and sumptuous
   furniture, external badges of dignity, and, I may also add, the world's
   wisdom--all these are of the world, and the world loves its own. But
   for how long will they endure? For ever? Assuredly not; for the world
   itself will not last for ever; but these will not last even for long.
   In fact, the world will not be able long to keep these gifts for you,
   nor will you dwell long in the world to enjoy them, for the days of man
   are short. The world passes away with its lusts, but it dismisses you
   before it quite passes away itself. How can you take unlimited pleasure
   in a love that soon must end? But I ever love you, not your
   possessions; let them go whence they were derived. I only require of
   you one thing: that you would be mindful of your promise, and not deny
   us any longer the satisfaction of your presence among us, who love you
   sincerely, and will love you for ever. In fact, if we love purely in
   our life, we shall also not be divided in death. For those gifts which
   I wish for in your case, or rather for you, belong not to the body or
   to time only; and so they fail not with the body, nor pass away with
   time; nay, when the body is laid aside they delight still more, and
   last when time is gone. They have nothing in common with the gifts
   above-mentioned, or such as they with which, I imagine, not the Father,
   but the world has endowed you. For which of these does not vanish
   before death, or at last fall a victim to it?

   3. But, indeed, that is the best part, which shall not be taken away
   for ever. What is that? Eye hath not seen it, nor ear heard, neither
   hath it entered into the heart of man (I Cor. ii. 9). He who is a man
   and walks simply according to man's nature only, he who, to speak more
   plainly, is still content with flesh and blood, is wholly ignorant what
   that is, because flesh and blood will not reveal the things which God
   alone reveals through His Spirit. So the natural man is in no way
   admitted to the secret; in fact, he receiveth not the things of the
   Spirit of God (I Cor. ii. 14). Blessed are they who hear His words. I
   have called you friends, for all things that I have heard of My Father
   I have made known to you (S. John xv. 15). O, wicked world, which wilt
   not bless thy friends except thou make them enemies of God, and
   consequently unworthy of the council of the blessed. For clearly he who
   is willing to be thy friend makes himself the enemy of God. And if the
   servant knoweth not what his Lord doeth, how much less the enemy?
   Moreover, the friend of the Bridegroom standeth, and rejoiceth with joy
   because of the Bridegroom's voice; whence also it says, My soul failed
   when [my beloved] spake (Cant. v. 6). And so the friend of the world is
   shut out from the council of the friends of God; who have received not
   the spirit of this world but the spirit which is of God, that they may
   know the things which are given to them of God. I thank Thee, O Father,
   because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast
   revealed them unto babes; even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy
   sight (S. Matt. xi. 25, 26), not because they of themselves deserved
   it. For all have sinned, and come short of Thy glory, that Thou mayest
   freely send the Spirit of Thy Son, crying in the hearts of the sons of
   adoption: Abba, Father. For those who are led by this Spirit, they are
   sons, and cannot be kept from their Father's council. Indeed, they have
   the Spirit dwelling within them, who searches even the deep things of
   God. In short, of what can they be ignorant whom grace teaches
   everything?

   4. Woe unto you, ye sons of this world, because of your wisdom, which
   is foolishness! Ye know not the spirit of salvation, nor have share in
   the counsel, which the Father, alone discloses alone to the Son, and to
   him to whom the Son will reveal Him. For who hath known the mind of the
   Lord? Or who hath been His counsellor? (Rom. xi. 34). Not, indeed, on
   one; but only a few, only those who can truly say: The only begotten
   Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him. Woe to
   the world for its clamour! That same Only Begotten, like as the Angel
   of a great revelation, proclaims among the people: He who hath ears to
   hear let him hear. And since he finds not ears worthy to receive His
   words, and to whom He may commit the secret of the Father, he weaves
   parables for the crowd, that hearing they might not hear, and seeing
   they might not understand. But for His friends how different! With them
   He speaks apart: To you it is given to know the mysteries of the
   kingdom of God (S. Luke viii. 8-10); to whom also He says: Fear not,
   little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the
   kingdom (S. Luke xii. 32). Who are these? These are they whom He
   foreknew and foreordained to be conformed to the image of His Son, that
   He might be the first born among many brethren. The Lord knows who are
   His. Here is His great secret and the counsel which He has made known
   unto men. But He judges no others worthy of a share in so great
   mystery, except those whom He has foreknown and foreordained as His
   own. For those whom He foreordained, them also He called. Who, except
   he be called, may approach God's counsel? Those whom He called, them
   also He justified. Over them a Sun arises, though not that sun which
   may daily be seen arising over good and bad alike, but He of whom the
   Prophet speaks when addressing himself to those alone who have been
   called to the counsel, he says: Unto you that fear My name shall the
   Sun of Righteousness arise (Malachi iv. 2). [63] So while the sons of
   unbelief remain in darkness, the child of light leaves the power of
   darkness and comes into this new light, if once he can with faith say
   to God: I am a companion of all them that fear Thee (Ps. cxix. 63). Do
   you see how faith precedes, in order that justification may follow?
   Perchance, then, we are called through fear, and justified by love.
   Finally, the just shall live by faith (Rom. i. 17), that faith,
   doubtless, which works by love (Gal. v. 6).

   5. So at his call let the sinner hear what he has to fear; and thus
   coming to the Sun of Righteousness, let him, now enlightened, see what
   he must love. For what is that saying: The merciful goodness of the
   Lord endureth from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear Him
   (Ps. ciii. 17). From everlasting, because of predestination, to
   everlasting, because of glorification. The one process is without
   beginning, the other knows no ending. Indeed, those whom He predestines
   from everlasting, He glorifies to everlasting, with an interval, at
   least, in the case of adults, of calling and justification between. So
   at the rising of the Sun of Righteousness, the mystery, hidden from
   eternity, concerning souls that have been predestinated and are to be
   glorified, begins in some degree to emerge from the depths of eternity,
   as each soul, called by fear and justified by love, becomes assured
   that it, too, is of the number of the blessed, knowing well that whom
   He justified, them also He glorified (Rom. viii. 30). What then? The
   soul hears that it is called when it is stricken with fear. It feels
   also that it is justified when it is surrounded with love. Can it do
   otherwise than be confident that it will be glorified? There is a
   beginning; there is continuation. Can it despair only of the
   consummation? Indeed, if the fear of the Lord, in which our calling is
   said to consist, is the beginning of wisdom, surely the love of
   God--that love, I mean, which springs from faith, and is the source of
   our justification--is progress in wisdom. And so what but the
   consummation of wisdom is that glorification which we hope for at the
   last from the vision of God that will make us like Him? And so one deep
   calleth another because of the noise of the water-pipes. (Ps. xlii. 9),
   when, with terrible judgments, that unmeasured Eternity and Eternal
   Immensity, whose wisdom cannot be told, leads the corrupt and
   inscrutable heart of man by Its own power and goodness forth into Its
   own marvellous light.

   6. For instance, let us suppose a man in the world, held fast as yet in
   the love of this world and of his flesh; and, inasmuch as he bears the
   image of the earthly man, occupied with earthly things, without a
   thought of things heavenly, can any one fail to see that this man is
   surrounded with horrible darkness, unless he also is sitting in the
   same fatal gloom? For no sign of his salvation has yet shone upon him;
   no inner inspiration bears its witness in his heart as to whether an
   eternal predestination destines him to good. But, then, suppose the
   heavenly compassion vouchsafes sometime to have regard to him, and to
   shed upon him a spirit of compunction to make him bemoan himself and
   learn wisdom, change his life, subdue his flesh, love his neighbour,
   cry to God, and resolve hereafter to live to God and not to the world;
   and suppose that thenceforward, by the gracious visitation of heavenly
   light and the sudden change accomplished by the Right Hand of the Most
   High he sees clearly that he is no longer a child of wrath, but of
   grace, for he is now experiencing the fatherly love and divine goodness
   towards him--a love which hitherto had been concealed from him so
   completely as not only to leave him in ignorance whether he deserved
   love or hate, but also as to make his own life indicate hatred rather
   than love, for darkness was still on the face of the deep--would it not
   seem to you that such an one is lifted directly out of the profoundest
   and darkest deep of horrible ignorance into the pleasant and serene
   deep of eternal brightness?

   7. And then at length God, as it were, divides the light from the
   darkness, when a sinner, enlightened by the first rays of the Sun of
   Righteousness; casts off the works of darkness and puts on the armour
   of light. His own conscience and the sins of his former life alike doom
   him as a true child of Hell to eternal fires; but under the looks with
   which the Dayspring from on high deigns to visit him, he breathes
   again, and even begins to hope beyond hope that he shall enjoy the
   glory of the sons of God. For rejoicing at the near prospect with
   unveiled face, he sees it in the new light, and says: Lord, lift Thou
   up the light of Thy countenance upon us; Thou hast put gladness in my
   heart (Ps. iv. 7); Lord, what is man that Thou hast such respect unto
   him, or the son of man that Thou so regardest him? (Ps. cxliv. 3). Now,
   O good Father, vile worm and worthy of eternal hatred as he is, he yet
   trusts that he is loved, because he feels that he loves; nay, because
   he has a foretaste of Thy love he does not blush to make return of
   love. Now in Thy brightness it becomes clear, Oh! Light that no man can
   approach unto, what good things Thou hast in store for so poor a thing
   as man, even though he be evil! He loves not undeservedly, because he
   was loved without his deserving it; and his love is for everlasting,
   because he knows that he has been loved from everlasting. He brings to
   light for the comfort of the sorrowful the great design which from
   eternity had lain in the bosom of eternity, namely, that God wills not
   the death of a sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live.
   As a witness of this secret, Oh! man, thou hast the justifying Spirit
   bearing witness herein with thy spirit that thou thyself also art the
   son of God. Acknowledge the counsel of God in thy justification;
   confess it and say, Thy testimonies are my delight and my counsellors
   (Ps. cxix. 24). For thy present justification is the revelation of the
   Divine counsel, and a preparation for future glory. Or rather, perhaps,
   predestination itself is the preparation for it, and justification is
   more the gradual drawing near unto it. Indeed, it is said, Repent ye,
   for the kingdom of heaven is at hand (S. Matt. iii. 2). And hear also
   of predestination that it is the preparation: Come, inherit, He says,
   the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world (S. Matt.
   xxv. 34)

   8. Let none, therefore, doubt that he is loved who already loves. The
   love of God freely follows our love which it preceded. For how can He
   grow weary of returning their love to those whom He loved even while
   they yet loved Him not? He loved them, I say; yes, He loved. For as a
   pledge of His love thou hast the Spirit; thou has also Jesus, the
   faithful witness, and Him crucified. Oh! double proof, and that most
   sure, of God's love towards us. Christ dies, and deserves to be loved
   by us. The Spirit works, and makes Him to be loved. The One shows the
   reason why He is loved: the Other how He is to be loved. The One
   commends His own great love to us; the Other makes it ours. In the One
   we see the object of love; from the Other we draw the power to love.
   With the One, therefore, is the cause; with the Other the gift of
   charity. What shame to watch, with thankless eyes, the Son of God
   dying--and yet this may easily happen, if the Spirit be not with us.
   But now, since The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy
   Ghost which is given unto us (Rom. v. 5), having been loved we love;
   and as we love, we deserve to be loved yet more. For if, says the
   Apostle, while we were yet enemies, we have been reconciled to God
   through the death of His Son; much more, being reconciled, shall we be
   saved through His life (Rom. viii. 32). For He that spared not His own
   Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also
   freely give us all things?

   9. Since, then, the token of our salvation is twofold, namely, a
   twofold outpouring, of the Blood and of the Spirit, neither can profit
   without the other. For the Spirit is not given except to such as
   believe in the Crucified; and faith avails not unless it works by love.
   But love is the gift of the Spirit. If the second Adam (I speak of
   Christ) not only became a living soul, but also a quickening spirit,
   dying as being the one, and raising the dead as being the other, how
   can that which dies in Him profit me, apart from that which quickens?
   Indeed, He Himself says: It is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh
   profiteth nothing (S. John vi. 63). Now, what does "quickeneth" mean
   except "justifieth"? For as sin is the death of the soul (The soul that
   sinneth it shall die, Ezek. xviii. 4), without doubt righteousness is
   its life; for The just shall live by faith (Rom. i. 17). Who, then, is
   righteous, except he who returns to God, who loves him, His meed of
   love? And this never happens unless the Spirit by faith reveal to the
   man the eternal purpose of God concerning his future salvation. Such a
   revelation is simply the infusion of spiritual grace, by which, with
   the mortification of the deeds of the flesh, man is made ready for the
   kingdom which flesh and blood cannot inherit. And he receives by one
   and the same Spirit both the reason for thinking that he is loved and
   the power of returning love, lest the love of God for us should be left
   without return.

   10. This, then, is that holy and secret counsel which the Son has
   received from the Father by the Holy Spirit. This by the same Spirit He
   imparts to His own whom He knows, in their justification, and by the
   imparting He justifies. Thus in his justification each of the faithful
   receives the power to begin to know himself even as he is known: when,
   for instance, there is given to him some foretaste of his own future
   happiness, as he sees how it lay hid from eternity in God, who
   foreordains it, but will appear more fully in God, who is effecting it.
   But concerning the knowledge that he has now, for his part, attained,
   let a man glory at present in the hope, not in the secure possession of
   it. How must we pity those who possess as yet no token of their own
   calling to this glad assembly of the righteous. Lord, who hath believed
   our report? (Is. liii. 1). Oh! that they would be wise and understand.
   But except they believe they shall not understand.

   11. But you, too, ye unhappy and heedless lovers of the world, have
   your purpose far from that of the just. Scale sticks close to scale,
   and there is no airhole between you. You, too, oh! sons of impiety,
   have your purpose communicated one to another, but openly against the
   Lord and against His Christ (Ps. ii. 2). For if, as the Scripture says,
   The fear of God, that is piety (Job xxviii. 28), [64] of course anyone
   who loves the world more than God is convicted of impiety and idolatry,
   of worshipping and serving the creature rather than the Creator. But
   if, as has been said, the holy and impious have each their purpose kept
   for themselves, doubtless there is a great gulf fixed between the two.
   For as the just keeps himself aloof from the purpose and council of
   evil men (cf. Ps. i. 6), so the impious never rise in the judgment, nor
   sinners in the purpose [65] for the just. For there is a purpose for
   the just, a gracious rain which God hath set apart for His heritage.
   There is a purpose really secret, descending like rain into a fleece of
   wool--a sealed fount whereof no stranger may partake--a Sun of
   Righteousness rising only for such as fear God.

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

   13. But do you, dearly beloved, if you are making ready your inward ear
   for this Voice of God that is sweeter than honey and the honey-comb,
   flee from outward cares, that with your inmost heart clear and free you
   also may say with Samuel, Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth (1 Sam.
   iii. 9). This Voice sounds not in the market-place, and is not heard in
   public. It is a secret purpose, and seeks to be heard in secret. It
   will of a surety give you joy and gladness in hearing it, if you listen
   with attentive ear. Once it ordered Abraham (Gen. xii. 1) to get him
   out of his country and from his kindred, that he might see and possess
   the land of the living. Jacob (Gen. xxxii. 10) left his brother and his
   home, and passed over Jordan with his staff, and was received in
   Rachel's embrace (Gen. xxix. 11). Joseph was lord in Egypt (Gen.
   xxxvii. and xli.), having been torn by a fraudful purchase from his
   father and his home. Thus the Church is bidden, in order that the King
   may have pleasure in her beauty, to forget her own people and her
   father's house (Ps. xlv. 11, 12). The boy Jesus was sought by His
   parents among their kinsfolk and acquaintance, and was not found (S.
   Luke ii. 44, 45). Do you also flee from your brethren, if you wish to
   find the way of salvation. Flee, I say, from the midst of Babylon, flee
   from before the sword of the northwind. A bare sustenance I am ready to
   offer for the help of every one that flees. You call me your abbot; I
   refuse not the title for obedience' sake--obedience, I say, not that I
   demand it, but that I render it in service to others, even as The Son
   of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister and to give His
   life a ransom for many (S. Matt. xx. 28). But if you deem me worthy,
   receive as your fellow-disciple him whom you choose for your master.
   For we both have one Master, Christ. And so let Him be the end of this
   Letter, who is The end of the law for righteousness to every one that
   believeth (Rom. x. 4).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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 Idou theosebeia esti sophia. 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
   Ps. i., for the sense demands "purpose" [ consilio ], and the MSS. so
   read.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLI

  To Thomas of St. Omer, After He Had Broken His Promise of Adopting a Change of
  Life.

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

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

   1. You do well in acknowledging the debt of your promise, and in not
   denying your guilt in deferring its performance. But I beg you not to
   think simply of what you promised, but to whom you promised it. For I
   do not claim for myself any part of that promise which you made, in my
   presence, indeed, but not to me. Do not fear that I am going to reprove
   you on account of that deceptive delay: for I was summoned as the
   witness, not as the lord of your vow. [66] I saw it and rejoiced; and
   my prayer is that my joy may be full--which it will not be until your
   promise is fulfilled. You have fixed a time which you ought not to have
   transgressed. You have transgressed it. What is that to me? To your own
   lord you shall stand or fall. I have determined, because the danger is
   so imminent, to deal with you neither by reproofs nor threats, but only
   by advice--and that only so far as you take it kindly. If you shall
   hear me, well. If not, I judge no man; there is One who seeketh and
   judgeth; for He who judgeth us is the Lord (1 Cor. iv. 4). And I think
   for this cause you ought to fear and grieve the more, inasmuch as you
   have not lied unto men, but unto God. And though, as you wish, I spare
   your shame before men, is that shamelessness to go unpunished before
   God? For what reason, pray, is there in feeling shame before the
   judgment of man and not fearing the face of God? For the face of the
   Lord is against them that do evil (Ps. xxxiv. 16). Do you, then, fear
   reproaches more than torments; and do you, who tremble at the tongue of
   flesh, despise the sword which devours the flesh? Are these the fine
   moral principles with which, as you write, you are being stored in the
   acquisition of knowledge, the ardour and love for which so heats and
   excites you that you do not fear to slight your sacred vow?

   2. But, I pray you, what proof of virtue is it, what instance of
   self-control, what advance in knowledge, or artistic skill, to tremble
   with fear where no fear is needful, and to lay aside even the fear of
   the Lord. How much more wholesome the knowledge of Jesus and Him
   crucified--a knowledge, of course, not easy to acquire except for Him
   who is crucified to the world. You are mistaken, my son, quite
   mistaken, if you think that you can learn in the school of the teachers
   of this world that knowledge which only the disciples of Christ, that
   is, such as despise the world, attain; and that by the gift of God.
   This knowledge is taught, not by the reading of books, but by grace;
   not by the letter, but by the spirit; not by learning, but by the
   practice of the commandments of God: Sow, says the Prophet, to
   yourselves in righteousness, reap the hope of life, kindle for
   yourselves the light of knowledge (cf. Hos. x. 12). You see that the
   light of knowledge cannot be duly attained, except the seed of
   righteousness [first] enter the soul, so that from it may grow the
   grain of life, and not the mere husk of vainglory. What then? You have
   not yet sown to yourself in righteousness, and therefore you have not
   yet reaped the sheaves of hope; and do you pretend that you are
   acquiring the true knowledge? Perchance for the true there is being
   substituted that which puffeth up. You err foolishly, Spending thy
   money for that which is not bread, and thy labour for that which
   satisfieth not (Is. lv. 2). I entreat you, return to the former wish of
   your heart, and realize that this year of delay which you have allowed
   to yourself has been a wrong to God; is not a year pleasing to the
   Lord, but a seedplot of discord, an incentive to wrath, a food of
   apostasy, such as must quench the Spirit, shut off grace, and produce
   that lukewarmness which is wont to provoke God to spue men out of His
   mouth (cf. Rev. iii. 16).

   3. Alas! I think that, as you are called by the same name, so you walk
   in the same spirit as that other Thomas, once, I mean, Provost of
   Beverley. For after devoting himself, like you, to our Order and House
   with all his heart, he began to beg for delay, and then by degrees to
   grow cold, until he openly ended by being a Secular, an apostate, and,
   twofold more, a child of hell, and was cut off prematurely by a sudden
   and terrible death (S. Matt. xxiii. 15)--a fate which, if it may be,
   let the pitiful and clement Lord avert. The letter [67] which I wrote
   to him in vain still survives. I simply freed my own mind, by warning
   him, so far as I could, how it must soon end. How happy would he have
   been if he had taken my advice! He cloked his sin. I am clean from his
   blood. But that is not enough for me. For though in so acting I am
   quite at ease on my own account, yet that charity which seeketh not her
   own (1 Cor. xiii. 5) urges me to mourn for him who died not in safety,
   because he lived so carelessly. Oh! the great depth of the judgments of
   God! Oh! my God, terrible in Thy counsels over the sons of men! He
   bestowed the Spirit, whom he was soon again to withdraw, so that a man
   sinned a sin beyond measure, and grace found entrance that sin might
   abound; though this was the fault, not of the Giver, but of him who
   added the transgression. For it was the act of the man's own freewill
   (whereby, using badly his freedom, he had the power to grieve the free
   Spirit) to despise the grace instead of bringing to good effect the
   inspiration of God, so as to be able to say: His grace which was
   bestowed on me was not in vain (1 Cor. xv. 10).

   4. If you are wise, you will let his folly profit you as a warning; you
   will wash your hands in the blood of the sinner, and take care to
   release yourself at once from the snare of perdition, and me from
   horrible fear on your account. For, I confess, I feel your erring steps
   as the rending of my heart, because you have become very dear to me,
   and I feel a father's affection for you. Therefore, at every
   remembrance of you that sword of fear pierces through my heart the more
   sharply, as I consider that you have too little fear and uneasiness. I
   know where I have read of such: For when they shall say peace and
   safety, then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a
   woman with child, and they shall not escape (1 Thess. v. 3). Yea, I
   foresee that many fearful consequences threaten you if you still delay
   to be wise. For I have had much experience; and Oh! that you would
   share and profit by it. So believe one who has had experience; believe
   one who loves you. For if you know for the one reason that I am not
   deceived, for the other you know also that I am not capable of
   deceiving you.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLII

  To the Illustrious Youth, Geoffrey de Perrone, and His Comrades.

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

   To his beloved sons, Geoffrey and his companions, Bernard, called Abbot
   of Clairvaux, wishes the spirit of counsel and strength.

   1. The news of your conversion that has got abroad is edifying many,
   nay, is making glad the whole Church of God, so that The heavens
   rejoice and the earth is glad (Ps. xcvi. 11), and every tongue
   glorifies God. The earth shook and the heavens dropped at the presence
   of the God of Sinai (cf. Ps. lxviii. 8, 9), raining on those days more
   abundantly than usual a gracious rain which God keeps for His
   inheritance (Ps. lxvii. 9, 10, Vulg.). Never more will the cross of
   Christ appear void of effect in you, as in many sons of disobedience,
   who, delaying from day to day to turn to God, are seized by sudden
   death, and go down straightway to hell. We see flourish again under our
   eyes the wood whereon the Lord of Glory hung, who died not for His own
   nation only, But also that He should gather together in one the
   children of God that were scattered abroad (S. John xi. 52). He, yes,
   He Himself draws you, who loves you as His own flesh, as the most
   precious fruit of His cross, as the most worthy recompense of the blood
   he shed. If, then, the Angels Rejoice over one sinner that repenteth
   (S. Luke xv. 10), how great must be their joy over so many, and those,
   too, sinners. The more illustrious they seemed for rank, for learning,
   for birth, for youth, the wider was their influence as examples of
   perdition. I had read, Not many noble, not many wise, not many mighty
   hath God chosen (1 Cor. i. 26, 27). But to-day, through a miracle of
   Divine power, a multitude of such is converted. They hold present glory
   cheap, they spurn the charm of youth, they take no account of high
   birth, they regard the wisdom of the world as foolishness, they rest
   not in flesh and blood, they renounce the love of parents and friends,
   they reckon favours and honours and dignities as dung that they may
   gain Christ. I should praise you if I knew that this, your lot, were
   your own doing. But it is the finger of God, clearly a change due to
   the right hand of the Most High (cf. Ps. lxxvii. 10, Vulg., lxxvi. 11).
   Your conversion is a good gift and a perfect gift, without doubt
   descending from the Father of lights (S. James i. 17). And so to Him we
   rightly bring every voice of praise who only doeth marvellous things,
   who hath caused that plenteous redemption that is in Him to be no
   longer without effect in you.

   2. What, then, dearly beloved, remains for you to do, except to make
   sure that your praiseworthy purpose attain the end it deserves? Strive,
   therefore, for perseverance, the only virtue that receives the crown.
   Let there not be found among you Yea and Nay (2 Cor. i. 18, sq.), that
   ye may be the sons of your Father which is in Heaven, with whom, you
   know, there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning (S. James i.
   17). You also, brethren, are changed into the same image from glory to
   glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord (2 Cor. iii. 18). Take heed
   with all watchfulness not to be yourselves found light, inconstant, or
   wavering. For it is written, A double-minded man is unstable in all his
   ways (S. James i. 8), and again, Woe be . . . to the sinner that goeth
   two ways (Ecclus. ii. 12). And for myself, dearly beloved, I
   congratulate you, and myself not less, for, as I hear, I have been
   reckoned worthy of being chosen to have a part in this, your good
   purpose. I both give you my counsel and promise my help. If I am
   thought necessary, or, rather, if I be deemed worthy, I do not decline
   the task, and so far as in me lies will not fail you. With eager
   devotion I submit my shoulders to this burden, [68] old though they be,
   since it is laid on me from heaven. With a glad heart and open arms, as
   they say, I welcome the fellow-citizens of the saints and servants of
   God. How gladly, according to the prophet's command, do I assist with
   my bread those that flee from the face of the sword, and bring water to
   the thirsty (cf. Is. xxi. 14). The rest I have left to the lips of my,
   or rather your, Geoffrey. Whatsoever he shall say to you in my stead,
   that, doubt not, is my counsel.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [68] Hence it is clear that Bernard was already approaching old age
   when he wrote this Letter.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLIII

  A Consolatory Letter to the Parents of Geoffrey.

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

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

   2. But perchance you fear the effect of a severe life upon his body,
   which you know to be frail and delicate. But of such fear it is said,
   "There were they brought in great fear where no fear was" (Ps. xiv. 9).
   Reassure yourselves, and be comforted. I will be to him a father, and
   he shall be to me a son, until the Father of mercies and the God of all
   consolation (cf. Rom. xv. 5) receive him from my hands. So do not
   mourn; do not weep. For your Geoffrey is hastening to joy and not to
   grief. I will be to him father, mother, brother, and sister. I will
   make the crooked straight for him and the rough way smooth (cf. S. Luke
   iii. 5). I will so order and arrange everything for him that his soul
   shall profit and his body not suffer loss. Moreover, he shall serve the
   Lord in joy and gladness, and shall sing in the ways of the Lord that
   great is the glory of the Lord (Ps. cxxxviii. 5).
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLIV

  Concerning the Maccabees But to Whom Written is Unknown. [69]

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

   1. Fulk, Abbot of Epernay, had already written to ask me the same
   question as your charity has addressed to your humble servant by
   Brother Hescelin. I have put off replying to him, being desirous to
   find, if possible, some statement in the Fathers about this which was
   asked, which I might send to him, rather than to reply by some new
   opinion of my own. But as I do not come upon one, in the meantime I
   reply to each of you with my thoughts upon the matter, on condition
   that if you discover anything better and more probable in your reading,
   conversation, or by your meditations, you will not omit to share it
   with me in turn. You ask, then, why it seemed good to the Fathers to
   decree that an annual commemoration, with veneration equal to our
   martyrs, should be solemnly made in the Church, by a certain peculiar
   privilege, to the Maccabees alone out of all the ancient saints? If I
   should say that having made proof of the same courage as those, they
   were worthy now of the same honours, that would, perhaps, answer the
   question why they were included, but not why they alone were; while it
   is quite evident that there were others amongst the ancients who
   suffered with equal zeal for righteousness, but yet have not attained
   to be reverenced with equal solemnities. If I reply that the latter
   have not received the same honours as our martyrs because, although
   their valour deserved it, the time when they lived deprived them of it,
   why was not the same consideration applied also to the Maccabees, if,
   indeed, they, too, on account of the era when they lived, did not at
   once enter into the light of Heaven, but descended into the darkness of
   Hades? For the Firstbegotten from the dead, He who opened to believers
   the kingdom of Heaven, the Lamb of the tribe of Judah, who opens and no
   more shuts, at Whose entrance with complete authority it was sung by
   the heavenly powers: Lift up your heads, O ye gates, avid be ye lift up
   ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in (Ps. xxiv.
   7),--He had not yet appeared. If on that account it appears unsuitable
   to commemorate with joy the passing away of those which was not a
   passage of glory and of joy, why was there an exception made for the
   Maccabees? Or if they obtained favour on account of the courage which
   they displayed, why was not the same favour extended to those others?
   Or ought it to be said, in order to explain this difference, that if
   the martyrs of the ancient law, as well as those of the new law, have
   suffered for the same cause of religion, yet they did not suffer in the
   same condition with those who have attained to the glory of martyrdom?
   It is agreed that all the martyrs, whether of the Old or the New
   Testament, equally suffered for the sake of religion; but there is a
   distinction, because the one class suffered because they held it, the
   other because they censured those who held it not; the one because they
   would not desert it, the other because they declared that those would
   perish who deserted it, and to sum up in a word, that in which the two
   differ, perseverance in the faith has done in our martyrs that which
   zeal for the faith has done in those of the ancient law. The Maccabees
   are alone among the ancient martyrs, because they possessed not only
   the same cause as the new martyrdom, but also, as I have said, the form
   of it; and rightly, therefore, they have attained the same glory and
   fame as the new martyrs of the Church. For like our martyrs, they were
   urged to pour libations to false gods, to renounce the law of their
   fathers, and even to transgress the commandments of God, and like them
   they resisted and died.

   2. Not so did Isaiah or Zecharias, or even that great prophet, John the
   Baptist, die; of whom the first is said to have been sawn asunder, the
   second slain between the temple and the altar (S. Matt. xxiii. 25), and
   the third beheaded in prison. If you ask by whom? It was by the wicked
   and irreligious. For what cause? For justice and religion. In what
   manner? For confessing and openly upholding these. They openly upheld
   the truth before those who hated it, and thus drew upon themselves the
   hatred which caused their death. That which the unrighteous and wicked
   persecuted was not so much religion in itself as those who brought it
   before them, nor was their object to attack the righteousness of
   others, but to remain undisturbed in their own unrighteousness. It is
   one thing to seize upon the good things of another, and another to
   defend one's own goods; to persecute the truth, and not to be willing
   to follow it one's self; to grudge at believers, and to be angry at
   their reproofs; to stop the mouth of those who confess their faith, and
   not to be able to bear patiently the taunts of those who contradict.
   Thus Herod sent and seized John. Wherefore! Because he preached Christ,
   or because he was a good and just man? On the contrary, he reverenced
   him the more on this account, and having heard him, did many things.
   But it was because John reproached Herod because of Herodias, his
   brother Philip's wife; on that account he was bound and beheaded; no
   doubt he suffered for the truth, but because he urged its interests
   with zeal, not because he was urged to deny it. This is why the
   suffering of so great a martyr is observed with less solemnity than
   those even of far less famous men.

