Scheeben

First Letter: The History of Abelard’s Misfortunes, Written to His Friend	EPISTOLA PRIMA Quae est historia calamitatum Abaelardi, ad amicum scripta
Often the hearts of men and women are stirred, as likewise they are soothed in their sorrows, more by example than by words. And therefore, because I too have known some consolation from speech had with one who was a witness thereof, am I now minded to write of the sufferings which have sprung out of my misfortunes, for the eyes of one who, though absent, is of himself ever a consoler. This I do so that, in comparing your sorrows with mine, you may discover that yours are in truth nought, or at the most but of small account, and so shall you come to bear them more easily.	^[0113A] Saepe humanos affectus aut provocant, aut mitigant amplius exempla quam verba. Unde post nonnullam sermonis ad praesentem habiti consolationem, de ipsis calamitatum mearum experimentis consolatoriam ad absentem scribere decrevi, ut in comparatione mearum, tuas aut nullas, aut modicas tentationes recognoscas, et tolerabilius feras.
1. Abelard’s Birth and Youth
1. Concerning His Birth and His Parents	*CAP. I. De loco nativitatis Petri Abaelardi et de parentibus ejus.---*
1. Now, then, that I am come from a certain town which was built on the way into lesser Brittany, distant some eight miles, as I think, eastward from the city of Nantes, and in its own tongue called Palets. Such is the nature of that country, or, it may be, of them who dwell there—for in truth they are quick in fancy—that my mind bent itself easily to the study of letters. Yet more, I had a father who had won some smattering of letters before he had girded on the soldier’s belt. And so it came about that long afterwards his love thereof was so strong that he saw to it that each son of his should be taught in letters even earlier than in the management of arms. Thus indeed did it come to pass. And because I was his first born, and for that reason the more dear to him, he sought with double diligence to have me wisely taught. For my part, the more I went forward in the study of letters, and ever more easily, the greater became the ardour of my devotion to them, until in truth I was so enthralled by my passion for learning that, gladly leaving to my brothers the pomp of glory in arms, the right of heritage and all the honours that should have been mine as the eldest born, I fled utterly from the court of Mars that I might win learning in the bosom of Minerva. And since T found the armory of logical reasoning more to my liking than the other forms of philosophy, I exchanged all other weapons for these, and to the prizes of victory in war I preferred the battle of minds in disputation. Thenceforth, journeying through many provinces, and debating as I went, going whithersoever I heard that the study of my chosen art most flourished, I became such an one as the Peripatetics.	Ego igitur oppido quodam ^[0114A] oriundus, quod in ingressu minoris Britanniae constructum, ab urbe Nannetica versus Orientem octo credo milliariis remotum, proprio vocabulo Palatium appellatur. Sicut natura terrae meae vel generis animo levis, ita et ingenio exstiti ad litteratoriam disciplinam facilis. Patrem autem habebam litteris aliquantulum imbutum antequam militari cingulo insigniretur. Unde postmodum tanto litteras amore complexus est, ut quoscunque filios ^[0115A] haberet, litteris antequam armis instrui disponeret. Sicque profecto actum est. Me itaque primogenitum suum quanto chariorem habebat, tanto diligentius erudiri curavit. Ego vero quanto amplius et facilius in studio litterarum profeci, tanto ardentius in eis inhaesi, et in tanto earum amore illectus sum, ut militaris gloriae pompam cum haereditate et praerogativa primogenitorum meorum fratribus derelinquens, Martis curiae penitus abdicarem ut Minervae gremio educarer. Et quoniam dialecticarum rationum armaturam omnibus philosophiae documentis praetuli, his armis alia commutavi, et tropaeis bellorum conflictus praetuli disputationum. Proinde diversas disputando perambulans provincias, ubicunque hujus artis vigere studium audieram, ^[0115B] *Peripateticorum aemulator [al.* ambulator] factus sum.**

2. Of The Persecution He Had From His Master William Of Champeaux—Of His Adventures At Melun, At Corbeil And At Paris—Of His Withdrawal From The City Of The Parisians To Melun, And His ReTurn To Mont Ste. Genevieve —Of His Journey To His Old Home	CAP. II. De persecutione magistri sui Guillelmi. De rectione ipsius apud Melidunum, apud Corbolium et apud Parisios. De recessu ejus a Parisiensi civitate ad Melidunum, regressu ad montem S. Genovefae et repatriatione.---
I came at length to Paris, where above all in those days the art of dialectics was most flourishing, and there did I meet William of Champeaux, my teacher, a man most distinguished in his science both by his renown and by his true merit. With him I remained for some time, at first indeed well liked of him; but later I brought him great grief, because I undertook to refute certain of his opinions, not infrequently attacking him in disputation, and now and then in these debates I was adjudged victor. Now this, to those among my fellow students who were ranked foremost, seemed all the more insufferable because of my youth and the brief duration of my studies	Perveni tandem Parisios, ubi jam maxime disciplina haec florere consueverat, ^[0116A] ad Guillelmum scilicet Campellensem praeceptorem meum in hoc tunc magisterio re et fama praecipuum: cum quo aliquantulum moratus primo ei acceptus, postmodum gravissimus exstiti, cum nonnullas scilicet ejus sententias refellere conarer, et ratiocinari contra eum saepius aggrederer, et nonnunquam superior in disputando viderer. Quod quidem et ipsi, qui inter conscholares nostros praecipui habebantur, tanto majori sustinebant indignatione, quanto posterior habebar aetatis et studii tempore.
Out of this sprang the beginning of my misfortunes, which have followed me even to the present day; the more widely my fame was spread abroad, the more bitter was the envy that was kindled against me. It was given out that I, presuming on my gifts far beyond the warranty of my youth, was aspiring despite my tender years to the leadership of a school; nay, more, that I was making ready the very place in which I would undertake this task, the place being none other than the castle of Melun, at that time a royal seat. My teacher himself had some foreknowledge of this, and tried to remove my school as far as possible from his own. Working in secret, he sought in every way he could before I left his following to bring to nought the school I had planned and the place I had chosen for it. Since, however, in that very place he had many rivals, and some of them men of influence among the great ones of the land, relying on their aid I won to the fulfillment of my wish; the support of many was secured for me by reason of his own unconcealed envy. From this small inception of my school, my fame in the art of dialectics began to spread abroad, so that little by little the renown, not alone of those who had been my fellow students, but of our very teacher himself, grew dim and was like to die out altogether. Thus it came about that, still more confident in myself, I moved my school as soon as I well might to the castle of Corbeil, which is hard by the city of Paris, for there I knew there would be given more frequent chance for my assaults in our battle of disputation	Hinc calamitatum mearum, quae nunc usque perseverant, coeperunt exordia, et quo amplius fama extendebatur nostra, aliena in me succensa est invidia. Factum tandem est ut supra vires aetatis meae de ingenio meo praesumens, ad ^[0116B] scholarum regimen adolescentulus aspirarem, et locum, in quo id agerem, providerem, insigne videlicet tunc temporis Meldunum castrum [al. Meliduni castrum], et sedem regiam. Praesensit hoc praedictus magister meus, et quo longius posset scholas nostras a se removere conatus, quibus potuit modis latenter machinatus est, ut priusquam a suis recederem, scholas nostras et provisum mihi ^[0117A] locum auferret. Sed quoniam de potentibus terrae nonnullos ibidem habebat aemulos, fretus eorum auxilio voti mei compos exstiti, et plurimorum mihi assensum ipsius invidia manifesta conquisivit. Ab hoc autem scholarum nostrarum exordio [al. tirocino] ita in arte dialectica nomen meum dilatari coepit, ut non solum condiscipulorum meorum, verum etiam ipsius magistri fama contracta paulatim exstingueretur. Hinc factum est ut de me amplius ipse praesumens, ad castrum Corbolii, quod Parisiacae urbi vicinius est, quantocius scholas ^[0118A] nostras transferrem, ut inde videlicet crebriores disputationis assultus nostra daret opportunitas.
No long time thereafter I was smitten with a grievous illness, brought upon me by my immoderate zeal for study. This illness forced me to turn homeward to my native province, and thus for some years I was as if cut off from France. And yet, for that very reason, I was sought out all the more eagerly by those whose hearts were troubled by the lore of dialectics. But after a few years had passed, and I was whole again from my sickness, I learned that my teacher, that same William Archdeacon of Paris, had changed his former garb and joined an order of the regular clergy. This he had done, or so men said, in order that he might be deemed more deeply religious, and so might be elevated to a loftier rank in the prelacy, a thing which, in truth, very soon came to pass, for he was made bishop of Chalons. Nevertheless, the garb he had donned by reason of his conversion did nought to keep him away either from the city of Paris or from his wonted study of philosophy; and in the very monastery wherein he had shut himself up for the sake of religion he straightway set to teaching again after the same fashion as before	Non multo autem interjecto tempore ex immoderata studii afflictione correptus infirmitate coactus sum repatriare, et per annos aliquot a Francia quasi remotus, quaerebar ardentius ab iis, quos dialectica sollicitabat doctriua. Elapsis autem paucis annis, cum ex infirmitate jamdudum convaluissem, praeceptor meus ille Guillelmus Parisiensis archidiaconus, habitu pristino commutato ad regularium clericorum ordinem se convertit, ea, ut ^[0119A] referebant, intentione ut quo religiosior crederetur, ad majorem praelationis gradum promoveretur, sicut in proximo contigit, eo Catalaunensi episcopo facto. Nec tamen hic suae conversionis habitus aut ab urbe Parisiaca, aut a consueto philosophiae studio eum revocavit; sed in ipso quoque monasterio, ad quod se causa religionis contulerat, statim more solito publicas exercuit scholas.
To him did I return, for I was eager to learn more of rhetoric from his lips; and in the course of our many arguments on various matters, I compelled him by most potent reasoning first to alter his former opinion on the subject of the universals, and finally to abandon it altogether. Now, the basis of this old concept of his regarding the reality of universal ideas was that the same quality formed the essence alike of the abstract whole and of the individuals which were its parts: in otherwords, that there could be no essential differences among these individuals, all being alike save for such variety as might grow out of the many accidents of existence. Thereafter, however, he corrected this opinion, no longer maintaining that the same quality was the essence of all things, but that, rather, it manifested itself in them through diverse ways. This problem of universals is ever the most vexed one among logicians, to such a degree, indeed, that even Porphyry, writing in his “Isagoge” regarding universals, dared not attempt a final pronouncement thereon, saying rather: “This is the deepest of all problems of its kind.” Wherefore it followed that when William had first revised and then finally abandoned altogether his views on this one subject, his lecturing sank into such a state of negligent reasoning that it could scarce be called lecturing on the science of dialectics at all; it was as if all his science had been bound up in this one question of the nature of universals	Tum ego ad eum reversus ut ab ipso rhetoricam audirem, inter caetera disputationum nostrarum conamina, antiquam ejus de universalibus sententiam patentissimis argumentorum disputationibus ipsum commutare, imo destruere compuli. Erat autem in ea sententia de communitate universalium, ut eamdem essentialiter rem totam simul singulis suis inesse astrueret ^[0119B] individuis; quorum quidem nulla esset in essentia diversitas, sed sola multitudine accidentium varietas. Sic autem istam suam correxit sententiam, ut deinceps rem eamdem non essentialiter, sed indifferenter diceret. Et quoniam de universalibus in hoc ipso praecipua semper est apud dialecticos quaestio, ac tanta ut eam Porphyrius quoque in Isagogis suis, cum de universalibus scriberet, diffinire non praesumeret, dicens: Altissimum enim est hujusmodi negotium. Cum hanc ille correxisset [al. correxerit], imo coactus dimisisset [al. dimiserit] sententiam, in tantam lectio ejus devoluta est negligentiam, ut jam ad dialecticae lectionem [al. ad caetera dialecticae] vix admitteretur: quasi in hac scilicet ^[0119C] de universalibus sententia tota hujus artis consisteret summa.
Thus it came about that my teaching won such strength and authority that even those who before had clung most vehemently to my former master, and most bitterly attacked my doctrines, now flocked to my school. The very man who had succeeded to my master’s chair in the Paris school offered me his post, in order that he might put himself under my tutelage along with all the rest, and this in the very place where of old his master and mine had reigned. And when, in so short a time, my master saw me directing the study of dialectics there, it is not easy to find words to tell with what envy he was consumed or with what pain he was tormented. He could not long, in truth, bear the anguish of what he felt to be his wrongs, and shrewdly he attacked me that he might drive me forth. And because there was nought in my conduct whereby he could come at me openly, he tried to steal away the school by launching the vilest calumnies against him who had yielded his post to me, and by putting in his place a certain rival of mine. So then I returned to Melun, and set up my school there as before; and the more openly his envy pursued me, the greater was the authority it conferred upon me. Even so held the poet:	Hinc tantum roboris et auctoritatis nostra suscepit disciplina, ut ii, qui antea vehementius magistro illo nostro adhaerebant, et ^[0120A] maxime nostram infestabant doctrinam, ad nostras convolarent scholas, et ipse, qui in scholis Parisiacae sedis magistro nostro successerat, locum mihi suum offerret, ut ibidem cum caeteris nostro se traderet magisterio, ubi antea suus ille et noster magister floruerat. Paucis itaque diebus ibi me studium dialecticae regente, quanta invidia tabescere, quanto dolore aestuare coeperit magister noster, non est facile exprimere. Nec conceptae miseriae aestum diu sustinens, callide aggressus est me etiam tunc removere. Et quia in me quod aperte ageret non habebat, ei scholas auferre molitus est, turpissimis objectis criminibus, qui mihi suum concesserat magisterium, alio quodam aemulo meo in locum [al. ad officium] ejus subtituto. Tunc ego ^[0120B] Meledunum [al. Melidunum] reversus, scholas ibi nostras, sicut antea, constitui; et quanto manifestius ejus me persequebatur invidia, tanto mihi auctoritatis amplius conferebat, juxta illud poeticum:
“Jealousy aims at the peaks; the winds storm thelofti est summits.”(Ovid: “Remedy for Love,” 1,369.	Summa petit livor, perflant altissima venti. (OVIDIUS, De remed. amor., I, 369.)