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

   4. Nor them only, but those also who preceded in their death, the Death
   of Him who was the Life manifest in the flesh, either dying during His
   life, as Simeon and John the Baptist, or for Him, as the Innocents, we
   venerate with solemn rites, although they, too, descended into Hades;
   but for another reason. Thus, in the case of the Innocents, it would be
   unjust to deprive innocence dying on behalf of righteousness of fame
   even in the present. John also, knowing that from his day the kingdom
   of heaven suffered violence, therefore proclaimed, Do penitence, for
   the kingdom of heaven is at hand (S. Matt. iii. 2, Vulg.); and, seeing
   that the Life would immediately follow him, endured death with joy. He,
   before his death, was careful to inquire from the Lord Himself
   respecting this, and had the happiness to be informed of it. For when
   he sent his disciples to ask of Jesus Art Thou He that should come, or
   are we to look for another? he received for answer, after the
   enumeration of very many miracles, And blessed is he who shall not be
   offended in me (S. Matt. xi. 3-6). In which answer the Lord intimated
   that He was about to die, and by such a death as might be to the Jews a
   stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness. At this word the friend
   of the Bridegroom went onward rejoicing and with a willing mind,
   because he could not doubt that the Bridegroom also would speedily
   come. Therefore he who so joyfully could die merited also to be held in
   joyful remembrance. And that old man, too, as full of virtues as of
   days, who when death was already so near said, holding in his arms Him
   who was the Life, Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for
   mine eyes have seen Thy salvation (S. Luke ii. 29, 30), as if he had
   said, I go down without fear into Hades, because I feel that my
   redemption is so nigh; he, too, who died with such fearless joy and
   such joyful security rightly deserves to be commemorated with joy in
   the Church.

   5. But on what principle shall a death be accounted joyful which is not
   accompanied by the joys of heaven? or from whence should a dying person
   derive joy who was sure that he was going down into the darkness of the
   prison-house, and yet did not bear with him any certitude, how soon the
   consolation of a deliverer thence should come to him? Thus it was that
   when one of the saints heard Set thy house in order, for thou shalt
   die, and not live, he turned himself to the wall and wept bitterly, and
   so asked and obtained some deferring of hateful death. Thus also he
   lamented miserably, saying, I shall go to the gates of the grave; I am
   deprived of the half of my days (Is. xxxviii. 10); and a little after
   added, I shall not see the Lord in the land of the living: I shall
   behold man no more with the inhabitants of the world (Is. xxxviii. 11).
   Hence also another says: Who shall grant me that Thou wouldest protect
   me in the grave, that Thou wouldest keep me secret until Thy wrath be
   passed; that Thou wouldest appoint me a set time and remember me? (Job
   xiv. 13). Israel also said to his sons, Ye will bring down my grey
   hairs with sorrow to the grave (Gen. xlii. 38). What appearance is
   there in these deaths, of solemn joy, of rejoicing and festival?

   6. But our martyrs desire to be unclothed and be with Christ, knowing
   well that where the Body is there without delay will the eagles be
   gathered together. There will the righteous rejoice in the sight of
   God, and be in joy and felicity. There, there, O most blessed Jesus,
   shall every saint who is delivered from this wicked world be filled
   speedily with the joy of Thy countenance. There in the habitations of
   the just resounds for ever one song of joy and salvation: Our soul is
   delivered as a bird out of the net of the fowler: the net is broken and
   we are delivered (Ps. cxxiv. 7). How could those sing this song of
   gladness who in Hades sat in darkness and the shadow of death, while as
   yet there was no Redeemer for them, no Saviour; while the Sun rising
   from on high, Christ the first fruits of them that slept, had not yet
   visited us? Rightly, then, does the Church, who has learnt to rejoice
   with them that rejoice and to weep with them that weep, distinguish,
   because of the time at which they lived, between those whom she judges
   equal in valour: and does not think the descent into Hades proper to be
   followed with equal honour as is the passage into life.

   7. Therefore, though the motive makes martyrdom, yet the time and the
   nature of it determine the difference between martyrdoms. Thus the time
   in which they lived separates the Maccabees from the martyrs of the new
   law and joins them with those of the old; but the nature of their
   martyrdom associates them with the new and divides them from the old.
   From these causes come the differences of observance with which they
   are kept in memory in the Church. But that which is common to the whole
   company of the Saints before God is what the holy prophet declares:
   Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints (Ps. cxvi.
   15). And why he calls it precious he explains to us: When He has given
   sleep to His beloved, behold, children, the heritage of the Lord; His
   reward, the fruit of the womb (Ps. cxxvii. 3). Nor must we think that
   martyrs alone are beloved, since we remember that it was said of
   Lazarus, Our friend Lazarus sleeps (S. John xi. 11), and elsewhere,
   Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord (Apoc. xiv. 13). Not those
   alone who die for the Lord, like the martyrs, but without doubt those
   also who die in the Lord as confessors are blessed. There are two
   things, as it seems to me, which make death precious, the life which
   precedes it and the cause for which it is endured; but more the cause
   than the life. But when both the cause and the life concur that is the
   most precious of all.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLV (circa A.D. 1120)

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

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

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

   1. I do not wonder at your surprise; I should wonder if you were not
   suprised [sic] that I should write to you, a countryman to a citizen, a
   monk to a scholastic, [70] there being no apparent or pressing reason
   for so doing. But if you recall what is written--I am debtor both to
   the wise and to the unwise (Rom. i. 14), and that Charity seeketh not
   her own (1 Cor. xiii. 5)--perhaps you will understand that what it
   orders is not mere presumption. For it is Charity which compels me to
   reprove you; to condole with you, though you do not grieve; to pity
   you, though you do not think yourself pitiable. Nor shall it be
   unserviceable to you to hear patiently why you are compassionated. In
   feeling your pain you may get rid of its cause, and knowing your misery
   begin to cease to be miserable. O, Charity, good mother who both
   nourishest the weak, employest the vigorous, and blamest the restless,
   using various expedients with various people, as loving all her sons!
   She blames with gentleness, and with simplicity praises. It is she who
   is the mother of men and angels, and makes the peace not only of earth
   but of heaven. It is she who, rendering God favourable to man, has
   reconciled man to God; she, my Fulk, makes those brethren, with whom
   you once shared pleasant bread, to dwell in one manner of life in a
   house (Ps. lxviii. 6). Such and so honourable a parent complains of
   being injured, of being wounded by you.

   2. But in what have I injured, you reply, or wounded her? In this,
   without doubt, that you whom she had taken in her maternal bosom and
   nourished with her milk, have untimely withdrawn yourself, and having
   known the sweetness of the milk which can train you up for salvation,
   have rejected and disdained it so quickly and carelessly. O, most
   foolish boy! boy more in understanding than in age! who has fascinated
   you to depart so quickly from a course so well begun? My uncle, you
   will say. So Adam once threw the blame of sin upon his wife, and his
   wife upon the serpent, to excuse themselves; yet each received the
   well-deserved sentence of their own fault. I am unwilling to accuse the
   dean; I am unwilling that you should excuse yourself by this means, for
   you are inexcusable. His fault does not excuse yours. But what did he
   do? Did he use violence? Did he take you by force? Nay, he begged, not
   insisted; attracted you by flatteries, not dragged you by violence. Who
   forced you to yield to his flatteries? He had not yet given up what was
   his own. What wonder that he should reclaim you, who wast his! If he
   demands a lamb from the flock, a calf from the herd, and no one
   disputes his right, who can wonder that having lost you, who are of
   more value in his sight than many lambs or calves, he should reclaim
   you? Probably he does not aim at that degree of perfection of which it
   is said, If any one has taken away thy goods, seek them not again (S.
   Luke vi. 30). But you, who had already rejected the world, what had you
   to do with following a man of the world? The timid sheep flies when the
   wolf approaches; the gentle dove when she sees the hawk; the mouse,
   though hungry, dares not leave his hole when the cat is prowling
   around; and yet you, when thou sawest a thief thou consentedst with him
   (Ps. l. 18). For what else than a thief shall I call him who has not
   hesitated to steal that most precious pearl of Christ, your soul?

   3. I should wish, if it were possible, to pass over his fault, lest the
   truth should obtain for me only hatred and no result. But I am not
   able, I confess, to pass a man untouched, who up to this very day is
   found to have resisted the Holy Spirit with all his power. For he who
   does not hinder evil when he can, even although the evil purpose may be
   frustrated, is not clear of that purpose. Assuredly he tried to damp my
   fervour when it was new, but, thanks to God, he did not succeed.
   Another nephew of his, Guarike, your kinsman, he much opposed, but what
   harm did he do? On the contrary, he was of service. For the old man at
   length unwillingly desisted from persecution, and as the youth, his
   nephew, remained unsubdued, he was the more meritorious for his
   temptation. But, alas! how was he able to overcome you, who was not
   able to overcome him? Was he stronger or more prudent than you?
   Assuredly those who knew both before preferred Fulk to Guarike. But the
   event of the combat showed that men's judgment had erred.

   4. But what shall I say concerning the malice of an uncle who withdraws
   his own nephews from the Christian warfare to drag them with himself to
   perdition? Is it thus he is accustomed to benefit his friends? Those
   whom Christ calls to abide with Him for ever this uncle calls back to
   burn with him for evermore. I wonder if Christ is not reproving him
   when he says, How often would I have gathered thy nephews as a hen
   gathers her chickens under her wings and thou wouldest not? Behold thy
   house is left unto thee desolate (S. Matt. xxiii. 37). Christ says,
   Suffer the little children to come unto Me, for of such is the kingdom
   of heaven (S. Matt. xix. 14). This uncle says, Suffer my nephews to
   burn with me. Christ says, They are Mine; they ought to serve Me. But
   their uncle says, They ought to perish with me. Christ says, They are
   mine, I have redeemed them. But I, says the uncle, have brought them
   up. You, indeed, says Christ, have fed them, but with My bread, not
   thine; while I have redeemed them not with thy blood, but Mine own.
   Thus the uncle, according to the flesh, struggles against the Father of
   spirits for his nephews, whom he disinherits of heavenly possessions
   while he desires to load them with earthly. Yet Christ, not considering
   it robbery to draw to Himself those whom He has made and redeemed with
   His own blood, has done when they came to Him, what He had before
   promised, Him who cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out (S. John
   vi. 37). He opened gladly to Fulk, the first who knocked, and made him
   glad also. What more? he put off the old man and put on the new, and
   showed forth in his character and life the canonical function which had
   existed in name alone. The report of it flies abroad, to Christ, a
   sweet savour; and the novelty of the thing diffused on all sides
   brought it to the ears of his uncle.

   5. What then did the carnal guardian, who lost the carnal solace of the
   flesh which he had brought up and loved after a carnal fashion?
   Although to others the event was a savour of life unto life (2 Cor. ii.
   16), not so to him. Wherefore? Because the carnal man receiveth not the
   things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him (1 Cor.
   ii. 14). For if he had the spirit of Christ he would not so greatly
   lament on account of the flesh that which he rejoiced over on account
   of the spirit. But because he relishes earthly things, not those which
   are above, he is sad and troubled, and reflects thus within himself:
   What do I hear? Woe is me! from what hope have I fallen! Ought he to do
   anything without my advice and permission? What right, what law, what
   justice, what reason is it, that him, whom I have nourished up from
   infancy, another person should have the good of when grown up? Now that
   my head is white, alas! I shall spend the remainder of my life in
   grief, because the staff of my old age has deserted me. Woe is me! if
   this night my soul is required of me, whose shall those things be which
   I have prepared? My storehouses are full, disgorging this one into
   that, my sheep fruitful, abounding in their goings forth; my oxen fat,
   and for whom shall these remain? My lands, my meadows, my houses, my
   vases of gold and of silver, for whom have they been amassed? Certain
   of the richer and more profitable honours of my Church I had acquired
   for myself; the rest, although I could not have them, I hoped that Fulk
   should. What then shall I do? Because of him shall I lose so much? For
   whatever I possess, without him, I reckon as lost. Rather than that I
   will both retain them, and recall him if I can. What is done cannot be
   undone; what is heard cannot be concealed. Fulk is a Canon Regular, and
   if he returns to the world will be remarked and disgraced. But it is
   better to hear that about him than to live without him. Let integrity
   yield to convenience, shame to necessity. I prefer not to spare the
   ingenuousness of a youth, rather than to undergo miserable melancholy.

   6. Adopting then this counsel of the flesh, forgetful of reason and
   law, as it were a lion prepared for prey; and as a lioness robbed of
   her whelp, raging and roaring, not respecting holy things, he burst
   into the dwelling of the saints, in which Christ had hidden his young
   soldier from the strife of tongues, who was one day to be adjoined to
   the company of Angels. He demands that his nephew be restored to him;
   he loudly complains that by him he had been wrongly deserted; while
   Christ resists, saying, Unhappy man, what are you doing? Why do you
   rob? Why persecute Me? Is it not enough that you have taken away your
   own soul from Me, and the souls of many others by your example, but you
   must tear him also from My hand with impious daring? Do you not fear
   the coming judgment, or do you despise My terrors? Upon whom do you
   wage war? Upon the terrible One, who takes away the spirit of princes
   (Ps. lxxvi. 12). Madman, return to thyself. Remember thy last end and
   sin not, call to mind with salutary fear what you are. And thou, O
   youth, He says, if thou dost assent and agree to his wishes thou shaft
   die the death. [71] Remember that Lot's wife was, indeed, delivered
   from Sodom because she believed God, but was transformed in the way
   because she looked back (Gen. xix. 26). Learn in the Gospel that he who
   has once put his hand to the plough to him it is not permitted to look
   back (Luke ix. 62). Your uncle, who has already lost his own soul,
   seeks yours. The words of his mouth are iniquity and guile. Do not
   learn, my son, to do evil (Ps. xxxvi. 4). Do not turn aside to vanities
   and falsehoods (Ps. xl. 4). Behold in the way in which you walk he
   hides snares--he has stretched nets. His discourses are smooth as
   butter, and yet they are sharp spears (Ps. lv. 21). See, my son, that
   you are not taken with lying lips and a deceitful tongue. Let divine
   fear transfix your flesh, that the desire of the flesh may not deceive
   you. It flatters, but under its tongue is suffering and sorrow; it
   weeps, but betrays; it betrays to catch the poor when it has attracted
   him (Ps. x. 9). Beware, I say, My son, that you do not confer with
   flesh and blood (Gal. i. 16), for My sword shall devour flesh (Deut.
   xxxii. 42). Despise entreaties and promises. He promises great things,
   but I greater; he offers more, but I most of all. Will you throw away
   heavenly things for earthly, eternal for temporal? Otherwise it behoves
   you to dissolve the vows which your lips have pronounced. He is rightly
   required to dissolve who was not forced to vow, for, although I did not
   repulse you when you knocked, I did not oblige you to enter. You
   cannot, therefore, put aside what you promised of your own accord.
   Behold each of you I warn, and to each give salutary counsel. Do not
   you, He says to the uncle, draw back a regular to the world, for in so
   doing you make him to apostatize. Do not you, a regular, follow the
   secular life, for in so doing you persecute Me. If you seduce a soul
   for which I died you make yourself an enemy of My cross. He who does
   not gather with Me scatters (S. Matt. xii. 30). How much more he who
   scatters what has been gathered? And you, if you consent to him you
   dissent from Me, for he who is not with Me is against Me (ibid.). How
   much more is he who was with Me against Me if he deserts? You, if you
   lead astray a boy who has come to Me, shall be adjudged a seducer and
   profaner, but you, if you destroy what you had built, shall make
   yourself a deceiver. Both of you must stand at My tribunal and by Me be
   judged--the one for his prevarication, the other for the leading
   astray; and if the one shall die in his iniquity his blood shall be
   required at the hand of his seducer (Ezek. iii. 18). These and similar
   warnings Thou, O Christ, didst invisibly thunder to each, I appeal to
   their conscience as witness. Thou didst knock at the doors of the mind
   of each with kindly terrors. Who would not fear them and recover wisdom
   in fearing, unless it were one like the deaf adder, that stoppeth her
   ear and refuseth to hear the voice of the charmer, charm he never so
   wisely (Ps. lviii. 4, 5), who either does not hear, or pretends that he
   hears not?

   7. But how far do I draw out this letter, already too long, before
   speaking of a thing that is worthy only of silence? In what circuitous
   paths do I approach the truth, fearing to draw the veil from shame! I
   say with shame. That what is known to many I cannot conceal if I would.
   But why with shame? Why should I be ashamed to write what it did not
   shame them to do? If they are ashamed to hear what they shamelessly
   did, let them not be ashamed to amend what they were reluctant to hear.
   Alas! neither fear nor reason could keep back the one from seduction,
   nor shame or his profession the other from prevarication. What more? A
   deceitful tongue fits hasty words; it conceiveth sorrow, and brings
   forth iniquity. Your Church received its scholar, whom it had better
   have been without. So formerly Lyons recovered, without credit, by the
   zeal and pertinacity of its dean, its canon whom it had well lost, the
   nephew of the same dean. Just as the one snatched Fulk from S.
   Augustine, so the other Othbert from S. Benedict. How much more
   beautiful that a religious youth should draw to himself a worldly old
   man, and so each should be victorious, than that the worldly should
   draw back to himself the religious, in which each is vanquished! Oh,
   unhappy old man! Oh, cruel uncle! who, already decrepit and soon about
   to die, before dying have slain the soul of your nephew, whom you have
   deprived of the inheritance of Christ in order that you might have an
   heir of your sins. But he who is evil to himself, to whom is he good?
   He preferred to have a successor in his riches rather than an
   intercessor for his iniquities.

   8. But what have I to do with Deans, who are our instructors, and have
   acquired authority in the Churches. They hold the key of knowledge, and
   take the highest seats in the synagogues. They judge their subjects at
   their will, they recall fugitives, and when they are recalled scatter
   them again as they choose. What have I to do with that? I confess that
   because of you, my Fulk, I have exceeded somewhat the degree proper to
   my humility in speaking of these, since I wished to be indulgent to
   your fault, and make your shame little in comparison. I pass over these
   that they may not have ground to rail, not at the blame, but at him who
   blames, for they would rather find fault with my presumption than
   occupy themselves with their own correction. At all events it is not a
   prince of the Church that I have undertaken to reprimand, but a young
   student, gentle and obedient. Unless, perhaps, you show yourself to be
   a child in sense, not in malice, and object to my boldness, saying,
   What has he to do with me? What do the faults which I commit matter to
   him? Am I a monk? And to this I confess I have nothing to answer,
   except that I counted, in addressing myself to you, on the sweetness of
   character with which you are endowed by nature, and that I was actuated
   by the love of God, to which I appealed in the first words of my
   letter. It was in zeal for Him that, pitying your error and your
   unhappiness, I was moved to interfere beyond my custom in order to save
   you, although you were not mine. [72] Your serious fall and miserable
   case has moved me thus to presume. For whom of your contemporaries have
   you seen me reprimand? To whom have I ever addressed even the briefest
   letter? Not that I regarded them as saints, nor had nothing to blame in
   them.

   9. Why, then, you will say, do you blame me especially, when in others
   you see what you might, perhaps, more justly find fault with? To which
   I reply: Because of the excessiveness of your error, of the enormity of
   your fault, for although many others live loosely, without rule and
   discipline, yet they have not yet professed obedience to these. They
   are sinners indeed, but not apostates. But you, however honourably and
   quietly you may live, although you may conduct yourself chastely,
   soberly, and religiously, yet your piety is not acceptable to God,
   because it is rendered valueless by the violation of your vow.
   Therefore, beloved, do not compare yourself with your contemporaries,
   from whom the profession which you have made separates you, nor flatter
   yourself so much because of your self-restraint in comparison with men
   of the world, since the Lord says to you I would thou wert hot or cold
   (Apoc. iii. 15, 16). Here is plainly shown that you please God less,
   being lukewarm, than if you were even such as those are, entirely cold
   towards Him. For them God waits patiently until their cold shall pass
   into heat, but you He sees with displeasure to have fallen away to
   lukewarmness, after having been fervent in warmth. And because I have
   found thee lukewarm, He says, I will vomit thee from My mouth (ibid.)
   and deservedly, because you have returned to your vomit and rejected
   His grace!

   10. Alas, how have you so soon grown weary of the Saviour, of whom it
   is written, Honey and milk are under His tongue (Cantic. iv. 11). I
   wonder that nourishment so sweet should be distasteful to you, if you
   have tasted how sweet the Lord is. Or perhaps you have not yet tasted
   and do not know how sweet is Christ, so that you do not desire what you
   have not tried; or if you have, then your taste is surely depraved. He
   is the Wisdom of God who says: He who eats of Me shall always hunger,
   and he who drinks of Me shall never cease to desire to drink again
   (Ecclus. xxiv. 29). But how can he hunger or thirst for Christ who is
   full of the husks of wine? You cannot drink of the cup of Christ and of
   the cup of demons (1 Cor. x. 21). The cup of demons is pride,
   detraction, envy, debauch, and drunkenness, with which when your mind
   and body are saturated, Christ will find in you no place. Do not wonder
   at what I say. In the house of your uncle you are not able you are not
   able to drink deep of the fulness of the house of God. Why, you say?
   Because it is a house of [carnal] delights. Now, as fire and water
   cannot be together, so the delights of the spirit and those of the
   flesh are incompatible. Christ will not deign to pour His wine, which
   is more sweet than honey and the honeycomb, into the soul of him whom
   He finds among his cups breathing forth the fumes of wine. Where there
   is delicate variety of food, where the richness and splendour of the
   service of the table delights equally the eyes and the stomach, the
   food of heaven is wanting to the soul. Rejoice, O, young man, in thy
   youth! but then, when temporal joy departs in time to come, everlasting
   sorrow will possess thee! May God preserve you, His child, from this:
   May He rather destroy the deceiving and perfidious lips of those who
   give you such advice, who say to you every day, Good, good! and who
   seek your soul! They are those with whom you are dwelling, and who
   corrupt the good manners of a young man by their evil communications
   (colloquia: otherwise counsels, consilia ).

   11. But now how long before you will come out from their midst? What do
   you in the town who had chosen the cloister, or what have you to do
   with the world which you had renounced? The lines have fallen to you in
   pleasant places, and do you sigh after earthly riches? If you wish to
   have both together, it will be said to you soon, Remember, my son, that
   you have received your good things when you were in life (S. Luke xvi.
   25). You have received, He said, not you have seized; so that you may
   not shelter yourself under the vain excuse, that you are content with
   what is your own, and do not seize what belongs to another. And, after
   all, what are those goods which you call yours? The benefices of the
   Church? Certainly; you do well in rising to keep vigil, in going to
   Mass, in assisting at the day and night offices, so you do not take the
   præbend of the Church without return. It is just that he who serves the
   Altar should live from the Altar. It is granted therefore to you that
   if you serve well at the Altar you should live from it, but not that
   you should live in luxury and splendour at its expense, that you should
   take its revenues to provide yourself with gilded reins, ornamented
   saddles, silver spurs, furs of all kinds, and purple ornaments to cover
   your hands and adorn your neck. Whatsoever you take from the Altar, in
   short, beyond necessary food and simple dress, is not yours, and it is
   rapine and even sacrilege. The Wise man prayed for necessary
   sustenance, not for things superfluous (Prov. xxx. 8). The Apostle
   says, having food and clothing (1 Tim. vi. 8), not food and magnificent
   dress. And a certain other saint says, if the Lord shall give me bread
   to eat and raiment to cover me (Gen. xxviii. 20). Take notice, to cover
   me. So then let us, too, be content with raiment to cover us, not with
   luxurious and costly clothing which is worn to please women, and wakes
   the wearers like them. But you say: Those with whom I associate do
   this; if I do not do as others, I shall be remarked for singularity.
   Wherefore I say, go forth from the midst of them; that you may not
   either live with singularity in the eyes of the town or perish by the
   example of others.

   12. What do you do in the town at all, O effeminate soldier? Your
   fellow soldiers whom you have deserted by flight are fighting and
   overcoming; they knock and they enter in, they seize heaven and reign
   while you scour the streets and squares, sitting upon your ambling
   courser, and clad in purple and fine linen. These are the ornaments of
   peace, not the weapons of war. Or do you say, Peace, and there is no
   peace (Ezekiel xiii. 10). The purple tunic does not put to flight lust,
   and pride, and avarice, nor does it protect against other fiery darts
   of the enemy. Lastly, it does not ward off from you the fever which you
   more fear, nor secure you from death. Where are your warlike weapons,
   the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, the breast-plate of
   patience? Why do you tremble? There are more with us than with our
   enemies. Take your arms, recover your strength while yet the combat
   lasts; Angels are spectators and helpers, the Lord himself is your aid
   and your support, who will teach your hands to war and your fingers to
   fight (Psalm cxliv. 1). Let us come to the help of our brothers, lest
   if they fight without us they vanquish without us, and without us enter
   into heaven; lest, last of all, when the door has been shut it be
   replied from within to us knocking too late, Verily I say unto you, I
   know you not (S. Matthew xxv. 12). Make yourself known then and seen
   beforehand, lest you be unknown for glory and known only for
   punishment. If Christ recognizes you in the strife, He will recognize
   you in heaven, and as He has promised, will manifest Himself to you (S.
   John xiv. 21). If only you by repenting and returning will show
   yourself such as to be able to say with confidence Then shall I know
   even as also I am known (1 Corinthians xiii. 12). In the meantime I
   have by these admonitions knocked sufficiently at the heart of a young
   man modest and docile; and nothing remains for me now than to knock by
   my prayers also, for him, at the door of the Divine Mercy, that the
   Lord may finish my work if my remonstrances have found his heart ever
   so little softened, so that I may speedily rejoice over him with great
   joy.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLVI (circa A.D. 1125)

  To Guigues, the Prior, And to the Other Monks of the Grand Chartreuse

   He discourses much and piously of the law of true and sincere charity,
   of its signs, its degrees, its effects, and of its perfection which is
   reserved for Heaven (Patria).

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

   1. I have received the letter of your Holiness as joyfully as I had
   long and eagerly desired it. I have read it, and the letters which I
   pronounced with my mouth, I felt, as it were, sparks of fire in my
   heart, which warmed my heart within me; as coming from that fire which
   the Lord has sent upon the earth (S. Luke xii. 49). How great a fire
   must glow in those meditations from which such sparks fly forth! This,
   your inspired and inspiring salutation, was to me, I confess, not as if
   coming from man, but like words descending surely from Him who sent the
   salutation to Jacob. It is not for me, in fact, a simple salutation
   given in passing, according to the custom and usage of men, but it is
   plainly from the very bowels of charity, as I feel, that this
   benediction, so sweet and so unhoped for, has come forth. I pray God to
   bless you, who have had the goodness to prevent me with benedictions of
   such sweetness, that confidence is granted to me, your humble servant,
   to reply, since you have first written; for though I had meditated
   writing, I had hitherto not presumed to do so. For I feared to trouble,
   by my eager scribbling, the holy quiet which you have in the Lord, and
   the religious silence which isolates you from the world. I feared,
   also, to interrupt, even for a moment, those mysterious whispers from
   God, and to pour my words into ears always occupied with the secret
   praises of heaven. I feared to become as one who would trouble even
   Moses on the mountain, Elias in the desert, or Samuel watching in the
   temple, if I had tried to turn away ever so little, minds occupied with
   divine communion. Samuel cries out: Speak, Lord, for Thy servant
   heareth (1 Sam. iii. 10). And should I presume to make myself heard? I
   feared, I say, lest presenting myself out of season before you, as it
   were to David engaged in flight, or abiding in solitude, you might not
   wish to listen, and might say, "Excuse me, I cannot hear thee now; I
   prefer rather to give ear to words sweeter than thine." I will hear
   what the Lord God will say unto me; for He shall speak peace unto His
   people, and to His saints, and to those who are converted at heart (Ps.
   lxxxiv. 9 Vulg.). Or, at least, this: Depart from me, ye evil-disposed,
   and I will study the commandments of my God (Ps. cxix. 115). For could
   I be so rash as to dare to arouse the much-loved spouse sweetly resting
   in the arms of her bridegroom as long as she will? Should I not hear
   from her on the instant: Do not be troublesome to me; I am for My
   Beloved, and My Beloved is for Me; He feedeth among the lilies (Cant.
   ii. 16).

   2. But what I do not dare to do, charity dares, and with all confidence
   knocks at the door of a friend, thinking that she ought by no means to
   suffer repulse, who knows herself to be the mother of friendships; nor
   does she fear to interrupt for an instant your rest, though so
   pleasant, to speak to you of her own task. She, when she will, causes
   you to withdraw from being alone with God; she, also, when she willed,
   made you attentive to me; so that you did not regard it as unworthy of
   you, not merely to benignantly endure my speaking, but more, to urge me
   to break the silence. I esteem the kindness, I admire the worthiness, I
   praise and venerate the pure rejoicing with which you glory in the
   Lord, for the advances in virtue which, as you suppose, I have made. I
   am proud of so great a testimony, and esteem myself happy in a
   friendship so grateful to me as that of the servants of God towards me.
   This is now my glory, this is my joy and the rejoicing of my heart,
   that not in vain I have lifted up mine eyes unto the mountains whence
   there has now come to me help of no small value. These mountains have
   already distilled sweetness for me; and I continue to hope that they
   will do so until our valleys shall abound with fruit. That day shall be
   always for me a day of festival and perpetual memorial, in which I had
   the honour to see and to receive that worthy man, by whom it has come
   about that I should be received into your hearts. And, indeed, you had
   received me even before, if I may judge by your letter; but now with a
   more close and intimate friendship, since, as I find, he brought back
   to you too favourable reports concerning me which, doubtless, he
   believed, though without sufficient cause. For, as a faithful and pious
   man, God forbid that he should speak otherwise than he believed. And
   truly I experience in myself what the Saviour says: He who receives a
   righteous man in the name of a righteous man shall receive a righteous
   man's reward (S. Matt. x. 41). I have said, the reward of a righteous
   man, because I am regarded as righteous, only through receiving one who
   is righteous. If he has reported of me something more than that, he has
   spoken not so much according to the truth of the case as according to
   the simplicity and goodness of his heart. You have heard, you have
   believed, you have rejoiced, and have written, thereby giving me no
   little joy, not only because I have been honoured with a degree of
   praise and a high place in the estimation of your Holiness, but also
   because all the sincerity of your souls has made itself known to me in
   no small measure. In few words, you have shown to me with what spirit
   you are animated.

   3. I rejoice, therefore, and congratulate you on your sincerity and
   goodness as I congratulate myself on the edification which you have
   afforded to me. That is, indeed, true and sincere charity, and must be
   considered to proceed from a heart altogether pure and a good
   conscience and faith unfeigned, with which we love our neighbour as
   ourself. For he who loves only the good that himself has done, or, at
   least, loves it more than that of others, does not love good for its
   own sake, but on account of himself, and he who is such cannot do as
   the prophet says: Give thanks unto the Lord, because He is good (Ps.
   cxviii. 1). He gives thanks, indeed, perhaps, because the Lord is good
   to him, not because He is good in Himself. Wherefore let him understand
   that this reproach from the same prophet is directed against him: They
   will praise thee when thou doest well unto thy own soul (Ps. xlix. 18).
   One man praises the Lord because He is mighty; another because He is
   good unto him; and, again, another simply because He is good. The first
   is a slave, and fears for himself; the second mercenary, and desires
   somewhat for himself; but the third is a son, and gives praise to his
   Father. Therefore both he who fears and he who desires are each working
   for his own advantage; charity which is in him alone who is a son,
   seeketh not her own. Wherefore I think that it was of charity that was
   spoken, The law of the Lord is pure, converting the soul (Ps. xix. 7),
   because it is that alone which can turn away the mind from the love of
   itself and of the world and direct it towards God. Neither fear nor
   selfish love converts the soul. They change sometimes the outward
   appearance or the actions, but never affect the heart. No doubt even
   the slave does sometimes the work of God, but because he does it not of
   his own free will he remains still in his hardness. The mercenary
   person does it also, but not out of kindness, only as drawn by his own
   particular advantage. Where there is distinction of persons, there are
   personal interests, and where there are personal interests there is a
   limit of willingness, and there, without doubt, a rusting meanness. Let
   the very fear by which he is constrained be a law to the slave, let the
   greedy desire, with which the mercenary is bound, be a law to him,
   since it is by it that he is drawn away and enticed. But of these
   neither is without fault or is able to convert the soul. But charity
   does convert souls when it fills them with disinterested zeal.

   4. Now, I should say that this charity is faultless in him who has
   become accustomed to retain nothing for himself out of that which is
   his own. He who keeps nothing for himself gives to God quite certainly
   all that he has, and that which belongs to God cannot be unclean. Thus
   that pure law of the Lord is no other than charity, which seeks not
   what is advantageous to herself, but that which profits others. But law
   is said to be of the Lord, either because He Himself lives by it or
   because no one possesses it except by His gift. Nor let it seem absurd
   what I have said, that even God lives by law, since I declared that
   this law was no other than charity. For what but charity preserves in
   the supreme and blessed Trinity, that lofty and unspeakable unity which
   it has? It is law, then, and charity the law of the Lord, which
   maintains in a wonderful manner the Trinity in Unity and binds It in
   the bond of peace. Yet let no one think that I here take charity for a
   quality or a certain accident in God, or otherwise to say that in God
   (which God forbid) there is something which is not God; but I say that
   it is the very substance of God. I say nothing new or unheard of, for
   S. John says God is love (1 S. John iv. 16).

   It is then right to say that charity is God, and at the same time the
   gift of God. Therefore Charity gives charity, the substantial [73]
   gives the accidental. Where the word signifies the Giver it is a name
   of the substance, and where the thing given, it is a name of the
   accident. This is the eternal law, Creator and Ruler of the Universe.
   Since all things have been made through it in weight and measure and
   number, and nothing is left without law, not even He who is the Law of
   all things, yet He is Himself none other than the law which rules Him,
   a law untreated as He.

   5. But the slave and the mercenary have a law, not from God, but which
   they have made for themselves--the one by not loving God, the other by
   loving something else more than Him. They have, I say, a law which is
   their own and not of the Lord, to which, nevertheless, their own is
   subjected; nor are they able to withdraw themselves from the
   unchangeable order of the divine law, though each should make a law for
   himself. I would say, then, that a person makes a law for himself when
   he prefers his own will to the common and eternal law, perversely
   wishing to imitate his Creator; so that as He is a law unto Himself,
   and is under no authority but His Own, so the man also will be his own
   master, will make his own will a law to himself. Alas! what a heavy and
   insupportable yoke upon all the sons of Adam, which weighs upon and
   bows down our necks, so that our life is drawn near to the grave.
   Unhappy man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this
   death? (Rom. vii. 24) with which I am so weighed down that unless the
   Lord had helped me, my soul would almost have dwelt in the grave (Ps.
   xciv. 17). With this load was he burdened who groaned, saying: Why hast
   Thou set me as a mark against Thee, so that I am a burden to myself?
   (Job vii. 20). Where he says, I am made a burden to myself, he showed
   that he was a law unto himself, and the law no other than he himself
   had made it. But when, speaking to God, he commenced by saying, Thou
   hast set me as a mark against Thee, he showed that he had not escaped
   from the Divine law. For this is the property of that eternal and just
   law of God, that he who would not be ruled with gentleness by God,
   should be ruled as a punishment by his own self; and that all those who
   have willingly thrown off the gentle yoke and light burden of charity
   should bear unwillingly the insupportable burden of their own will.

   6. Thus the everlasting law does in a wonderful manner, to him who is a
   fugitive from its power, both make him an adversary and retain him as a
   subject; for while, on the one hand, he has not escaped from the law of
   justice, by which he is dealt with according to his merits, on the
   other he does not remain with God in His light, or peace, or glory. He
   is subjected to power, and excluded from happiness. O Lord, my God, why
   dost Thou not take away my sin, and pardon my transgression? (Job vii.
   21). So that throwing down the heavy weight of my own will, I may
   breathe easily under the light burden of charity; that I may not be
   overborne any longer by servile fear, nor allured by selfish cupidity,
   but may be impelled by Thy spirit, the spirit of liberty, which is that
   of Thy children. Who is it, who witnesses to my spirit that I, too, am
   one of Thy children, since Thy law is mine, and as Thou art, so am I
   also, in this world? For it is quite certain that those who do this
   which the Apostle says owe no one anything except to love one another
   (Rom. xiii. 8) are themselves as God is in this world, nor are they
   slaves or mercenaries, but sons. Therefore neither are sons without
   law, unless, perhaps, some one should think the contrary because of
   this which is written, the law is not made for a righteous man (1 Tim.
   i. 9). But it ought to be remembered that the law promulgated in fear
   by a spirit of slavery is one thing, and that given sweetly and gently
   by the spirit of liberty is another. Those who are sons are not obliged
   to submit to the first, but they are always under the rule of the
   second. Do you wish to hear why it is said that law is not made for the
   righteous? You have not received, he says, the spirit of slavery again
   in fear. Or why, nevertheless, they are always under the rule of the
   law of charity? But ye have received the spirit of the adoption of sons
   (Rom. viii. 15). Listen, now, in what manner the righteous man
   confesses that at the same time he is and is not under the law. I
   became, he says, to those which were under the law as being under the
   law, although I myself was not under the law: but to those who were
   without law, I was as being without law, since I was not without the
   law of God but in the law of Christ (1 Cor. ix. 20, 21). Whence it is
   not accurately said the righteous have no law, or the righteous are
   without law, but that the law was not made for the righteous; that is,
   it is not, as it were, imposed upon unwilling subjects, but given
   freely to willing hearts by Him to whose sweet inspiration it is due.
   Wherefore the Lord also beautifully says, Take My yoke upon you (S.
   Matt. xi. 29). As if He would say, I do not impose it upon you against
   your will, take it if you are willing; otherwise you will find not
   rest, but labour, for your souls.

   7. The law of charity, then, is good and sweet, it is not only light
   and sweet to bear, but it renders bearable and light the laws even of
   slaves and mercenaries. But it does not destroy these, but brings about
   their fulfilment, as the Lord says, I am not come to destroy the law,
   but to fulfil (S. Matt. v. 17). The one it moderates, the other it
   reduces to order, and each it lightens. Charity will never be without
   fear, but that fear is good; it will never be without any thought of
   interest, but that a restrained and moderated one. Charity, therefore,
   perfects the law of the slave when it inspires a generous devotion, and
   that of the mercenary when it gives a better direction to interested
   wishes. So, then, devotion mixed with fear does not annul those last,
   but purifies them, only it takes away the fear of punishment which
   servile fear is never exempt from; and this fear is clean and filial,
   enduring for ever (Ps. xix. 9). For that which is written, perfect love
   takes away fear (1 S. John iv. 18), is to be understood of the fear of
   punishment, which is never wanting, as we have said, to slavish fear.
   It is, in fact, a common mode of speech which consists in putting the
   cause for the effect. As for cupidity, it is then rightly directed by
   the charity which is joined with it, since ceasing altogether to desire
   things which are evil, it begins to prefer those which are better, nor
   does it desire good things except in order to reach those which are
   better; which when, by the grace of God, it has fully obtained, the
   body and all the good things which belong to the body will be loved
   only for the sake of the soul, the soul for the sake of God, and God
   alone for Himself.

   8. However, as we are in fleshly bodies, and are born of the desire of
   the flesh, it is of necessity that our desire, or affection, should
   begin from the flesh; but if it is rightly directed, advancing step by
   step under the guidance of grace, it will at length be perfected by the
   Spirit, because that is not first which is spiritual, but that which is
   natural, and afterwards that which is spiritual; and it is needful that
   we should first bear the image of the earthly and afterwards that of
   the heavenly (1 Cor. xv. 46, 49). First, then, a man loves his own self
   for self's sake, since he is flesh, and he cannot have any taste except
   for things in relation with him; but when he sees that he is not able
   to subsist by himself, that God is, as it were, necessary to him, he
   begins to inquire and to love God by faith. Thus he loves God in the
   second place, but because of his own interest, and not for the sake of
   God Himself. But when, on account of his own necessity, he has begun to
   worship Him and to approach Him by meditation, by reading, by prayer,
   by obedience, he comes little by little to know God with a certain
   familiarity, and in consequence to find Him sweet and kind; and thus
   having tasted how sweet the Lord is, he passes to the third stage, and
   thus loves God no longer on account of his own interest, but for the
   sake of God Himself. Once arrived there, he remains stationary, and I
   know not if in this life man is truly able to rise to the fourth
   degree, which is, no longer to love himself except for the sake of God.
   Those who have made trial of this (if there be any) may assert it to be
   attainable; to me, I confess, it appears impossible. It will be so
   without doubt when the good and faithful servant shall have been
   brought into the joy of his Lord, and inebriated with the fulness of
   the house of God. For being, as it were, exhilarate, he shall in a
   wonderful way be forgetful of himself, he shall lose the consciousness
   of what he is, and being absorbed altogether in God, shall attach
   himself unto Him with all his powers, shall thenceforth be one spirit
   with Him.

   9. I consider that the prophet referred to this when he said: I will
   enter into the powers of the Lord: O, Lord, I will make mention of Thy
   righteousness only (Ps. lxxi. 16). He knew well that when he entered
   into the spiritual powers of God he would be freed from all the
   infirmities of the flesh, and would have no longer to think of them,
   but would be occupied only with the perfections of God. Then, for
   certain, each of the members of Christ would be able to say of himself,
   what Paul said of their Head: If we have known Christ according to the
   flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him no more (2 Cor. v. 16).There no
   one knows himself according to the flesh, because flesh and blood will
   not inherit the kingdom of God (1 Cor. xv. 50). Not that the substance
   of flesh will not be there, but that every fleshly necessity will be
   away; the love of the flesh is to be absorbed into the love of the
   spirit, and the weak human passions which exist at present will be
   absorbed into powers divine. Then the net of charity, which is now
   drawn through a great and vast sea, and does not cease to bring
   together from every kind of fish, at length drawn to the shore, shall
   retain only the good, rejecting the bad. And while in this life charity
   fills with all kinds of fishes the vast spaces of its net, suiting
   itself to all according to the time, making, in a sense, its own, and
   partaking of the good and evil fortunes of all, it is accustomed not
   only to rejoice with them that rejoice, but to weep with them that
   weep. But when it shall have reached the shore [of eternity], casting
   away as evil fish all that it bore with grief before, it will retain
   those only which are sources of pleasure and gladness. Then Paul will
   no longer be weak with the weak, or be scandalized with those who are
   scandalized, since scandal and weakness will be far away. We ought not
   to think that he will still let fall tears over those who have not
   repented here below; and as it is certain that there will no longer be
   sinners, so there will be no one to repent. Far be it from us to think
   that he will mourn and deplore those whose portion is everlasting fire
   with the devil and his angels, when in that City of God which the
   streams of that river make glad (Ps. xlvi. 4), the gates of which the
   Lord loves more than all the dwellings of Jacob (Ps. lxxxvii. 2),
   because in those dwellings, although the joy of victory is sometimes
   tasted, yet the combat always continues, and sometimes the struggle is
   for life; but in that dear country there is no place for adversity or
   sorrow, as in that Psalm we sing: The abiding place of all those who
   rejoice is in Thee (Ps. lxxxvii. 7, Vulg.), and again: Everlasting joy
   shall be unto them (Is. lxi. 7). How, then, shall any remembrance be of
   mercy, where the justice of God shall be alone remembered? There can be
   no feeling of compassion called into exercise where there shall be no
   place for misery, or occasion for pity.

   10. I am impelled to prolong this already lengthy discourse, dearly
   beloved and much longed-for brethren, by the very strong desire I have
   of conversing with you; but there are three things which show me that I
   ought to come to an end. First, that I fear to be burdensome to you;
   that I am ashamed to show myself so loquacious; third, that I am
   pressed with domestic cares. In conclusion, I beg you to have
   compassion for me, and if you have rejoiced for the good things you
   have heard of me, sympathize with me also, I pray, in my too real
   temptations and cares. He who related these things to you has, no
   doubt, seen some few little things, and has valued these little things
   as great, while your indulgence has easily believed what it willingly
   heard. I felicitate you, indeed, on that charity which believes all
   things (1 Cor. xiii. 7). But I am confounded by the truth which knows
   all things. I beg you to believe me in what I say of myself rather than
   another who has only seen me from without. No man knoweth the things
   that are in a man save the spirit of man which is in him (1 Cor. ii.
   11). I assure you that I do not speak of myself by conjecture, but out
   of full knowledge, and that I am not such as I am believed and said to
   be. I fell assured of this, and confess it frankly; that so I may
   obtain your special prayers, and thus may become such as your letter
   sets forth, than which there is nothing I desire more.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [73] Mabillon reads substantiva, but another reading is
   substantia.--[E.]
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLVII

  To the Brother of William, a Monk of Clairvaux. [74]

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

   1. Although you are unknown to me by face, and although distant from me
   in body, yet you are my friend, and this friendship between us makes
   you to be present and familiar to me. It is not flesh and blood, but
   the Spirit of God which has prepared for you, though without your
   knowledge, this friendship, which has united your brother William and
   me with a lasting bond of spiritual affection, which includes you, too,
   through him, if you think it worth acceptance. And if you are wise you
   will not despise the friendship of those whom the Truth declares
   blessed, and calls kings of heaven; which blessedness we would not envy
   to you, nor if communicated to you would it be diminished to us, nor
   would our boundaries be at all narrowed if you should reign over them
   too. For what cause can there be for envy where the multitude of those
   who share a blessing takes nothing from the greatness of the share
   which each enjoys? I wish you to be the friend of the poor, but
   especially their imitator. The one is the grade of beginner, the other
   of the perfect, for the friendship of the poor makes us the friend of
   kings, but the love of poverty makes us kings ourselves. The kingdom of
   heaven is the kingdom of the poor, and one of the marks of royal power
   is to do good to friends according to our will. Make to yourselves
   friends, it is said, of the mammon of unrighteousness, that when ye
   fail they may receive you into everlasting habitations (S. Luke xvi.
   9): You see what a high dignity sacred poverty is, so that not only
   does it not seek protection for itself, but extends it to those who
   need. What a power is this, to approach by one's self to the Throne of
   God without the intervention of any, whether angels or men, with simple
   confidence in the Divine favour, thus reaching the summit of existence,
   the height of all glory!

   2. But would that you, without pretence, would consider how you hinder
   your own attainment of these advantages. Alas! that a vapour which
   appears but for a moment should block up the entrance to eternal glory,
   hide from you the clearness of the unbounded and everlasting light,
   prevent you from recognizing the true nature of things, and deprive you
   of the highest degree of glory! How long will you prefer to such glory
   the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the
   oven? I mean carnal and worldly glory. For all fresh is grass, and its
   glory as the flower of the field (Is. xl. 6). If you are wise, if you
   have a heart to feel and eyes to see, cease to pursue those things
   which it is misery to attain. Happy is he who does not toil at all
   after those things, which when possessed are a burden, when loved a
   defilement, and when lost a torment, Will it not be better to have the
   honour to renounce them than the vexation to lose them? Or will it be
   more prudent to yield them up for the love of Christ than to have them
   taken away by death?--death, which is a robber lying in wait for you,
   into whose hands you cannot help falling, with all that belongs to you.
   When he shall do so you cannot foresee, because he will come as a thief
   in the night. You brought nothing into this world, and it is certain
   you can carry nothing out (1 Tim. vi. 7). You shall sleep your sleep,
   and find nothing in your hands. But these things you know well, and it
   would be superfluous laboriously to teach them to you. Rather I will
   pray God that you may have the grace to fulfil in practice what it has
   been given you already to know.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLVIII

  To Magister [75] Walter de Chaumont.

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

   MY DEAR WALTER,

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

   2. But be it so; suppose that you may for a while call these things
   yours, and boast in the praise they bring you, and be called of men
   Rabbi and make for yourself a great name, though only upon the earth;
   what shall be left to you after death of all these things? Scarcely a
   remembrance alone--and that, too, only upon earth. For it is written,
   They have slept their sleep, and all the men whose hands were mighty
   have found nothing (Ps. lxxvi. 5). If this be the end of all your
   labours--allow me to say so--what have you more than a beast of burden?
   Indeed, it will be said even of your palfrey when he is, dead that he
   was good. Look to it, then, how you must answer it before that terrible
   judgment throne if you have received your soul in vain, and such a
   soul! if you are found to have done nothing more with your immortal and
   reasonable soul than some beast with his. For the soul of a brute lives
   no longer than the body which it animates, and at one and the same
   moment it both ceases to give life and to live. Of what will you deem
   yourself worthy, who, being made in the image of your Creator, do not
   guard the dignity of so great a majesty? And being a man, [76] but not
   understanding your honour, art compared unto the foolish beasts and
   made like unto them, seeing that forsooth, you labour at nothing of a
   spiritual or eternal nature, but, like the spirit of a beast which as
   soon as it is loosed from the body is dissolved with the body, have
   been content to think of nothing but material and temporal goods,
   turning a deaf ear to the Gospel precept: Labour not for the meat that
   perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life (S.
   John vi. 27). But you know well that it is written that only he ascends
   into the hill of the Lord who hath not Lift up his mind unto vanity
   (Ps. xxiv. 3). [77] And not even he except he hath clean hands and a
   pure heart. I leave you to decide if you dare to claim this of your
   deeds and thoughts at the present. But if you are not able to do so,
   judge what is the reward of iniquity, if mere unfruitfulness is enough
   for damnation. And, indeed, the thorn or thistle will not be safe when
   the axe shall be seen laid to the root of the fruit tree, nor will He
   spare the thorn which stings, who threatens even the barren plant. Woe,
   then; aye! double woe to him of whom it shall be said, I looked that he
   should bring forth grapes, and he hath brought forth wild grapes (Is.
   v. 4).

   3. But I know how freely and fully you can nourish these thoughts,
   though I be silent, but yet I know that, constrained by love of your
   mother, you are not as yet able to abandon what you have long known how
   to despise. What answer shall I make to you in this matter? That you
   should leave your mother? That seems inhuman. That you should remain
   with her? But what a misery for her to be a cause of ruin to her son!
   That you should fight at once for the world and for Christ? But no man
   can serve two masters. Your mother's wish being contrary to your
   salvation is equally so to her own. Choose, therefore, of these two
   alternatives which you will; either, that is, to secure the wish of one
   or the salvation of both. But if you love her much, have the courage to
   leave her for her sake, lest if you leave Christ to remain with her she
   also perish on your account. Else you have ill-served her who bare you
   if she perish on your account. For how doth she escape destruction who
   hath ruined him whom she bare? And I have spoken this in order in some
   way to stoop to assist your somewhat worldly affection. Moreover, it is
   a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, although it is impious
   to despise a mother, yet to despise her for Christ's sake is most
   pious. For He who said, Honour thy father and mother (S. Matt. xv. 4),
   Himself also said, He who loveth father or mother more than Me is not
   worthy of Me (S. Matt. x. 37).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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 Ps. xlviii., but it is wanting in the
   MSS., and certainly is redundant here.

   [77] Hath not received it in vain, Vulg.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLIX

  To Romanus, Sub-Deacon of the Roman Curia.

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

   Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, to his dear Romanus, as to his friend.

   MY DEAREST FRIEND,

   How good you are to me in renewing by a letter the sweet recollection
   of yourself and in excusing my tiresome delay. It is not possible that
   any forgetfulness of your affection could ever invade the hearts of
   those who love you; but, I confess, I thought you had almost forgotten
   yourself until I saw your letter. So now no more delays; fulfil quickly
   the promise that you have written; and if your pen truly expresses your
   purpose, let your acts correspond to it. Why do you delay to, give
   birth to that spirit of salvation which you have so long conceived?
   Nothing is more certain to mortals than death, nothing more uncertain
   than the hour of death, since it is to come upon us as a thief, in the
   night. Woe unto them who are still with child [of that good intention]
   in that day! If it shall anticipate and prevent this birth of
   salvation, alas! it will pierce through the house and destroy the holy
   seed: For when they shall say Peace and safety, then sudden destruction
   shall come upon them as travail upon a woman with child, and they shall
   not escape (1 Thess. v. 3). 1 wish you not to flee from death, but only
   to fear it. For the just, though he avoids it not, because he knows
   that it is inevitable, yet does not fear it. Moreover, he awaits it as
   a rest (Wisdom iv. 7) and receives it in perfect security; for as it is
   the exit from the present life, so it is the entrance into a better.
   Death is good if by it thou die to sin, that thou mayest live unto
   righteousness. It is necessary that this death should go before, in
   order that the other which follows after may be safe. In this life, so
   long as it lasts, prepare for yourself that life which lasts for ever.
   While you live in the flesh, die unto the world, that after the death
   of the flesh you may begin to live unto God. For what if death rend
   asunder the coarse envelope [78] of your body so long as from that
   moment it clothes you with a garment of joy? O, how blessed are the
   dead which die in the Lord (Apoc. xiv. 13), for they hear from the
   Spirit, that "they may rest from their labours." And not only so, but
   also from new life comes pleasure, and from eternity safety. Happy,
   therefore, is the death of the just because of its rest; better because
   of its new life, best because of its safety (Ps. xxxiv. 21). On the
   other hand, worst of all is the death of sinners. And hear why worse.
   It is bad, indeed, through loss of the world; it is worse through
   separation from the flesh; worst of all through double pain of worm and
   fire. Up, then, hasten; go forth out of the world, and renounce it
   entirely; let your soul die the death of the righteous, that your last
   end also may be like His: Oh, how dear in the sight of the Lord is the
   death of His saints (Ps. cxvi. 13). Flee, I pray you, lest you stand in
   the way of sinners. How canst thou live where thou durst not die? [79]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [78] Saccus.

   [79] A familiar figure of speech with Bernard. See Letter 107, § 13;
   124, § 2, &c.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER L

  To Geoffrey, of Lisieux [80]

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

   I. I am grieved for you, my son Geoffrey, I am grieved for you. And not
   without reason. For who would not grieve that the flower of your youth,
   which, amid the joy of angels, you offered unimpaired to God for the
   odour of a sweet smell (Phil. iv. 18), should now be trampled under the
   feet of devils, stained by the filthiness of vice and the uncleanness
   of the world? How can you, who once wast called by God, follow the
   devil who calls you back? How is it that you, whom Christ began to draw
   after Himself, have suddenly withdrawn your foot from the very
   threshold of glory? In you I now have proof of the truth of the Lord's
   word, when He said: A man's foes shall be they of his own household (S.
   Matt. x. 36). Your friends and kinsfolk have approached and stood
   against you. They have called you back into the jaws of the lion, and
   have placed you once more in the gates of death. They have placed you
   in dark places, like the dead of this world; and now it is a matter for
   little surprise that you are descending into the belly of hell, which
   is hasting to swallow you up, and to give you over as a prey to be
   devoured by those who roar in their hunger.

   2. Return, I pray you; return before the deep swallow thee up and the
   pit shut her mouth upon thee (Ps. lxix. 16); before you sink whence you
   shall never more rise; before you be bound hand and foot and cast into
   outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth (S. Matt.
   xxii. 13); before you be thrust down to the place of darkness and
   covered with the gloom of death. Perhaps you blush to return, because
   you gave way for an hour. Blush, indeed, for your flight, but do not
   blush to return to the battle after your flight, and to fight again.
   The fight is not over yet. Not yet have the opposing lines drawn off
   from each other. Victory is still in your power. If you will, we are
   unwilling to conquer without you, and we do not grudge to you your
   share of glory. I will even gladly come to meet you and gladly welcome
   you with open arms, saying: It is meet that we should make merry and be
   glad; for this thy brother was dead and is alive again; he was lost and
   is found (S. Luke xv. 32).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LI

  To the Virgin Sophia

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

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

   I. Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the
   Lord, she shall be praised (Prov. xxxi. 31). I rejoice with you, my
   daughter, in the glory of your virtue, whereby, as I hear, you have
   been enabled to reject the deceitful glory of the world. That, indeed,
   deserves rejection and disdain. But whereas many who in other respects
   are wise, are in their estimation of worldly glory become foolish, you
   deserve to be praised for not being deceived. It is as the flower of
   the grass--(James i. 10)--a vapour that appeareth for a little time (S.
   James iv. 14). And every degree of that glory is without doubt more
   full of care than joy. At one time you have claims to advance, at
   another, yourself to defend; you envy others, or are suspicious of
   them; you are continually aiming to acquire what you do not possess,
   and the passion for acquiring is not satisfied even by success; and as
   long as this is the case, what rest is there in your glory? But if any
   there be, its enjoyment quickly passes, never to return; while care
   remains, never to leave. Besides, see how many fail to attain that
   enjoyment, and yet how few despise it. Why so? Just because though many
   of necessity endure it [i.e., the deprivation of pleasure], yet but few
   make of doing so a virtue. Few, I say, very few, and particularly of
   the nobly-born. Indeed, not many noble are called; but God hath chosen
   the base things of the world (1 Cor. i. 26-28). You are, then, blessed
   and privileged among women of your rank in that, while others strive in
   rivalry for worldly glory, you by your contempt of this glory are
   raised to a greater height of glory, and are elevated by glory of a
   higher kind. Certainly you are the more renowned and illustrious for
   having made yourself voluntarily humble than for your birth in a high
   rank. For the one is your own achievement by the grace of God, the
   other is the doing of your ancestors. And that which is your own is the
   more precious, as it is the most rare. For if among men virtue is
   rare--a "rare bird on the earth"--how much rarer is it in the case of a
   weak woman of high birth? Who can find a virtuous woman? (Prov. xxxi.
   10). Much more "a virtuous woman" of high birth as well. Although God
   is not by any means an accepter of persons, yet, I know not how, virtue
   is more pleasing in those of noble birth. Perhaps that may be because
   it is more conspicuous. For if a man is of mean birth and is devoid of
   glory, it is not easily clear whether he lacks virtue because he does
   not wish for it or because he cannot attain it. I honour virtue won
   under stress of necessity. But I honour more the virtue which a free
   choice adopts than that which necessity imposes.

   2. Let other women, then, who have not any other hope, contend for the
   cheap, fleeting, and paltry glory of things that vanish and deceive. Do
   you cling to the hope that confounds not. Do you keep yourself, I say,
   for that far more exceeding weight of glory, which our light
   affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh (2 Cor. iv. 17) for you
   on high. And if the daughters of Belial reproach you, those who walk
   with stretched forth necks mincing as they go (Isaiah iii. 16), decked
   out and adorned like the Temple, answer them: My kingdom is not of this
   world (S. John xviii. 36); answer them: My time is not yet come, but
   your time is always ready (S. John vii. 6); answer them: My glory is
   hid with Christ in God (Col. iii. 3); When Christ, who is my life,
   shall appear, then shall I also appear with Him in glory (Col. iii, 4).
   And yet if one needs must glory, you also may glory freely and
   fearlessly, only in the Lord. I omit the crown which the Lord hath
   prepared for you for ever. I say nothing of the promises which await
   you hereafter, that as a happy bride you are to be admitted to behold
   with open face the glory of your Bridegroom; that He will present you
   to Himself a glorious bride, not having spot or wrinkle or any such
   thing (Eph. v. 27); that He will receive you in an everlasting embrace,
   will place His left hand under your head and His right hand shall
   embrace you (Cant. ii. 6). I pass over the appointed place, which being
   set apart by the prerogative of virginity, you shall without doubt gain
   among sons and daughters in the kingdom. I say nothing of that new song
   which you, a virgin among virgins, shall likewise sing in tones of
   unrivalled sweetness, rejoicing therein and making glad the city of
   God, singing and running and following the Lamb whithersoever he goeth.
   In fact, eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the
   heart of man the things which He path prepared (1 Cor. ii. 9) for you,
   and for which it behoves you to be prepared.

   3. All this I omit, that is laid up for you hereafter. I speak only of
   the present, of those things which you already have, of the first
   fruits of the Spirit (Rom. viii. 23), the gifts of the Bridegroom, the
   earnest money of the espousals, the blessings of goodness (Ps. xxi. 3),
   wherewith he hath prevented you, whom you may expect to follow after
   you, and complete what still is lacking. Let Him, yea let Him, come
   forth to be beheld in His great beauty, so adorned as to be admired of
   the very angels, and if the daughters of Babylon, whose glory is in
   their shame (Phil. iii. 19), have aught like Him, let them bring it
   forth, Though they be clothed in purple and fine linen (S. Luke xvi.
   19). Yet their souls are in rags; they have sparkling necklaces, but
   tarnished minds. You, on the other hand, though ragged without, are all
   glorious within (Ps. xlv. 14), though to Divine and not human gaze.
   Within you have that which delights you, for He is within whom it
   delights; for certainly you do not doubt that you have Christ dwelling
   in your heart by faith (Eph. iii. 17). In truth, The King's daughter is
   all glorious within (Ps. xlv. 4). Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion:
   shout, O daughter of Jerusalem, because the King hath desired thy
   beauty; if thou art clothed with confession and honour (Ps. civ. i,
   Vulg.), and deckest thyself with light as it were with a garment-For
   confession and worship are before Him (Ps. xcvi. 6, Vulg.). Before
   whom? Him who is fairer than the sons of men (Ps. xlv. 3), even Him
   whom the angels desire to look upon.

   4. You hear, then, to whom you are pleasing. Love that which enables
   you to please, love "confession," if you desire "honour." "Confession"
   is the handmaid of "honour," the handmaid of "worship." Both are for
   you. "Thou art clothed with confession and honour," and "Confession and
   worship are before Him." In truth, where confession is, there is
   worship, and there is honour. If there are sins, they are washed away
   in confession; if there are good works, they are commended by
   confession. When you confess your faults, it is a sacrifice to God of a
   troubled spirit; when you confess the benefits of God, you offer to God
   the sacrifice of praise. Confession is a fair ornament of the soul,
   which both cleanses a sinner and makes the righteous more thoroughly
   cleansed. Without confession the righteous is deemed ungrateful, and
   the sinner accounted dead. Confession perisheth from the dead as from
   one that is not (Ecclus. xvii. 28). Confession, therefore, is the life
   of the sinner, the glory of the righteous. It is necessary to the
   sinner, it is equally proper to the righteous. For it becometh well the
   just to be thankful (Ps. xxxiii. 1). Silk and purple and rouge and
   paint have beauty, but impart it not. Every such thing that you apply
   to the body exhibits its own loveliness, but leaves it not behind. It
   takes the beauty with it, when the thing itself is taken away. For the
   beauty that is put on with a garment and is put off with the garment,
   belongs without doubt to the garment, and not to the wearer of it.