Not long thereafter, when William became aware of the fact that almost all his students were holding grave doubts as to his religion, and were whispering earnestly among themselves about his conversion, deeming that he had by no means abandoned this world, he withdrew himself and his brotherhood, together with his students, to a certain estate far distant from the city. Forthwith I returned from Melun to Paris, hoping for peace from him in the future. But since, as I have said, he had caused my place to be occupied by a rival of mine, I pitched the camp, as it were, of my school outside the city on Mont Ste. Genevieve. Thus I was as one laying siege to him who had taken possession of my post. No sooner had my master heard of this than he brazenly returned post haste to the city, bringing back with him such students as he could, and reinstating his brotherhood in their former monastery, much as if he would free his soldiery, whom he had deserted, from my blockade. In truth, though, if it was his purpose to bring them succour, he did nought but hurt them. Before that time my rival had indeed had a certain number of students, of one sort and another, chiefly by reason of his lectures on Priscian, in which he was considered of great authority. After our master had returned, however, he lost nearly all of these followers, and thus was compelled to give up the direction of the school. Not long thereafter, apparently despairing further of worldly fame, he was converted to the monastic life	Non multo autem post, cum ille intelligeret fere omnes discipulos [al. discretos] de religione ejus plurimum haesitare, et de conversione ipsius vehementer susurrare, quod videlicet a civitate minime recessisset, transtulit se et conventiculum fratrum cum scholis suis ad villam quamdam ab urbe remotam. Statimque ego Meleduno Parisius redii, ^[0120C] pacem ab illo ulterius sperans. Sed quia, ut diximus, locum nostrum ab aemulo nostro fecerat occupari, extra civitatem in monte S. Genovefae, scholarum nostrarum castra posui, quasi eum obsessurus, ^[0121A] qui locum occupaverat nostrum. Quo audito, magister noster statim ad urbem impudenter rediens, scholas quas tunc habere poterat, et conventiculum fratrum ad pristinum reduxit monasterium, quasi militem suum, quem deseruerat [al. dimiserat], ab obsidione nostra liberaturus. Verum, cum illi prodesse intenderet, maxime nocuit. Ille quippe antea aliquos habebat qualescunque discipulos, maxime propter lectionem in qua [propter lectiones Prisciani, in quibus] plurimum valere credebatur. Postquam autem magister advenit, omnes penitus amisit, et sic a regimine scholarum cessare compulsus est. Nec post multum tempus, quasi jam ulterius de mundana desperans gloria, ipse quoque ad monasticam conversus [al. compulsus] ^[0121B] est vitam.
Following the return of our master to the city, the combats in disputation which my scholars waged both with him himself and with his pupils, and the successes which fortune gave to us, and above all to me, in these wars, you have long since learned of through your own experience. The boast of Ajax, though I speak it more temperately, I still am bold enough to make	Post reditum vero magistri nostri ad urbem, quos conflictus disputationum scholares ^[0122A] nostri, tam cum ipso quam cum discipulis ejus habuerint, et quos fortuna eventus in his bellis dederit nostris, imo mihi ipsi in eis, te quoque res ipsa jamdudum edocuit. Illud vero Ajacis et temperantius loquar, et audacter proferam.
“. . . if fain you would learn now How victory crowned the battle, by him was I never vanquished.” (Ovid, “Metamorphoses,” XIII, 89.)	. . . . .si quaeritis hujus Fortunam pugnae, non sum superatus ab illo. (OVID. Metam., XIII, 89.)
But even were I to be silent, the fact proclaims itself, and its outcome reveals the truth regarding it While these things were happening, it became needful for me again to repair to my old home, by reason of my dear mother, Lucia, for after the conversion of my father, Berengarius, to the monastic life, she so ordered her affairs as to do likewise. When all this had been completed, I returned to France, above all in order that I might study theology, since now my oft-mentioned teacher,William,was active in the episcopate of Chalons. In this field of learning Anselm of Laon, who was his teacher therein, had for long years enjoyed the greatest renown	Quod si ego tacerem, res ipsa clamat, et ipsius rei finis indicat. Dum vero haec agerentur charissima mihi mater Lucia repatriare me compulit. Quae videlicet post conversionem Berengarii patris mei ad professionem monasticam, idem facere disponebat. Quo completo, reversus sum in Franciam, maxime ut de divinitate addiscerem, quando [quoniam] ^[0122B] jam saepefatus magister noster Guillelmus in episcopatum Catalaunensi pollebat. In hac ^[0123A] autem lectione magister ejus Anselmus Laudunensis maximam ex antiquitate auctoritatem tunc tenebat.
3. To Laon and Anselm
CHAPTER 3 - How He Came, To Laon To Seek Anselm As Teacher	*CAP. III. Quomodo Laudunum venit ad magistrum Anselmum.---*
I Sought out, therefore, this same venerable man, whose fame, in truth, was more the result of long-established custom than of the potency of his own talent or intellect. If any one came to him impelled by doubt on any subject he went away more doubtful still. He was wonderful, indeed, in the eyes of those who only listened to him, but those who asked him question perforce held him him as nought. He had a miraculous flow of words, but they were contemptible in meaning and quite void of reason. When he kindled a fire, he filled his house with smoke and illumined it not at all. He was a tree which seemed noble to those who gazed upon its leaves from afar, but to those who came nearer and examined it more closely was revealed its barrenness. When, therefore, I had come to this tree that I might pluck the fruit thereof, I discovered that it was indeed the fig tree which Our Lord cursed (Matthew xxi, 19; Mark xi, ij), or that ancient oak to which Lucan likened Pompey, saying:	Accessi igitur ad hunc senem, cui magis longaevus usus, quam ingenium vel memoria nomen comparaverat. Ad quem si quis de aliqua quaestione pulsandum accederet incertus, redibat incertior. Mirabilis quidem erat in oculis auscultantium, sed nullus in conspectu quaestionantium. Verborum usum habebat mirabilem, sed sensu contemptibilem, et ratione vacuum. Cum ignem accenderet, domum suam fumo implebat, non luce illustrabat. Arbor ejus tota in foliis aspicientibus a longe conspicua videbatur, sed propinquantibus, et diligentius ^[0123B] intuentibus infructuosa reperiebatur. Ad hanc itaque cum accessissem ut fructum inde colligerem, deprehendi illam esse ficulneam cui maledixit Dominus (Matth. XXI, 19; Marc. XI, 13), seu illam veterem quercum, cui Pompeium Lucanus comparat, dicens:
“… he stands, the shade of a name once Like to the towering oak in the midst ot the fruitful field Lucan, “Pharsalh,” IV.135	. . . .stat magni nominis umbra, ^[0124A] Qualis frugifero quercus sublimis in agro. (LUCAN. Pharsal. lib. IV, 135.)
It was not long before I made this discovery, and stretched myself lazily in the shade of that same tree. I went to his lectures less and less often, a thing which some among his eminent followers took sorely to heart, because they interpreted it as a mark of contempt for so illustrious a teacher. Thenceforth they secretly sought to influence him against me, and by their vile insinuations made me hated of him. It chanced, moreover, that one day, after the exposition of certain texts, we scholars were jesting among ourselves, and one of them, seeking to draw me out, asked me what I thought of the lectures on the Books of Scripture. I, who had as yet studied only the sciences, replied that following such lectures seemed to me most useful in so far as the salvation of the soul was concerned, but that it appeared quite extraordinary to me that educated persons should not be able to understand the sacred books simply by studying them themselves, together with the glosses thereon, and without the aid of any teacher. Most of those who were present mocked at me, and asked whether I myself could do as I had said, or whether I would dare to undertake it. I answered that if they wished, I was ready to try it. Forthwith they cried out and jeered all the more. “Well and good,” said they; “we agree to the test. Pick out and give us an exposition of some doubtful passage in the Scriptures, so that we can put this boast of yours to the proof.” And they all chose that most obscure prophecy of Ezekiel	Hoc igitur comperto, non multis diebus in umbra ejus otiosus jacui. Paulatim vero me jam rarius ad lectiones ejus accedente, quidam tunc inter discipulos ejus eminentes graviter id ferebant, quasi tanti magistri contemptor fierem. Proinde illum quoque adversum me latenter commoventes, pravis suggestionibus ei me invidiosum fecerunt. Accidit autem quadam die, ut post aliquas sententiarum collationes, nos scholares invicem jocaremur. Ubi cum me quidam animo intentantis interrogavisset, quid mihi de divinorum lectione librorum videretur, qui nondum nisi in physicis studueram, respondi saluberrimum quidem hujus lectionis esse studium ubi ^[0124B] salus animae cognoscitur, sed me vehementer mirari, quod his qui litterati sunt, ad expositiones sanctorum intelligendas, ipsa eorum scripta vel glossae non sufficiant, ut alio scilicet non egeant magisterio [al. magistro]. Irridentes plurimi qui aderant, an hoc ego possem et aggredi praesumerem, requisierunt. Respondi me id si vellent experiri ^[0125A] paratum esse. Tunc conclamantes [al. inclamantes] et amplius irridentes: Certe, inquiunt, et nos assentimus. Quaeratur, inquam [al. itaque], et tradatur nobis [al. vobis] expositor alicujus inusitatae scripturae, et probemus quod vos promittitis. Et consenserunt omnes in obscurissima Ezechielis prophetia.
I accepted the challenge, and invited them to attend a lecture on the very next day. Whereupon they undertook to give me good advice, saying that I should by no means make undue haste in so important a matter, but that I ought to devote a much longer space to working out my exposition and offsetting my inexperience by diligent toil. To this I replied indignantly that it was my wont to win success, not by routine, but by ability. I added that I would abandon the test altogether unless they would agree not to put off their attendance at my lecture. In truth at this first lecture of mine only a few were present, for it seemed quite absurd to all of them that I, hitherto so inexperienced in discussing the Scriptures, should attempt the thing so hastily. However, this lecture gave such satisfaction to all those who heard it that they spread its praises abroad with notable enthusiasm, and thus compelled me to continue my interpretation of the sacred text. When word of this was bruited about, those who had stayed away from the first lecture came eagerly, some to the second and more to the third, and all of them were eager to write down the glosses which I had begun on the first day, so as to have them from the very beginning.	Assumpto itaque expositore statim in crastino eos ad lectionem invitavi. Qui invito mihi consilium dantes, dicebant ad rem tantam non esse properandum, sed diutius in expositione rimanda et firmanda mihi hanc inexperto vigilandum. Indignatus autem respondi non esse meaeconsuetudinis per usum proficere, sed per ingenium; atque adjeci vel me penitus desiturum esse, vel eos pro arbitrio meo ad lectionem accedere non differre. Et ^[0125B] primae quidem lectioni nostrae pauci tunc interfuere, quod ridiculum omnibus videretur me adhuc quasi penitus sacrae lectionis expertem [al. inexpertum] id tam propere aggredi. Omnibus tamen qui adfuerunt in tantum lectio illa grata exstitit, ut eam singulari praeconio extollerent, et me secundum hunc nostrae lectionis tenorem ad glossandum compellerent. Quo quidem audito, ii qui non interfuerant coeperunt ad secundam et tertiam lectionem certatim accedere [al. contendere, et concurrere], et omnes pariter de transcribendis glossis, quas prima die incoeperam, in ipso eorum initio plurimum sol liciti esse.

CHAPTER IV - Of The Persecution He Had From His Teacher Anselm	*CAP. IV. De persecutione magistri Anselmi in eum.* ---**
Now this venerable man of whom I have spoken was acutely smitten with envy, and straightway incited, as I have already mentioned, by the insinuations of sundry persons, began to persecute me for my lecturing on the Scriptures no less bitterly than my former master, William, had done for my work in philosophy. At that time there were in this old man’s school two who were considered far to excel all the others: Alberic of Rheims and Lotulphe the Lombard. The better opinion these two held of themselves, the more they were incensed against me. Chiefly at their suggestion, as it afterwards transpired, yonder venerable coward had the impudence to forbid me to carry on any further in~his school the work of preparing glosses which I had thus begun. The pretext he alleged was that if by chance in the course of this work I should write anything containing blunders—as was likely enough in view of my lack of training—the thing might be imputed to him. When this came to the ears of his scholars, they were filled with indignation at so undisguised a manifestation of spite, the like of which had never been directed against any one before. The more obvious this rancour became, the more it redounded to my honour, and his persecution did nought save to make me more famous	Hinc itaque praedictus senex vehementi commotus ^[0125C] invidia, et quorumdam persuasionibus jam adversum me, ut supra memini, extunc stimulatus, non minus in sacra lectione me persequi coepit quam antea Guillelmus noster in philosophia. Erant autem tunc in scholis hujus senis duo, qui caeteris praeeminere videbantur, Albericus scilicet Remensis, et Loculphus [al. Lotulfus: sed Othoni Frisinghensi Leutaldus Novariensis] Lombardus: qui quanto de se majora praesumebant, amplius adversum me accendebantur. Horum itaque maxime suggestionibus, sicut postmodum deprehensum est, senex ille perturbatus impudenter mihi interdixit incoeptum glossandi opus in loco magisterii sui amplius exercere. Hanc videlicet causam praetendens, ne si forte in ^[0125D] illo opere aliquid per errorem scriberem, utpote rudis adhuc in hoc studio, ei deputaretur. Quod cum ad aures scholarium pervenisset, maxima commoti sunt indignatione super tam manifesta livoris calumnia, quae nemini unquam ulterius acciderat. Quae quanto manifestior, tanto mihi honorabilior exstitit. et persequendo [al. persecutum] gloriosiorem effecit.