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

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

LETTER LII

  To Another Holy Virgin.

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

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

   2. And this is right. Poor and transient and earthly are the things
   which you despise, but the things you wish for are grand, heavenly, and
   everlasting. I will say still more, and still speak the truth. You
   leave the darkness to approach the light; you come forth from the depth
   of the sea and gain the harbour; you breathe again in happy freedom
   after a wretched slavery; in a word, you pass from death to life;
   though up till now, living according to your own will and not God's, to
   your own law and not that of God, while living you were dead--living to
   the world, but dead to God; or rather, to speak more truly, living
   neither to the world nor to God. For when you wished while wearing the
   habit and name of religion to live like one in the world, you alone had
   rejected God from you by your own wish. But when you could not effect
   your foolish wish, then it was not you that rejected the world, but the
   world you. And so, rejecting God, and rejected by the world, you had
   fallen between two stools, [81] as they say. You were not living unto
   God, because you would not, nor to the world, because you could not:
   you were anxious for one, unwelcome to the other, and yet dead to both.
   So it must happen to those who promise and do not perform, who make one
   show to the world, and in their hearts desire something else. But now,
   by the mercy of God, you are beginning to live again, not to sin, but
   to righteousness, not to the world, but to Christ, knowing that to live
   to the world is death, and even to die in Christ is life. Blessed are
   the dead which die in the Lord (Rev. xiv. 13).

   3. So from this time I shall not mention again your unfulfilled vow,
   nor your disregard of your profession. From henceforth your purity of
   body will not be impaired by a corrupt mind, nor your name of virgin
   disgraced by disorderly conduct; from henceforth the name you bear will
   not be a deception, nor the veil you wear meaningless. For why hitherto
   have you been addressed as "nun" [82] 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 [83] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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:--

   Moult fut humiliant et simple

   Elle eut une voile en lieu de guimple.
   Which may be rendered--

   She was a lowly girl and simple,

   And wore a veil in place of wimple.
   Now, however, the word "wimple" is scarcely heard outside the cloisters
   of nuns.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LIII

  To Another Holy Virgin of the Convent of S. Mary of Troyes [84]

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

   1. I am told that you are wishing to leave your convent, impelled by a
   longing for a more ascetic life, and that after spending all their
   efforts to dissuade and prevent you, seeing that you paid no heed to
   them, your spiritual mother or your sisters, determined at length to
   seek my advice on the matter, so that whatever course I approved, that
   you might feel it your duty to adopt. You ought, of course, to have
   chosen some more learned man as an adviser; yet since it is my advice
   you desire to have, I do not conceal from you what I think the better
   course. Ever since I learnt your wish, though I have been turning the
   matter over in my mind, I cannot easily venture to decide what temper
   of mind suggested it. For you may in this thing have a zeal towards
   God, so that your purpose may be excusable. But how such a wish as
   yours can be fulfilled consistently with prudence I entirely fail to
   see. "Why so?" you ask. "Is it not wise for me to flee from wealth and
   the throng of cities, and from the good cheer and pleasure of life?
   Shall I not keep my purity more safely in the desert, where I can live
   in peace with just a few, or even alone, and please Him alone to whom I
   have pledged myself?" By no means. If one would live in an evil manner,
   the desert brings abundant opportunity: the wood a protecting shade,
   and solitude silence. The evil that no one sees, no one reproves. Where
   no critic is feared, there the tempter gains easier access, there
   wickedness is more readily committed. It is otherwise in a convent. If
   you do anything good no one prevents you, but if you would do evil you
   are hindered by many obstacles. If you yield to temptation, it is at
   once known to many, and is reproved and corrected. So, on the other
   hand, when you are seen to do anything good, all admire, revere, and
   copy it. You see, then, my daughter, that in a convent a larger renown
   awaits your good deeds, and a more speedy rebuke your faults, because
   there are others there to whom you may set an example by good deeds and
   whom you will offend by evil.

   2. But I will take away from you every excuse for your error, by that
   alternative in the parable we read in the Gospel. Either you are one of
   the foolish virgins, if, indeed, you are a virgin, or one of the wise
   (S. Matt. xxv. 1-12). If you are one of the foolish, the convent is
   necessary to you; if of the wise, you are necessary to the convent. For
   if you are wise and well-approved, without doubt the reform which,
   though newly introduced into that place, has already won universal
   praise, will be greatly discredited, and, I fear, be weakened by your
   departure. It will not fail to be said that, being good yourself, you
   would not desert a house where the Rule was well carried out. [85] If
   you have been known to be foolish, and you go away, we shall say that
   since you are not suffered to live an evil life among good companions,
   you could not endure longer the society of holy women, and are seeking
   a dwelling where you may live in your own way. And we shall be quite
   right. For before the reform of the Rule you never, I am told, were
   wont to talk of this plan; but no sooner did observances become
   stricter, than you, too, became suddenly holier, and in hot haste to
   think of the desert. I see, my daughter, I see in this, and I would you
   also saw as I do, the serpent's venom, the guile of the crafty one, and
   the trickery of his changing skin. The wolf dwells in the wood. If a
   poor little sheep like you should enter the shades of the wood alone
   you would be simply seeking to be his prey. But listen to me, my
   daughter; listen to my faithful warning. Whether sinner or saint, do
   not separate yourself from the flock, lest the enemy seize upon you,
   and there be none to deliver you. Are you a saint? Strive by your
   example to gain associates in sanctity. A sinner? Do not add sin to
   sin, but do penance where you are, lest by departing, not without
   danger, as I have shown, to yourself, you bring scandal upon your
   sisters, and provoke the tongues of may scoffers against you.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LIV

  To Ermengarde, Formerly Countess of Brittany [86]

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

   To his beloved daughter in Christ, Ermengarde, once the most noble
   Countess, now the humble handmaid of Christ, Bernard, Abbot of
   Clairvaux, offers the pious affection of holy love.

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

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LV

  To the Same

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

   I have received the joy of my heart, good news from you. I am happy to
   hear of your happiness; and your ready service, now so well known,
   makes me quite easy in mind. This great happiness comes in no way from
   flesh and blood, for you are living in lowliness instead of state, in
   mean, not high place, in poverty instead of wealth. You are deprived of
   the consolation of living in your own country, and of the society of
   your brother and your son. Without doubt, then, the willing devotion
   that hath been born in you is the work of the Holy Spirit. You have
   long since conceived by the fear of God the design of labouring for
   your salvation, and have at last brought your design to execution, the
   spirit of love casting out fear in your soul. How much more gladly
   would I be present to say this to you, than be absent and write!
   Believe me, I am annoyed at my business, which constantly seems to
   hinder me from the sight of you; and I hail with joy the chances, which
   I seldom seem to get, of seeing you. Such opportunities are rare; but,
   I confess, their very rarity makes them sweet. For, indeed, it is
   better to see you just sometimes than never at all. I hope to come unto
   you shortly; and I already offer you a foretaste of the joy that shall
   shortly come in full.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LVI

  To Beatrice, a Noble and Religious Lady

   He commends her love and anxious care.

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

LETTER LVII

  To the Duke and Duchess of Lorraine [87]

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

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

   Ever since the needs of our Order obliged me to send for necessaries
   into your land I have found great favour and kindness in the eyes of
   your Grace. You freely displayed the blessings of your bounty on our
   people when they needed it. You freely remitted to them when travelling
   their toll, [88] the dues on their purchases, and any other legal due
   of yours. For all these things your reward is surely great in heaven,
   if, indeed, we believe that to be true which the Lord promises in His
   Gospel: Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my
   brethren ye have done it unto me (S. Matt. xxv. 40). But why is it that
   you allow your servants to take away again what you bestow? It seems to
   me that it is worthy of you and for your honour, that when you have
   been pleased to bestow anything for the safety of your souls no one
   should venture to demand it back again. If, then (which God forbid),
   you do not repent of your good deed, and your general intention in
   respect to us is still the same, be pleased to order it to be a firm
   and unshaken rule; that henceforward our brethren may never fear to be
   disturbed in this matter by any of your servants. But otherwise we do
   not refuse to follow our Lord's example, who did not disdain to pay the
   dues. We also are ready willingly to render to Cæsar the things that
   are Cæsar's (S. Matt. xvii. 26), custom to whom custom, and tribute to
   whom tribute is due (Rom. xiii. 7), especially because, according to
   the Apostle, we ought not to seek our gift so much as your gain (Phil.
   iv. 17).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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."
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LVIII

  To the Duchess of Lorraine

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

   I thank God for your pious goodwill which I know that you have towards
   Him and His servants. For whenever the tiniest little spark of heavenly
   love is kindled in a worldly heart ennobled with earthly honours, that,
   without doubt, is God's gift, not man's virtue. For our part we are
   very glad to avail ourselves of the kind offers made to us of your
   bounty in your letter. But having heard of the sudden and serious
   stress of business, which, of course, must be delaying you at this
   time, we think it meet to await your opportunity as it shall please
   you. For, as far as in me lies, I would riot be a burden to any one,
   particularly in things pertaining to God, where we ought to seek not so
   much the profit of the gift as advantage abounding to the giver. And
   so, if you please, name a day and place in your answer by this
   messenger, when, by God's help, having brought to an end the business
   which now occupies, you will be able to approach these regions, where
   our brother Wido [89] will meet you, so that if he finds anything in
   your country profitable for our Order you may fulfil your promise with
   greater ease and speed. For God loveth a cheerful giver (2 Cor. ix. 7).
   Otherwise, if perchance the delay please you not, let me know this
   also: for in this matter I am ready, as reason allows, to obey your
   wishes. I salute the Duke, your husband, through your mouth, and I
   venture to urge him and you both, if you know that the castle for which
   you are going to war does not belong to your rightful domain, for the
   love of God to let it alone. For what shall it profit a man if he gain
   the whole world and lose his own soul? (S. Matt. xvi. 26).
     __________________________________________________________________

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

LETTER LIX

  To the Duchess of Burgundy [90]

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

   The special friendship with which your Grace is pleased, as it is
   supposed, to honour me, a poor monk, is so widely known that whenever
   any one thinks your Grace has him in displeasure, he applies to me as
   the best medium for being restored to your favour. Hence it is that
   some time ago, when I was at Dijon, Hugo de Bèse urged me with many
   entreaties to appease your displeasure, which he had deserved, and to
   obtain, for the love of God, and by your kindness towards me, your
   assent to the marriage of his son, which, though it did not meet with
   your approval, he had irrevocably determined to make, since it was, as
   he thinks, an advantage to himself. And for this reason he has been
   besieging my ears, not as before, by his own prayers, but by the lips
   of his friends. Now, I do not much care about worldly advantages, but
   since the matter, as he himself says, seems to have reached such a
   narrow pass that he cannot prevent the marriage except by perjuring
   himself, I have thought it meet to tell you this, since that must be a
   serious object which should be preferred to the good faith of a
   Christian man and your servant. For, he cannot be perjured and yet at
   the same time keep faith with his Prince [91] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE

   1. The following Letter, which is the 190th of S. Bernard, was ranked
   by Horst among the Treatises, on account of its length and importance.
   It was written on the occasion of the condemnation of the errors of
   Abaelard by the Council of Sens, in 1140, in the presence of a great
   number of French Bishops, and of King Louis the Younger, as has been
   described in the notes to Letter 187. In the Synodical Epistle, which
   is No. 191 of S. Bernard, and in another, which is No. 337, the Fathers
   of the Council announced to Pope Innocent that they had condemned the
   errors of Abaelard, but had pronounced no sentence against him
   personally out of respect for the appeal which he had made to the Holy
   See; and they add that "the chief heads of his errors are more fully
   detailed in the Letter of the Bishop of Sens." I think that the Letter
   of which mention is thus made can be no other than that given here, and
   in which we find, in fact, the chief heads of Abaelard's errors, with a
   summary refutation of each. They are also the same as those which
   William, who had become a simple monk at Igny, after having been Abbot
   of Saint Thierry, had addressed to Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, and to
   Bernard, in a Letter which is inserted among those of Bernard.

   2. As regards the different errors imputed to Abaelard, there are some
   which he complained were wrongly attributed to him. Others, on the
   contrary, he recognized as his, and corrected them in his Apology, in
   which he represents Bernard as being his only opponent, his malignant
   and hasty denouncer. Two former partizans of Abaelard himself, but who
   had long recoiled from his errors, Geoffrey, who afterwards was the
   Secretary of Bernard, and "a certain Abbot of the Black Monks," whose
   name is unknown, attempted to justify Bernard against these calumnies.
   Duchesne had spoken of these two writers in his notes to Abaelard, but
   the Treatises of both of them were lately printed in Vol. iv. of the
   "Bibliotheca Cisterciensis," whose learned Editor, Bertrand Tissier,
   remarks that this unknown Abbot is some other person than William of
   Saint Thierry.

   3. Of the heads of errors attributed to Abaelard, some are wanting in
   his printed works, which has given occasion to some writers for
   accusing Bernard, as if he had attributed errors to Abaelard without
   foundation, and so had himself been fighting against shadows and
   phantoms. But it is certain that most of these errors are to be found
   even in his printed writings, as we shall show each in its place. As
   for those which are no longer discoverable, William of Saint Thierry,
   Geoffrey, and this unknown Abbot, who had been once a disciple of
   Abaelard, and was perfectly acquainted with his doctrine, quote word
   for word statements both from his Apology and from his Theology, which
   do not appear in the printed editions; and certainly Abaelard himself,
   in Book ii. of his "Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans," p. 554,
   reserves certain points to be treated in his Theology of which there is
   no mention in the printed copies, which close thus: "The rest is
   wanting," so that it appears that the printed copies of the Theology
   have been mutilated.

   4. Those writers have, therefore, done a very ill service to Religion,
   to say nothing of the injury to Bernard, who, in order to justify
   Abaelard, accuse Bernard of having been hurried on by the impulse of a
   blind zeal. They ought at least to acknowledge, as Abaelard himself
   did, and also Berengarius, his defender, that he had erred in various
   matters. And, indeed, Abaelard himself, in his Apology, acknowledges,
   though perhaps not quite sincerely, that in some respects he was wrong.
   "It is possible," he says, "that I have fallen into some errors which I
   ought to have avoided, but I call God as a witness and judge upon my
   soul that in these points upon which I have been accused, I have
   presumed to say nothing through malice or through pride." It may well
   be that he might be able to clear himself of the reproach of malice,
   and even of that of heresy; but, a least, he could not deny that he had
   fallen into various errors--a liking for new words and phrases, levity,
   and perhaps even pride and an excessive desire for disputation. However
   this maybe, Pope Innocent bade the Bishops by a rescript that the man
   was to be imprisoned and his books burned, and Godfrey declares that
   the Pope himself had them thrown into the flames at Rome. But Peter
   Abaelard at length returned to better views. He desisted from his
   Appeal by the advice and request of Peter the Venerable, Abbot of
   Cluny, who has described his last days in pleasing terms in a Letter
   which he wrote to Heloïse.

   5. Bernard did not attack Abaelard in his discourses and writings with
   impunity. Not only was Abaelard impatient of his censure, but also
   Berengarius, his disciple and defender, dared to accuse Bernard of
   having spread certain errors in his books. "You have certainly erred,"
   says Berengarius, addressing Bernard, "in asserting the origin of souls
   from Heaven" (p. 310). And on p. 315: "The origin of souls from Heaven
   is a fabulous thing, and this I remember that you taught in these words
   (Serm. in Cantica, No. 17): The Apostle has rightly said, our
   conversation is in heaven.' These words which you have expounded with
   great subtilty, savour much to the palate of a Christian mind of
   heresy." But enough of this foolish and impudent slanderer. The unknown
   Abbot reports another calumny of Abaelard against Bernard at the end of
   his second book: "It is very astonishing to me that for such a long
   time no reply should have been made by so many great men whose teaching
   enlightens the Church, as the light of the sun is reflected upon the
   moon, to our Abaelard, who accused the Abbot of saying that God, and
   Man assumed by God, are one Person in the Trinity. Whereas Man is a
   material body composed of various limbs and dissoluble, while God is
   neither a material body, nor has any limbs, nor can be dissolved.
   Wherefore, neither ought God to be called Man, nor Man to, be called
   God," etc. Thus Abaelard shows himself a Nestorian, while petulantly
   accusing Bernard of error. Rightly does William of Saint Thierry reply
   in his 8th chapter to Abaelard with regard to this passage: "Thus we
   say similarly that Christ is the Son of Man in the nature of His
   Humanity, but not from that according to which He. has union with God,
   and is One of the Three Persons in the Trinity; because, as God
   Incarnate was made the Son of Man on account of the human nature which
   He assumed, so the man united to the Son of God has become the Son of
   God on account of the Divine Nature which has united him to itself."

   6. Besides the heads of errors which Bernard refutes in these books, he
   groups together some others in No. 10, contenting himself with exposing
   them; these have been refuted by other authors, viz., by William, and
   by the unknown Abbot. As to the Eucharistic species or the accidents,
   which, according to Abaelard, remain in the air after consecration,
   this was the view of William: "It appears to me, if you agree with me,"
   he says, writing to Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard, "that
   those accidents, i.e., the form of the earlier substance, which, I
   believe, is nothing else than a harmonious combination of accidents
   into one, if they still exist, do so in the Body of the Lord, not
   forming it, but by the power and wisdom of God working upon them,
   shaping and modifying it, that it may become capable, according to the
   purpose of the mystery and the manner of a Sacrament, of being touched
   and tasted in a form different from that proper to it, which it could
   not do in its own." He says again in his book to Rupertus, De Corpore
   et Sanguine Domini, c. 3: "In opposition to every conception and mode
   of reasoning in secular philosophy, the substance of bread is changed
   into another substance, and has carried with it certain accidents into
   the Eucharistic mystery, but without altering them from what they were,
   and in such a manner that the Body of the Lord is not either white or
   round, though whiteness and roundness are associated with it. Arid it
   so retains these accidents that although they are truly present with
   His Human Body, yet they are not in It, do not touch it, or affect it,"
   etc.

   7. It was not only with respect to the Incarnation of Our Lord that
   Abaelard thought, or at least expressed himself, in an erroneous
   manner. He was equally in error on the subject of the grace of Christ,
   which he reduced simply to the reason granted to man by God, to the
   admonitions of the Holy Scriptures, and to good examples, and thus made
   it common to all men. "We may say, then," he taught, "that man, by the
   reason which he has received from God, is able to embrace the grace
   which is offered him; nor does God do any more for a person who is
   saved before he has embraced the offered grace, than for one who is not
   saved. But just as a man who exposes precious jewels for sale, in order
   to excite in those who see them the wish to purchase; thus God makes
   His grace known before all, exhorts us by the Scriptures, and reminds
   us by examples, so that men, in the power of that liberty of will which
   they have, may decide to embrace the offer of grace." And a little
   farther on he continues: "That vivification is attributed to grace:
   because Reason, by which man discerns between good and evil, and
   understands that he ought to abstain from the one and to do the other,
   comes from God. And therefore it is said that he does this under the
   inspiration of God: because God enables him by the gift of Reason which
   He has bestowed to recognize what is sinful." Such were the errors
   William has extracted, among many others, from the writings of
   Abaelard, and without doubt from his Theology, which, perhaps because
   of these and other similar passages, was mutilated by his scholars. Nor
   can we refuse to credit the good faith of William, who was a learned
   and pious man: especially as Abaelard in his Book iv., on the Epistle
   to the Romans, teaches the same hurtful doctrine (p. 653 and
   following). We learn from all these expressions of Abaelard that he
   thought, or at least certainly wrote, with the same impiety concerning
   the grace of Christ as he did on the Incarnation, and that Bernard was
   perfectly correct in saying (Letter 192): "He speaks of the Trinity
   like Arius, of grace like Pelagius, and of the Person of Christ like
   Nestorius." Proof of the truth of these words of Bernard as concerns
   the two last charges will be found in reading the letter given here;
   and as to the third, it will be sufficient to show that Bernard has in
   nowise exaggerated, to read the end of Book iii. of the Theology of
   Abaelard; there it will be found in his own words, « that those who
   abhor our words respecting the faith may be easily convinced when they
   hear that God the Father and God the Son are joined with us according
   to the sense of the words." In what manner? "Let us ask, then," he
   continues, i, if they believe in the wisdom of God of which it is
   written: Thou hast made all things with wisdom, O Lord, and they will
   reply without hesitation that they do so believe. But this is to
   believe in the Son; as for believing in the Holy Ghost, it is nothing
   else than believing in the goodness of God." These words seem clearly
   to be not only Arian, but even Sabellian, although, as I must frankly
   confess, Abaelard formally rejects that error in its logical
   consequences in another passage on p, 1069. But especially in matters
   of faith, it is a matter of importance, not only to think rightly, but
   also to speak and write with exactness. Thus it is with reason that
   William of Saint Thierry says in citing the very words of Abaelard with
   respect to the brass and the seal, and with respect to power in general
   and a certain power: "As for the Divine Persons, he destroys them like
   Sabellius, and when he speaks of their unlikeness and their inequality,
   he goes straight to the feet of Arius in his opinion." I only cite
   these passages to make those persons ashamed who, although they detest
   these errors, yet take up the defence of Abaelard against Bernard, and
   do not hesitate to accuse the latter of precipitation and of excess of
   zeal against him. William de Conches expresses himself in almost the
   same manner as Abaelard with respect to the mystery of the Holy
   Trinity, and Abbot William of S. Thierry confutes his errors also in
   his letter to Bernard. Nor is there anything worse that can happen to
   religion than that philosophers should attempt to explain the mysteries
   of our faith by the power of Reason alone.

   8. Geoffrey, secretary of S. Bernard, gives an account of the whole
   business of Abaelard in a letter to Henry, Cardinal and Bishop of
   Albano: "I have heard also that your Diligence desires to know the
   entire truth respecting the condemnation of Peter Abaelard, whose books
   Pope Innocent II., of pious memory, condemned to be burned solemnly at
   Rome in the Church of S. Peter, and declared him by Apostolical
   authority to be a heretic. Some years before a certain venerable
   Cardinal, Legate of the Roman Church, by name Conon, once a Canon of
   the Church of S. Nicholas of Artois, had already condemned his Theology
   in the same way to be burned, during a council at Soissons in which he
   presided, the said Abaelard having been present and having been
   condemned of heretical pravity. If you desire it he will satisfy you by
   the book of The Life of S. Bernard, and by his letters sent to Rome on
   that subject. I have found also at Clairvaux a little book of a certain
   Abbot of Black Monks, in which the errors of the same Peter Abaelard
   are noted, and I remember to have seen it on a previous occasion; but
   for many years, as the keepers of the books assert, the first four
   sheets of this little book, although diligently sought for, could not
   be found. Because of this I have had the intention to send some one
   into France to the Abbey of the writer of that little book, so as, if I
   should be able to recover it, to have it copied, and send it to you. I
   believe that your curiosity will be completely satisfied in, learning
   in what respects, how, and wherefore he was condemned."

   It is thus that Geoffrey expresses himself. (Notes of Duchesne to
   Abaelard.) I pass over the vision related by Henry, Canon of Tours, to
   the Fathers of the Synod of Sens and to Bernard (Spicileg., Vol. xii.
   p. 478 et seqq.).

   9. After I had written what precedes, our brother, John Durand, who was
   then occupied at Rome, sent me the Capitula Hæresum Petri Abaelardi,
   which were placed at the head of the following letter, taken from the
   very faulty MS. in the Vatican, No. 663. These were, without doubt,
   those which Bernard, at the end of this letter, states that he had
   collected, and transmitted to the Pontiff. It seems well to place them
   here for the illustration of the letter.

HEADS OF HERESIES OF PETER ABAELARD.

   I.-The shocking analogy made between a brazen seal, and between genus
   and species, and the Holy Trinity.

   The Wisdom of God being a certain power, as a seal of brass is a
   certain [portion of] brass; it follows clearly that the Wisdom of God
   has its being from His Power, similarly as the brazen is said to be
   what it is from its material: or the species derives what it is from
   its genus, which is, as it were, the material of the species, as the
   animal is of man. For just as, in order that there may be a brazen
   seal, there must be brass, and in order that there may be man, there
   must be the genus Animal, but not reciprocally: so in order that there
   may be the Divine Wisdom, which is the power of discernment, there must
   be the Divine Power; but the reciprocal does not follow." And a little
   further on we read: "The Beneficence, the name under which the Holy
   Spirit is designated, is not in God Wisdom or Power."

   II.--That the Holy Spirit is not of the Substance of the Father.

   "The Son and the Holy Spirit are of the Father, the One by the way of
   generation, the Other by that of procession. Generation differs from
   procession in that He who is generated is of the very Substance of the
   Father, whilst the essence of Wisdom itself is, as was said, to be a
   certain Power." And a little further on we read: "As for the Holy
   Spirit, although He be of the same Substance with the Father and the
   Son, whence even the Trinity itself is called consubstantial
   (homoousion), yet He is not at all of the Substance of the Father or of
   the Son, as He would be if generated of the Father or the Son; but
   rather He has of them the Procession, which is that God, through love,
   extends Himself to another than Himself. For like as any one proceeds
   through love from his own self to another, since, as we have said
   above, no one can be properly said to have love towards himself, or to
   be beneficent towards himself, but towards another. But this is
   especially true of God, who having need of nothing, cannot be moved by
   the feeling of beneficence towards His own self, to bestow something on
   Himself out of beneficence, but only towards creatures."

   III.--That God is able to do what He does, or to refrain from doing it,
   only in the manner or at the time in which He does so act or refrain,
   and in no other.

   "By the reasoning by which it is shown that God the Father has
   generated the Son of as great goodness as He was able, since otherwise
   He would have yielded to envy; it is also clear that all which He does
   or makes, He does or makes as excellent as He is able to do; nor does
   He will to withhold a single good that He is capable of bestowing." And
   a little farther on we read: "In everything that God does, He so
   proposes to Himself that which is good, that it may be said of Him that
   He is made willing to do that which He does rather by the price (as it
   were) of good, than by the free determination of His own Will." Also:
   "From this it therefore appears, and that both by reason and by the
   Scriptures, that God is able to do that only which He does." And a
   little farther: "Who, if He were able to interfere with the evil things
   which are done, would yet only do so at the proper time, since He can
   do nothing out of the proper time; consequently I do not see, in what
   way He would not be consenting to sinful actions. For who can be said
   to consent to evil, except he by whom it may be interfered with at the
   proper time?" Also: "The reason which I have given above and the
   answers to objections seem to me to make clear that God is able to do
   what He does, or to refrain from doing it, only in the manner or at the
   time, in which He does so act or refrain, and in no other."

   IV.--That Christ did not assume our flesh in order to free us from the
   yoke of the devil.

   "It should be known that all our Doctors who were after the Apostles
   agree in this, that the devil had dominion and power over man, and held
   him in bondage of right." And a little farther on: "It seems to me that
   the devil has never had any right over man, but rightly held him in
   bondage as a jailer, God permitting; nor did the Son of God assume our
   flesh in order to free us from the yoke of the devil." And again: "How
   does the Apostle say that we are justified or reconciled to God by the
   death of His Son, when on the contrary, He ought to have been more
   angry still against man, who had committed in putting His Son to death,
   a fault much more great than in transgressing His first precept by
   eating one apple; and would it not have been more just? For if that
   first sin of Adam was so great, that it could not be expiated except by
   the death of Christ; what is there which can be capable of expiating
   the Death of Christ itself, and all the great cruelties committed upon
   Him and His Saints? (See Letter V. 21.) Did the death of His innocent
   Son please God so much, that for the sake of it He has become
   reconciled to us, who have caused it by our sins, on account of which
   the innocent Lord was slain? And could He forgive us a fault much less
   great, only on condition that we committed a sin so enormous? Were
   multiplied sins needful in order to the doing of so great a good, as to
   deliver us from our sins and to render us, by the death of the Son of
   God, more righteous than we were before?" Again: "To whom will it not
   seem cruel and unjust that one should have required the innocent blood,
   or any price whatever, or that the slaughter of the innocent, under any
   name or title, should be pleasing to him? Still less that God hell the
   death of His Son so acceptable that He would, for its sake, be
   reconciled to the world. These and similar considerations raise
   questions of great importance, not only concerning redemption, but also
   concerning our justification by the death of our Lord Jesus Christ. But
   it seems to me that we were nevertheless justified by the Blood of
   Christ, and reconciled with God by the special grace shown to us when
   His Son took upon Him our nature, and in it gave us an example both by
   word and deed, until His Death. He has united us so closely with Him by
   His love for us, that we are fired by so great benefit of Divine grace,
   and will hesitate at no suffering, provided it be for Him. Which
   benefit indeed we do not doubt aroused the ancient Fathers, who looked
   forward to this by faith, to an ardent love of God, as well as those of
   more recent time." And below: "I think then that the cause and design
   of the Incarnation was to enlighten the world with the wisdom of God,
   and arouse it to love of Him."

   V.--Neither God-and-Man, nor the Man who is Christ, is one of the three
   Persons in the Trinity.

   "When I say that Christ is one of the Three Persons in the Trinity I
   mean this: that the Word, who was from eternity one of the Three
   Persons in the Trinity, is so; and I think that this expression is
   figurative. For if we should regard it as literal, since the name of
   Christ means He who is God-and-Man, then the sense would be, that
   God-and-Man is one of the Three Persons of the Trinity. Which is
   entirely false." And a little farther on: "It should be stated that
   although we allow that Christ is one of the Three Persons in the
   Trinity, yet we do not allow that the Person who is Christ is one of
   the Three Persons in the Trinity."

   VI.--That God does no more for a person who is saved, before he has
   accepted grace offered, than for one who is not saved.

   "It is frequently asked whether it is true, as is said by some persons,
   that all men need to be saved by the mercy of God, and that their need
   is such that no one is able to have the will to do good unless by the
   preventing grace of God, which influences his heart and inspires in him
   the will to do good, and multiplies it when produced, and preserves it
   after having been multiplied. If it is true that man is not able to do
   anything good by himself, and that he is incapable of raising himself
   up in any way whatever by his free will for the reception of Divine
   grace, without the help of that grace, as is asserted, it does not
   appear on what ground, if he sins, he can be punished. For if he is not
   able to do anything good of himself, and if he is so constituted that
   he is more inclined to evil than to good, is he not free from blame if
   he sins, and is God who has given to him a nature so weak and
   subvertible deserving of praise for having created such a being? Or, on
   the contrary, does it not rather seem that He merits to be reproached?"
   And a little farther on: "If it were true that man is unable to raise
   himself up without the grace of another, in order to receive the Divine
   grace, there does not seem to be any reason wherefore man should be
   held culpable; and it would seem that if he has not the grace of God
   the blame should be rather reflected upon his Creator. But this is not
   so, but very far otherwise, according to the truth of the case, for we
   must lay down that man is able to embrace that grace which is offered
   to him by the reason which has, indeed, been bestowed upon him by God;
   nor does God do anything more for a person, who is saved before he has
   accepted the grace offered to him, than for another who is not saved.
   In fact, God behaves with regard to men in like manner as a merchant
   who has precious stones to sell, who exhibits them in the market, and
   offers them equally to all, so that he may excite in those who view
   them a desire to purchase. He who is prudent, and who knows that he has
   need of them, labours to obtain the means, gains money and purchases
   them; on the contrary, he who is slow and indolent, although he desires
   to have the jewels, and although her may be also more robust in body
   than the other, because he is indolent does not labour, and, therefore,
   does not purchase them, so that the blame for being without them
   belongs to himself. Similarly, God puts His grace before the eyes of
   all, and advises them in the Scriptures and by eminent doctors to avail
   themselves of their freedom of will to embrace this offered grace;
   certainly he who is prudent and provident for his future, acts
   according to his free will, in which he can embrace this grace. But the
   slothful, on the contrary, is entangled with carnal desires, and
   although he desires to attain blessedness, yet he is never willing to
   endure labour in restraining himself from evil, but neglects to do what
   he ought, although he would be able by his free will to embrace the
   grace offered him, and so he finds himself passed over by the
   Almighty."