5. How He Returned To Paris And Finished The Glosses Which He Had Begun At Laon	^[0126A] *CAP. V. Quomodo reversus Parisius glossas suas, quas Lauduni legere coeperat, consummavit.---*
AND so, after a few days, I returned to Paris, and there for several years I peacefully directed the school which formerly had been destined for me, nay, even offered to me, but from which I had been driven out. At the very outset of my work there, I set about completing the glosses on Ezekiel which I had begun at Laon. These proved so satisfactory to all who read them that they came to believe me no less adept in lecturing on theology than I had proved myself to be in the field of philosophy. Thus my school was notably increased in size by reason of my lectures on subjects of both these kinds, and the amount of financial profit as well as glory which it brought me cannot be concealed from you, for the matter was widely talked of. But prosperity always puffs up the foolish, and worldly comfort enervates the soul, rendering it an easy prey to carnal temptations. Thus I, who by this time had come to regard myself as the only philosopher remaining in the whole world, and had ceased to fear any further disturbance of my peace, began to loosen the rein on my desires, although hitherto I had always lived in the utmost continence. And the greater progress I I made in my lecturing on philosophy or theology, the more I departed alike from the practice of the philosophers and the spirit of the divines in the uncleanness of my life. For it is well known, methinks, that philosophers, and still more those who have devoted their lives to arousing the love of sacred study, have been strong above all else in the beauty of chastity	Post paucos itaque dies Parisius reversus, scholas mihi jam dudum destinatas atque oblatas, unde primo fueram expulsus, annis aliquibus quiete possedi, atque ibi in ipso statim scholarum initio glossas illas Ezechielis, quas Lauduni incoeperam, consummare studui. Quae quidem adeo legentibus acceptabiles fuerunt, ut me non minorem gratiam [al. gloriam] in sacra lectione adeptum jam crederent, quam in philosophica viderant. Unde utriusque lectionis studio scholae nostrae vehementer multiplicatae quanta mihi de pecunia lucra, quantam gloriam compararent, ex fama te quoque latere non potuit. Sed quoniam prosperitas stultos semper ^[0126B] inflat, et mundana tranquillitas vigorem enervat animi, et per carnales illecebras facile resolvit, cum jam me solum in mundo superesse [al. superiorem] philosophum aestimarem, nec ullam ulterius inquietationem formidarem, frena libidini coepi laxare, qui antea vixeram continentissime. Et quo amplius in philosophia vel sacra lectione profeceram, amplius a philosophis et divinis immunditia vitae recedebam. Constat quippe philosophos, nedum divinos, id est sacrae lectionis exhortationibus intentos, continentiae decore maxime polluisse.
Thus did it come to pass that while I was utterly absorbed in pride and sensuality, divine grace, the cure for both diseases, was forced upon me, even though I, forsooth, would fain have shunned it. First was I punished for my sensuality, and then for my pride. For my sensuality I lost those things whereby I practiced it; for my pride, engendered in me by my knowledge of letters— and it is even as the Apostle said: “Knowledge puffeth itself up” (i Cor. viii, i) — I knew the humiliation of seeing burned the very book in which I most gloried. And now it is my desire that you should know the stories of these two happenings, understanding them more truly from learning the very facts than from hearing what is spoken of them, and in the order in which they came about. Because I had ever held in abhorrence the foulness of prostitutes, because I had diligently kept myself from all excesses and from association with the women of noble birth who attended the school, because I knew so little of the common talk of ordinary people, perverse and subtly flattering chance gave birth to an occasion for casting mellghtly down from the heights of my own exaltation. Nay, in such case not even divine goodness ToulcTredeem one who, having been so proud, was brought to such shame, were it not for the blessed gift of grace	Cum igitur totus in superbia atque luxuria laborarem, utriusque morbi remedium divina mihi gratia, licet nolenti, contulit; ac primo luxuriae, deinde superbiae. ^[0126C] Luxuriae quidem, his me privando quibus exercebam; superbiae vero, quae mihi ex litterarum maxime scientia nascebatur, juxta illud Apostoli: «Scientia inflat (I Cor. VIII, 1);» illius libri, quo maxime gloriabar, combustione me humiliando. Cujus nunc rei utramque historiam verius ex ipsa re, quam ex auditu cognoscere te volo, ordine quidem quo processerunt. Quia igitur scortorum immunditiam semper abhorrebam, et ab excessu et frequentatione nobilium feminarum studii scholaris assiduitate revocabar, nec laicarum conversationem multum noveram, prava mihi, ut dicitur, fortuna blandiens commodiorem nacta est occasionem, qua me facilius de sublimitatis hujus fastigio prosterneret; imo superbissimum, nec acceptae gratiae ^[0126D] memorem divina pietas humiliatum sibi vindicaret.
6. His Seduction of Heloise
6. of how, brought low by his love for heloise, he was wounded in body and soul	*CAP. VI. Quomodo in amorem Heloissae lapsus vulnus inde tam mentis quam corporis traxit.---*
Now there dwelt in that same city of Paris a certain young girl named Heloise, the niece of a canon who was called Fulbert. Her uncle’s love for her was equalled only by his desire that she should have the best education which he could possibly procure for her. Of no mean beauty, she stood out above all by reason of her abundant knowledge of letters. Now this virtue is rare among women, and for that very reason it doubly graced the maiden, and made her the most worthy of renown in the entire kingdom. It was this young girl whom I, after carefully considering all those qualities which are wont to attract lovers, determined to unite with myself in the bonds” of love, and indeed the thing seemed to me very easy to be done. So distinguished was my name, and I possessed such advantages of youth and comeliness, that no matter what woman I might favour with my love, I dreaded rejection of none. Then, too, I believed that I could win the maiden’s consent all the more easily by reason of her knowledge of letters and her zeal therefor; so, even if we were parted, we might yet be together in thought with the aid of written messages. Perchance, too, we might be able to write more boldly than we could speak, and thus at all times could we live in joyous intimacy	Erat quippe in ipsa civitate Parisius adolescentula quaedam nomine Heloissa, neptis canonici cujusdam, qui Fulbertus vocabatur, qui eam quanto amplius diligebat, tanto diligentius in omnem quam poterat ^[0127A] scientiam litterarum promoveri studuerat. Quae cum per faciem non esset infima, per abundantiam litterarum erat suprema. Nam quo bonum hoc, litteratoriae scilicet scientiae, in mulieribus est rarius: eo amplius puellam commendabat, et in toto regno, nominatissimam fecerat. Hanc igitur, omnibus circumspectis, quae amantes allicere solent, commodiorem censui in amorem mihi copulare, et me id facillime [al. facere] credidi posse. Tanti quippe tunc nominis eram, et juventutis et formae gratia praeeminebam, ut quamcunque feminarum nostro dignarer amore, nullam vererer repulsam. Tanto autem facilius hanc mihi puellam consensuram credidi, quanto amplius eam litterarum scientiam et habere et diligere noveram, nosque etiam absentes ^[0127B] scriptis internuntiis invicem liceret praesentare, et pleraque audacius scribere quam colloqui, et sic semper jucundis interesse colloquiis
Thus, utterly aflame with my passion for this maiden, I sought to discover means whereby I might have daily and familiar speech with her, thereby the more easily to win her consent. For this purpose I persuaded the girl’s uncle, with the aid of some of his friends, to take me into his household—for he dwelt hard by my school—in return for the payment of a small sum. My pretext for this was that the care of my own household was a serious handicap to my studies, and likewise burdened me with an expense far greater than I could afford. Now, he.was a man keen in avarice, and likewise he was most desirous for his niece that her study of letters should ever go forward, so, for these two reasons, I easily won his consent to the fulfillment of my wish, for he was fairly agape for my money, and at the same time believed that his niece would vastly benefit by my teaching.	In hujus itaque adolescentulae amorem totus inflammatus, occasionem quaesivi qua eam mihi domestica et quotidiana conversatione familiarem efficerem, et facilius ad consensum traherem. Quod quidem ut fieret, egi cum praedicto puellae avunculo quibusdam ipsius amicis intervenientibus, quatenus me in domum suam, quae scholis nostris proxima erat, sub quocunque procurationis pretio susciperet. Hanc videlicet occasionem praetendens, quod studium nostrum domestica nostrae familiae cura plurimum praepediret, et impensa nimia nimium me gravaret. Erat ^[0127C] autem cupidus ille valde, atque erga neptim suam, ut amplius semper in doctrinam proficeret litteratoriam, plurimum studiosus. Quibus duobus facile assensum assecutus sum, et quod optabam obtinui, cum ille videlicet et ad pecuniam totus inhiaret, et neptim suam ex doctrina nostra aliquid percepturam crederet.
More even than this, by his own earnest entreaties he fell in with my desires beyond anything I had dared to hope, opening the way for my love; for he entrusted her wholly to my guidance, begging me to give her instruction whensoever I might be free from the duties of my school, no matter whether by day or by night, and to punish her sternly if ever I should find her negligent of her tasks. In all this the man’s simplicity was nothing short of astounding to me; I should not have been more smitten with wonder if he had entrusted a tender lamb to the care of a ravenous wolf. When he had thus given her into my charge, not alone to be taught but even to be disciplined, what had he done save to give free scope to my desires, and to offer me every opportunity, even if I had not sought it, to bend her to my will with threats and blows if I failed to do so with caresses? There were, however, two things which particularly served to allay any foul suspicion: his own love for his niece, and my former reputation for continence.	. Super quo vehementer me deprecatus, supra quam sperare praesumerem votis meis accessit, et amori consuluit: eam videlicet totam nostro magisterio committens, ut quoties mihi a scholis reverso vacaret, tam in die quam in nocte, ei docendae operam darem, et eam si negligentem sentirem vehementer constringerem. In qua re quidem quanta ejus simplicitas esset vehementer admiratus, non minus apud me obstupui quam si agnam ^[0127D] teneram famelico lupo committeret. Qui cum eam mihi non solum docendam, verum etiam vehementer constringendam traderet, quid aliud agebat quam ut votis meis licentiam penitus daret, et occasionem, etiamsi nollemus, offerret, ut quam videlicet ^[0128A] blanditiis non possem, minis et verberibus facilius flecterem? Sed duo erant, quae eum maxime a turpi suspicione revocabant, amor videlicet neptis, et continentiae meae fama praeterita.
Why should I say more? We were united first in the dwelling that sheltered our love, and then in the hearts that burned with it. Under the pretext of study we spent our hours in the happiness of love, and learning held out to us the secret opportunities that our passion craved. Our speech was more of love than of the books which lay open before us; our kisses far outnumbered our reasoned words. Our hands sought less the book than each other’s bosoms; love drew our eyes together far more than the lesson drew them to the pages of our text. In order that there might be no suspicion, there were, indeed, sometimes blows, but love gave them, not anger; they were the marks, not of wrath, but of a tenderness surpassing the most fragrant balm in sweetness. What followed? No degree in love’s progress was left untried by our passion, and if love itself could imagine any wonder as yet unknown, we discovered it. And our inexperience of such delights made us all the more ardent in our pursuit of them, so that our thirst for one another was still unquenched	Quid plura? Primum domo una conjungimur, postmodum animo. Sub occasione itaque disciplinae amori penitus vacabamus, et secretos regressus [al. recessus], quos amor optabat, studium lectionis offerebat. Apertis itaque libris plura de amore quam de lectione verba se ingerebant, plura erant oscula quam sententiae. Saepius ad sinus quam ad libros reducebantur manus; crebrius oculos amor in se reflectebat quam lectio in scripturam dirigebat. Quoque minus suspicionis haberemus, verbera quandoque dabat amor, non furor; gratia, non ira, quae omnium ^[0128B] unguentorum suavitatem transcenderent. Quid denique? nullus a cupidis intermissus est gradus amoris, et si quid insolitum amor excogitare potuit, est additum. Et quo minus ista fueramus experti gaudia, ardentius illis insistebamus, et minus in fastidium vertebantur.
In measure as this passionate rapture absorbed me more and more, I devoted ever less time to philosophy and to the work of the school. Indeed it became loathsome to me to go to the school or to linger there; the labour, moreover, was very burdensome, since my nights were vigils of love and my days of study. My lecturing became utterly careless and lukewarm; I did nothing because of inspiration, but everything merely as a matter of habit. I had become nothing more than a reciter of my former discoveries, and though I still wrote poems, they dealt with love, not with the secrets of philosophy. Of these songs you yourself well know how some have become widely known and have been sung in many lands, chiefly, methinks, by those who delighted in the things of this world. As for the sorrow, the groans, the lamentations of my students when they perceived the preoccupation, nay, rather the chaos, of my mind, it is hard even to imagine them	Et quo me amplius haec voluptas occupaverat, minus philosophiae vacare poteram, et scholis operam dare. Taediosum mihi vehementer erat ad scholas procedere, vel in eis morari; pariter et laboriosum, cum nocturnas amori vigilias et diurnas studio conservarem. Quem etiam ita negligentem et tepidum lectio tunc habebat, ut jam nihil ex ingenio, sed ex usu cuncta proferrem; nec jam nisi recitator pristinorum essem inventorum, et si ^[0128C] qua invenire liceret carmina, essent amatoria, non philosophiae secreta. Quorum etiam carminum pleraque adhuc in multis, sicut et ipse nosti, frequentantur et decantantur regionibus, ab his maxime quos vita simul oblectabat [al. similis oblectat]. Quantam autem moestitiam, quos gemitus, quae lamenta nostri super hoc scholares assumerent, ubi videlicet hanc animi mei occupationem, imo perturbationem praesenserunt, non est facile vel cogitare.
A thing so manifest could deceive only a few, no one, methinks, save him whose shame it chiefly bespoke, the girl’s uncle, Fulbert. The truth was often enough hinted to him, and by many persons, but he could not believe it, partly, as I have said, by reason of his boundless love for his niece, and partly because of the well-known continence of my previous life. Indeed we do not easily suspect shame in those whom we most cherish, nor can there be the blot of foul suspicion on devoted love. Of this St. Jerome in his epistle to Sabinianus (Epist. 48) says: “We are wont to be the last to know the evils of our own households, and to be ignoraataf.the-sins-of.our children and our wives, though our neighbours sing them aloud.” But no matter how slow a matter may be in disclosing itself, it is sure to come forth at last, nor is it easy to hide from one what is known to all. So, after the lapse of several months, did it happen with us. Oh, how great was the uncle’s grief when he learned the truth, and how bitter was the sorrow of the lovers when we were forced to part! With what shame was I overwhelmed, with what contrition smitten because of the blow which had fallen on her I loved, and what a tempest of misery burst over her by reason of my disgrace! Each grieved most, not for himself, but for the other. Each sought to allay, not his own sufferings, but those of the one he loved. The very sundering of our bodies served but to link our souls closer together; the plentitude of the love which was denied to us inflamed us more than ever. Once the first wildness of shame had passed, it left us more shameless than before, and as shame died within us the cause of it seemed to us ever more desirable. And so it chanced with us as, in the stories that the poets tell, it once happened with Mars and Venus when they were caught together	Paucos enim jam res tam manifesta decipere poterat, ac neminem (credo) praeter eum, ad cujus ignominiam maxime id spectabat, ipsum videlicet puellae avunculum. Cui quidem hoc cum a nonnullis nonnunquam suggestum fuisset, credere non poterat, tum, ut supra memini, propter immoderatam suae ^[0128D] neptis amicitiam; tum etiam propter anteactae vitae meae continentiam cognitam. Non enim facile de his, quos plurimum diligimus, turpitudinem suspicamur. Nec in vehementi dilectione turpis suspicionis labes potest inesse. Unde et illud est beati ^[0129A] Hieronymi in epistola ad Sabinianum (epist. 48): «Solemus mala domus nostrae scire novissimi, ac liberorum ac conjugum vitia vicinis canentibus ignorare. Sed quod novissime scitur, utique sciri quandoque contingit, et quod omnes deprehendunt, non est facile unum latere.» Sic itaque pluribus evolutis mensibus et de nobis accidit. O quantus in hoc cognoscendo dolor avunculi! quantus in separatione amantium dolor ipsorum! quanta sum erubescentia confusus! quanta contritione super afflictione puellae sum afflictus! quantos moeroris ipsa de verecundia mea sustinuit aestus! Neuter quod sibi, sed quod alteri contigerat querebatur. Neuter sua, sed alterius plangebat incommoda. Separatio autem haec corporum maxima erat copulatio ^[0129B] animorum, et negata sui copia amplius amorem accendebat, et verecundiae transacta jam passio inverecundiores reddebat, tantoque verecundiae minor exstiterat passio, quanto convenientior videbatur actio. Actum itaque in nobis est quod in Marte et Venere deprehensis poetica narrat fabula .
It was not long after this that Heloise found that she was pregnant, and of this she wrote to me in the utmost exultation, at the same time asking me to consider what had best be done. Accordingly, on a night when her uncle was absent, we carried out the plan we had determined on, and I stole her secretly away from her uncle’s house, sending her without delay to my own country. She remained there with my sister until she gave birth to a son, whom she named Astrolabe. Meanwhile her uncle, after his return, was almost mad with grief; only one who had then seen him could rightly guess the burning agony of his sorrow and the bitterness of his shame. What steps to take against me, or what snares to set for me, he did not know. If he should kill me or do me some bodily hurt, he feared greatly lest his dear-loved niece should be made to suffer for it among my kinsfolk. He had no power to seize me and imprison me somewhere against my will, though I make no doubt he would have done so quickly enough had he been able or dared, for I had taken measures to guard against any such attempt	Non multo autem post puella se concepisse comperit, et cum summa exsultatione mihi super hoc illico scripsit, consulens quid de hoc ipse faciendum deliberarem. Quadam itaque nocte avunculo ejus absente, sicut nos condixeramus, eam de domo avunculi furtim sustuli, et in patriam meam sine mora transmisi . Ubi apud sororem meam tandiu conversata est , donec pareret masculum quem Astrolabium nominavit. Avunculus autem ejus post ^[0129C] ipsius recessum quasi in insaniam conversus, quanto aestuaret dolore, quanto afficeretur pudore nemo nisi experiendo cognosceret. Quid autem in me ageret, quas mihi tenderet insidias ignorabat. Si me interficeret, seu in aliquo corpus meum debilitaret, id potissimum mutuebat ne dilectissima neptis hoc in patria mea plecteretur. Capere me et invitum alicubi coercere nullatenus valebat, maxime cum ego mihi super hoc plurimum providerem, quod eum si valeret, vel auderet, citius aggredi non dubitarem.
At length, however, in pity for his boundless grief, and bitterly blaming myself for the suffering which my love had brought upon him through the baseness of the deception I had practiced, I went to him to entreat his forgiveness, promising to make any amends that he himself might decree. I pointed out that what had happened could not seem incredible to any one who had ever felt the power of love, or who remembered how, from the very beginning of the human race, women had cast down even the noblest men to utter ruin. And in order to make amends even beyond his extremest hope, I offered to marry her whom I had seduced, provided only the thing could be kept secret, so that I might suffer no loss of reputation thereby. To this he gladly assented, pledging his own faith and that of his kindred, and sealing with kisses the pact which I had sought of him—and all this that he might the more easily betray me	Tandem ego ejus immoderatae anxietati admodum compatiens, et de dolo quem fecerat amor, tanquam de summa proditione, meipsum vehementer accusans, conveni hominem ^[0129D] supplicando et promittendo quamcunque super hoc emendationem, ipse constitueret. Nec ulli mirabile id videri asserens, quicunque vim amoris expertus fuisset, et qui quanta ruina summos quoque viros ab ipso statim humani generis exordio mulieres dejecerint, ^[0130A] memoria retineret. Atque ut amplius eum mitigarem supra quam sperare poterat, obtuli me ei satisfacere, eam scilicet quam corruperam mihi matrimonio copulando, dummodo id secreto fieret, ne famae detrimentum incurrerem. Assensit ille, et tam sua quam suorum fide et osculis eam quam requisivi concordiam mecum iniit, quo me facilius proderet.
7. Marriage and Maiming
7. Of The Arguments Of Heloise Against Wedlock— Of How None The Less He Made Her His Wife	*CAP. VII. Dehortatio supradictae puellae a nuptiis. Illam tamen ducit in uxorem.---*
Forthwith I repaired to my own country, and brought back thence my mistress, that I might make her my wife. She, however, most violently disapproved of this, and for two chief reasons: the danger thereof, and the disgrace which it would bringupon me. She swore that her uncle would never be appeased by such satisfaction as this, as, indeed, afterwards proved only too true. She asked how she could ever glory in me if she should make me thus inglorious, and should shame herself along with me. What penalties, she said, would the world rightly demand of her if she should rob it of so shining a light! What curses would follow such a loss to the Church, what tears among the philosophers would result from such a marriage! How unfitting, how lamentable it would be for me, whom nature had made for the whole world, to devote myself to one woman solely, and to subject myself to such humiliation! She vehemently rejected this marriage, which she felt would be in every way ignominious and burdensome to me	Illico ego ad patriam meam reversus amicam reduxi, ut uxorem facerem. Illa tamen hoc minime approbante, imo penitus duabus de causis dissuadente, tam scilicet pro periculo quam pro dedecore meo. Jurabat illum nulla unquam satisfactione super hoc placari posse, ^[0130B] sicut postmodum cognitum est. Quaerebat etiam quam de me gloriam habitura esset, cum me ingloriosum efficeret, et se et me pariter humiliaret. Quantas ab ea mundus poenas exigere deberet, si tantam ei lucernam auferret, quantae maledictiones, quanta damna Ecclesiae, quantae philosophorum lacrymae hoc matrimonium essent secuturae. Quam indecens, quam lamentabile esset, ut quem omnibus natura creaverat, uni me feminae dicarem, et turpitudini tantae subjacerem. Detestabatur vehementer hoc matrimonium, quod mihi per omnia probrosum esset, atque onerosum [al. inhonorosum].
Besides dwelling thus on the disgrace to me, she reminded me of the hardships of married life, to the avoidance of which the Apostle exhorts us, saying: “Art thou loosed from a wife? seek not a wife. But and if thou marry, thou hast not sinned; and if a virgin marry, she hath not sinned. Nevertheless such shall have trouble in the flesh: but I spare you” (i Cor. Vii.32) . And again: “But I would have you to be free from cares” (i Cor. vii, 32). But if I would heed neither the counsel of the Apostle nor the exhortations of the saints regarding this heavy yoke of matrimony, she bade me at least consider the advice of the philosophers, and weigh carefully what had been written on this subject either by them or concerning their lives. Even the saints themselves have often and earnestly spoken on this subject for the purpose of warning us. Thus St. Jerome, in his first book against Jovinianus, makes Theophrastus set forth in great detail the intolerable annoyances and the endless disturbances of married life, demonstrating with the most convincing arguments that no wise man should ever have a wife, and concluding his reasons for this philosophic exhortation with these words: “Who among Christians would not be overwhelmed by such arguments as these advanced by Theophrastus?”	Praetendebat infamiam mei pariter et difficultates matrimonii, ad quas quidem vitandas nos exhortans ^[0130C] Apostolus ait: «Solutus es ab uxore? noli quaerere uxorem. Si autem acceperis uxorem, non peccasti. Et si nupserit virgo, non peccabit. Tribulationem tamen carnis habebunt hujusmodi. Ego autem parco vobis (I Cor. VII, 27.)» Et iterum: «Volo autem vos sine sollicitudine esse (ibid., 32).» Quod si nec Apostoli consilium, nec sanctorum exhortationes de tanto matrimonii jugo susciperem, saltem, inquit, philosophos consulerem, et quae super hoc ab eis vel de eis scripta sunt attenderem. Quod plerumque etiam sancti ad increpationem nostram diligenter faciunt. Quale illud est beati Hieronymi in primo contra Jovinianum, ubi scilicet commemorat Theophrastum intolerabilibus nuptiarum molestiis, assiduisque inquietudinibus ex magna parte diligenter ^[0130D] expositis, uxorem sapienti non esse ducendam evidentissimis rationibus astrinxisse, ubi et ipse illas exhortationis philosophicae rationes tali fine concludens: «Hoc, inquit, et hujusmodi Theophrastus disserens, quem non suffundat Christianorum?»
Again, in the same work, St. Jerome tells how Cicero, asked by Hircius after his divorce of Terentia whether he would marry the sister of Hircius, replied that he would do no such thing, saying that he could not devote himself to a wife and to philosophy at the same time. Cicero does not, indeed, precisely speak of “devoting himself,” but he does add that he did not wish to undertake anything which might rival his study of philosophy in its demands upon him	^[0131A] Idem in eodem: «Cicero, inquit, rogatus ab Hircio ut post repudium Terentiae, sororem ejus duceret; omnino facere supersedit, dicens non posse se et uxori et philosophiae operam pariter dare. Non ait operam dare, sed adjunxit pariter, nolens quidquam agere quod studio aequaretur philosophiae.»
Then, turning from the consideration of such hindrances to the study of philosophy, Heloise bade me observe what were the conditions of honourable wedlock. What possible concord could there be between scholars and domestics, between authors and cradles, between books or tablets and distaffs, between the stylus or the pen and the spindle?	Ut autem hoc philosophici studii nunc omittam impedimentum, ipsum consule honestae conversationis statum. Quae enim conventio scholarium ad pedissequas, scriptoriorum ad cunabula, librorum sive tabularum ad colos, stylorum sive calamorum ad fusos?
What man, intent on his religious or philosophical meditations, can possibly endure the whining of children, the lullabies of the nurse seeking to quiet them, or the noisy confusion of family life? Who can endure the continual untidiness of children? The rich, you may reply, can do this, because they have palaces or houses containing many rooms, and because their wealth takes no thought of expense and protects them from daily worries. But to this the answer is that the condition of philosophers is by no means that of the wealthy, nor can those whose minds are occupied with riches and worldly cares find time for religious or philosophical study. For this reason the renowned philosophers of old utterly despised the world, fleeing from its perils rather than reluctantly giving them up, and denied themselves all its delights in order that they might repose in the embraces of philosophy alone. One of them, and the greatest of all, Seneca, in his advice to Lucilius, says: “Philosophy is not a thing to be studied only in hours of leisure; we must give up everything else to devote ourselves to it, for no amount of time is really sufficient thereto” (Epist. 73)	Quis denique sacris vel philosophicis meditationibus intentus pueriles vagitus, nutricum, quae hos mitigant, naenias, tumultuosam familiae tam in viris quam in feminis turbam sustinere poterit? ^[0131B] Quis etiam inhonestas illas parvulorum sordes assiduas tolerare valebit? Id, inquies, divites possunt, quorum palatia vel domus amplae diversoria habent, quorum opulentia non sentit expensas, nec quotidianis sollicitudinibus cruciatur. Sed non est, inquam, haec conditio philosophorum quae divitum, nec qui opibus student vel saecularibus implicantur curis, divinis seu philosophicis vacabunt officiis. Unde et insignes olim philosophi mundum maxime contemnentes, nec tam relinquentes saeculum quam fugientes, omnes sibi voluptates interdixerunt, ut in unius philosophiae requiescerent amplexibus. Quorum unns et maximus Seneca Lucilium instruens ait (epist. 73):
It matters little, she pointed out, whether one abandons the study of philosophy completely or merely interrupts it, for it can never remain at the point where it was thus interrupted. All other occupations must be resisted; it is vain to seek to adjust life to include them, and they must simply be eliminated. This view is maintained, for example, in the love of God by those among us who are truly called monastics, and in the love of wisdom by all those who have stood out among men as sincere philosophers. For in every race, gentiles or Jews or Christians, there have always been a few who excelled their fellows in faith or in the purity of their lives, and who were set apart from the multitude by their continence or by their abstinence from worldly pleasures	«Non cum vacaveris philosophandum est; omnia negligenda sunt, ut huic assideamus, cui ^[0131C] nullum tempus satis magnum est.» Non multum refert utrum omittas philosophiam an intermittas. Non enim ubi interrupta est manet. Resistendum est occupationibus, nec explicandae sunt, sed submovendae. Quod nunc igitur apud nos amore Dei sustinent qui vere monachi dicuntur, hoc desiderio philosophiae, qui nobiles in gentibus exstiterunt, philosophi. In omni namque populo tam gentili scilicet quam Judaico, sive Christiano, aliqui semper exstiterunt fide seu morum honestate caeteris praeeminentes, et se a populo aliqua continentiae vel abstinentiae singularitate segregantes.