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

   "In the first place, we must determine what it is to consent to evil,
   and what not to do so. He, then, is said to consent to evil who, when
   he can and ought to prevent it, does not do so; but if he ought to
   prevent it, but has not the power, or if, on the contrary, though he
   has the power, he ought not to do so, he is blameless. Much less if he
   neither has the power, nor ought, if he had, to prevent it, is he to be
   blamed. And, therefore, God is far from giving consent to evil actions,
   since He neither ought, nor has the power, to interfere with them. He
   ought not, since if an action develops by His goodness in a particular
   manner, than which none can be better, in no wise ought He to wish to
   interfere with it. He is, furthermore, not able, because His goodness,
   though it has chosen a minor good, cannot put an obstacle to that which
   is greater."

   VIII.--That we have not contracted from Adam guilt, but penalty.

   "It should be known that when it is said, Original sin is in infants,
   this is spoken of the penalty, temporal and eternal, which is incurred
   by them through the fault of their first parent." And a little farther
   on: "Similarly it is said, In whom all have sinned (Rom. v. 12), in the
   sense that when he (our first parent) sinned we were all in him in
   germ. But it does not, therefore, follow that all have sinned, since
   they did not then exist; for whoever does not exist does not sin."

   IX.--That the Body of the Lord did not fall to the ground.

   "On the subject of this species of Bread and Wine which is turned into
   the Body of Christ it is asked whether they continue to exist in the
   Body of Christ, in the substance of bread and wine as they were before,
   or whether they are in the air. It is probable that they exist in the
   air, since the Body of Christ had its form and features, as other human
   bodies. As for the Eucharistic species of bread and wine, they serve
   only to cover and conceal the Body of Christ in the mouth." And a
   little farther on: "It is asked again concerning this, that it seems to
   be multiple . . . wherefore it is ordered to be preserved from one
   Saturday to the next, as we read was done with the shew bread. It seems
   also to be gnawed by mice, and to fall to the ground from the hands of
   a priest or deacon. And, therefore, it is asked, wherefore God permits
   such things to happen to His Body; or whether, perhaps, these things do
   not really happen to the Body, but are only so done in appearance, and
   to the species? To which I reply, that these things do not really
   affect the Body, but that God allows them to happen to the species in
   order to reprove. the negligence of the ministers. As for His Body, He
   replaces and preserves it as it pleases Him to do."

   X.--That man is made neither better nor worse by works.

   "It is frequently asked what it is that is recompensed by the Lord: the
   work or the intention, or both. For authority seems to decide that what
   God rewards eternally are works, for the Apostle says God will render
   to every man according to his works (Romans ii. 6). And Athanasius
   says: They will have to give account of their own works.' And a little
   farther on he says: And those who have done good shall go into life
   eternal, but those who have done evil into eternal fire (S. Matt. xxv.
   46, and S. John v. 29). But I say that they were eternally recompensed
   by God either for good or for evil; nor is man made either better or
   worse because of works, at least only so far as, that while he is doing
   them his will towards either good or evil gathers force. Nor is this
   contrary to the Apostle, or to other authors, because when the Apostle
   says God will render to each, etc., he puts the effect for the cause,
   that is to say, the action for the will or intention.

   XI.--That those who crucified Christ ignorantly committed no sin; and
   that whatsoever is done through ignorance ought not to be counted as a
   fault.

   "There is objected to us the action of the Jews who have crucified
   Christ; that of the men who in persecuting the Martyrs thought that
   they were doing God service; and finally that of Eve, who did not act
   against her conscience since she was tempted, and yet it is certain
   that she committed sin. To which I say that in truth those Jews in
   their simplicity were not acting at all against their conscience, but
   rather persecuted Christ from zeal for their law; nor did they think
   that they were acting wickedly, and, therefore, they did not sin; nor
   were any of them eternally condemned on account of this, but because of
   their previous sins, because of which they rightly fell into that state
   of darkness. And among them were even some of the elect, for whom
   Christ prayed, saying: Father, forgive them, for they know not what
   they do (S. Luke xxxiii. 34). He did not ask in this prayer that this
   particular sin might be forgiven to them, since it was not really a
   sin, but rather their previous sins."

   XII.--Of the power of binding and loosing.

   "That which is said in S. Matthew, whatsoever thou shall bind on earth,
   etc. (xvi. 19) is thus to be understood: Whatsoever thou shah bind on
   earth, i.e., in the present life, shall be bound also in heaven, i.e.,
   in the present Church." And a little farther on: "The Gospel seems to
   contradict us when we say that God alone is able to forgive sins, for
   Christ says to His disciples receive ye the Holy Ghost; whosoever's
   sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them (S. John xx. 22, 23), But I
   say that this was spoken to the Apostles alone, not to their
   successors." And immediately he adds "If, however, any one shall say
   that this applies also to their successors, it will be needful in that
   case to explain this passage also in the same manner in which I have
   explained the preceding."

   XIII.--Concerning suggestion, delectation, and consent.

   "It should be known also that suggestion is not a sin for him to whom
   the suggestion is made, nor the delectation which follows the
   suggestion, which delectation is produced in the soul because of our
   weakness, and by the remembrance of the pleasure which is bound in the
   accomplishment of the thing which the tempter suggests to our mind. It
   is only consent, which is also called a contempt of God, in which sin
   consists." And a little farther on: "I do not say that the will of
   doing this or that, nor even the action itself is sin, but rather, as
   has been said above, that the contempt itself of God in some act of the
   will that constitutes sin."

   XIV.--That Omnipotence belongs properly and specially to the Father.

   "If we refer power as well t0 the idea of Being as to efficacy of
   working, we find Omnipotence to attach properly and specially to the
   proprium of the Person of the Father: since not only is He Almighty
   with the Two other Persons, but also He alone possesses His Being from
   Himself and not from another. And as He exists from Himself, so He is
   equally Almighty by Himself."
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LX (A.D. 1140)

  To the Same, Against Certain Heads of Abaelard's Heresies.

   To his most loving Father and Lord, Innocent, Supreme Pontiff, Brother
   Bernard, called Abbot of Clairvaux, sends humble greeting.

   The dangers and scandals which are coming to the surface in the Kingdom
   of God, especially those which touch the faith, ought to be referred to
   your Apostolic authority. For I judge it fitting that there most of
   all, the losses suffered by the faith should be repaired, where faith
   cannot suffer defect. This, truly, is the prerogative of your see. For
   to what other person [than Peter] has it ever been said, I have prayed
   for thee, Peter, that thy faith fail not? (S. Luke xxii. 32). Therefore
   that which follows is required from the successor of Peter: And when
   thou art converted strengthen thy brethren. That, indeed, is necessary
   now. The time is come, most loving Father, for you to recognize your
   primacy, to prove your zeal, to do honour to your ministry. In this
   plainly you fulfil the office of Peter, whose seat you occupy, if by
   your admonition you strengthen the hearts that are wavering in the
   faith, if by your authority you crush the corrupters of the faith.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER I

   He explains and refutes the dogmas of Abaelard respecting the Trinity.

   1. We have in France an old teacher turned into a new theologian, who
   in his early days amused himself with dialectics, and now gives
   utterance to wild imaginations upon the Holy Scriptures. He is
   endeavouring again to quicken false opinions, long ago condemned and
   put to rest, not only his own, but those of others; and is adding fresh
   ones as well. I know not what there is in heaven above and in the earth
   beneath which he deigns to confess ignorance of: he raises his eyes to
   Heaven, and searches the deep things of God, and then returning to us,
   he brings back unspeakable words which it is not lawful for a man to
   utter, while he is presumptuously prepared to give a reason for
   everything, even of those things which are above reason; he presumes
   against reason and against faith. For what is more against reason than
   by reason to attempt to transcend reason? And what is more against
   faith than to be unwilling to believe what reason cannot attain? For
   instance, wishing to explain that saying of the wise man: He who is
   hasty to believe is light in mind (Ecclus. xix. 4). He says that a
   hasty faith is one that believes before reason; when Solomon says this
   not of faith towards God, but of mutual belief amongst ourselves. For
   the blessed Pope Gregory denies plainly that faith towards God has any
   merit whatever if human reason furnishes it with proof. But he praises
   the Apostles, because they followed their Saviour when called but once
   (Hom. in Evang. 26). He knows doubtless that this word was spoken as
   praise: At the hearing of the ear he obeyed me (Ps. xviii. 44), that
   the Apostles were directly rebuked because they had been slow in
   believing (S. Mark xvi. 14). Again, Mary is praised because she
   anticipated reason by faith, and Zacharias punished because he tempted
   faith by reason (S. Luke i. 20, 45), and Abraham is commended in that
   against hope he believed in hope (Rom. iv. 18).

   2. But on the other hand our theologian says: "What is the use of
   speaking of doctrine unless what we wish to teach can be explained so
   as to be intelligible?" And so he promises understanding to his
   hearers, even on those most sublime and sacred truths which are hidden
   in the very bosom of our holy faith; and he places degrees in the
   Trinity, modes in the Majesty, numbers in the Eternity. He has laid
   down, for example, that God the Father is full power, the Son a certain
   kind of power, the Holy Spirit no power. And that the Son is related to
   the Father as force in particular to force in general, as species to
   genus, as a thing formed of material, to matter, [92] as man to animal,
   as a brazen seal to brass. Did Arius ever go further? Who can endure
   this? Who would not shut his ears to such sacrilegious words? Who does
   not shudder at such novel profanities of words and ideas? He says also
   that "the Holy Spirit proceeds indeed from the Father and the Son, but
   not from the substance of the Father or of the Son." Whence then?
   Perhaps from nothing, like everything created. But the Apostle does
   riot deny that they are of God, nor is he afraid to say: Of whom are
   all things (Rom. xi. 36). Shall we say then that the Holy Spirit
   proceeds from the Father and the Son in no other way than all things
   do, that is, that He exists not essentially but by way of creation, and
   is therefore a creature like all other things. Or will this man, who is
   always seeking after new things, who invents what he does not find,
   affirms those things which are not, as though they are, will he find
   for himself some third way, in which he may produce Him from the Father
   and the Son? But, he says, "if He were of the substance of the Father,
   He would surely have been begotten, and so the Father would have two
   Sons." As though everything which is from any substance has always as
   its father that from which it is. For lice and phlegm and such things,
   are they sons of the flesh, and not rather of the substance of the
   flesh? Or worms produced by rotten wood, whence derive they their
   substance but from the wood? yet are they not sons of the wood. Again,
   moths have their substance from the substance of garments, but not
   their generation. And there are many instances of this kind.

   3. Since he admits that the Holy Spirit is consubstantial with the
   Father and the Son, I wonder how an acute and learned man (as at least
   he thinks himself) can yet deny that He proceeds in substance from the
   Father and the Son, unless perchance he thinks that the two first
   persons proceed from the substance of the third. But this is an impious
   and unheard of opinion. But if neither He proceeds from their
   substance, nor They from His, where, I pray, is the consubstantiality?
   Let him then either confess with the Church that the Holy Spirit is of
   their substance, from whom He does not deny that He proceeds, or let
   him with Arius deny His consubstantiality, and openly preach His
   creation. Again he says, if the Son is of the substance of the Father,
   the Holy Spirit is not; they must differ from each other, not only
   because the Holy Spirit is not begotten, as the Son is, but also
   because the Son is of the substance of the Father, which the Holy
   Spirit is not. Of this last distinction the Catholic Church has
   hitherto known nothing. If we admit it, where is the Trinity? where is
   the Unity? If the Holy Spirit and the Son are really separated by this
   new enumeration of. differences, and if the Unity is split up, then
   especially let it be made plain that that distinction which he is
   endeavouring to make is a difference of substance. Moreover, if the
   Holy Spirit does not proceed from the substance of the Father and the
   Son, no Trinity remains, but a duality. For no Person is worthy to be
   admitted into the Trinity whose. substance is not the same as that of
   the others. Let him, therefore, cease to separate the procession of the
   Holy Spirit from the substance of the Father and the Son, lest by a
   double impiety he both take away number from the Trinity and attribute
   it to the Unity, each of which the Christian faith abhors. And, lest I
   seem in so great a matter to depend on human reasonings only, let him
   read the letter of Jerome to Avitus; and he will plainly see, that
   amongst the other blasphemies of Origen which he confutes, he also
   rejects this one, that, as he said, the Holy Spirit is not of the
   substance of the Father. The blessed Athanasius thus speaks in his book
   on the Undivided Trinity: "When I spoke of God alone I meant not the
   Person only of the Father, because I denied not that the Son and the
   Holy Spirit are of this same Substance of the Father."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [92] Materiatum; materia.
     __________________________________________________________________

  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, [93] 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. [94] If, then, in this One
   and Supreme Majesty we have found anything that is insufficient or
   imperfect in our consideration of the Persons, or if we have found that
   what is assigned to one is taken from another, the whole is surely less
   than That, than which nothing greater can be conceived. For indubitably
   the greatest which is a whole is greater than that which consists of
   parts. That man thinks worthily, as far as man can, of the Divine
   Majesty who thinks of no inequality in It where the whole is supremely
   great; of no separation where the whole is one; of no chasm where the
   whole is undivided; in short, of no imperfection or deficiency where
   the whole is a whole. For the Father is a whole, as are the Father, the
   Son and the Holy Spirit; the Son is a whole, as are He Himself and the
   Father and the Holy Spirit; the Holy Spirit is a whole, as are He
   Himself and the Father and the Son. And the whole Unity is a whole
   neither superabounding in the Three, nor diminished in Each Person. For
   they do not individually divide between Them that real and highest Good
   which they are, since they do not possess It in the way of
   participation, but are essentially the very Good. For those phrases
   which we most rightly use, as One from Another, or One to Another, are
   designations of the Persons, not division of the Unity. For although in
   this ineffable and incomprehensible essence of the Deity we can; by the
   requirements of the properties of the Persons, say One and Another in a
   sober and Catholic sense, yet there is not in the essence One and
   Another, but simple Unity; nor in the confession of the Trinity any
   derogation to the Unity, nor is the true assertion of the Unity any
   exclusion of the propria of the Persons. May that execrable similitude
   of genus and species be accordingly as far from our minds as it is from
   the rule of truth. It is not a similitude, but a dissimilitude, as is
   also that of brass and the brazen seal; for since genus and species are
   to each other as higher and lower, while God is One, there can never be
   any resemblance between equality so perfect and disparity so great. And
   again, with regard to his illustration of brass, and the brass which is
   made into a seal, since it is used for the same kind of similitude, it
   is to be similarly condemned. For since, as I have said, species is
   less than and inferior to genus, far be it from us to think of such
   diversity between the Father and the Son. Far be it from us to agree
   with him who says that the Son is related to the Father as species to
   genus, as man to animal, as a brazen seal to brass, as force to force
   absolutely. For all these several things by the bond of their common
   nature are to each other as superiors and inferiors, and therefore no
   comparison is to be drawn from these things with That in which there is
   no inequality, no dissimilarity. You see from what unskilfulness or
   impiety the use of these similitudes descends.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [93] Non disputante, sed dementante.

   [94] Anselm greatly approves this idea respecting God in his Monologium
   and his Apologeticus at the commencement.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER III

   The absurd doctrine of Abaelard, who attributes properly and specically
   the absolute and essential names to one Person, is opposed.

   5. Now notice more clearly what he thinks, teaches, and writes. He says
   that Power properly and specially belongs to the Father, Wisdom to the
   Son, which, indeed, is false. For the Father both, is, and is most
   truly called, Wisdom, and the Son Power, and what is common to Both is
   not the proprium , of Each singly. There are certainly some other names
   which do not belong to Both, but to One or the Other alone, and
   therefore His own Name is peculiar to Each, and not common to the
   Other. For the Father is not the Son, nor the Son the Father, for He is
   designated by the name of Father, not because He is the Father with
   regard to Himself, but with regard to His Son, and in like manner by
   the name of Son is expressed not that He is Son with regard to Himself,
   but to the Father. It is not so with power and many other attributes
   which are assigned to the Father and the Son in common, and not singly
   to Each taken by Himself. But he says, "No; we find that omnipotence
   belongs especially to the proprium of the Person of the Father, because
   He not only can do all things in union with the other two Persons, but
   also because He alone has His existence from Himself, and not from
   Another, and as He has His existence from Himself, so has He His
   power." O, second Aristotle! By parity of reasoning, if such were
   reasoning, would not Wisdom and; Kindness belong properly to the
   Father, since equally the Father has His Wisdom and Kindness from
   Himself, and not from another, just as He has His Being and His Power?
   And if he does not deny this, as he cannot reasonably do, what, I ask,
   will he do with that famous partition of his in which, as he has
   assigned Power to the Father and Wisdom to the Son, so he has assigned
   Loving Kindness to the Holy Spirit properly and specially? For one and
   the same thing cannot well be the proprium of two, that is, to be the
   exclusive property of each. Let him choose which alternative he will:
   either let him give Wisdom to the Son and take It from the Father, or
   assign It to the Father and deny It to the Son; and again, let him
   assign Loving Kindness to the Spirit without the Father, or to the
   Father without the Spirit; or let him cease to call attributes which
   are common, propria ; and though the Father has His Power from Himself,
   yet let him not dare to concede It to Him as being a proprium , lest on
   his own reasoning he be obliged to assign Him Wisdom and Loving
   Kindness which He has in precisely the same way, as His propria also.

   6. But let us now wait and see in how theoretic a manner our theologian
   regards the invisible things of God. He says, as I have pointed out,
   that omnipotence properly belongs to the Father, and He makes it to
   consist in the fulness and perfection of Rule and discernment. Again,
   to the Son he assigns Wisdom, and that he defines to be not Power
   simply, but a certain kind of Power in God, namely, the Power of
   discernment only. Perhaps he is afraid of doing an injury to the Father
   if he gives as much to the Son as to Him, and since he dares not give
   Him complete power, he grants Him half. And this that he lays down he
   illustrates by common examples, asserting that the Power of discernment
   which the Son is, is a particular kind of Power, just as a man is a
   kind of animal, and a brazen seal a particular form of brass, which
   means that the power of discernment is to the power of Rule and
   discernment, i.e., the Son is to the Father, as a man to an animal, or
   as a brazen seal to brass. For, as he says, "a brazen seal must first
   be brass, and a man to be a man must first be an animal, but not
   conversely. So Divine Wisdom, which is the power of discernment, must
   be first Divine Power, but not conversely" (Abael. Theol. B. ii. p.
   1083). Do you, then, mean that, like the preceding similitudes, your
   similitude demands that the Son to be the Son must first be the Father,
   i.e., that He who is the Son is the Father, though not conversely? If
   you say this you are a heretic. If you do not your comparison is
   meaningless.

   7. For why do you fashion for yourself the comparison, and with such
   beating about the bush, apply it to questions long ago settled and
   ill-fitted for debate? Why do you bring it forward with such waste of
   energy, impress it on us with such a useless multiplicity of words,
   produce it with such a flourish, if it does not effect the purpose for
   which it was adduced, viz., that the members be harmonized with each
   other in fitting proportions? Is not this a labour and a toil, to teach
   us by means of it, the relation which exists between the Father and the
   Son? We hold according to you, that a man being given an animal is
   given, but not conversely, at least by the rule of your logic; for by
   it it is not that when the genus is given we know the species, but the
   species being given we know the genus. Since, then, you compare the
   Father to the genus, the Son to the species, does not the condition of
   your comparison postulate, that in like manner, when the Son is known
   you declare the Father to be known and not conversely; that, as he who
   is a man is necessarily an animal, but not conversely, so also, He who
   is the Son is necessarily the Father, but not conversely? But the
   Catholic faith contradicts you on this point, for it plainly denies
   both, viz., that the Father is the Son, and that the Son is the Father.
   For indubitably the Father is one Person, the Son another; although the
   Father is not of a different substance from the Son. For by this
   distinction the godliness of the Faith knows how to distinguish
   cautiously between the propria of the Persons, and the undivided unity
   of the Essence; and holding a middle course, to go along the royal
   road, turning neither to the right by confounding the Persons, nor
   looking to the left by dividing the Substance. But if you say that it
   rightly follows as a necessary truth that He who is the Son is also the
   Father, this helps you nothing; for an identical proposition is
   necessarily capable of being converted in such a way that what was true
   of the original proposition is true of the converse; and your
   comparison of genus and species, or of brass and the brazen seal does
   not admit of this. For as it does not follow as a necessary consequence
   that the Son is the Father, and the Father the Son, so neither can we
   rightly produce a convertible consequence between man and animal, and
   between a brazen seal and brass. For though it be true to say, "If he
   is a man he is an animal," still the converse is not true, "If he is an
   animal he is a man." And again, if we have a brazen seal it necessarily
   follows that it is brass; but if we have brass it does not necessarily
   follow that it is a brazen seal. But now let us proceed to his other
   points.

   8. Lo! according to him we have omnipotence in the Father, a certain
   power in the Son. Let him tell us also what he thinks of the Holy
   Spirit. That loving-kindness, he says, which is denoted by the name of
   the Holy Spirit is not in God power or wisdom (Theol. ii. 1085). I saw
   Satan as lightning fall from heaven (S. Luke x. 18). So ought he to
   fall who exercises himself in great matters, and in things that are too
   high for him. You see, Holy Father, what ladders, nay what dizzy
   heights, he has set up for his own downfall. All power, half power, no
   power. I shudder at the very words, and I think that very horror enough
   for his confutation. Still, I will bring forward a testimony which
   occurs to my troubled mind, so as to remove the injury done to the Holy
   Spirit. We read in Isaiah: The Spirit of wisdom, the Spirit of ghostly
   strength (Is. xi. 2). By this his audacity is plainly and sufficiently
   answered, even if it is not crushed. Be it that blasphemy against the
   Father or the Son may be forgiven, will blasphemy against the Spirit?
   The Angel of the Lord is waiting to cut you asunder; for you have said
   "The Holy Spirit in God is not power or wisdom." So the foot of pride
   stumbles where it intrudes [where it ought not].
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IV

   Abaelard had defined faith as an opinion or estimate: Bernard refutes
   this.

   9. It is no wonder if a man who is careless of what he says should,
   when rushing into the mysteries of the Faith, so irreverently assail
   and tear asunder the hidden treasures of godliness, since he has
   neither piety nor faith in his notions about the piety of faith. For
   instance, on the very threshold of his theology (I should rather say
   his stultology) he defines faith as private judgment; as though in
   these mysteries it is to be allowed to each person to think and speak
   as he pleases, or as though the mysteries of our faith are to hang in
   uncertainty amongst shifting and varying opinions, when on the contrary
   they rest on the solid and unshakable foundation of truth. Is not our
   hope baseless if our faith is subject to change? Fools then were our
   martyrs for bearing so cruel tortures for an uncertainty, and for
   entering, without hesitation, on an everlasting exile, through a bitter
   death, when there was a doubt as to the recompense of their reward. But
   far be it from us to think that in our faith or hope anything, as he
   supposes, depends on the fluctuating judgment of the individual, and
   that the whole of it does not rest on sure and solid truth, having been
   commended by miracles and revelations from above, founded and
   consecrated by the Son of the Virgin, by the Blood of the Redeemer, by
   the glory of the risen Christ. These infallible proofs have been given
   us in superabundance. But if not, the Spirit itself, lastly, bears
   witness with our spirit that we are the sons of God. How, then, can any
   one dare to call faith opinion, unless it be that he has not yet
   received that Spirit, or unless he either knows not the Gospel or
   thinks it to be a fable? I know in whom I have believed, and I am
   confident (2 Tim. i. 12), cries the Apostle, and you mutter in my ears
   that faith is only an opinion. Do you prate to me that that is
   ambiguous than which there is nothing more certain? But Augustine says
   otherwise: "Faith is not held by any one in whose heart it is, by
   conjectures or opinions, but it is sure knowledge and has the assent of
   the conscience." Far be it from us, then, to suppose that the Christian
   faith has as its boundaries those opinions of the Academicians, whose
   boast it is that they doubt of everything, and know nothing. But I for
   my part walk securely, according to the saying of the teacher of the
   Gentiles, and I know that I shall not be confounded. I am satisfied, I
   confess, with his definition of faith, even though this man stealthily
   accuses it. Faith, he says, is the substance of things hoped for, the
   evidence of things not seen (Heb. xi. 1). The substance, he says, of
   things hoped for, not a phantasy of empty conjectures. You. hear, that
   it is a substance; and therefore it is not allowed you in our faith, to
   suppose or oppose at your pleasure, nor to wander hither and thither
   amongst empty opinions, through devious errors. Under the name of
   substance something certain and fixed is put before you. You are
   enclosed in known bounds, shut in within fixed limits. For faith is not
   an opinion, but a certitude.

   10. But now notice other points. I pass over his saying that the spirit
   of the fear of the Lord was not in the Lord; that there will be no holy
   fear of the Lord in the world to come; that after the consecration of
   the bread and of the cup, the former accidents which remain are
   suspended in the air; that the suggestions of devils come to us, as
   their sagacious wickedness knows how, by the contact of stones and
   herbs; and that they are able to discern in such natural objects
   strength suited to excite various passions; that the Holy Spirit is the
   anima mundi; that the world, as Plato says, is so much a more excellent
   animal, as it has a better soul in the Holy Spirit. Here while he
   exhausts his strength to make Plato a Christian, he proves himself a
   heathen. All these things and his other numerous silly stories of the
   same kind I pass by, I come to graver matters. To answer them all would
   require volumes. I speak only of those on which I cannot keep silence.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER V

   He accuses Abaelard for preferring his own opinions and even fancies to
   the unanimous consent of the Fathers, especially where he declares that
   Christ did not become incarnate in order to save man from the power of
   the devil.

   11. I find in a book of his sentences, and also in an exposition of his
   of the Epistle to the Romans, that this rash inquirer into the Divine
   Majesty attacks the mystery of our Redemption. He admits in the very
   beginning of his disputation that there has never been but one
   conclusion in our ecclesiastical doctors on this point, and this he
   states only to spurn it, and boasts that he has a better; not fearing,
   against the precept of the Wise Man, To cross the ancient boundaries
   which our fathers have marked out (Prov. xxii. 28). It is needful to
   know, he says, that all our doctors since the Apostles agree in this,
   that the devil had power and dominion over man, and that he rightly
   possessed it, because man, by an act of the free will which he had,
   voluntarily consented to the devil. For they say that if any one
   conquers another, the conquered rightly becomes the slave of his
   conqueror. Therefore, he says, as the doctors teach, the Son of God
   became incarnate under this necessity, that since man could not
   otherwise be freed, he might, by the death of an innocent man, be set
   free from the yoke of the devil. But as it seems to us, he says,
   neither had the devil ever any power over man, except by the permission
   of God, as a jailer might, nor was it to free man that the Son of God
   assumed flesh. Which am I to think the more intolerable in these words,
   the blasphemy or the arrogance? Which is the more to be condemned, his
   rashness or his impiety? Would not the mouth of him who speaks such
   things be more justly beaten with rods than confuted with reasons? Does
   not he whose hand is against every man, rightly provoke every man's
   hand to be raised against him? All, he says, says so, but so do not I.
   What, then, do you say? What better statement have you? What more
   subtle reason have you discovered? What more secret revelation do you
   boast of which has passed by the Saints and escaped from the wise? He,
   I suppose, will give us secret waters and hidden bread.

   12. Tell us, nevertheless, that truth which has shown itself to you and
   to none else. Is it that it was not to free man that the Son of God
   became man? No one, you excepted, thinks this; you stand alone. For not
   from a wise man, nor prophet, nor apostle, nor even from the Lord
   Himself have you received this. The teacher of the Gentiles received
   from the Lord what he has handed down to us (1 Cor. xi. 23). The
   Teacher of all confesses that His doctrine is not His own, for I do
   not, He says, speak of Myself (S. John vii. 16 and xiv. 10), while you
   give us of your own, and what you have received from no one. He who
   speaketh a lie speaketh of his own (ibid. viii. 44). Keep for yourself
   what is your own. I listen to Prophets and Apostles, I obey the Gospel,
   but not the Gospel according to Peter. Do you found for us a new
   Gospel? The Church does not receive a fifth Evangelist. What other
   Gospel do the Law, the Prophets, apostles, and apostolic men preach to
   us than that which you alone deny, viz., that God became man to free
   man? And if an angel from heaven should preach to us any other Gospel,
   let him be anathema.

   13. But you do not accept the Doctors since the Apostles, because you
   perceive yourself to be a man above all teachers. For example, you do
   not blush to say that all are against you, when they all agree
   together. To no purpose, therefore, should I place before you the faith
   and doctrine of those teachers whom you have just proscribed. I will
   take you to the Prophets. Under the type of Jerusalem the prophet
   speaks, or rather the Lord in the prophet speads to His chosen people:
   I will save you and deliver you, fear not (Wisd. iii. 16). You ask,
   from what power? For you do not admit that the devil has or ever has
   had power over man. Neither; I confess, do I. It is not, however, that
   he has it riot because you and I wish it not. If you do not confess it,
   you know it not; they whom the Lord has redeemed out of the hand of the
   enemy, they know it and confess it. And you would by no means deny it,
   if you were not under the hand of the enemy. You cannot give thanks
   with the redeemed, because you have not been redeemed. For if you had
   been redeemed you would recognize your Redeemer, and would not deny
   your redemption. Nor does the man, who knows not himself to be a
   captive, seek to be redeemed. Those who knew it called unto the Lord,
   and the Lord heard them, and redeemed them from the hand of the enemy.
   And that you may understand who this enemy is, He says: Those whom He
   redeemed from the hand of the enemy He gathered out of all lands (Ps.
   cvii. 2, 3). But first, indeed, recognize Him Who gathered them, of
   Whom Caiaphas in the Gospel prophesied, saying that Jesus should die
   for the people, and the Evangelist proceeds thus: And not for that
   nation only, but that He might gather together into one all the
   children of God which were scattered abroad (S. John xi. 51, 52).
   Whither had they been scattered? Into all lands. Therefore those whom
   He redeemed He gathered together from all lands. He first redeemed,
   then gathered them. For they were not only scattered, but also taken
   captive. He redeemed and gathered them; but redeemed them from the hand
   of the enemy. He does not say of the enemies, but of the enemy. The
   enemy was one, the lands many. Indeed, he gathered them not from one
   land, but from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the
   north and from the south. What Lord was there so powerful, who governed
   not one land but all lands? No other, I suppose, than He who by another
   prophet is said to drink up a river, that is, the human race, and not
   to wonder; and to trust that he can also, draw up into his mouth
   Jordan, i.e., the elect (Job xl. 18). Blessed are they who so flow in
   that they can flow out, who so enter that they can go out.