Among the Jews of old there were the Nazarites, who consecrated themselves to the Lord, some of them the sons of the prophet Elias and others the followers of Eliseus, the monks of whom, on the authority of St. Jerome (Epist. 4 and 13), we read in the Old Testament. More recently there were the three philosophical sects which Josephus defines in his Book of Antiquities (xviii, 2), calling them the Pharisees, the Sadducees and the Essenes. In our times, furthermore, there are the monks who imitate either the communal life of the Apostles or the earlier and solitary life of John. Among the gentiles there are, as has been said, the philosophers. Did they not apply the name of wisdom or philosophy as much to the religion of life as to the pursuit of learning as we find from the origin of the word itself, and likewise from the testimony of the saints?	Apud Judaeos quidem antiquitus Nazaraei, qui se Domino secundum legem consecrabant, sive filii prophetarum Eliae vel Elisaei sectatores, quos beato attestante ^[0131D] Hieronymo (epist. 4 et 13), monachos legimus in Veteri Testamento. Novissime autem tres illae philosophiae sectae, quas Josephus in libro Antiquitatum XVIII (cap. 2) distinguens, alios Pharisaeos, alios Sadducaeos, alios nominat Essaeos. Apud nos vero monachi, qui videlicet aut communem apostolorum vitam, aut priorem illam et solitariam Joannis imitantur. ^[0132A] Apud gentiles autem, ut dictum est, philosophi. Non enim sapientiae vel philosophiae nomen tam ad scientiae perceptionem, quam ad vitae religionem referebant, sicut ab ipso etiam hujus nominis ortu didicimus, ipsorum quoque testimonio sanctorum
There is a passage on this subject in the eighth book of St. Augustine’s “City of God,” wherein he distinguishes between the various schools of philosophy. “The Italian school,” he says, “had as its founder Pythagoras of Samos, who, it is said, originated the very word ‘philosophy.’ Before his time those who were regarded as conspicuous for the praiseworthiness of their lives were called wise men, but he, on being asked of his profession, replied that he was a philosopher, that is to say a student or a lover of wisdom, because it seemed to him unduly boastful to call himself a wise man.” In this passage, therefore, when the phrase “conspicuous for the praiseworthiness of their lives” is used, it is evident that the wise, in other words the philosophers, were so called less because of their erudition than by reason of their virtuous lives. In what sobriety and continence these men lived it is not for me to prove by illustration, lest I should seem to instruct Minerva herself	Unde et illud est beati Augustini libro VIII, De civitate Dei, genera quidem philosophorum distinguentis: «Italicum genus auctorem habuit Pythagoram Samium, a quo et fertur ipsum philosophiae nomen exortum. Nam cum antea sapientes appellarentur qui modo quodam laudabilis vitae aliis praestare videbantur, iste interrogatus quid profiteretur, philosophum se esse respondit, id est studiosum vel amatorem sapientiae; quoniam sapientem profiteri arrogantissimum videbatur.» Hoc itaque loco ^[0132B] cum dicitur, «qui modo quodam laudabilis vitae aliis praestare videbantur,» aperte monstratur sapientes gentium, id est philosophos ex laude vitae potius quam scientiae sic esse nominatos. Quam sobrie autem atque continenter ipsi vixerint, non est nostrum modo exemplis colligere, ne Minervam ipsam videar docere.
Now, she added, if laymen and gentiles, bound by no profession of religion, lived after this fashion, what ought you, a cleric and a canon, to do in order not to prefer base voluptuousness to your sacred duties, to prevent this Charybdis from sucking you down headlong, and to save yourself from being plunged shamelessly and irrevocably into such filth as this? If you care nothing for your privileges as a cleric, at least uphold your dignity as a philosopher. If you scorn the reverence due to God, let regard for your reputation temper your shamelessness. Remember that Socrates was chained to a wife, and by what a filthy accident he himself paid for this blot on philosophy, in order that others thereafter might be made more cautious by his example. Jerome thus mentions this affair, writing about Socrates in his first book against Jovinianus: “Once when he was withstanding a storm of reproaches which Xantippe was hurling at him from an upper story, he was suddenly drenched with foul slops; wiping his head, he said only, ‘I knew there would be a shower after all that thunder.’	Si autem sic laici gentilesque vixerunt, nulla scilicet professione religionis astricti, quid te clericum atque canonicum facere oportet, ne divinis officiis turpes praeferas voluptates, ne te praecipitem haec Charibdis absorbeat, ne obscenitatibus istis te impudenter atque irrevocabiliter immergas? Qui si clerici praerogativam non curas, philosophi saltem defende dignitatem. Si reverentia Dei contemnitur, amor saltem honestatis impudentiam ^[0132C] temperet. Memento Socratem uxoratum fuisse, et quam foedo casu hanc philosophiae labem ipse primo luerit, ut deinceps caeteri exemplo ejus cautiores efficerentur. Quod nec ipse praeterit Hieronymus ita in primo contra Jovinianum de ipso scribens Socrate: «Quodam autem tempore, cum infinita convitia ex superiore loco ingerenti Xantipae restitisset, aqua profusus immunda nihil respondit amplius, quam capite deterso [al. demisso]: Sciebam, inquit, futurum ut ista tonitrua imber sequeretur.»
Her final argument was that it would be dangerous for me to take her back to Paris, and that it would be far sweeter for her to be called my mistress than to be known as my wife; nay, too, that this would be more honourable for me as well. In such case, she said, love alone would hold me to her, and the strength of the marriage chain would not constrain us. Even if we should by chance be parted from time to time, the joy of our meetings would be all the sweeter by reason of its rarity. But when she found that she could not convince me or dissuade me from my folly by these and like arguments, and because she could not bear to offend me, with grievous sighs and tears she made an end of her resistance, saying: “Then there is no more left but this, that in our doom the sorrow yet to come shall be no less than the love we two have already known.” Nor in this, as now the whole world knows, did she lack the spirit of prophecy	Addebat denique ipsa et quam periculosum mihi esset eam reducere, et quam sibi charius existeret, mihique honestius amicam dici quam uxorem, ut me ei sola gratia conservaret, non vis aliqua vinculi nuptialis constringeret. Tantoque nos ipsos ^[0132D] ad tempus separatos gratiora de conventu nostro percipere gaudia, quanto rariora. Haec et similia persuadens seu dissuadens, cum meam deflectere non posset stultitiam, nec me sustineret offendere, suspirans vehementer et lacrymans perorationem suam tali fine terminavit. Unum, inquit, ad ultimum restat, ut in perditione duorum minor non ^[0133A] succedat dolor quam praecessit amor. Nec in hoc ei, sicut universus agnovit mundus, prophetiae defuit spiritus.
So, after our little son was born, we left him in my sister’s care, and secretly returned to Paris. A few days later, in the early morning, having kept our nocturnal vigil of prayer unknown to all in a certain church, we were united there in the benediction of wedlock, her uncle and a few friends of his and mine being present. We departed forthwith stealthily and by separate ways, nor thereafter did we see each other save rarely and in private, thus striving our utmost to conceal what we had done. But her uncle and those of his household, seeking solace for their disgrace, began to divulge the story of our marriage, and thereby to violate the pledge they had given me on this point. Heloise, on the contrary, denounced her own kin and swore that they were speaking the most absolute lies. Her uncle, aroused to fury thereby, visited her repeatedly with punishments. No sooner had I learned this than I sent her to a convent of nuns at Argenteuil, not far from Paris, where she herself had been brought up and educated as a young girl. I had them make ready for her all the garments of a nun, suitable for the life of a convent, excepting only the veil, and these I bade her put on	Nato itaque parvulo nostro sorori meae commendato Parisius occulte revertimur, et post paucos dies nocte secretis orationum vigiliis in quadam ecclesia celebratis, ibidem summo mane, avunculo ejus atque quibusdam nostris vel ipsius amicis assistentibus, nuptiali benedictione confoederamur. Moxque occulte divisim abscessimus, nec nos ulterius nisi raro latenterque vidimus, dissimulantes plurimum quod egeramus. Avunculus autem ipsius, atque domestici ejus, ignominiae suae solatium quaerentes, initum matrimonium divulgare, et fidem mihi super hoc datam violare coeperunt. Illa autem e contra anathematizare et jurare ^[0133B] quia falsissimum esset. Unde vehementer ille commotus, crebris eam contumeliis afficiebat. Quod ^[0134A] cum ego cognovissem , transmisi eam ad abbatiam quamdam sanctimonialium prope Parisius, quae Argenteolum appellatur, ubi ipsa olim puellula educata fuerat atque erudita. Vestes quoque ei religionis, quae conversioni [al. conversationi] monasticae convenirent, excepto velo, aptari feci, et his eam indui.
When her uncle and his kinsmen heard of this, they were convinced that now I had completely played them false and had rid myself forever of Heloise by forcing her to become a nun. Violently incensed, they laid a plot against me, and one night, while I, all unsuspecting, was asleep in a secret room in my lodgings, they broke in with the help of one of my servants, whom they had bribed. There they had vengeance on me with a most cruel and most shameful punishment, such as astounded the whole world, for they cut off those parts of my body with which I had done that which was the cause of their sorrow. This done, straightway they fled, but two of them were captured, and suffered the loss of their eyes and their genital organs. One of these two was the aforesaid servant, who, even while he was still in my service, had been led by his avarice to betray me	. Quo audito, avunculus et consanguinei seu affines ejus opinati sunt me nunc sibi plurimum illuxisse [al. illusisse], et ab ea moniali facta me sic facile expedire. Unde vehementer indignati, et adversum me conjurati, nocte quadam quiescentem me atque dormientem in secreta hospitii mei camera, quodam mihi serviente per pecuniam corrupto, crudelissima et pudentissima ultione punierunt, et quam summa admiratione mundus ^[0134B] excepit: eis videlicet corporis mei partibus amputatis, quibus id quod plangebant commiseram. ^[0135A] Quibus mox in fugam conversis, duo qui comprehendi potuerunt, oculis et genitalibus privati sunt. Quorum alter ille fuit supradictus serviens: qui cum in obsequio meo mecum maneret, cupiditate ad proditionem ductus est.

8. Of The Suffering Of His Body—Of How He Became A Monk In The Monastery Of St. Denis And Heloise A Nun At Argenteuil	*CAP. VIII. De plaga corporis ejus. Fit monachus in monasterio S. Dionysii: Heloisa sanctimonialis apud Argenteolum.---*
When morning came the whole city was assembled before my dwelling. It is difficult, nay, impossible, for words of mine to describe the amazement which bewildered them, the lamentations they uttered, the uproar with which they harassed me, or the grief with which they increased my own suffering. Chiefly the clerics, and above all my scholars, tortured me with their intolerable lamentations and outcries, so that I suffered more intensely from their compassion than from the pain of my wound. In truth I felt the disgrace more than the hurt to my body, and was more afflicted with shame than with pain. My incessant thought was of the renown in which I had so much delighted, now brought low, nay, utterly blotted out, so swiftly by an evil chance. I saw, too, how justly God had punished me in that very part of my body whereby I had sinned. I perceived that there was indeed justice in my betrayal by him whom I had myself already betrayed; and then I thought how eagerly my rivals would seize upon this manifestation of justice, how this disgrace would bring bitter and enduring grief to my kindred and my friends, and how the tale of this amazng outrage would spread to the very ends of the earth.	Mane autem facto, tota ad me civitas congregata quanta stuperet admiratione, quanta se affligeret lamentatione, quanto me clamore vexarent, quanto planctu perturbarent: difficile, imo impossibile est exprimi. Maxime vero clerici, ac praecipue scholares nostri intolerabilibus me lamentis et ejulatibus cruciabant, ut multo amplius ex eorum compassione quam ex vulneris laederer passione, ^[0135B] et plus erubescentiam quam plagam sentirem, et pudore magis quam dolore affligerer. Occurrebat animo quanta modo gloria pollebam, quam facili et temporali casu haec humiliata, imo penitus esset exstincta. Quam justo Dei judicio in illa corporis mei portione plecterer, in qua deliqueram. Quam justa proditione is, quem antea prodideram, vicem mihi retulisset. Quanta laude mei aemuli tam manifestam aequitatem efferrent. Quantam perpetui doloris contritionem plaga haec parentibus meis et amicis esset collatura. Quanta dilatatione haec singularis infamia universum mundum esset occupatura.
What path lay open to me thereafter? How could I ever again hold up my head among men, when every finger should be pointed at me in scorn, every tongue speak my blistering shame, and when I should be a monstrous spectacle to all eyes? I was overwhelmed by the remembrance that, according to the dread letter of the law, God holds eunuchs in such abomination that men thus maimed are forbidden to enter a church, even as the unclean and filthy; nay, even beasts in such plight were not acceptable as sacrifices. Thus in Leviticus (xxii, 24) is it said: “Ye shall not offer unto the Lord that which hath its stones bruised, or crushed, or broken, or cut.” And in Deuteronomy (xxiii, 1), “He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the Lord.”	*Qua mihi ulterius via pateret, qua fronte in publicum prodirem omnium digitis demonstrandus [al.* denotandus], omnium linguis corrodendus, omnibus ^[0135C] monstruosum spectaculum futurus. Nec me etiam parum confundebat, quod secundum occidentem legis litteram tanta sit apud Deum eunuchorum abominatio, ut homines amputatis vel attritis testibus eunuchizati intrare Ecclesiam tanquam olentes et immundi prohibeantur, et in sacrificio quoque talia penitus animalia respuantur. Lib. Levit. XXII, 24: «Omne animal, quod est contritis, vel tonsis, vel sectis, ablatisque testiculis, non offeretis Domino.» Deut. XXIII, 1: «Non intrabit eunuchus ^[0136A] attritis vel amputatis testiculis, et abscisso veretro, Ecclesiam Dei.»**

I must confess that in my misery it was the overwhelming sense of my disgrace rather than any ardour for conversion to the religious life that drove me to seek the seclusion of the monastic cloister. Heloise had already, at my bidding, taken the veil and entered a convent. Thus it was that we both put on the sacred garb, I in the abbey of St. Denis, and she in the convent of Argenteuil, of which I have already spoken. She, I remember well, when her fond friends sought vainly to deter her from submitting her fresh youth to the heavy and almost intolerable yoke of monastic life, sobbing and weeping replied in the words of Cornelia	In tam misera me contritione positum confusio, fateor, pudoris potius quam devotio conversionis ad monasticorum latibula claustrorum compulit. Illa tamen prius ad imperium nostrum sponte velata, et monasterium ingressa . Ambo itaque simul sacrum habitum suscepimus, ego quidem in abbatia Sancti Dionysii, illa in monasterio Argenteoli supradicto. Quae quidem, memini, cum ejus adolescentiam a jugo monasticae regulae tanquam intolerabili poena plurimi frustra deterrerent ei compatientes, in illam Corneliae querimoniam inter lacrymas et singultus prout poterat prorumpens, ait:
“. . . O husband most noble, Who ne’er shouldst have shared my couch! Has fortune such power To smite so lofty a head? Why then was I wedded Only to bring thee to woe? Receive now my sorrow, The price I so gladly pay.” (Lucan, “Pharsalia,” viii, 94.)	. . . . . O maxime conjux! ^[0136B] O thalamis indigne meis! hoc juris habebat In tantum fortuna caput? cur impia nupsi, Si miserum factura fui? nunc accipe poenas, Sed quas sponte luam. (LUCAN. Pharsal., lib. VIII, 94).
With these words on her lips did she go forthwith to the altar, and lifted therefrom the veil, which had been blessed by the bishop, and before them all she took the vows of the religious life. For my part, scarcely had I recovered from my wound when clerics sought me in great numbers, endlessly beseeching both my abbot and me myself that now, since I was done with learning for the sake of gain or renown, I should turn to it for the sole love of God. They bade me care diligently for the talent which God had committed to my keeping (Matthew, xxv, 15), since surely He would demand it back from me with interest. It was their plea that, inasmuch as of old I had laboured chiefly in behalf of the rich, I should now devote myself to the teaching of the poor. Therein above all should I perceive how it was the hand of God that had touched me, when I should devote my life to the study of letters in freedom from the snares of the flesh and withdrawn from the tumultuous life of this world. Thus, in truth, should I become a philosopher less of this world than of God	Atque in his verbis ad altare mox properat, et confestim ab episcopo benedictum velum ab altare tulit, et se monasticae professioni coram omnibus alligavit. Vix autem de vulnere adhuc convalueram, cum ad me confluentes clerici tam ab abbate nostro, quam a meipso continuis supplicationibus efflagitabant; quatenus quod hucusque pecuniae vel laudis cupiditate egeram, nunc amore Dei operam studio darem, attendens quod mihi fuerat a Domino talentum commissum (Matth. XXV, 15), ab ipso esse cum usuris exigendum: et qui divitibus ^[0136C] maxime hucusque intenderam, pauperibus erudiendis amodo studerem. Et ob hoc maxime Dominica manu me nunc tactum esse cognoscerem, quo liberius a carnalibus illecebris, et tumultuosa vita saeculi abstractus, studio litterarum vacarem. Nec tam mundi quam Dei vere philosophus fierem.
The abbey, however, to which I had betaken myself was utterly worldly and in its life quite scandalous. The abbot himself was as far below his fellows in his way of living and in the foulness of his reputation as he was above them in priestly rank. This intolerable state of things I often and vehemently denounced, sometimes in private talk and sometimes publicly, but the only result was that I made myself detested of them all. They gladly laid hold of the daily eagerness of my students to hear me as an excuse whereby they might be rid of me; and finally, at the insistent urging of the students themselves, and with the hearty consent of the abbot and the rest of the brotherhood, I departed thence to a certain hut, there to teach in my wonted way. To this place such a throng of students flocked that the neighbourhood could not afford shelter for them, nor the earth sufficient sustenance	Erat autem abbatia illa nostra, ad quam me contuleram, saecularis admodum vitae atque turpissimae. Cujus abbas ipse, quo caeteris praelatione major, tanto vita deterior atque infamia notior erat. ^[0137A] Quorum quidem intolerabiles spurcitias ego frequenter atque vehementer modo privatim, modo publice redarguens, omnibus me supra modum onerosum atque odiosum effeci. Qui ad quotidianam discipulorum nostrorum instantiam maxime gavisi, occasionem nacti sunt, qua me a se removerent. Diu itaque illis instantibus atque importune pulsantibus abbate quoque nostro et fratribus intervenientibus, ^[0138A] ad cellam quamdam recessi, scholis more solito vacaturus. Ad quas quidem tanta scholarium multitudo confluxit, ut nec locus hospitiis, nec terra sufficeret alimentis.
Here, as befitted my profession, I devoted myself chiefly to lectures on theology, but I did not wholly abandon the teaching of the secular arts, to which I was more accustomed, and which was particularly demanded of me. I used the latter, however, as a hook, luring my students by the bait of learning to the study of the true philosophy, even as the Ecclesiastical History tells of Origen, the greatest of all Christian philosophers. Since apparently the Lord had gifted me with no less persuasiveness in expounding the Scriptures than in lecturing on secular subjects, the number of my students in these two courses began to increase greatly, and the attendance at all the other schools was correspondingly diminished.	Ubi, quod professioni meae convenientius erat, sacrae plurimum lectioni studium intendens, saecularium artium disciplinam, quibus amplius assuetus fueram, et quas a me plurimum requirebant, non penitus abjeci; sed de his ^[0139A] quasi hamum quemdam fabricavi, quo illos philosophico sapore inescatos ad verae philosophiae lectionem attraherem, sicut et summum Christianorum philosophorum Origenem consuevisse Historia meminit ecclesiastica . Cum autem in divina Scriptura non minorem mihi gratiam, quam in saeculari Dominus contulisse videretur, coeperunt admodum ex utraque lectione scholae nostrae multiplicari, et caeterae omnes vehementer attenuari.
Thus I aroused the envy and hatred of the other teachers. Those who sought to belittle me in every possible way took advantage of my absence to bring two principal charges against me: first, that it was contrary to the monastic profession to be concerned with the study of secular books; and, second, that I had presumed to teach theology without ever having been taught therein myself. This they did in order that my teaching of every kind might be prohibited, and to this end they continually stirred up bishops, archbishops, abbots and whatever other dignitaries of the Church they could reach	Unde maxime magistrorum invidiam atque odium adversum me concitavi. Qui in omnibus quae poterant mihi derogantes, duo praecipue absenti mihi semper ^[0140A] objiciebant: quod scilicet proposito monachi valde sit contrarium saecularium librorum studio detineri, et quod sine magistro ad magisterium divinae lectionis accedere praesumpsissem, ut sic videlicet omne mihi doctrinae scholaris exercitium interdiceretur, ad quod incessanter episcopos, archiepiscopos, abbates et quascunque poterant religiosi nominis personas incitabant.

9, Of his book on theology and his persecution at the hands of his fellow students— Of the council against him	*CAP. IX. De libro Theologiae suae, et persecutione quam sustinuit a condiscipulis. Concilium contra eum.---*
It so happened that at the outset I devoted myself to analysing the basis of our faith through illustrations based on human understanding, and I wrote for my students a certain tract on the unity and trinity of God. This I did because they were always seeking for rational and philosophical explanations, asking rather for reasons they could understand than for mere words, saying that it was futile to utter words which the intellect could not possibly follow, that nothing could be believed unless it could first be understood, and that it was absurd for any one to preach to others a thing which neither he himself nor those whom he sought to teach could comprehend. Our Lord Himself maintained this same thing when He said: “They are blind leaders of the blind” (Matthew, xv, 14)	Accidit autem mihi ut ad ipsum fidei nostrae fundamentum humanae rationis similitudinibus ^[0141A] disserendum primo me applicarem, et quemdam theologiae tractatum De unitate et Trinitate divina scholaribus nostris componerem, qui humanas et philosophicas rationes requirebant, et plus quae intelligi quam quae dici possent efflagitabant, dicentes quidem verborum superfluam esse prolationem, ^[0142A] quam intelligentia non sequeretur, nec credi posse aliquid nisi primitus intellectum, et ridiculosum esse aliquem aliis praedicare quod nec ipse nec illi quos doceret intellectu capere possent. Domino ipso arguente quod «caeci essent duces caecorum (Matth. XV, 14).»
Now, a great many people saw and read this tract, and it became exceedingly popular, its clearness appealing particularly to all who sought information on this subject. And since the questions involved are generally considered the most difficult of all, their complexity is taken as the measure of the subtlety of him who succeeds in answering them. As a result, my rivals became furiously angry, and summoned a council to take action against me, the chief instigators therein being my two intriguing enemies of former days, Alberic and Lotulphe. These two, now that both William and Anselm, our erstwhile teachers, were dead, were greedy to reign in their stead, and, so to speak, to succeed them as heirs. While they were directing the school at Rheims, they managed by repeated hints to stir up their archbishop, Rodolphe, against me, for the purpose of holding a meeting, or rather an ecclesiastical council, at Soissons, provided they could secure the approval of Conon, Bishop of Praeneste, at that time papal legate in France. Their plan was to summon me to be present at this council, bringing with me the famous book I had written regarding the Trinity. In all this, indeed, they were successful, and the thing happened according to their wishes	Quem quidem tractatum cum vidissent ^[0143A] et legissent plurimi, coepit in commune omnibus plurimum placere, quod in eo pariter omnibus satisfieri super hoc quaestionibus videbatur. Et quoniam quaestiones istae prae omnibus difficiles videbantur, quanto earum major exstiterat gravitas, ^[0144A] tanto solutionis earum censebatur major subtilitas. Unde aemuli mei vehementer accensi concilium contra me congregaverunt, maxime duo illi antiqui insidiatores, Albericus scilicet et Lotulfus, qui jam defunctis magistris eorum et nostris, ^[0145A] Guillelmo scilicet atque Anselmo, post eos quasi regnare se solos appetebant, atque etiam ipsis tanquam haeredes succedere. Cum autem utrique Remis scholas regerent, crebris suggestionibus archiepiscopum suum Rodulphum adversum me commoverunt, ut ascito Conano Praenestino episcopo, qui tunc legatione fungebatur in Gallia, conventiculum quemdam sub nomine concilii ^[0146A] in Suessionensi civitate celebrarent, meque invitarent quatenus illud opus clarum, quod de Trinitate composueram, mecum afferrem. Et factum est ita.
Before I reached Soissons, however, these two rivals of mine so foully slandered me with both the clergy and the public that on the day of my arrival the people came near to stoning me and the few students of mine who had accompanied me thither. The cause of their anger was that they had been led to believe that I had preached and written to prove the existence of three gods. No sooner had I reached the city, therefore, than I went forthwith to the legate; to him I submitted my book for examination and judgment, declaring that if I had written anything repugnant to the Catholic faith, I was quite ready to correct it or otherwise to make satisfactory amends. The legate directed me to refer my book to the archbishop and to those same two rivals of mine, to the end that my accusers might also be my judges. So in my case was fulfilled the saying: “Even our enemies are our judges” (Deut. xxxii, 31)	Antequam autem illuc pervenirem, duo illi praedicti aemuli nostri ita me in clero et populo diffamaverunt, ut pene me populus paucosque qui advenerant ex discipulis nostris prima die nostri adventus lapidarent, dicentes me tres Deos praedicare et scripsisse, ^[0147A] sicut ipsis persuasum fuerat. Accessi autem, mox ut ad civitatem veni, ad legatum; eique libellum nostrum inspiciendum et dijudicandum tradidi; et me, si aliquid scripsissem quod a catholica fide dissentiret, paratum esse ad correctionem [al. correptionem] vel satisfactionem, obtuli. Ille autem statim mihi praecepit libellum ipsum archiepiscopo, illisque aemulis meis deferre, quatenus ipsi me judicarent, qui me super hoc accusabant, ut illud in me etiam compleretur: «Et inimici nostri sunt judices (Deut. XXXII, 31).»