   14. But now perhaps you do not believe the Prophets, thus speaking with
   one accord of the power of the devil over man. Come with me then to the
   Apostles. You said, did you not? that you do not agree with those who
   have come since the Apostles; may you agree then with the Apostles; and
   perhaps that may happen to you which one of them describes, speaking.
   of certain persons: If God, peradventure, will give them repentance to
   the acknowledging of the truth, and that they may recover themselves
   out of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at his will
   (2 Tim. ii. 25, 26). It is Paul who thus asserts that men are taken
   captive by the devil at his will. Do you hear? "at his will;" and do
   you deny his power? But if you do not believe Paul, come now to the
   Lord Himself, if perchance you may listen to Him and be put to silence.
   By Him the devil is called the prince of this world (S. John xiv. 30),
   and the strong man armed (S. Luke xi. 21), and the possessor of goods
   (S. Matt. xii. 29), and yet you say that he has no power over men.
   Perhaps you think the house in this place is not to be understood of
   the world, nor the goods of men. But if the world is the house of the
   devil and men his goods, how can it be said he has no power over men?
   Moreover, the Lord said to those who took Him: This is your hour and
   the power of darkness (S. Luke xxii. 53). That power did not escape him
   who said: Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath
   translated us into the kingdom of His dear Son (Col. i. 13)The Lord
   then neither denied the power of the devil even over Him, nor that of
   Pilate, who was a member of the devil. He said: Thou couldst have no
   power against me at all except it were given thee from above (S. John
   xix. 11). But if that power given from above so violently raged against
   the green tree, how is it that it did not dare to touch the dry? Nor I
   suppose will he say, that it was an unjust power which was given from
   above. Let him, therefore, learn that not only had the devil power over
   man, but also a just power, and in consequence let him see this, that
   the Son of God came in the flesh to set man free. But though we say
   that the power of the devil was a just one we do not say that his will
   was. Whence it is not the devil who usurped the power, who is just, nor
   man who deservedly was subjected to it; but the Lord is just, who
   permitted the subjection. For any one is called just and unjust, not
   from his power but from his will. This power of the devil over man
   though not rightly acquired, but wickedly usurped, was yet justly
   permitted. And in this way man was justly taken captive, viz., that the
   justice was neither in the devil, nor in man, but in God.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VI

   In the work of the Redemption of man, not only the mercy, but also the
   justice, of God is displayed.

   15. Man therefore was lawfully delivered up, but mercifully set free.
   Yet mercy was shown in such a way that a kind of justice was not
   lacking even in his liberation, since, as was most fitting for man's
   recovery, it was part of the mercy of the liberator to employ justice
   rather than power against man's enemy. For what could man, the slave of
   sin, fast bound by the devil, do of himself to recover that
   righteousness which he had formerly lost? Therefore he who lacked
   righteousness had another's imputed to him, and in this way: The prince
   of this world came and found nothing in the Saviour; and because he
   notwithstanding laid hands on the Innocent he lost most justly those
   whom he held captive; since He who owed nothing to death, lawfully
   freed him who was subject to it, both from the debt of death, and the
   dominion of the devil, by accepting the injustice of death; for with
   what justice could that be exacted from man a second time? It was man
   who owed the debt, it was man who paid it. For if one, says S. Paul,
   died for all, then were all dead (2 Cor. v. 14), so that, as One bore
   the sins of all, the satisfaction of One is imputed to all. It is not
   that one forfeited, [95] another satisfied; the Head and body is one,
   viz., Christ. The Head, therefore, satisfied for the members, Christ
   for His children, since, according to the Gospel of Paul, by which
   Peter's [96] falsehood is refuted, He who died for us, quickened us
   together with Himself, forgiving us all our trespasses, blotting out
   the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, and took it out of
   the way, nailing it to His cross, having spoiled principalities and
   powers (Col. ii. 13, 14).

   16. May I be found amongst those spoils of which the opposing powers
   were deprived, and be handed over into the possession of my Lord. If
   Laban pursue the and reproach me for having left him by stealth, he
   shall be told that I came to him by stealth, and therefore so left him.
   The secret power of sin subjected me, the hidden plan of righteousness
   freed me from him; or I will reply, that if I was sold for nothing
   shall I not be freely redeemed? If Asshur has reproached me without
   cause, he has no right to demand the cause of my escape. But if he
   says, "Your father sold you into captivity," I will reply, "But my
   Brother redeemed me." Why should not righteousness come to me from
   another when guilt came upon me from another? One made me a sinner, the
   other justifies me from sin; the one by generation, the other by His
   blood. Shall there be sin in the seed of the sinner and not
   righteousness in the blood of Christ? But he will say, "Let
   righteousness be whose it may, it is none of yours." Be it so. But let
   guilt also be whose it may, it is none of mine. Shall the righteousness
   of the righteous be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked not be
   upon him? It is not fitting for the son to bear the iniquity of the
   father, and yet to have no share in the righteousness of his brother.
   But now by man came death, by Man also came life. For as in Adam all
   die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive (1 Cor. xv. 21, 22). I
   attain to une and to the other in the same way: to the one by the
   flesh, to the other by faith. And if from the one I was infected with
   concupiscence from my birth, by Christ spiritual grace was infused into
   me. What more does this hired advocate bring against me? If he urges
   generation, I oppose regeneration; and add that the former is but
   carnal, while the latter is spiritual. Nor does equity suffer that they
   fight as equals, but the higher nature is the more efficacious cause,
   and therefore the spirit must necessarily overcome the flesh. In other
   words, the second birth is so much the more beneficial as the first was
   baneful. The offence, indeed, came to me, but so did grace; and not as
   the offence so also is the free gift; for the judgment was by one to
   condemnation, but the free gift is of many offences unto justification
   (Rom. v. 16). From the first man flowed down the offence, from the
   highest heaven came down the free gift: both from our father, one from
   our first father, the other from the Supreme Father. My earthly birth
   destroys me, and does not my heavenly much more save me I? And I am not
   afraid of being rejected by the Father of lights when I have been
   rescued in this way from the power of darkness, and justified through
   His grace by the blood of His Son: It is God that justifieth, who is he
   that condemneth? He who had mercy on the sinner will not condemn the
   righteous; I mean that I am righteous, but it is in His righteousness,
   for Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that
   believeth (Rom. x. 4). In short, He was made our righteousness by God
   the Father (1 Cor. i. 30). Is not that righteousness mine which was
   made for me? If my guilt was inherited, why should not my righteousness
   be accorded to me? And, truly, what is given me is safer than what was
   born in me. For this, indeed, has whereof to glory, but not before God;
   but that, since it is effectual to my salvation, has nothing whereof to
   glory save in the Lord. For if I be righteous, says Job, yet will I not
   lift up my head (Job x. 15), lest I receive the answer: What hast thou
   that thou didst not receive? now if thou didst receive it, why dost
   thou glory as if thou hadst not received it? (1 Cor. iv. 7).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VII

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

   17. This is the righteousness of man in the blood of the Redeemer:
   which this son of perdition, by his scoffs and insinuations, is
   attempting to render vain; so much so, that he thinks and argues that
   the whole fact that the Lord of Glory emptied Himself, that He was made
   lower than the angels, that He was born of a woman, that He lived in
   the world, that He made trial of our infirmities, that He suffered
   indignities, that at last He returned to His own place by the way of
   the Cross, that all this is to be reduced to one reason alone, viz.,
   that it was done merely that He might give man by His life and teaching
   a rule of life, and by His suffering and death might set before him a
   goal of charity. Did He, then, teach righteousness and not bestow it?
   Did He show charity and not infuse it, and did He so return to His
   heaven? Is this, then, the whole of the great mystery of godliness,
   which was manifested in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of
   angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received
   up into glory (1 Tim. iii. 16). O, incomparable doctor! he lays bare to
   himself the deep things of God, he makes them clear and easy to every
   one, and by his false teaching he so renders plain and evident the most
   lofty sacrament of grace, the mystery hidden from the ages, that any
   uncircumcised and unclean person can lightly penetrate to the heart of
   it: as though the wisdom of God knew not how to guard or neglected to
   guard against what Itself forbade, but had Itself given what is holy to
   the dogs and cast its pearls before swine. But it is not so. For though
   it was manifested in the flesh, yet it was justified in the Spirit: so
   that spiritual things are bestowed upon spiritual men, and the natural
   man does not perceive the things which are of the Spirit of God. Nor
   does our faith consist in wisdom of words but in the power of God. And,
   therefore, the Saviour says: I thank Thee, Father, Lord of heaven and
   earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent,
   and hast revealed them unto babes (S. Matt. xi. 25). And the Apostle
   says: If our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost (2 Cor. iv.
   3).

   18. But see this man scoffing at the things which are of the Spirit of
   God, because they seem to him folly, and insulting the Apostle who
   speaks the hidden wisdom of God in a mystery, inveighing against the
   Gospel and even blaspheming the Lord. How much more prudent would he be
   if he would deign to believe what he has no power to comprehend, and
   would not dare to despise or tread under foot this sacred and holy
   mystery! It is a long task to reply to all the follies and calumnies
   which he charges against the Divine counsel. Yet I take a few, from
   which the rest may be estimated. "Since," he says, "Christ set free the
   elect only, how were they more than now, whether in this world or the
   next, under the power of the devil?" I answer: It was just because they
   were under the power of the devil, by whom, says the Apostle, they were
   taken captive at his will (2 Tim. ii. 26), that there was need of a
   liberator in order that the purpose of God concerning them might be
   fulfilled. But it behoved Him to set them free in this world, that He
   might have them as freeborn sons in the next. Then he rejoins: "Well,
   did the devil also torture the poor man who was in the bosom of Abraham
   as he did the rich man who was condemned, or had he power over Abraham
   himself and the rest of the elect?" No, but he would have had if they
   had not been set free by their faith in a future Deliverer, as of
   Abraham it is written: Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto
   him for righteousness (Gen. xv. 6). Again: Abraham rejoiced to see My
   day, and he saw it and was glad (S. John viii. 56). Therefore even then
   the Blood of Christ was bedewing Lazarus, that he might not feel the
   flames, because he had believed on Him who should suffer. So are we to
   think of all the saints of that time, that they were born just as
   ourselves under the power of darkness, because of original sin, but
   rescued before they died, and that by nothing else but the blood of
   Christ. For it is written: The multitudes that went before and that
   followed, cried saying, Hosanna to the Son of David, Blessed is He that
   cometh in the Name of the Lord (S. Matt. xxi. 9). Therefore blessing
   was given to Christ coming in the flesh, both before He came and
   afterwards, by multitudes of those who had been blessed by Him,
   although those who went before did not obtain a full blessing, this, of
   course, having been kept as the prerogative of the time of grace.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VIII

   Wherefore Christ undertook a method of setting us free so painful and
   laborious, when a word from Him, or an act of His will, would alone
   have sufficed.

   19. Then he labours to teach and persuade us that the devil could not
   and ought not to have claimed for himself any right over man, except by
   the permission of God, and that, without doing any injustice to the
   devil, God could have called back His deserter, if He wished to show
   him mercy, and have rescued him by a word only, as though any one
   denies this; oxen after much more he proceeds: "And so what necessity,
   or what reason, or what need was there, when the Divine compassion by a
   simple command could have freed man from sin, for the Son of God to
   take flesh for our redemption, to suffer so many and such great
   privations, scorn, scourgings, and spittings on, in short, the pain and
   ignominy of the cross itself, and that with evil doers?" I reply: The
   necessity was ours, the hard necessity of those sitting in darkness and
   the shadow of death. The need, equally ours, and God's, and the Holy
   Angels! Ours, tat He might remove the yoke of our captivity; His own,
   that He might fulfil the purpose of His will; the Angels', that their
   number might be filled up. Further, the reason of this deed was the
   good pleasure of the Doer. Who denies that there were ready for the
   Almighty other and yet other ways to redeem us, to justify us, to set
   us free? But this takes nothing from the efficacy of the one which He
   chose out of many. And, perhaps, the greatest excellence of the way
   chosen is that in a land of forgetfulness, of slowness of spirit, and
   of constant offending, we are more forcibly and more vividly warned by
   so many and such great sufferings of our Restorer. Beyond that no man
   knows, nor can know to the full, what treasures of grace, what harmony
   with wisdom, what increase of glory, what advantages for salvation the
   inscrutable depth of this holy mystery contains within itself, that
   mystery which the Prophet when considering trembled at, but did not
   penetrate (Habak. iii. 2 in LXX), and which the forerunner of the Lord
   thought himself unworthy to unloose (S. John i. 27).

   20. But though it is not allowed us to scrutinize the mystery of the
   Divine Will, yet we may feel the effect of its work and perceive the
   fruit of its usefulness. And what we may know we may not keep to
   ourselves, for to conceal their word is to give glory to kings, but God
   is glorified by our investigating His sayings. [Prov. xxv. 2. But the
   sense of the text is the reverse of this.] Faithful is the saying and
   worthy of all acceptation, that while we were yet sinners we were
   reconciled to God by the death of His Son (Rom. v. 10). "Where there is
   reconciliation there is also remission of sins. For if, as the
   Scripture says, our sins separate between us and God" (Is. lix. 2),
   there is no reconciliation while sin remains. In what, then, is
   remission of sins? This cup, He says, is the new testament in My Blood
   which shall be shed for you for the remission of sins (S. Matt. xxvi.
   28). Therefore where there is reconciliation there is remission of
   sins. And what is that but justification? Whether, therefore, we call
   it reconciliation, or remission of sins, or justification, or, again,
   redemption, or liberation from the chains of the devil, by whom we were
   taken captive at his will, at all events by the death of the Only
   Begotten, we obtain that we have been justified freely by His blood, in
   whom, as S. Paul says again, we have redemption through His blood, the
   forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace (Eph. i. 7).
   You say, Why by His blood when He could have wrought it by His Word?
   Ask Himself. It is only allowed me to know that it is so, not why it is
   so. Shall the thing formed say to Him that formed it, "Why hast Thou
   made me thus?"

   21. But these things seem to him foolishness, he, cannot restrain his
   laughter; listen to his jeering. "Why does the Apostle say," he asks,
   "that we are justified, or reconciled to God by the death of His Son,
   when He ought to have been the more angry with man, as he sinned more
   deeply in crucifying Ibis Son, than in transgressing His first command
   by tasting of the apple?" As if the iniquity of the malignant were not
   able to displease, and the godliness of the sufferer to please God, and
   that in one and the same act. "But," he replies, "if that sin of Adam
   was so heinous that it could not be expiated but by the death of
   Christ, what expiation shall suffice for that homicide which was
   perpetrated upon Christ?" I answer in two words, That very Blood which
   they shed, and the prayer of Him whom they slew. Ire asks again: "Did
   the death of His innocent Son so please God the Father that by it He
   was reconciled to us, who had committed such a sin in Adam, that
   because of it our innocent Lord was slain? Would He not have been able
   to forgive us much more easily if so heinous a sin had not been
   committed?" It was not His death alone that pleased the Father, but His
   voluntary surrender to death; and by that death destroying death,
   working salvation, restoring innocence, triumphing over principalities
   and powers, spoiling hell, enriching heaven, making peace between
   things in heaven and things on earth, and renewing all things. And
   since this so precious death to be voluntarily submitted to against sin
   could not take place except through sin, He did not indeed delight in,
   but He made good use of, the malice of the wrong-doers, and found the
   means to condemn death and sin by the death of His Son, and the sin [of
   those who condemned Him]. And the greater their iniquity, the more holy
   His will, and the more powerful to salvation; because, by the
   interposition of so great a power, that ancient sin, however great,
   would necessarily give way to that committed against Christ, as the
   less to the greater. Nor is this victory to be ascribed to the sin or
   to the sinners, but to Him who extracted good from their sin, and who
   bore bravely with the sinners, and turned to a godly purpose whatever
   the cruelty of the impious ventured on against Himself.

   22. Thus the Blood which was shed was so powerful for pardoning that it
   blotted out that greatest sin of all, by which it came to pass that it
   was shed; and, therefore, left no doubt whatever about the blotting out
   of that ancient and lighter sin. Thus he rejoins: "Is there any one to
   whom it does not seem cruel and unjust, that any one should require the
   blood of an innocent man as the price of some thing, or that the death
   of an innocent man should in any way give him pleasure, not to say that
   God should hold so acceptable the death of His Son as by it to be
   reconciled to the whole world?" God the Father did not require the
   Blood of His Son, but, nevertheless, He accepted it when offered; it
   was not blood He thirsted for, but salvation, for salvation was in the
   blood. He died, in short, for our salvation, and not for the mere
   exhibition of charity, as this man thinks and writes. For he so
   concludes the numerous calumnies and reproaches, which he as impiously
   as ignorantly belches out against God, as to say that "the whole reason
   why God appeared in the flesh was for our education by His word and
   example," or, as he afterwards says, for our instruction; that the
   whole reason why He suffered and died was to exhibit or commend to us
   charity.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IX

   That Christ came into the world, not only to instruct us, but also to
   free us from sin.

   23. But what profits it that He should instruct us if He did not first
   restore us by His grace? Or are we not in vain instructed if the body
   of sin is not first destroyed in us, that we should no more serve sin?
   If all the benefit that we derive from Christ consists in the
   exhibition of His virtues, it follows that Adam must be said to harm us
   only by the exhibition of sin. But in truth the medicine given was
   proportioned to the disease. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ
   shall all be made alive (1 Cor. xv. 22). As is the one, so is the
   other. If the life which Christ gives is nothing else but His
   instruction, the death which Adam gave is in like manner only his
   instruction; so that the one by his example leads men to sin, the other
   by His example and His Word leads them to a holy life and to love Him.
   But if we rest in the Christian faith, and not in the heresy of
   Pelagius, and confess that by generation and not by example was the sin
   of Adam imparted to us, and by sin death, let us also confess that it
   is necessary for righteousness to be restored to us by Christ, not by
   instruction, but by regeneration, and by righteousness life (Rom. v.
   18). And if this be so, how can Peter say that the only purpose and
   cause of the Incarnation was that He might enlighten the world by the
   light of His wisdom and inflame it with love of Him? Where, then, is
   redemption? There come from Christ, as he deigns to confess, merely
   illumination and enkindling to love. Whence come redemption and
   liberation?

   24. Grant that the coming of Christ profits only those who are able to
   conform their lives to His, and to repay to Him the debt of love, what
   about babes? What light of wisdom will he give to those who have barely
   seen the light of life? Whence will they gain power to ascend to God
   who have not even learned to love their mothers? Will the coming of
   Christ profit them nothing? Is it of no avail to them that they have
   been planted together with Him by baptism in the likeness of His death,
   since through the weakness of their age they are not able to know of,
   or to love, Christ? Our redemption, he says, consists in that supreme
   love which is inspired in us by the passion of Christ. Therefore,
   infants have no redemption because they have not that supreme love.
   Perhaps he holds that as they have no power to love, so neither have
   they necessity to perish, that they have no need to be regenerated in
   Christ because they have received no damage from their generation from
   Adam. If he thinks this, he thinks foolishness with Pelagius. Whichever
   of these two opinions he holds, his ill-will to the sacrament of our
   salvation is evident; and in attributing the whole of our salvation to
   devotion, and nothing of it to regeneration, it is evident too that, as
   far as he can, he would empty of meaning the dispensation of this deep
   mystery; for he places the glory of our redemption and the great work
   of salvation, not in the virtue of the Cross, not in the blood paid as
   its price, but in our advances in a holy life. But God forbid that I
   should glory save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ (Gal. vi. 14),
   in which are our salvation, life, and resurrection.

   25. And, indeed, I see three chief virtues in this work of our
   salvation: the form of humility in which God emptied Himself; the
   measure of charity which He stretched out even to death, and that the
   death of the Cross; the mystery of redemption, by which He bore that
   death which He underwent. The former two of these without the last are
   as if you were to paint on the air. A very great and most necessary
   example of humility, a great example of charity, and one worthy of all
   acceptation, has He set us; but they have no foundation, and,
   therefore, no stability, if redemption be wanting. I wish to follow
   with all my strength the lowly Jesus; I wish Him, who loved me and gave
   Himself for me, to embrace me with the arms of His love, which suffered
   in my stead; but I must also feed on the Paschal Lamb, for unless I eat
   His Flesh and drink His Blood I have no life in me. It is one thing to
   follow Jesus, another to hold Him, another to feed on Him. To follow
   Him is a life-giving purpose; to hold and embrace Him a solemn joy; to
   feed on Him a blissful life. For His flesh is meat indeed, and His
   blood is drink indeed. The bread of God is He who cometh down from
   Heaven and giveth life to the world (S. John vi. 56, 33). What
   stability is there for joy, what constancy of purpose, without life?
   Surely no more than for a picture without a solid basis. Similarly
   neither the examples of humility nor the proofs of charity are anything
   without the sacrament of our redemption.

   26. These results of the labour of the hands of your son, my lord and
   father, you now hold, such as they are, against a few heads of this new
   heresy; in which if you see nothing besides my zeal, yet I have
   meanwhile satisfied my own conscience. For since there was nothing that
   I could do against the injury to the faith, which I deplored, I thought
   it worth while to warn him, whose arms are the power of God, for the
   destruction of contrary imaginations, to destroy every high thing that
   exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and to bring every
   thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. There are other
   points in his other writings, not few nor less evil; but the limits of
   my time and of a letter do not allow me to reply to them. Moreover, I
   do not think it necessary, since they are so manifest, that they may be
   easily refuted even by ordinary faith. Still, I have collected some and
   sent them to you.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LXI (A.D. 1138)

  To Louis the Younger, King of the French.

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

   1. If the whole world were to conjure me to join it in some enterprise
   against your royal Majesty, I should still through fear of God not dare
   lightly to offend a King ordained by Him. Nor am I ignorant who it is
   that has said, Whosoever resisteth the power resisteth the ordinance of
   God (Rom. xiii. 2). Nor yet do I forget how contrary is lying to the
   Christian calling and still more so to my profession. I say the truth,
   I lie not; what was done at Langres in the matter of our Prior [97] was
   contrary to my expectation and my intention and that of the Bishops.
   But there is One who knows how to gain the assent of the unwilling, and
   who compels, as He wills, the adverse wills of man to subserve His
   counsel. Why should I not fear for him whom I love as my own soul, that
   danger which I have ever feared for myself? Why should I not shrink
   from the companionship of those who bind heavy burdens and grievous to
   be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders, but they themselves will not
   move them with one of their fingers? Still, what has been done, has
   been done; nothing against you, very much against me. The staff of my
   weakness has been taken from me, the light of mine eyes removed from
   me, my right arm cut off. All these waves and storms have gone over me.
   Wrath has swallowed me up, and on no side do I see any way to escape.
   When I fly from burdens, then I have them placed upon me to my great
   discomfort. I feel that it is hard for me to kick against the pricks.
   It would perhaps have been more tolerable for a willing horse than for
   one that is restive and obstinate. For if there were any strength in
   me, would it not be easier for me to bear these burdens on my own
   shoulders than on those of others?

   2. But I yield to Him that disposeth otherwise, to contend with whom in
   wisdom or strength is neither prudent nor possible for either me or the
   King. He is, indeed, terrible among the kings of the earth. It is a
   terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God, even for you,
   O King. How grieved have I been to hear things of you so contrary to
   the fair promise of your early days! How much more bitter will be the
   grief of the Church, after having tasted first of such great joys, if,
   which God forbid, she shall chance to be deprived of her pleasant hope
   of protection under the shield of your good disposition, which up to
   the present has been held over her. Alas! the Virgin, the Church of
   Rheims, has fallen, [98] and there is none to lift her up. Langres,
   too, has fallen, and there is none to stretch out the hand to help. May
   the goodness of God divert your heart and mind from adding yet more to
   our grief, and from heaping sorrow upon sorrow. Would that I may die
   before seeing a king of whom good things were thought, and still better
   hoped for, endeavouring to go against the counsel of God, stirring up
   against himself the anger of the supreme Judge, bedewing the feet of
   the Father of the fatherless with the tears of the afflicted, knocking
   at heaven's door with the cries of the poor, the prayers of the saints,
   and with the just complaints of Christ's beloved Bride, the Church of
   the living God. May all this never happen. I hope for better things,
   and expect things more joyful. God will not forget to be gracious, nor
   shut up His loving kindness in displeasure. He will not make His Church
   sad through him, and because of him, by whom He has already made her so
   much to rejoice. By His long-suffering He will preserve him whom He
   freely gave us, and if you think anything otherwise, this also He will
   reveal to you, and will teach your heart in wisdom. This is my wish,
   this is my prayer night and day. Think this of me, think it of my
   brethren. The truth shall not be sinned against by us, nor the King's
   honour and the good of his kingdom diminished.

   3. We give thanks to your clemency for the kindly answer which you
   deigned to send us. But still we are terrified to delay, as we see the
   land given over to plunder and robbery. The land is yours; and we
   plainly see and mourn the disgrace brought on your kingdom by your
   orders that we should abstain from our rights, inasmuch as there is no
   one to defend them. For in what else that has been done can the king's
   majesty be truly said to have been diminished? The election was duly
   held; the person elected is faithful, which he would not be if he
   wished to hold your lands otherwise than through you. He has not yet
   stretched out his hand to your lands, he has not yet entered your city,
   he has not yet put himself forward in any affair, though most earnestly
   pressed to do so by the united voice of clergy and people, by the
   oppression of the afflicted, and by the prayers of all good men. And
   since this is the state of affairs there is, you see, need for counsel
   to be quickly taken, not less for the sake of your honour than our
   necessity. And unless your Serenity give answer according to their
   petition, by the messengers who bring this, to your faithful people who
   look to you, the hearts of many religious men who are now devoted to
   you will be turned against you (which would not be expedient), and I
   fear that no little loss will accrue to the regalia belonging to the
   Church, which yet are yours.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LXII (A.D. 1139)

  To Pope Innocent.

   On behalf of Falco, Archbishop elect of Lyons.

   I think that I, who have so many times been listened to in the affairs
   of others, shall not be confounded in my own. I, my lord, hold the
   cause of my Archbishop to be my own, being a member of him, and knowing
   that there is nothing that affects the head but what touches me, which,
   nevertheless, I would not say if the man had taken this honour to
   himself, and had not been called by God, as was Moses. Nor can I think
   that it was the work of any but Him that the votes of so many men were
   so readily given him, that there was not even any hesitation, still
   less opposition. And deservedly so. He is distinguished not only for
   his high birth, but also for the nobility of his mind, for his
   knowledge, and his irreproachable life. In short, the integrity of his
   name fears not the tooth even of a foe. What, therefore, has been so
   done for so good a man is surely worthy to obtain the favour of the
   Apostolic See, the fulness of honour, which is the only thing now
   lacking, to increase the joy of its people that has grown accustomed to
   its kindness, or, I may say, to the liberality which he has fully
   deserved. This is what the whole Church, with most earnest
   supplication, implores; this is what your son, with his usual
   presumption, entreats of you.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LXIII (A.D. 1139)

  To the Same, in the Name of Godfrey, Bishop of Langres.

   He expresses the same thought as in the preceding Letter.

   Amidst the numerous evils which. nowadays are seen in the churches on
   the occasion of elections the Lord hath looked down from heaven upon
   our Mother Church of Lyons, and has without strife given it a worthy
   successor to Peter of pious memory, its Archbishop, in the person of
   Falco, its Dean. I ask, my lord, that he who has been unanimously
   elected by his fellows, promoted for the good of all, and duly
   consecrated, may receive at your hands the fulness of honour that
   belongs to his office. And what makes me seek this is not so much
   consciousness of his merits, but of my duty-duty laid upon me not only
   by the metropolitan dignity of that Church, but because I am placed in
   this position in order that I may bear my testimony to the truth.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LXIV (A.D. 1139)

  To the Above-Named Falco.

   Bernard recommends to hint the interests of certain Religious.

   The Lord Bishop and I have written, as we thought we ought to do, to my
   lord the Pope on your behalf, and you have a copy of your letters. It
   is our determination to stand by you with all our might, because of the
   good which we hope for from you for the Church. It concerns you so to
   act that we may not be disappointed of our hope. For the rest, if I
   have found favour in your sight I pray you think of those poor and
   needy ones at the house of Benissons Dieu. [99] Whatsoever you do to
   one of them you will do to me, nay, to Christ. For they are both poor,
   and they live amongst the poor. I especially implore you to prevent the
   monks of Savigny from molesting them, for they are calumniating them
   unjustly, as I consider. Or if they think that they have justice on
   their side, judge between them. I ask also that my son, Abbot Alberic,
   though well deserving of your favour through his own merits, may still
   be in even greater regard through my recommendation. For I love him
   tenderly, as a mother loves her only child, and he that loveth me will
   love him. In fact, I shall find out whether you care for me by the way
   you treat him. For the farther he is away from me the more necessary is
   it that he should have consolation from your fatherly care.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER XLV (circa A.D. 1140)

  To the Canons of Lyons, on the Conception of S. Mary.

   Bernard states that the Festival of the Conception was new; that it
   rested on no legitimate foundation; and that it should not have been
   instituted without consulting the Apostolic See, to whose opinion he
   submits.

   1. It is well known that among all the Churches of France that of Lyons
   is first in importance, whether we regard the dignity of its See, its
   praiseworthy regulations, or its honourable zeal for learning. Where
   was there ever the vigour of discipline more flourishing, a more grave
   and religious life, more consummate wisdom, a greater weight of
   authority, a more imposing antiquity? Especially in the Offices of the
   Church, that of Lyons has always shown itself opposed to attempts at
   sudden innovation, and it is a proof of her fulness of judgment that
   she has never suffered herself to be stained with the mark of rash and
   hasty levity. Wherefore I cannot but wonder that there should have been
   among you at this time some who wished to sully this splendid fame of
   your Church by introducing a new Festival, a rite which the Church
   knows nothing of, and which reason does not prove, nor ancient
   tradition hand down to us. Have we the pretension to be more learned or
   more devoted than the Fathers? It is a dangerous presumption to
   establish in such a matter what their prudence left unestablished. And
   the matter in question is of such a nature that it could not possibly
   have escaped the diligence of the Fathers if they had not thought that
   they ought not to occupy themselves with it.