These three, then, took my book and pawed it over and examined it minutely, but could find nothing therein which they dared to use as the basis for a public accusation against me. Accordingly they put off the condemnation of the book until the close of the council, despite their eagerness to bring it about. For my part, every day before the council convened I publicly discussed the Catholic faith in the light of what I had written, and all who heard me were enthusiastic in their approval alike of the frankness and the logic of my words. When the public and the clergy had thus learned something of the real character of my teaching, they began to say to one another: “Behold, now he speaks openly, and no one brings any charge against him. And this council, summoned, as we have heard, chiefly to take action upon his case, is drawing toward its end. Did the judges realize that the error might be theirs rather than his?	Saepius autem illi inspicientes atque revolventes libellum, nec quid in audientia proferre adversum me auderent invenientes, distulerunt usque in finem concilii libri, ad quam anhelabant, damnationem. ^[0147B] Ego autem singulis diebus antequam sederet [al. cederet] concilium, in publico omnibus secundum quam scripseram fidem catholicam disserebam, et cum magna admiratione omnes qui audiebant tam verborum apertionem quam sensum nostrum commendabant. Quod cum populus et clerus inspiceret, coeperunt adinvicem dicere: «Ecce nunc palam loquitur, et nemo in eum aliquid dicit.» Et concilium ad finem festinat, maxime in eum ut audivimus, congregatum. Nunquid judices cognoverunt, quia ipsi potius, quam ille, errant?
As a result of all this, my rivals grew more angry day by day. On one occasion Alberic, accompanied by some of his students, came to me for the purpose of intimidating me, and, after a few bland words, said that he was amazed at something he had found in my book, to the effect that, although God had begotten God, I denied that God had begotten Himself, since there was only one God. I answered unhesitatingly: “I can give you an explanation of this if you wish it.” “Nay,” he replied, “I care nothing for human explanation or reasoning in such matters, but only for the words of authority.” “Very well,” I said; “turn the pages of my book and you will find the authority likewise.” The book was at hand, for he had brought it with him. I turned to the passage I had in mind, which he had either not discovered or else passed over as containing nothing injurious to me. And it was God’s will that I quickly found what I sought. This was the following sentence, under the heading “Augustine, On the Trinity, Book I”: “Whosoever believes that it is within the power of God to beget Himself is sorely in error; this power is not in God, neither is it in any created thing, spiritual or corporeal. For there is nothing that can give birth to itself.	Ex quo aemuli nostri quotidie magis ac magis inflammabantur. Quadam autem die Albericus ad me animo intentatis [al. intentandum] cum quibusdam discipulis suis accedens, post quaedam blanda colloquia ^[0147C] dixit se mirari quoddam, quod in libro illo notaverat: quod scilicet cum Deus Deum genuerit, nec nisi unus Deus sit, negarem tamen Deum seipsum genuisse. Cui statim respondi: «Super hoc, si vultis, rationem proferam.»---«Non curamus, inquit ille, rationem humanam, aut sensum nostrum in talibus, sed auctoritatis verba solummodo.» Cui ego: «Vertite, inquam, folium libri, et invenietis auctoritatem.» Et erat praesto liber quem secum ipse detulerat. Revolvi ad locum, quem noveram, quem ipse minime compererat, aut qui nonnisi mihi nocitura quaerebat. Et voluntas Dei fuit, ut cito occurreret mihi quod volebam. Erat autem sententia intitulata: Augustinus De Trinitate lib. I ^[0147D] (cap. 1): «Qui putat ejus potentiae Deum, ut seipsum ipse genuerit, eo plus errat quod non solum Deus ita non est; sed nec spiritalis creatura, nec corporalis. Nulla enim omnino res est, quae seipsam gignat.»
When those of his followers who were present heard this, they were amazed and much embarrassed. He himself, in order to keep his countenance, said: “Certainly, I understand all that.” Then I added: “What I have to say further on this subject is by no means new, but apparently it has nothing to do with the case at issue, since you have asked for the word of authority only, and not for explanations. If, however, you care to consider logical explanations, I am prepared to demonstrate that, according to Augustine’s statement, you have yourself fallen into a heresy in believing that a father can possibly be his own son.” When Alberic heard this he was almost beside himself with rage, and straightway resorted to threats, asserting that neither my explanations nor my citations of authority would avail me aught in this case. With this he left me	Quod cum discipuli ejus, qui aderant, audissent, obstupefacti erubescebant. Ipse autem, ut ^[0148A] se quoquomodo protegeret: «Bene, inquit, est intelligendum.» Ego autem subjeci [al. subjunxi], «hoc non esse novellum, sed ad praesens nihil attinere, cum ipse verba tantum, non sensum requisisset. Si autem sensum et rationem attendere vellet, paratum me dixi ei ostendere secundum ejus sententiam, quod in eam lapsus esset haeresim, secundum quam is qui pater est sui ipsius filius sit.» Quo ille audito, statim quasi furibundus effectus, ad minas conversus est, asserens nec rationes meas, nec auctoritates mihi in hac causa suffragaturas esse. Atque ita recessit.
On the last day of the council, before the session convened, the legate and the archbishop deliberated with my rivals and sundry others as to what should be done about me and my book, this being the chief reason for their having come together. And since they had discovered nothing either in my speech or in what I had hitherto written which would give them a case against me, they were all reduced to silence, or at the most to maligning me in whispers. Then Geoffroi, Bishop of Chartres, who excelled the other bishops alike in the sincerity of his religion and in the importance of his see, spoke thus:	Extrema vero die concilii, priusquam residerent, diu legatus ille atque archiepiscopus cum aemulis meis et quibusdam personis deliberare coeperunt, quid de meipso et libro ^[0148B] meo statueretur, pro quo maxime vocati fuerant. Et quoniam ex verbis meis, aut scripto quod erat in praesenti, non habebant quod in me praetenderent, omnibus aliquantulum conticentibus, aut jam mihi minus aperte detrahentibus, Gaufridus Carnotensis episcopus, qui caeteris episcopis et religionis nomine et sedis dignitate praecellebat, ita exorsus est:
“You know, my lords, all who are gathered here, the doctrine of this man, what it is, and his ability, which has brought him many followers in every field to which he has devoted himself. You know how greatly he has lessened the renown of other teachers, both his masters and our own, and how he has spread as it were the offshoots of his vine from sea to sea. Now, if you impose a lightly considered judgment on him, as I cannot believe you will, you well know that even if mayhap you are in the right there are many who will be angered thereby, and that he will have no lack of defenders. Remember above all that we have found nothing in this book of his that lies before us whereon any open accusation can be based. Indeed it is true, as Jerome says: ‘Fortitude openly displayed always creates rivals, and the lightning strikes the highest peaks.’ Have a care, then, lest by violent action you only increase his fame, and lest we do more hurt to ourselves through envy than to him through justice. A false report, as that same wise man reminds us, is easily crushed, and a man’s later life gives testimony as to his earlier deeds. If, then, you are disposed to take canonical action against him, his doctrine or his writings must be brought forward as evidence, and he must have free opportunity to answer his questioners. In that case, if he is found guilty or if he confesses his error, his lips can be wholly sealed. Consider the words of the blessed Nicodemus, who, desiring to free Our Lord Himself, said: ‘Doth our law judge any man before it hear him and know what he doeth?’“ (John, vii, 51)	«Nostis, domini omnes qui adestis, hominis hujus doctrinam, qualiscunque sit, ejusque ingenium, in quibuscunque studuerit multos assectatores [al. assentatores] et sequaces habuisse, et magistrorum tam suorum quam nostrorum famam maxime compressisse, et quasi ejus vincam a mari usque ad mare palmites suos extendisse. Si hunc ^[0148C] praejudicio, quod non arbitror, gravaveritis, etiamsi recte multos vos offensuros sciatis, et non deesse plurimos qui eum defendere velint; praesertim cum in praesenti scripto nulla videamus, quae aliquid obtineant apertae calumniae, et quia juxta illud Hieronymi: Semper in propatulo fortitudo aemulos habet , feriuntque summos fulgura montes : Videte ne plus ei nominis conferatis violenter agendo, et plus nobis criminis ex invidia, quam ei ex justitia conquiramus.» Falsus enim rumor, ut praedictus doctor meminit (ep. 10), cito opprimitur, et vita posterior judicat de priore. Si autem canonice agere in eum disponitis, dogma ejus vel scriptum in medium proferatur, et interrogato libere respondere liceat, ut convictus vel confessus ^[0148D] [al. confusus] penitus obmutescat. Juxta illam saltem beati Nicodemi sententiam, qua Dominum ipsum liberare cupiens, aiebat: «Nunquid lex nostra judicat hominem, nisi audierit ab ipso prius, et cognoverit quid faciat?» (Joan. VII, 51.)
When my rivals heard this they cried out in protest, saying: “This is wise counsel, forsooth, that we should strive against the wordiness of this man, whose arguments, or rather, sophistries, the whole world cannot resist!” And yet, methinks, it was far more difficult to strive against Christ Himself, for Whom, nevertheless, Nicodemus demanded a hearing in accordance with the dictates of the law. When the bishop could not win their assent to his proposals, he tried in another way to curb their hatred, saying that for the discussion of such an important case the few who were presen t were not enough, and that this matter required a more thorough examination. His further suggestion was that my abbot, who was there present, should take me back with him to our abbey, in other words to the monastery of St. Denis, and that there a large convocation of learned men should determine, on the basis of a careful investigation, what ought to be done. To this last proposal the legate consented, as did all the others	Quo audito statim aemuli mei obstrepentes exclamaverunt: ^[0149A] O sapiens [al. sapientis] consilium, ut contra ejus verbositatem contendamus, cujus argumentis vel sophismatibus universus obsistere mundus non posset! Sed certe multo difficilius erat cum ipso contendere Christo, ad quem tamen audiendum Nicodemus juxta legis sanctionem invitabat. Cum autem episcopus ad id quod proposuerat eorum animos inducere non posset, alia via eorum invidiam refrenare attentat, dicens ad discussionem tantae rei, paucos qui aderant non posse sufficere, majorisque examinis causam hanc indigere. In hocque ulterius tantum suum esse consilium, ut ad abbatiam meam, hoc est monasterium Sancti Dionysii, abbas meus, qui aderat, me reduceret; ibique pluribus ac doctioribus personis convocatis diligentiori ^[0149B] examine quid super hoc faciendum esset statueretur.
Then the legate arose to celebrate mass before entering the council, and through the bishop sent me the permission which had been determined on, authorizing me to return to my monastery and there await such action as might be finally taken. But my rivals, perceiving that they would accomplish nothing if the trial were to be held outside of their own diocese, and in a place where they could have little influence on the verdict, and in truth having small wish that justice should be done, persuaded the archbishop that it would be a grave insult to him to transfer this case to another court, and that it would be dangerous for him if by chance I should thus be acquitted. They likewise went to the legate, and succeeded in so changing his opinion that finally they induced him to frame a new sentence, whereby he agreed to condemn my book without any further inquiry, to burn it forthwith in the sight of all, and to confine me for a year in another monastery. The argument they used was that it sufficed for the condemnation of my book that I had presumed to read it in public without the approval either of the Roman pontiff or of the Church, and that, furthermore, I had given it to many to be transcribed. Methinks it would be a notable blessing to the Christian faith if there were more who displayed a like presumption.	Assensit legatus huic novissimo consilio, et caeteri omnes. Inde mox legatus assurrexit, ut missam celebraret, antequam concilium intraret, et mihi per episcopum illum licentiam constitutam mandavit, revertendi scilicet ad monasterium nostrum, ibi exspectaturo quod condictum fuerat. Tunc aemuli mei nihil se egisse cogitantes, si extra dioecesim suam hoc negotium ageretur, ubi videlicet judicium minime exercere valerent, qui scilicet de justitia minus confidebant, archiepiscopo persuaserunt hoc sibi valde ignominiosum esse, si ad aliam audientiam causa haec transferretur, et periculosum fieri si sic evaderem. Et statim ad legatum concurrentes, ejus immutaverunt sententiam, et ad ^[0149C] hoc invitum pertraxerunt, ut librum sine ulla inquisitione damnaret, atque in conspectu omnium statim combureret, et me in alieno monasterio perenni clausura cohiberet. Dicebant enim ad damnationem libelli satis hoc esse debere, quod nec Romani pontificis, nec Ecclesiae auctoritate commendatum legere publice praesumpseram, atque ad transcribendum jam pluribus eum ipse praestitissem. Et hoc perutile futurum fidei Christianae, si exemplo mei multorum similis praesumptio praeveniretur.
The legate, however, being less skilled in law than he should have been, relied chiefly on the advice of the archbishop, and he, in turn, on that of my rivals. When the Bishop of Chartres got wind of this, he reported the whole conspiracy to me, and strongly urged me to endure meekly the manifest violence of their enmity. He bade me not to doubt that this violence would in the end react upon them and prove a blessing to me, and counseled me to have no fear of the confinement in a monastery, knowing that within a few days the legate himself, who was now acting under compulsion, would after his departure set me free. And thus he consoled me as best he might, mingling his tears with mine	Quia autem legatus ille minus quam necesse esset litteratus fuerat, plurimum archiepiscopi consilio nitebatur [al. utebatur], sicut et archiepiscopus illorum. Quod cum Carnotensis praesensisset ^[0149D] episcopus, statim machinamenta haec ad me retulit, et me vehementer hortatus est, ut hoc tanto lenius tolerarem, quanto violentius agere eos omnibus patebat. Atque hanc tam manifestae invidiae violentiam eis plurimum obfuturam, et mihi profuturam non dubitarem. Nec de clausura monasterii ullatenus perturbarer, sciens profecto legatum ^[0150A] ipsum, qui coactus hoc faciebat, post paucos dies, cum hinc recesserit, me penitus liberaturum. Et sic me, ut potuit, flentem flens et ipse consolatus est.