   2. The Mother of the Lord, you say, ought greatly to be honoured. You
   say well, but the honour of a queen loves justice. The royal Virgin
   does not need false honour, since she is amply supplied with true
   titles to honour and badges of her dignity. Honour indeed the purity of
   her flesh, the sanctity of her life, wonder at her motherhood as a
   virgin, adore her Divine offspring. Extol the prodigy by which she
   brought into the world without pain the Son, whom she had conceived
   without concupiscence. Proclaim her to be reverenced by the angels, to
   have been desired by the nations, to have been known beforehand by
   Patriarchs and Prophets, chosen by God out of all women and raised
   above them all. Magnify her as the medium by whom grace was displayed,
   the instrument of salvation, the restorer of the ages; and finally
   extol her as having been exalted above the choirs of angels to the
   celestial realms. These things the Church sings concerning her, and has
   taught me to repeat the same things in her praise, and what I have
   learnt from the Church I both hold securely myself and teach to others;
   what I have not received from the Church I confess I should with great
   difficulty admit. I have received then from the Church that day to be
   reverenced with the highest veneration, when being taken up from this
   sinful earth, she made entry into the heavens; a festival of most
   honoured joy. With no less clearness have I learned in the Church to
   celebrate the birth of the Virgin, and from the Church undoubtedly to
   hold it to have been holy and joyful; holding most firmly with the
   Church, that she received in the womb that she should come into the
   world holy. And indeed I read concerning Jeremiah, that before he came
   forth from the womb [ ventre : otherwise de vulva] he was sanctified,
   and I think no otherwise of John the Baptist, who, himself in the womb
   of his mother, felt the presence of his Lord in the womb (S. Luke i.
   41). It is matter for consideration whether the same opinion may not be
   held of holy David, on account of what he said in addressing God: In
   Thee I have been strengthened from the womb: Thou art He who took me
   out of my mother's bowels (Ps. lxxi. 6); and again: I was cast upon
   Thee from the womb: Thou art my God from my mother's belly (Ps. xxii.
   10). And Jeremiah is thus addressed: Before I formed thee in the belly
   I knew thee; and before thou camest out of the womb I sanctified thee
   (Jer. i. 5). How beautifully the Divine oracle has distinguished
   between conception in the womb and birth from the womb! and showed that
   if the one was foreseen only, the other was blessed beforehand with the
   gift of holiness: that no one might think that the glory of Jeremiah
   consisted only in being the object of the foreknowledge of God, but
   also of His predestination.

   3. Let us, however, grant this in the case of Jeremiah. What shall be
   said of John the Baptist, of whom an angel announced beforehand that he
   should be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother's womb? I
   cannot suppose that this is to be referred to predestination or to
   foreknowledge. For the words of the angel were without doubt fulfilled
   in their time, as he foretold; and the man (as cannot be doubted)
   filled with the Holy Ghost at the time and place appointed, as he
   predicted. But most certainly the Holy Ghost sanctified the man whom He
   filled. But how far this sanctification availed against original sin,
   whether for him, or for that prophet, or for any other who was thus
   prevented by grace, I would not rashly determine. But of these holy
   persons whom God has sanctified, and brought forth from the womb with
   the same sanctification which they have received in the womb, I do not
   hesitate to say that the taint of original sin which they contracted in
   conception, could not in any manner take away or fetter by the mere act
   of birth, the benediction already bestowed. Would any one dare to say
   that a child filled with the Holy Ghost, would remain notwithstanding a
   child of wrath; and if he had died in his mother's womb, where he had
   received this fulness of the Spirit, would endure the pains of
   damnation? That opinion is very severe; I, however, do not dare to
   decide anything respecting the question by my own judgment. However
   that may be, the Church, which regards and declares, not the nativity,
   but only the death of other saints as precious, makes a singular
   exception for him of whom an angel singularly said, and many shall
   rejoice in his birth (Luke i. 14., 15), and with rejoicing honours his
   nativity. For why should not the birth be holy, and even glad and
   joyful, of one who leaped with joy even in the womb of his mother?

   4. The gift, therefore, which has certainly been conferred upon some,
   though few, mortals, cannot for a moment be supposed to have been
   denied to that so highly favoured Virgin, through whom the whole human
   race came forth into life. Beyond doubt the mother of the Lord also was
   holy before birth; nor is holy Church at all in error in accounting the
   day of her nativity holy, and celebrating it each year with solemn and
   thankful joy. I consider that the blessing of a fuller sanctification
   descended upon her, so as not only to sanctify her birth, but also to
   keep her life pure from all sin; which gift is believed to have been
   bestowed upon none other born of women. This singular privilege of
   sanctity, to lead her life without any sin, entirely befitted the queen
   of virgins, who should bear the Destroyer of sin and death, who should
   obtain the gift of life and righteousness for all. Therefore, her birth
   was holy, since the abundant sanctity bestowed upon it made it holy
   even from the womb.

   5. What addition can possibly be made to these honours? That her
   conception, also, they say, which preceded her honourable birth, should
   be honoured, since if the one had not first taken place, neither would
   the other, which is honoured. But what if some one else, following a
   similar train of reasoning, should assert that the honours of a
   festival ought to be given to each of her parents, then to her
   grand-parents, and then to their parents, and so on ad infinitum? Thus
   we should have festivals without number. Such a frequency of joys
   befits Heaven, not this state of exile. It is the happy lot of those
   who dwell there, not of strangers and pilgrims. But a writing is
   brought forward, given, as they say, by revelation from on high, [100]
   as if any one would not be able to bring forward another writing in
   which the Virgin should seem to demand the same honours to her parents
   also, saying, according to the commandment of the Lord, Honour thy
   father and thy mother (Exod. xx. 12). I easily persuade myself not to
   be influenced by such writings, which are supported neither by reason
   nor by any certain authority. For how does the consequence follow that
   since the conception has preceded the birth, and the birth is holy, the
   conception should be considered holy also? Did it make the birth holy
   because it preceded it? Although the one came first that the other
   might be, yet not that it might be holy. From whence came that holiness
   to the conception which was to be transmitted to the birth which
   followed? Was it not rather because the conception preceded without
   holiness that it was needful for the being conceived to be sanctified,
   that a holy birth might then follow? Or shall we say that the birth
   which was later than the conception shared with it its holiness? It
   might be, indeed, that the sanctification which was worked in her when
   conceived passed over to the birth which followed; but it could not be
   possible that it should have a retrospective effect upon the conception
   which had preceded it.

   6. Whence, then, was the holiness of that conception? Shall it be said
   that Mary was so prevented by grace that, being holy before being
   conceived, she was therefore conceived without sin; or that, being holy
   before being born, she has therefore communicated holiness to her
   birth? But in order to be holy it is necessary to exist, and a person
   does not exist before being conceived. Or perhaps, when her parents
   were united, holiness was mingled with the conception itself, so that
   she was at once conceived and sanctified. But this is not tenable in
   reason. For how can there be sanctity without the sanctifying Spirit,
   or the co-operation of the Holy Spirit with sin? Or how could there not
   be sin where concupiscence was not wanting? Unless, perhaps, some one
   will say that she was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and not by man,
   which would be a thing hitherto unheard of. I say, then, that the Holy
   Spirit came upon her, not within her, as the Angel declared: The Holy
   Spirit shall come upon thee (S. Luke i. 35). And if it is permitted to
   say what the Church thinks, and the Church thinks that which is true, I
   say that she conceived by the Holy Spirit, but not that she was
   conceived by Him; that she was at once Mother and Virgin, but not that
   she was born of a virgin. Otherwise, where will be the prerogative of
   the Mother of the Lord, to have united in her person the glory of
   maternity and that of virginity, if you give the same glory to her
   mother also? This is not to honour the Virgin, but to detract from her
   honour. If, therefore, before her conception she could not possibly be
   sanctified, since she did not exist, nor in the conception itself,
   because of the sin which inhered in it, it remains to be believed that
   she received sanctification when existing in the womb after conception,
   which, by excluding sin, made her birth holy, but not her conception.

   7. Wherefore, although it has been given to some, though few, of the
   sons of men to be born with the gift of sanctity, yet to none has it
   been given to be conceived with it. So that to One alone should be
   reserved this privilege, to Him who should make all holy, and coming
   into the world, He alone, without sin should make an atonement for
   sinners. The Lord Jesus, then, alone was conceived by the Holy Ghost,
   because He alone was holy before He was conceived. He being excepted,
   all the children of Adam are in the same case as he who confessed of
   himself with great humility and truth, I was shapen in iniquity, and in
   sin hath my mother conceived me (Ps. li. 6).

   8. And as this is so, what ground can there be for a Festival of the
   Conception of the Virgin? On what principle, I say, is either a
   conception asserted to be holy which is not by the Holy Ghost, not to
   say that it is by sin, or a festival be established which is in no wise
   holy? Willingly the glorious Virgin will be without this honour, by
   which either a sin seems to be honoured or a sanctity supposed which is
   not a fact. And, besides, she will by no means be pleased by a
   presumptuous novelty against the custom of the Church, a novelty which
   is the mother of rashness, the sister of superstition, the daughter of
   levity. For if such a festival seemed advisable, the authority of the
   Apostolic See ought first to have been consulted, and the simplicity of
   inexperienced persons ought not to have been followed so thoughtlessly
   and precipitately. And, indeed, I had before noted that error in some
   persons; but I appeared not to take notice of it, dealing gently with a
   devotion which sprang from simplicity of heart and love of the Virgin.
   But now that the superstition has taken hold upon wise men, and upon a
   famous and noble Church, of which I am specially the son, [101] 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.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [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.
     __________________________________________________________________

LETTER LXVI (A.D. 1135)

  To the Patriarch of Jerusalem.

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

   I shall seem ungrateful if I do not reply to the many patriarchal
   letters which you have vouchsafed me. But what more can I do than
   salute him who has saluted me? For you have prevented me with the
   blessings of goodness, you have graciously set me the example of
   sending letters across the sea, you have deprived me of the first share
   of humility and charity. What fitting return can I now make? In truth,
   you have left me nothing which in my turn I can give back; for even of
   your worldly treasures you have been careful to make me a sharer in
   giving me part of the Cross of the Lord. What then? Ought I to omit
   what I can do because I cannot do what I ought? I show you my affection
   at least and my goodwill by merely replying and returning your
   salutation, which is all that I can do at present, separated as we are
   by so great a tract of sea and land. I will show, if ever I have the
   opportunity, that I love not in word or in tongue, but in deed and in
   truth. Give a thought, I pray you, to the soldiers of the Temple, and
   of your great piety take care of these zealous defenders of the Church.
   If you cherish those who have devoted their lives for their brethren's
   sake you will do a thing acceptable to God and well-pleasing to man.
   Concerning the place to which you invite me, my brother Andrew will
   tell you my mind.

    THE END

   Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.

   Edinburgh & London
     __________________________________________________________________

                                    Indexes
     __________________________________________________________________

Index of Scripture References

   Genesis

   [1]3:17   [2]4:7   [3]12:1   [4]12:1   [5]15:6   [6]19:26   [7]28:12
   [8]28:20   [9]29:11   [10]32:10   [11]37   [12]41   [13]42:38
   [14]45:1

   Exodus

   [15]20:12   [16]32   [17]32:32

   Deuteronomy

   [18]32:42

   1 Samuel

   [19]3:9   [20]3:10   [21]10   [22]15:13

   2 Samuel

   [23]6:21-22   [24]7   [25]16:10   [26]17   [27]24:17

   1 Kings

   [28]19:18

   2 Kings

   [29]6:17   [30]19:4

   Job

   [31]2:10   [32]5:24   [33]7:20   [34]7:21   [35]10:15   [36]14:13
   [37]28:28   [38]40:18

   Psalms

   [39]1   [40]1   [41]1:1   [42]1:6   [43]1:18   [44]2:2   [45]2:8
   [46]2:10   [47]3:17   [48]4:2   [49]4:7   [50]5:6   [51]9:3
   [52]10:9   [53]12:9   [54]13:1   [55]14:9   [56]18:44   [57]19:7
   [58]19:9   [59]19:12-13   [60]19:63   [61]19:71-72   [62]19:74
   [63]21:2   [64]21:3   [65]22:10   [66]24:3   [67]24:7   [68]25:4-5
   [69]25:5   [70]26:4   [71]31:19   [72]32:2   [73]33:1   [74]34:16
   [75]34:18   [76]34:21   [77]36:4   [78]37:4   [79]37:15   [80]39:2
   [81]40:4   [82]40:4   [83]40:11   [84]40:12   [85]41:5   [86]42:9
   [87]44:3   [88]45:3   [89]45:4   [90]45:11-12   [91]45:14   [92]46:4
   [93]46:4   [94]47:6   [95]47:15   [96]48   [97]49:18   [98]50:23
   [99]51:6   [100]55:21   [101]55:21   [102]56:13-14   [103]58:4-5
   [104]59:12   [105]61:9   [106]62:10   [107]67:9-10   [108]67:26
   [109]68:2   [110]68:6   [111]68:8-9   [112]68:12   [113]69:16
   [114]69:26   [115]70:1   [116]70:3   [117]70:12   [118]71:6
   [119]71:16   [120]76:5   [121]76:11   [122]76:12   [123]77:10
   [124]77:10   [125]84:9   [126]85:8   [127]85:10   [128]87:2
   [129]87:5   [130]87:7   [131]88:15   [132]94:17   [133]96:6
   [134]96:11   [135]104:1   [136]107:2-3   [137]116:13   [138]116:15
   [139]118:1   [140]118:23   [141]119:24   [142]119:115   [143]124:7
   [144]127:3   [145]138:5   [146]144:1

   Proverbs

   [147]1:10   [148]1:10   [149]2:14   [150]3:27   [151]9:17   [152]10:1
   [153]10:1   [154]10:1   [155]17:28   [156]18:21   [157]22:28
   [158]25:2   [159]28:14   [160]30:8   [161]31:10   [162]31:31

   Ecclesiastes

   [163]3:1-7   [164]4:12   [165]7:17

   Song of Solomon

   [166]1:1-2   [167]1:5   [168]2:6   [169]2:16   [170]4:11   [171]5:3
   [172]5:6   [173]8:1   [174]8:6

   Isaiah

   [175]1:2   [176]3:16   [177]5:4   [178]5:20   [179]6:5   [180]6:5
   [181]7:9   [182]8:18   [183]9:16   [184]11:2   [185]21:14
   [186]28:15   [187]29:13   [188]32:21   [189]38:10   [190]38:11
   [191]40:6   [192]53:1   [193]55:2   [194]59:2   [195]61:7

   Jeremiah

   [196]1:5   [197]7:28   [198]7:28   [199]8:4

   Lamentations

   [200]3:26

   Ezekiel

   [201]3:18   [202]13:10   [203]18:4   [204]18:20

   Hosea

   [205]6:6   [206]10:12   [207]13:14

   Amos

   [208]3:8

   Micah

   [209]7:6

   Habakkuk

   [210]2:4   [211]3:2

   Malachi

   [212]1:6   [213]4:2

   Matthew

   [214]3:2   [215]3:2   [216]5:7   [217]5:17   [218]5:39   [219]7:16
   [220]10:23   [221]10:26   [222]10:27   [223]10:36   [224]10:37
   [225]10:41   [226]10:41   [227]11:3-6   [228]11:25   [229]11:25-26
   [230]11:29   [231]11:30   [232]12:29   [233]12:30   [234]12:30
   [235]15:3   [236]15:4   [237]15:12   [238]15:14   [239]16:19
   [240]16:26   [241]17:26   [242]18:6   [243]18:6   [244]18:6-10
   [245]18:7   [246]18:7   [247]18:7   [248]19:6   [249]19:14
   [250]20:15   [251]20:16   [252]20:28   [253]21:9   [254]21:13
   [255]22:13   [256]23:8-9   [257]23:15   [258]23:25   [259]23:37
   [260]25:1-12   [261]25:12   [262]25:34   [263]25:40   [264]25:46
   [265]26:28

   Mark

   [266]16:14   [267]16:15

   Luke

   [268]1:14-15   [269]1:20   [270]1:26   [271]1:29   [272]1:35
   [273]1:41   [274]1:45   [275]2:29-30   [276]2:34   [277]2:44-45
   [278]3:5   [279]6:30   [280]7:7-50   [281]8:8-10   [282]9:62
   [283]9:62   [284]9:62   [285]10:16   [286]10:16   [287]10:18
   [288]11:21   [289]12:32   [290]12:49   [291]15:10   [292]15:32
   [293]16:9   [294]16:19   [295]16:25   [296]19:22   [297]21:2-4
   [298]22:26   [299]22:32   [300]22:53   [301]23:43   [302]33:34

   John

   [303]1:27   [304]3:29   [305]5:29   [306]5:36   [307]6:27   [308]6:33
   [309]6:37   [310]6:56   [311]6:63   [312]7:6   [313]7:16   [314]8:56
   [315]11:11   [316]11:51-52   [317]11:52   [318]14:6   [319]14:10
   [320]14:21   [321]14:30   [322]15:3   [323]15:15   [324]17:3
   [325]18:36   [326]19:11   [327]20:22-23

   Acts

   [328]5:29   [329]9:25   [330]14:21

   Romans

   [331]1:14   [332]1:17   [333]1:17   [334]1:21   [335]1:28   [336]2:6
   [337]4:18   [338]5:3-5   [339]5:5   [340]5:10   [341]5:12   [342]5:16
   [343]5:18   [344]7:2   [345]7:24   [346]8:15   [347]8:19-20
   [348]8:23   [349]8:30   [350]8:32   [351]9:3   [352]10:4   [353]10:4
   [354]11:34   [355]11:36   [356]12:2   [357]12:3   [358]12:3
   [359]12:10   [360]13:2   [361]13:7   [362]13:8   [363]14:7
   [364]14:12   [365]14:22   [366]15:5

   1 Corinthians

   [367]1:18   [368]1:24   [369]1:24   [370]1:26-27   [371]1:26-28
   [372]1:30   [373]2:9   [374]2:9   [375]2:11   [376]2:11   [377]2:14
   [378]2:14   [379]3:18   [380]4:4   [381]4:4   [382]4:7   [383]4:9
   [384]5:15   [385]6:11   [386]7:27   [387]7:27   [388]9:20-21
   [389]10:21   [390]10:33   [391]11:23   [392]11:29   [393]12:6
   [394]12:6   [395]13:3   [396]13:5   [397]13:5   [398]13:7
   [399]13:12   [400]15:10   [401]15:21-22   [402]15:22   [403]15:46
   [404]15:49   [405]15:50

   2 Corinthians

   [406]2:16   [407]4:3   [408]4:17   [409]5:14   [410]5:16   [411]9:7

   Galatians

   [412]1:10   [413]1:16   [414]4:25-26   [415]5:6   [416]6:5   [417]6:14

   Ephesians

   [418]1:7   [419]2:14   [420]2:19   [421]3:17   [422]4:3   [423]5:21
   [424]5:27

   Philippians

   [425]1:21   [426]1:22-23   [427]3:19   [428]3:20   [429]3:23
   [430]4:17   [431]4:17   [432]4:18

   Colossians

   [433]1:13   [434]2:13-14   [435]3:3   [436]3:4

   1 Thessalonians

   [437]5:3   [438]5:3   [439]5:3

   2 Thessalonians

   [440]3:6   [441]5:21

   1 Timothy

   [442]1:9   [443]3:16   [444]5:22   [445]6:7   [446]6:8

   2 Timothy

   [447]1:12   [448]2:25-26   [449]2:26   [450]3:12   [451]3:12

   Hebrews

   [452]9:12   [453]11:1

   James

   [454]1:8   [455]1:10   [456]1:17   [457]1:17   [458]4:6   [459]4:14

   1 Peter

   [460]4:8   [461]4:8

   1 John

   [462]4:16   [463]4:16   [464]4:16   [465]4:18   [466]4:18

   Revelation

   [467]3:15-16   [468]3:16   [469]13:5-7   [470]14:13   [471]14:13
   [472]14:13   [473]22:17

   Wisdom of Solomon

   [474]1:11   [475]2:24   [476]3:1   [477]3:16   [478]4:7

   Sirach

   [479]2:12   [480]3:18   [481]3:18   [482]17:28   [483]19:4
   [484]24:29   [485]27:6   [486]30:23   [487]32:1   [488]38:25
   [489]39:10
     __________________________________________________________________

Index of Latin Words and Phrases

     * Ecce timor Domini ipsa est sapientia: [490]1
     * Esse: [491]1
     * Exoneratus; exhonoratus.: [492]1
     * Filius sapiens lætificat patrem.: [493]1
     * Forefecit: [494]1
     * Forisfactura: [495]1
     * Forisfactus: [496]1
     * Gravidare; gravare.: [497]1
     * Materiatum; materia.: [498]1
     * Non disputante, sed dementante.: [499]1
     * Saccus: [500]1
     * Servus forisfactus: [501]1
     * Suus ille quod suus.: [502]1
     * Vinctus: [503]1
     * anima mundi: [504]1
     * colloquia: [505]1
     * concilio: [506]1
     * consilia: [507]1
     * consilio: [508]1
     * conversi: [509]1
     * forefactum: [510]1
     * junctus: [511]1
     * propria: [512]1 [513]2 [514]3
     * proprium: [515]1 [516]2 [517]3 [518]4
     * substantia: [519]1
     * substantiva: [520]1
     * ventre: [521]1
     * viderunt: [522]1
     * voluntatem: [523]1
     __________________________________________________________________

Index of Pages of the Print Edition

   [524]i  [525]ii  [526]iii  [527]iv  [528]v  [529]vi  [530]vii
   [531]viii  [532]ix  [533]x  [534]xi  [535]xii  [536]xiii  [537]xiv
   [538]1  [539]2  [540]3  [541]4  [542]5  [543]6  [544]7  [545]8  [546]9
   [547]10  [548]11  [549]12  [550]13  [551]14  [552]15  [553]16  [554]17
   [555]18  [556]19  [557]20  [558]21  [559]22  [560]23  [561]24  [562]25
   [563]26  [564]27  [565]28  [566]29  [567]30  [568]31  [569]32  [570]33
   [571]34  [572]35  [573]36  [574]37  [575]38  [576]39  [577]40  [578]41
   [579]42  [580]43  [581]44  [582]45  [583]46  [584]47  [585]48  [586]49
   [587]50  [588]51  [589]53  [590]54  [591]55  [592]56  [593]57  [594]58
   [595]59  [596]60  [597]61  [598]62  [599]63  [600]64  [601]65  [602]66
   [603]67  [604]68  [605]69  [606]70  [607]71  [608]72  [609]73  [610]74
   [611]75  [612]76  [613]77  [614]78  [615]79  [616]80  [617]81  [618]82
   [619]83  [620]84  [621]85  [622]86  [623]87  [624]88  [625]89  [626]90
   [627]91  [628]92  [629]93  [630]94  [631]95  [632]96  [633]97  [634]98
   [635]99  [636]100  [637]101  [638]102  [639]103  [640]104  [641]105
   [642]106  [643]107  [644]108  [645]109  [646]110  [647]111  [648]112
   [649]113  [650]114  [651]115  [652]116  [653]117  [654]118  [655]119
   [656]120  [657]121  [658]122  [659]123  [660]124  [661]125  [662]126
   [663]127  [664]128  [665]129  [666]130  [667]131  [668]132  [669]133
   [670]134  [671]135  [672]136  [673]137  [674]138  [675]139  [676]140
   [677]141  [678]142  [679]143  [680]144  [681]145  [682]146  [683]147
   [684]148  [685]149  [686]150  [687]151  [688]152  [689]153  [690]154
   [691]155  [692]156  [693]157  [694]158  [695]159  [696]160  [697]161
   [698]162  [699]163  [700]164  [701]165  [702]166  [703]167  [704]168
   [705]169  [706]170  [707]171  [708]172  [709]173  [710]174  [711]175
   [712]176  [713]177  [714]178  [715]179  [716]180  [717]181  [718]182
   [719]183  [720]184  [721]185  [722]186  [723]187  [724]188  [725]189
   [726]190  [727]191  [728]192  [729]193  [730]194  [731]195  [732]196
   [733]197  [734]198  [735]199  [736]200  [737]201  [738]202  [739]203
   [740]204  [741]205  [742]206  [743]207  [744]208  [745]209  [746]210
   [747]211  [748]212  [749]213  [750]214  [751]215  [752]216  [753]217
   [754]218  [755]219  [756]220  [757]221  [758]222  [759]223  [760]224
   [761]225  [762]226  [763]227  [764]228  [765]229  [766]230  [767]231
   [768]232  [769]233  [770]234  [771]235  [772]236  [773]237  [774]238
   [775]239  [776]240  [777]241  [778]242  [779]243  [780]244  [781]245
   [782]246  [783]247  [784]248  [785]249  [786]250  [787]251  [788]252
   [789]253  [790]254  [791]255  [792]256  [793]257  [794]258  [795]259
   [796]260  [797]261  [798]262  [799]263  [800]264  [801]265  [802]266
   [803]267  [804]268  [805]269  [806]270  [807]271  [808]272  [809]273
   [810]274  [811]275  [812]276  [813]277  [814]278  [815]279  [816]280
   [817]281  [818]282  [819]283  [820]284  [821]285  [822]286  [823]287
   [824]288  [825]289  [826]290  [827]291  [828]292  [829]293  [830]295
   [831]296  [832]297  [833]298  [834]299  [835]300  [836]301  [837]302
   [838]303  [839]304  [840]305  [841]306  [842]307  [843]308  [844]309
     __________________________________________________________________

            This document is from the Christian Classics Ethereal
               Library at Calvin College, http://www.ccel.org,
                   generated on demand from ThML source.

References

   1. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=3&scrV=17#v-p5.1
   2. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=4&scrV=7#xxvii-p10.2
   3. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=12&scrV=1#xxiv-p2.1
   4. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=12&scrV=1#xliii-p18.2
   5. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=15&scrV=6#lxiii.ii.vii-p3.2
   6. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=19&scrV=26#xlviii-p10.1
   7. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=28&scrV=12#xxxi-p6.2
   8. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=28&scrV=20#xlviii-p16.4
   9. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=29&scrV=11#xliii-p18.4
  10. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=32&scrV=10#xliii-p18.3
  11. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=37&scrV=0#xliii-p18.5
  12. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=41&scrV=0#xliii-p18.6
  13. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=42&scrV=38#xlvii-p7.4
  14. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gen&scrCh=45&scrV=1#xviii-p4.3
  15. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Exod&scrCh=20&scrV=12#lxviii-p7.1
  16. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Exod&scrCh=32&scrV=0#xxv-p3.2
  17. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Exod&scrCh=32&scrV=32#xxii-p4.1
  18. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Deut&scrCh=32&scrV=42#xlviii-p10.8
  19. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Sam&scrCh=3&scrV=9#xliii-p18.1
  20. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Sam&scrCh=3&scrV=10#xlix-p3.2
  21. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Sam&scrCh=10&scrV=0#xxv-p3.3
  22. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Sam&scrCh=15&scrV=13#vii-p3.1
  23. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Sam&scrCh=6&scrV=21#xxvii-p21.3
  24. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Sam&scrCh=7&scrV=0#xxv-p3.4
  25. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Sam&scrCh=16&scrV=10#xxiii-p4.1
  26. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Sam&scrCh=17&scrV=0#xxxix-p5.1
  27. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Sam&scrCh=24&scrV=17#xxii-p6.4
  28. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Kgs&scrCh=19&scrV=18#v-p25.1
  29. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Kgs&scrCh=6&scrV=17#xxii-p11.2
  30. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Kgs&scrCh=19&scrV=4#xxxi-p6.1
  31. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=2&scrV=10#xxiii-p3.1
  32. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=5&scrV=24#xxxv-p4.1
  33. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=7&scrV=20#xlix-p9.3
  34. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=7&scrV=21#xlix-p10.1
  35. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=10&scrV=15#lxiii.ii.vi-p7.5
  36. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=14&scrV=13#xlvii-p7.3
  37. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=28&scrV=28#xliii-p14.2
  38. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Job&scrCh=40&scrV=18#lxiii.ii.v-p4.4
  39. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=1&scrV=0#xxvii-p7.1
  40. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=1&scrV=0#xliii-p16.2
  41. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=1&scrV=1#v-p3.1
  42. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=1&scrV=6#xliii-p15.4
  43. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=1&scrV=18#xlviii-p5.2
  44. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=2&scrV=2#xliii-p14.1
  45. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=2&scrV=8#xix-p6.1
  46. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=2&scrV=10#xix-p3.8
  47. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=3&scrV=17#xliii-p8.1
  48. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=4&scrV=2#xliii-p17.3
  49. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=4&scrV=7#xliii-p10.1
  50. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=5&scrV=6#v-p22.3
  51. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=9&scrV=3#xxii-p12.2
  52. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=10&scrV=9#xlviii-p10.6
  53. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=12&scrV=9#xi-p2.1
  54. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=13&scrV=1#xxii-p10.3
  55. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=14&scrV=9#xlvi-p3.1
  56. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=18&scrV=44#lxiii.ii.i-p2.2
  57. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=19&scrV=7#xlix-p5.3
  58. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=19&scrV=9#xlix-p11.2
  59. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=19&scrV=12#v-p18.6
  60. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=19&scrV=63#xliii-p7.1
  61. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=19&scrV=71#xix-p3.9
  62. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=19&scrV=74#xxii-p12.4
  63. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=21&scrV=2#xxv-p2.2
  64. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=21&scrV=3#liv-p5.2
  65. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=22&scrV=10#lxviii-p3.4
  66. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=24&scrV=3#li-p6.3
  67. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=24&scrV=7#xlvii-p3.1
  68. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=25&scrV=4#v-p18.8
  69. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=25&scrV=5#v-p4.1
  70. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=26&scrV=4#xlii-p2.2
  71. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=31&scrV=19#xxii-p14.2
  72. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=32&scrV=2#vi-p4.1
  73. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=33&scrV=1#liv-p6.2
  74. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=34&scrV=16#xliv-p4.2
  75. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=34&scrV=18#xiv-p2.3
  76. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=34&scrV=21#lii-p5.3
  77. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=36&scrV=4#xlviii-p10.3
  78. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=37&scrV=4#xxv-p2.1
  79. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=37&scrV=15#xxvii-p21.1
  80. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=39&scrV=2#xxix-p4.1
  81. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=40&scrV=4#v-p18.4
  82. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=40&scrV=4#xlviii-p10.4
  83. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=40&scrV=11#xxix-p4.2
  84. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=40&scrV=12#v-p24.1
  85. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=41&scrV=5#xxii-p13.4
  86. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=42&scrV=9#xliii-p8.3
  87. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=44&scrV=3#xliii-p10.2
  88. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=45&scrV=3#liv-p5.12
  89. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=45&scrV=4#liv-p5.7
  90. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=45&scrV=11#xliii-p18.7
  91. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=45&scrV=14#liv-p5.5
  92. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=46&scrV=4#xlix-p13.4
  93. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=46&scrV=4#lv-p2.1
  94. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=47&scrV=6#xxii-p10.4
  95. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=47&scrV=15#xix-p5.2
  96. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=48&scrV=0#li-p6.1
  97. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=49&scrV=18#xlix-p5.2
  98. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=50&scrV=23#xxii-p11.1
  99. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=51&scrV=6#lxviii-p9.1
 100. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=55&scrV=21#xxii-p13.3
 101. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=55&scrV=21#xlviii-p10.5
 102. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=56&scrV=13#v-p22.6
 103. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=58&scrV=4#xlviii-p10.11
 104. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=59&scrV=12#v-p14.3
 105. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=61&scrV=9#ix-p4.5
 106. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=62&scrV=10#xxii-p13.1
 107. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=67&scrV=9#xlv-p3.3
 108. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=67&scrV=26#xxii-p11.3
 109. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=68&scrV=2#v-p14.2
 110. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=68&scrV=6#xlviii-p4.3
 111. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=68&scrV=8#xlv-p3.2
 112. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=68&scrV=12#xxvii-p1.2
 113. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=69&scrV=16#liii-p4.1
 114. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=69&scrV=26#xlii-p2.1
 115. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=70&scrV=1#ix-p4.6
 116. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=70&scrV=3#xix-p6.4
 117. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=70&scrV=12#xv-p5.1
 118. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=71&scrV=6#lxviii-p3.3
 119. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=71&scrV=16#xlix-p13.1
 120. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=76&scrV=5#li-p5.1
 121. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=76&scrV=11#xlv-p3.10
 122. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=76&scrV=12#xlviii-p9.1
 123. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=77&scrV=10#vi-p6.2
 124. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=77&scrV=10#xlv-p3.8
 125. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=84&scrV=9#xlix-p3.3
 126. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=85&scrV=8#xliii-p17.2
 127. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=85&scrV=10#xviii-p4.2
 128. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=87&scrV=2#xlix-p13.5
 129. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=87&scrV=5#xxvii-p1.1
 130. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=87&scrV=7#xlix-p13.6
 131. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=88&scrV=15#xix-p3.7
 132. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=94&scrV=17#xlix-p9.2
 133. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=96&scrV=6#liv-p5.10
 134. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=96&scrV=11#xlv-p3.1
 135. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=104&scrV=1#liv-p5.8
 136. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=107&scrV=2#lxiii.ii.v-p4.2
 137. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=116&scrV=13#lii-p5.4
 138. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=116&scrV=15#xlvii-p9.1
 139. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=118&scrV=1#xlix-p5.1
 140. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=118&scrV=23#xiii-p2.1
 141. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=119&scrV=24#xliii-p10.3
 142. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=119&scrV=115#xlix-p3.5
 143. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=124&scrV=7#xlvii-p8.1
 144. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=127&scrV=3#xlvii-p9.2
 145. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=138&scrV=5#xlvi-p3.4
 146. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ps&scrCh=144&scrV=1#xlviii-p17.2
 147. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=1&scrV=10#xxii-p13.2
 148. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=1&scrV=10#v-p18.10
 149. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=2&scrV=14#xxvii-p12.1
 150. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=3&scrV=27#xxxiv-p4.1
 151. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=9&scrV=17#xxiv-p3.1
 152. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=10&scrV=1#xvii-p6.1
 153. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=10&scrV=1#xviii-p6.1
 154. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=10&scrV=1#xxxiv-p4.3
 155. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=17&scrV=28#xxvii-p20.1
 156. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=18&scrV=21#xxix-p4.3
 157. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=22&scrV=28#lxiii.ii.v-p2.1
 158. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=25&scrV=2#lxiii.ii.viii-p3.1
 159. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=28&scrV=14#xxvii-p11.1
 160. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=30&scrV=8#xlviii-p16.2
 161. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=31&scrV=10#liv-p3.5
 162. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Prov&scrCh=31&scrV=31#liv-p3.1
 163. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eccl&scrCh=3&scrV=1#xxix-p2.1
 164. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eccl&scrCh=4&scrV=12#xxxix-p5.2
 165. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eccl&scrCh=7&scrV=17#xxxi-p5.1
 166. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=1&scrV=1#xxii-p14.1
 167. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=1&scrV=5#v-p2.3
 168. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=2&scrV=6#liv-p4.8
 169. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=2&scrV=16#xlix-p3.6
 170. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=4&scrV=11#xlviii-p15.1
 171. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=5&scrV=3#x-p2.1
 172. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=5&scrV=6#xliii-p5.4
 173. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=8&scrV=1#xxii-p15.1
 174. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Song&scrCh=8&scrV=6#xxii-p6.3
 175. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=1&scrV=2#v-p2.4
 176. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=3&scrV=16#liv-p4.2
 177. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=5&scrV=4#li-p7.2
 178. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=5&scrV=20#xxii-p12.1
 179. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=6&scrV=5#v-p18.1
 180. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=6&scrV=5#v-p18.2
 181. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=7&scrV=9#ix-p3.2
 182. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=8&scrV=18#xxii-p10.2
 183. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=9&scrV=16#xix-p6.3
 184. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=11&scrV=2#lxiii.ii.iii-p5.2
 185. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=21&scrV=14#xlv-p5.1
 186. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=28&scrV=15#xxxix-p3.3
 187. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=29&scrV=13#v-p4.6
 188. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=32&scrV=21#xxix-p4.4
 189. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=38&scrV=10#xlvii-p7.1
 190. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=38&scrV=11#xlvii-p7.2
 191. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=40&scrV=6#l-p4.1
 192. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=53&scrV=1#xliii-p13.1
 193. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=55&scrV=2#xliv-p5.2
 194. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=59&scrV=2#lxiii.ii.viii-p3.3
 195. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Isa&scrCh=61&scrV=7#xlix-p13.8
 196. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jer&scrCh=1&scrV=5#lxviii-p3.5
 197. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jer&scrCh=7&scrV=28#v-p8.3
 198. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jer&scrCh=7&scrV=28#xliii-p17.1
 199. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jer&scrCh=8&scrV=4#v-p3.2
 200. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Lam&scrCh=3&scrV=26#xxix-p4.5
 201. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ezek&scrCh=3&scrV=18#xlviii-p10.10
 202. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ezek&scrCh=13&scrV=10#xlviii-p17.1
 203. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ezek&scrCh=18&scrV=4#xliii-p12.2
 204. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Ezek&scrCh=18&scrV=20#v-p4.3
 205. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Hos&scrCh=6&scrV=6#xviii-p5.1
 206. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Hos&scrCh=10&scrV=12#xliv-p5.1
 207. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Hos&scrCh=13&scrV=14#xxxix-p3.1
 208. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Amos&scrCh=3&scrV=8#xxxix-p4.2
 209. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Mic&scrCh=7&scrV=6#v-p17.4
 210. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Hab&scrCh=2&scrV=4#ix-p3.3
 211. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Hab&scrCh=3&scrV=2#lxiii.ii.viii-p2.1
 212. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Mal&scrCh=1&scrV=6#xix-p7.1
 213. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Mal&scrCh=4&scrV=2#xliii-p6.4
 214. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=3&scrV=2#xliii-p10.4
 215. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=3&scrV=2#xlvii-p6.1
 216. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=5&scrV=7#xviii-p5.3
 217. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=5&scrV=17#xlix-p11.1
 218. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=5&scrV=39#xxiii-p4.2
 219. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=7&scrV=16#xliii-p3.2
 220. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=10&scrV=23#xxxix-p4.3
 221. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=10&scrV=26#v-p17.2
 222. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=10&scrV=27#xxii-p3.3
 223. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=10&scrV=36#liii-p3.2
 224. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=10&scrV=37#li-p8.2
 225. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=10&scrV=41#xxxv-p4.3
 226. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=10&scrV=41#xlix-p4.1
 227. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=11&scrV=3#xlvii-p6.3
 228. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=11&scrV=25#lxiii.ii.vii-p2.2
 229. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=11&scrV=25#xliii-p5.5
 230. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=11&scrV=29#xlix-p10.6
 231. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=11&scrV=30#xix-p3.10
 232. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=12&scrV=29#lxiii.ii.v-p5.4
 233. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=12&scrV=30#v-p8.2
 234. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=12&scrV=30#xlviii-p10.9
 235. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=15&scrV=3#v-p4.5
 236. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=15&scrV=4#li-p8.1
 237. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=15&scrV=12#xxxi-p7.1
 238. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=15&scrV=14#v-p11.1
 239. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=16&scrV=19#lxiii.i-p34.1
 240. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=16&scrV=26#lxi-p3.2
 241. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=17&scrV=26#lx-p5.3
 242. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=18&scrV=6#v-p17.3
 243. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=18&scrV=6#v-p10.3
 244. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=18&scrV=6#v-p12.1
 245. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=18&scrV=7#v-p14.1
 246. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=18&scrV=7#xxii-p16.1
 247. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=18&scrV=7#xxiv-p3.3
 248. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=19&scrV=6#v-p3.3
 249. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=19&scrV=14#xlviii-p7.2
 250. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=20&scrV=15#v-p24.2
 251. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=20&scrV=16#xix-p3.1
 252. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=20&scrV=28#xliii-p18.9
 253. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=21&scrV=9#lxiii.ii.vii-p3.4
 254. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=21&scrV=13#xxii-p9.2
 255. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=22&scrV=13#liii-p4.2
 256. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=23&scrV=8#xix-p3.6
 257. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=23&scrV=15#xliv-p6.1
 258. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=23&scrV=25#xlvii-p4.1
 259. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=23&scrV=37#xlviii-p7.1
 260. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=25&scrV=1#lvi-p4.1
 261. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=25&scrV=12#xlviii-p17.3
 262. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=25&scrV=34#xliii-p10.5
 263. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=25&scrV=40#lx-p5.2
 264. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=25&scrV=46#lxiii.i-p30.2
 265. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Matt&scrCh=26&scrV=28#lxiii.ii.viii-p3.4
 266. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Mark&scrCh=16&scrV=14#lxiii.ii.i-p2.3
 267. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Mark&scrCh=16&scrV=15#vi-p6.1
 268. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=1&scrV=14#lxviii-p4.1
 269. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=1&scrV=20#lxiii.ii.i-p2.4
 270. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=1&scrV=26#ix-p5.1
 271. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=1&scrV=29#xxxix-p6.1
 272. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=1&scrV=35#lxviii-p8.1
 273. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=1&scrV=41#lxviii-p3.2
 274. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=1&scrV=45#lxiii.ii.i-p2.4
 275. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=2&scrV=29#xlvii-p6.4
 276. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=2&scrV=34#xxxix-p4.1
 277. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=2&scrV=44#xliii-p18.8
 278. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=3&scrV=5#xlvi-p3.3
 279. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=6&scrV=30#xlviii-p5.1
 280. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=7&scrV=7#vi-p5.2
 281. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=8&scrV=8#xliii-p6.2
 282. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=9&scrV=62#xxvii-p8.2
 283. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=9&scrV=62#xxxiv-p3.2
 284. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=9&scrV=62#xlviii-p10.2
 285. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=10&scrV=16#v-p10.1
 286. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=10&scrV=16#xv-p5.2
 287. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=10&scrV=18#lxiii.ii.iii-p5.1
 288. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=11&scrV=21#lxiii.ii.v-p5.3
 289. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=12&scrV=32#xliii-p6.3
 290. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=12&scrV=49#xlix-p3.1
 291. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=15&scrV=10#xlv-p3.6
 292. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=15&scrV=32#liii-p4.3
 293. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=16&scrV=9#l-p3.1
 294. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=16&scrV=19#liv-p5.4
 295. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=16&scrV=25#xlviii-p16.1
 296. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=19&scrV=22#v-p22.1
 297. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=21&scrV=2#xxvii-p19.1
 298. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=22&scrV=26#xix-p3.2
 299. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=22&scrV=32#lxiii.ii-p2.1
 300. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=22&scrV=53#lxiii.ii.v-p5.5
 301. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=23&scrV=43#vi-p5.1
 302. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Luke&scrCh=33&scrV=34#lxiii.i-p32.1
 303. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=1&scrV=27#lxiii.ii.viii-p2.3
 304. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=3&scrV=29#xxxix-p6.4
 305. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=5&scrV=29#lxiii.i-p30.3
 306. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=5&scrV=36#xliii-p3.1
 307. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=6&scrV=27#li-p6.2
 308. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=6&scrV=33#lxiii.ii.ix-p4.1
 309. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=6&scrV=37#xlviii-p7.3
 310. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=6&scrV=56#lxiii.ii.ix-p4.1
 311. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=6&scrV=63#xliii-p12.1
 312. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=7&scrV=6#liv-p4.4
 313. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=7&scrV=16#lxiii.ii.v-p3.2
 314. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=8&scrV=56#lxiii.ii.vii-p3.3
 315. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=11&scrV=11#xlvii-p9.3
 316. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=11&scrV=51#lxiii.ii.v-p4.3
 317. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=11&scrV=52#xlv-p3.5
 318. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=14&scrV=6#xlvii-p5.1
 319. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=14&scrV=10#lxiii.ii.v-p3.3
 320. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=14&scrV=21#xlviii-p17.4
 321. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=14&scrV=30#lxiii.ii.v-p5.2
 322. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=15&scrV=3#xliii-p17.4
 323. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=15&scrV=15#xliii-p5.3
 324. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=17&scrV=3#ix-p4.1
 325. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=18&scrV=36#liv-p4.3
 326. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=19&scrV=11#lxiii.ii.v-p5.7
 327. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=John&scrCh=20&scrV=22#lxiii.i-p34.2
 328. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Acts&scrCh=5&scrV=29#v-p4.4
 329. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Acts&scrCh=9&scrV=25#xxxix-p4.4
 330. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Acts&scrCh=14&scrV=21#xiv-p2.4
 331. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=1&scrV=14#xlviii-p4.1
 332. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=1&scrV=17#xliii-p7.2
 333. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=1&scrV=17#xliii-p12.3
 334. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=1&scrV=21#ix-p2.1
 335. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=1&scrV=28#ix-p2.2
 336. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=2&scrV=6#lxiii.i-p30.1
 337. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=4&scrV=18#lxiii.ii.i-p2.5
 338. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=5&scrV=3#xiv-p2.6
 339. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=5&scrV=5#xliii-p11.1
 340. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=5&scrV=10#lxiii.ii.viii-p3.2
 341. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=5&scrV=12#lxiii.i-p26.1
 342. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=5&scrV=16#lxiii.ii.vi-p7.2
 343. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=5&scrV=18#lxiii.ii.ix-p2.2
 344. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=7&scrV=2#v-p3.4
 345. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=7&scrV=24#xlix-p9.1
 346. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=8&scrV=15#xlix-p10.4
 347. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=8&scrV=19#ix-p4.4
 348. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=8&scrV=23#liv-p5.1
 349. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=8&scrV=30#xliii-p8.2
 350. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=8&scrV=32#xliii-p11.2
 351. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=9&scrV=3#xxii-p6.2
 352. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=10&scrV=4#xliii-p18.10
 353. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=10&scrV=4#lxiii.ii.vi-p7.3
 354. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=11&scrV=34#xliii-p6.1
 355. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=11&scrV=36#lxiii.ii.i-p4.2
 356. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=12&scrV=2#xxxi-p4.1
 357. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=12&scrV=3#xxxi-p5.3
 358. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=12&scrV=3#xxxix-p6.3
 359. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=12&scrV=10#xix-p2.1
 360. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=13&scrV=2#lxiv-p2.1
 361. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=13&scrV=7#lx-p5.4
 362. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=13&scrV=8#xlix-p10.2
 363. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=14&scrV=7#xxiv-p2.3
 364. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=14&scrV=12#v-p22.5
 365. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=14&scrV=22#xxxiv-p3.1
 366. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rom&scrCh=15&scrV=5#xlvi-p3.2
 367. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=1&scrV=18#xlv-p4.1
 368. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=1&scrV=24#ix-p4.3
 369. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=1&scrV=24#xix-p3.4
 370. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=1&scrV=26#xlv-p3.7
 371. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=1&scrV=26#liv-p3.4
 372. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=1&scrV=30#lxiii.ii.vi-p7.4
 373. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=2&scrV=9#xliii-p5.1
 374. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=2&scrV=9#liv-p4.9
 375. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=2&scrV=11#xviii-p4.1
 376. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=2&scrV=11#xlix-p14.2
 377. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=2&scrV=14#xliii-p5.2
 378. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=2&scrV=14#xlviii-p8.2
 379. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=3&scrV=18#xlv-p4.3
 380. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=4&scrV=4#iv-p4.1
 381. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=4&scrV=4#xliv-p4.1
 382. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=4&scrV=7#lxiii.ii.vi-p7.6
 383. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=4&scrV=9#xxvii-p21.4
 384. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=5&scrV=15#xxiv-p2.5
 385. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=6&scrV=11#xxii-p10.1
 386. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=7&scrV=27#xxiv-p3.2
 387. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=7&scrV=27#xxvii-p10.3
 388. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=9&scrV=20#xlix-p10.5
 389. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=10&scrV=21#xlviii-p15.3
 390. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=10&scrV=33#xxiv-p2.4
 391. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=11&scrV=23#lxiii.ii.v-p3.1
 392. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=11&scrV=29#v-p2.1
 393. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=12&scrV=6#ix-p4.7
 394. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=12&scrV=6#xxvii-p20.2
 395. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=13&scrV=3#v-p2.2
 396. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=13&scrV=5#xliv-p7.1
 397. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=13&scrV=5#xlviii-p4.2
 398. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=13&scrV=7#xlix-p14.1
 399. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=13&scrV=12#xlviii-p17.5
 400. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=15&scrV=10#xliv-p7.2
 401. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=15&scrV=21#lxiii.ii.vi-p7.1
 402. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=15&scrV=22#lxiii.ii.ix-p2.1
 403. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=15&scrV=46#xlix-p12.1
 404. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=15&scrV=49#xlix-p12.1
 405. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Cor&scrCh=15&scrV=50#xlix-p13.3
 406. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Cor&scrCh=2&scrV=16#xlviii-p8.1
 407. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Cor&scrCh=4&scrV=3#lxiii.ii.vii-p2.3
 408. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Cor&scrCh=4&scrV=17#liv-p4.1
 409. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Cor&scrCh=5&scrV=14#lxiii.ii.vi-p2.1
 410. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Cor&scrCh=5&scrV=16#xlix-p13.2
 411. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Cor&scrCh=9&scrV=7#lxi-p3.1
 412. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gal&scrCh=1&scrV=10#xxii-p15.2
 413. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gal&scrCh=1&scrV=16#xlviii-p10.7
 414. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gal&scrCh=4&scrV=25#xvii-p4.3
 415. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gal&scrCh=5&scrV=6#xliii-p7.3
 416. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gal&scrCh=6&scrV=5#v-p22.4
 417. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Gal&scrCh=6&scrV=14#lxiii.ii.ix-p3.1
 418. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eph&scrCh=1&scrV=7#lxiii.ii.viii-p3.5
 419. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eph&scrCh=2&scrV=14#v-p2.5
 420. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eph&scrCh=2&scrV=19#xvii-p4.1
 421. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eph&scrCh=3&scrV=17#liv-p5.6
 422. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eph&scrCh=4&scrV=3#xviii-p5.2
 423. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eph&scrCh=5&scrV=21#xix-p2.2
 424. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Eph&scrCh=5&scrV=27#liv-p4.7
 425. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=1&scrV=21#xxiv-p2.2
 426. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=1&scrV=22#xxvii-p8.1
 427. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=3&scrV=19#liv-p5.3
 428. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=3&scrV=20#xvii-p4.2
 429. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=3&scrV=23#xxxi-p5.5
 430. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=4&scrV=17#xvii-p5.1
 431. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=4&scrV=17#lx-p5.5
 432. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Phil&scrCh=4&scrV=18#liii-p3.1
 433. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Col&scrCh=1&scrV=13#lxiii.ii.v-p5.6
 434. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Col&scrCh=2&scrV=13#lxiii.ii.vi-p6.1
 435. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Col&scrCh=3&scrV=3#liv-p4.5
 436. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Col&scrCh=3&scrV=4#liv-p4.6
 437. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Thess&scrCh=5&scrV=3#xvii-p8.1
 438. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Thess&scrCh=5&scrV=3#xliv-p8.1
 439. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Thess&scrCh=5&scrV=3#lii-p4.1
 440. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Thess&scrCh=3&scrV=6#v-p8.1
 441. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Thess&scrCh=5&scrV=21#v-p17.1
 442. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Tim&scrCh=1&scrV=9#xlix-p10.3
 443. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Tim&scrCh=3&scrV=16#lxiii.ii.vii-p2.1
 444. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Tim&scrCh=5&scrV=22#xxxix-p6.2
 445. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Tim&scrCh=6&scrV=7#l-p4.2
 446. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Tim&scrCh=6&scrV=8#xlviii-p16.3
 447. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Tim&scrCh=1&scrV=12#lxiii.ii.iv-p2.1
 448. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Tim&scrCh=2&scrV=25#lxiii.ii.v-p5.1
 449. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Tim&scrCh=2&scrV=26#lxiii.ii.vii-p3.1
 450. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Tim&scrCh=3&scrV=12#xiv-p2.5
 451. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=2Tim&scrCh=3&scrV=12#xxv-p3.1
 452. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Heb&scrCh=9&scrV=12#v-p10.2
 453. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Heb&scrCh=11&scrV=1#lxiii.ii.iv-p2.2
 454. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jas&scrCh=1&scrV=8#xlv-p4.4
 455. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jas&scrCh=1&scrV=10#liv-p3.2
 456. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jas&scrCh=1&scrV=17#xlv-p4.2
 457. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jas&scrCh=1&scrV=17#xlv-p3.11
 458. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jas&scrCh=4&scrV=6#v-p25.3
 459. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Jas&scrCh=4&scrV=14#liv-p3.3
 460. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Pet&scrCh=4&scrV=8#v-p25.2
 461. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1Pet&scrCh=4&scrV=8#vi-p5.3
 462. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1John&scrCh=4&scrV=16#ix-p4.2
 463. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1John&scrCh=4&scrV=16#xxviii-p3.1
 464. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1John&scrCh=4&scrV=16#xlix-p6.1
 465. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1John&scrCh=4&scrV=18#xxii-p9.1
 466. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=1John&scrCh=4&scrV=18#xlix-p11.3
 467. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rev&scrCh=3&scrV=15#xlviii-p14.1
 468. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rev&scrCh=3&scrV=16#xliv-p5.3
 469. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rev&scrCh=13&scrV=5#xl-p3.1
 470. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rev&scrCh=14&scrV=13#xlvii-p9.4
 471. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rev&scrCh=14&scrV=13#lii-p5.2
 472. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rev&scrCh=14&scrV=13#lv-p4.1
 473. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Rev&scrCh=22&scrV=17#xxii-p3.2
 474. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Wis&scrCh=1&scrV=11#v-p22.2
 475. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Wis&scrCh=2&scrV=24#v-p24.3
 476. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Wis&scrCh=3&scrV=1#xviii-p5.4
 477. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Wis&scrCh=3&scrV=16#lxiii.ii.v-p4.1
 478. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Wis&scrCh=4&scrV=7#lii-p4.2
 479. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=2&scrV=12#xlv-p4.5
 480. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=3&scrV=18#xix-p3.3
 481. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=3&scrV=18#xxxviii-p2.1
 482. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=17&scrV=28#liv-p6.1
 483. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=19&scrV=4#lxiii.ii.i-p2.1
 484. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=24&scrV=29#xlviii-p15.2
 485. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=27&scrV=6#xiv-p2.1
 486. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=30&scrV=23#vi-p3.1
 487. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=32&scrV=1#xix-p3.5
 488. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=38&scrV=25#xxvii-p19.2
 489. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3?scrBook=Sir&scrCh=39&scrV=10#xxii-p12.5
 490. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-p15.3
 491. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxii-p5.1
 492. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-p10.1
 493. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xvii-p6.3
 494. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-p3.1
 495. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-p3.2
 496. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-p3.4
 497. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xix-p5.1
 498. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.i-p4.1
 499. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.ii-p3.1
 500. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lii-p5.1
 501. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-p3.5
 502. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvi-p4.1
 503. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-p5.1
 504. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iv-p3.1
 505. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-p15.4
 506. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-p16.1
 507. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-p15.5
 508. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-p16.3
 509. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xli-p3.1
 510. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-p3.3
 511. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-p5.2
 512. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.ii-p4.1
 513. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-p2.4
 514. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-p2.6
 515. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-p2.1
 516. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-p2.2
 517. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-p2.3
 518. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-p2.5
 519. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-p8.2
 520. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-p8.1
 521. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-p3.1
 522. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-p3.1
 523. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-p6.1
 524. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#i-Page_i
 525. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#i-Page_ii
 526. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#i-Page_iii
 527. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#i-Page_iv
 528. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#i-Page_v
 529. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ii-Page_vi
 530. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ii-Page_vii
 531. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ii-Page_viii
 532. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ii-Page_ix
 533. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ii-Page_x
 534. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#iii-Page_xi
 535. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#iii-Page_xii
 536. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#iii-Page_xiii
 537. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#iii-Page_xiv
 538. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#iii-Page_1
 539. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#iv-Page_2
 540. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#iv-Page_3
 541. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_4
 542. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_5
 543. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_6
 544. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_7
 545. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_8
 546. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_9
 547. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_10
 548. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_11
 549. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_12
 550. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_13
 551. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_14
 552. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_15
 553. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_16
 554. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_17
 555. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_18
 556. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_19
 557. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_20
 558. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_21
 559. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_22
 560. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_23
 561. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_24
 562. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_25
 563. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_26
 564. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#v-Page_27
 565. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#vi-Page_28
 566. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#vi-Page_29
 567. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#vi-Page_30
 568. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#vi-Page_31
 569. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#vii-Page_32
 570. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#viii-Page_33
 571. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#viii-Page_34
 572. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ix-Page_35
 573. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ix-Page_36
 574. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ix-Page_37
 575. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ix-Page_38
 576. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#ix-Page_39
 577. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#x-Page_40
 578. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#x-Page_41
 579. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xi-Page_42
 580. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xi-Page_43
 581. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xii-Page_44
 582. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xii-Page_45
 583. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xiii-Page_46
 584. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xiv-Page_47
 585. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xiv-Page_48
 586. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xiv-Page_49
 587. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xv-Page_50
 588. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xv-Page_51
 589. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xvi-Page_53
 590. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xvii-Page_54
 591. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xvii-Page_55
 592. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xvii-Page_56
 593. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xviii-Page_57
 594. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xviii-Page_58
 595. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xviii-Page_59
 596. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xviii-Page_60
 597. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xviii-Page_61
 598. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xix-Page_62
 599. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xix-Page_63
 600. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xix-Page_64
 601. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xix-Page_65
 602. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xix-Page_66
 603. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xx-Page_67
 604. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xx-Page_68
 605. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xx-Page_69
 606. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxi-Page_70
 607. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_71
 608. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_72
 609. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_73
 610. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_74
 611. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_75
 612. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_76
 613. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_77
 614. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_78
 615. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_79
 616. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_80
 617. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_81
 618. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_82
 619. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_83
 620. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_84
 621. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxii-Page_85
 622. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxiii-Page_86
 623. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxiv-Page_87
 624. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxiv-Page_88
 625. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxiv-Page_89
 626. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxv-Page_90
 627. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxv-Page_91
 628. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxv-Page_92
 629. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvi-Page_93
 630. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvi-Page_94
 631. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_95
 632. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_96
 633. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_97
 634. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_98
 635. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_99
 636. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_100
 637. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_101
 638. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_102
 639. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_103
 640. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_104
 641. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_105
 642. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_106
 643. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxvii-Page_107
 644. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxviii-Page_108
 645. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxviii-Page_109
 646. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxviii-Page_110
 647. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxviii-Page_111
 648. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxix-Page_112
 649. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxix-Page_113
 650. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxix-Page_114
 651. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxix-Page_115
 652. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxx-Page_116
 653. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxx-Page_117
 654. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxi-Page_118
 655. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxi-Page_119
 656. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxi-Page_120
 657. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxii-Page_121
 658. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxii-Page_122
 659. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxiii-Page_123
 660. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxiii-Page_124
 661. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxiv-Page_125
 662. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxiv-Page_126
 663. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxiv-Page_127
 664. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxv-Page_128
 665. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxv-Page_129
 666. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxvi-Page_130
 667. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxvi-Page_131
 668. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxvii-Page_132
 669. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxvii-Page_133
 670. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxviii-Page_134
 671. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxviii-Page_135
 672. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxix-Page_136
 673. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xxxix-Page_137
 674. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xl-Page_138
 675. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xl-Page_139
 676. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xl-Page_140
 677. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xli-Page_141
 678. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xli-Page_142
 679. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xli-Page_143
 680. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlii-Page_144
 681. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlii-Page_145
 682. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlii-Page_146
 683. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlii-Page_147
 684. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_148
 685. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_149
 686. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_150
 687. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_151
 688. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_152
 689. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_153
 690. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_154
 691. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_155
 692. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_156
 693. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_157
 694. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_158
 695. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_159
 696. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliii-Page_160
 697. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliv-Page_161
 698. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliv-Page_162
 699. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliv-Page_163
 700. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xliv-Page_164
 701. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlv-Page_165
 702. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlv-Page_166
 703. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlv-Page_167
 704. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvi-Page_168
 705. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvi-Page_169
 706. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_170
 707. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_171
 708. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_172
 709. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_173
 710. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_174
 711. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_175
 712. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_176
 713. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlvii-Page_177
 714. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_178
 715. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_179
 716. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_180
 717. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_181
 718. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_182
 719. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_183
 720. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_184
 721. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_185
 722. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_186
 723. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_187
 724. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_188
 725. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_189
 726. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_190
 727. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_191
 728. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlviii-Page_192
 729. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_193
 730. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_194
 731. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_195
 732. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_196
 733. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_197
 734. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_198
 735. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_199
 736. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_200
 737. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_201
 738. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_202
 739. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_203
 740. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_204
 741. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#xlix-Page_205
 742. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#l-Page_206
 743. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#l-Page_207
 744. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#l-Page_208
 745. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#li-Page_209
 746. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#li-Page_210
 747. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#li-Page_211
 748. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#li-Page_212
 749. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lii-Page_213
 750. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lii-Page_214
 751. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liii-Page_215
 752. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liii-Page_216
 753. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liv-Page_217
 754. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liv-Page_218
 755. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liv-Page_219
 756. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liv-Page_220
 757. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liv-Page_221
 758. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#liv-Page_222
 759. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lv-Page_223
 760. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lv-Page_224
 761. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lv-Page_225
 762. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lv-Page_226
 763. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lvi-Page_227
 764. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lvi-Page_228
 765. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lvi-Page_229
 766. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lvii-Page_230
 767. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lvii-Page_231
 768. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lviii-Page_232
 769. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lix-Page_233
 770. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lx-Page_234
 771. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lx-Page_235
 772. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxi-Page_236
 773. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxii-Page_237
 774. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxii-Page_238
 775. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_239
 776. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_240
 777. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_241
 778. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_242
 779. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_243
 780. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_244
 781. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_245
 782. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_246
 783. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_247
 784. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_248
 785. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_249
 786. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_250
 787. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_251
 788. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_252
 789. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_253
 790. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_254
 791. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_255
 792. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_256
 793. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_257
 794. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.i-Page_258
 795. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii-Page_259
 796. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.i-Page_260
 797. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.i-Page_261
 798. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.i-Page_262
 799. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.i-Page_263
 800. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.i-Page_264
 801. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.ii-Page_265
 802. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.ii-Page_266
 803. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-Page_267
 804. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-Page_268
 805. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-Page_269
 806. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-Page_270
 807. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iii-Page_271
 808. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iv-Page_272
 809. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.iv-Page_273
 810. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.v-Page_274
 811. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.v-Page_275
 812. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.v-Page_276
 813. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.v-Page_277
 814. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.v-Page_278
 815. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.v-Page_279
 816. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-Page_280
 817. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-Page_281
 818. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vi-Page_282
 819. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vii-Page_283
 820. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vii-Page_284
 821. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.vii-Page_285
 822. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.viii-Page_286
 823. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.viii-Page_287
 824. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.viii-Page_288
 825. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.viii-Page_289
 826. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.viii-Page_290
 827. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.ix-Page_291
 828. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.ix-Page_292
 829. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiii.ii.ix-Page_293
 830. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiv-Page_295
 831. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiv-Page_296
 832. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxiv-Page_297
 833. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxv-Page_298
 834. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxvi-Page_299
 835. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxvii-Page_300
 836. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_301
 837. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_302
 838. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_303
 839. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_304
 840. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_305
 841. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_306
 842. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_307
 843. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxviii-Page_308
 844. file:///ccel/b/bernard/letters/cache/letters.html3#lxix-Page_309