10. Condemned by a Council
10. Of The Burning Of His Book—Of The Persecution He Had At The Hands Of His Abbot And The Brethren	*CAP. X. De combustione ipsius libri. De persecutione abbatis sui et fratrum in eum.---*
Straightway upon my summons I went to the council, and there, without further examination or debate, did they compel me with my own hand to cast that memorable book of mine into the flames. Although my enemies appeared to have nothing to say while the book was burning, one of them muttered something about having seen it written therein that God the Father was alone omnipotent. This reached the ears of the legate, who replied in astonishment that he could not believe that even a child would make so absurd a blunder. “Our common faith,” he said, “holds and sets forth that the Three are alike omnipotent.” A certain Tirric, a schoolmaster, hearing this, sarcastically added the Athanasian phrase, “And yet there are not three omnipotent Persons, but only One.	Vocatus itaque statim ad concilium adfui, et sine ullo discussionis examine meipsum compulerunt propria manu librum memoratum meum in ignem projicere. Et sic combustus est, ut tamen cum nihil dicere viderentur, quidam de adversariis meis id submurmuravit, quod in libro scriptum deprehenderat, solum Deum Patrem omnipotentem esse. Quod cum legatus subintellexisset, valde admirans ei respondit, hoc nec de puerulo [al. parvulo] aliquo credi ^[0150B] debere, quod adeo erraret: «Cum communis, inquit, fides et teneat et profiteatur tres omnipotentes esse.» Quo audito Terricus quidam scholarum magister irridendo subintulit illud Athanasii (in Symbolo), «et tamen non tres omnipotentes, sed unus omnipotens.»
This man’s bishop forthwith began to censure him, bidding him desist from such treasonable talk, but he boldly stood his ground, and said, as if quoting the words of Daniel: “ ‘Are ye such fools, ye sons of Israel, that without examination or knowledge of the truth ye have condemned a daughter of Israel? Return again to the place of judgment,’ (Daniel, xiii, 48—The History of Susanna) and there give judgment on the judge himself. You have set up this judge, forsooth, for the instruction of faith and the correction of error, and yet, when he ought to give judgment, he condemns himself out of his own mouth. Set free today, with the help of God’s mercy, one who is manifestly innocent, even as Susanna was freed of old from her false accusers.	Quem cum episcopus suus increpare coepisset, et reprimere quasi reum, qui in majestatem loqueretur, audacter ille restitit, et quasi Danielis verba commemorans, ait (Dan. XIII, 48): «Sic fatui filii Israel, non judicantes neque quod verum est cognoscentes, condemnastis filiam Israel. Revertimini ad judicium, et de ipso judice judicate,» qui talem judicem quasi ad instructionem fidei et correctionem erroris [al. errorum] instituistis: ^[0150C] qui cum judicare deberet, ore se proprio condemnavit. Divina hodie misericordia innocentem patenter, sicut olim Susannam a falsis accusatoribus, liberate.
Thereupon the archbishop arose and confirmed the legate’s statement, but changed the wording thereof, as indeed was most fitting. “It is God’s truth,” he said, “that the Father is omnipotent, the Son is omnipotent, the Holy Spirit is omnipotent. And whosoever dissents from this is openly in error, and must not be listened to. Nevertheless, if it be your pleasure, it would be well that this our brother should publicly state before us all the faith that is in him, to the end that, according to its deserts, it may either be approved or else condemned and corrected.	Tunc archiepiscopus assurgens verbis, prout oportebat, commutatis sententiam legati confirmavit, dicens: «Revera Domine, inquit, omnipotens Pater, omnipotens Filius, omnipotens Spiritus sanctus. Et qui ab hoc dissentit, aperte devius est, nec est audiendus. Et modo si placet, bonum est ut frater ille fidem suam coram omnibus exponat, ut ipsa prout oportet vel approbetur, vel improbetur atque corrigatur.»
When, however, I fain would have arisen to profess and set forth my faith, in order that I might express in my own words that which was in my heart, my enemies declared that it was not needful for me to do more than recite the Athanasian Symbol, a thing which any boy might do as well as I. And lest I should allege ignorance, pretending that I did not know the words by heart, they had a copy of it set before me to read. And read it I did as best I could for my groans and sighs and tears. Thereupon, as if I had been a convicted criminal, I was handed over to the Abbot of St. Medard, who was there present and led to his monastery as to a prison. And with this the council was immediately dissolved	Cum autem ego ad profitendam et exponendam fidem meam assurgerem, ut quod sentiebam verbis propriis exprimerem; adversarii dixerunt non aliud mihi necessarium ^[0150D] [al. necessum] esse, nisi ut Symbolum Athanasii recitarem, quod quivis puer aeque facere posset. Ac ne ex ignorantia praetenderem excusationem, quasi qui verba illa in usu non haberem, scripturam ad legendum afferri fecerunt, Legi inter suspiria, singultus et lacrymas prout potui . Inde quasi reus et convictus abbati Sancti Medardi, qui ^[0151A] aderat, traditus, ad claustrum ejus tanquam ad carcerem trahor. Statimque concilium solvitur.
The abbot and the monks of the aforesaid monastery, thinking that I would remain long with them, received me with great exultation, and diligently sought to console me, but all in vain. O God, who dost judge justice itself, in what venom of the spirit, in what bitterness of mind, did I blame even Thee for my shame, accusing Thee in my madness! Full often did I repeat the lament of St. Anthony: “Kindly Jesus, where wert Thou ?” The sorrow that tortured me, the shame that overwhelmed me, the desperation that wracked my mind, all these I could then feel, but even now I can find no words to express them. Comparing these new sufferings of my soul with those I had formerly endured in my body, it seemed that I was in very truth the most miserable among men. Indeed that earlier betrayal had become a little thing in comparison with this later evil, and I lamented the hurt to my fair name far more than the one to my body. The latter, indeed, I had brought upon myself through my own wrongdoing, but this other violence had come upon me solely by reason of the honesty of my purpose and my love of our faith, which had compelled me to write that which I believed	Abbas autem et monachi illius monasterii me sibi remansurum ulterius arbitrantes, summa exsultatione susceperunt, et cum omni diligentia tractantes consolari frustra nitebantur. Deus qui judicas aequitatem, quanto tunc animi felle, quanta mentis amaritudine teipsum infamis arguebam, te furibundus accusabam, saepius repetens illam beati Antonii ^[0152A] conquestionem: «Jesu bone, ubi eras ?» Quanto autem dolore aestuarem, quanta erubescentia confunderer, quanta desperatione perturbarer, sentire tunc potui, proferre non possum. Conferebam cum his quae in corpore passus olim fueram, quanta nunc sustinerem; et omnium hominum me aestimabam miserrimum. Parvam illam ducebam proditionem in comparatione hujus injuriae, et longe amplius famae quam corporis detrimentum plangebam: ^[0153A] *cum ad illam ex aliqua [al.* antiqua] culpa devenerim, ad hanc me tam patentem violentiam sincera intentio amorque fidei nostrae induxissent, quae me ad scribendum compulerant.**
The very cruelty and heartlessness of my punishment, however, made every one who heard the story vehement in censuring it, so that those who had a hand therein were soon eager to disclaim all responsibility, shouldering the blame on others. Nay, matters came to such a pass that even my rivals denied that they had had anything to do with the matter, and as for the legate, he publicly denounced the malice with which the French had acted. Swayed by repentance for his injustice, and feeling that he had yielded enough to satisfy their rancour, he shortly freed me from the monastery whither I had been taken, and sent me back to my own. Here, however, I found almost as many enemies as I had in the former days of which I have already spoken, for the vileness and shamelessness of their way of living made them realize that they would again have to endure my censure	Cum autem hoc tam crudeliter et inconsiderate factum omnes, ad quos fama delatum est vehementer arguerent, singuli qui interfuerant a se culpam repellentes in alios transfundebant, adeo ut ipsi quoque nostri aemuli id consilio suo factum esse denegarent, et legatus coram omnibus invidiam Francorum super hoc maxime detestaretur. Qui statim poenitentia ductus post aliquos dies, cum ad tempus coactus satisfecisset illorum invidiae, me de alieno eductum monasterio ad proprium remisit; ubi fere quotquot erant olim jam, ut supra memini, infestos habebam, cum ^[0153B] *eorum vitae turpitudo et impudens conversatio me suspectum penitus haberent, quem [al.* quod] arguentem graviter sustinerent.**
After a few months had passed, chance gave them an opportunity by which they sought to destroy me. It happened that one day, in the course of my reading, I came upon a certain passage of Bede, in his commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, wherein he asserts that Dionysius the Areopagite was the bishop, not of Athens, but of Corinth. Now, this was directly counter to the belief of the monks, who were wont to boast that their Dionysius, or Denis, was not only the Areopagite but was likewise proved by his acts to have been the Bishop of Athens. Having thus found this testimony of Bede’s in contradiction of our own tradition, I showed it somewhat jestingly to sundry of the monks who chanced to be near. Wrathfully they declared that Bede was no better than a liar, and that they had a far more trustworthy authority in the person of Hilduin, a former abbot of theirs, who had travelled for a long time throughout Greece for the purpose of investigating this very question. He, they insisted, had by his writings removed all possible doubt on the subject, and had securely established the truth of the traditional belief	Paucis autem elapsis ^[0154A] mensibus, occasionem eis fortuna obtulit, qua me perdere molirentur. Fortuitu namque mihi quadam die legenti occurrit quaedam Bedae sententia, qua in expositione Actuum apostolorum asserit . Dionysium Areopagitam Corinthiorum potius quam Atheniensium fuisse episcopum. Quod valde eis contrarium videbatur, qui suum Dionysium esse illum Areopagitam jactitant, quem ipsum Atheniensem episcopum gesta ejus fuisse profitentur. Quod cum reperissem, quibusdam circumstantium fratrum quasi jocando monstravi, testimonium scilicet illud Bedae, quod nobis objiciebatur. Illi vero valde indignati dixerunt Bedam mendacissimum scriptorem, et se Huldonium [al. Hilduinum et recte] abbatem suum veriorem habere testem, qui pro hoc ^[0154B] investigando Graeciam diu perlustravit, et rei veritate agnita in gestis illius, quae conscripsit, hanc veraciter dubitationem removit.
One of the monks went so far as to ask me brazenly which of the two, Bede or Hilduin, I considered the better authority on this point. I replied that the authority of Bede, whose writings are held in high esteem by the whole Latin Church, appeared to me the better. Thereupon in a great rage they began to cry out that at last I had openly proved the hatred I had always felt for our monastery, and that I was seeking to disgrace it in the eyes of the whole kingdom, robbing it of the honour in which it had particularly gloried, by thus denying that the Areopagitewas their patron saint. To this I answered that I had never denied the fact, and that I did not much care whether their patron was the Areopagite or some one else, provided only he had received his crown from God. Thereupon they ran to the abbot and told him of the misdemeanour with which they charged me	Unde cum unus eorum ^[0155A] importuna interrogatione pulsaret: quid mihi super hac controversia, Bedae videlicet atque Huldonii, videretur, respondi: Bedae auctoritatem, cujus scripta universae Latinorum frequentant Ecclesiae, gratiorem mihi videri. Ex quo illi vehementer accensi clamare coeperunt, nunc me patenter ostendisse, quod semper monasterium illud nostrum infestaverim, et quod nunc maxime toti regno derogaverim, ei videlicet honorem illum auferens, quo singulariter gloriaretur, cum eorum patronum Areopagitam fuisse denegarem. Ego autem respondi: nec me hoc denegasse, nec multum curandum esse, utrum ipse Areopagita an aliunde fuerit, dummodo tantam apud Deum adeptus sit coronam. Illi vero ad abbatem statim concurrentes, quod mihi imposuerant ^[0155B] *[al.* imposituri erant] nuntiaverunt.**
The abbot listened to their story with delight, rejoicing at having found a chance to crush me, for the greater vileness of his life made him fear me more even than the rest did. Accordingly he summoned his council, and when the brethren had assembled he violently threatened me, declaring that he would straightway send me to the king, by him to be punished for having thus sullied his crown and the glory of his royalty. And until he should hand me over to the king, he ordered that I should be closely guarded. In vain did I offer to submit to the customary discipline if I had in any way been guilty. Then, horrified at their wickedness, which seemed to crown the ill fortune I had so long endured, and in utter despair at the apparent conspiracy of the whole world against me, I fled secretly from the monastery by night, helped thereto by some of the monks who took pity on me, and likewise aided by some of my scholars	Qui libenter hoc audivit, gaudens se occasionem aliquam adipisci qua me opprimeret, utpote qui quanto caeteris turpius vivebat, magis me verebatur. Tunc concilio suo congregato, et fratribus congregatis, graviter mihi comminatus est, et se ad regem cum festinatione missurum dixit, ut de me vindictam sumeret, tanquam regni sui gloriam et coronam ei auferente. Et me interim bene observare praecepit, donec me regi traderet. Ego autem ad regularem disciplinam, si quid deliquissem, frustra me offerebam. Tunc ego nequitiam eorum exhorrens, utpote qui tandiu tam adversam habuissem fortunam, penitus desperatus quasi adversum me universus conjurasset mundus, quorumdam consensu fratrum mei miserantium, et quorumdam ^[0155C] discipulorum nostrorum suffragio, nocte latenter aufugi,
I made my way to a region where I had formerly dwelt, hard by the lands of Count Theobald (of Champagne). He himself had some slight acquaintance with me, and had compassion on me by reason of my persecutions, of which the story had reached him. I found a home there within the walls of Provins, in a priory of the monks of Troyes, the prior of which had in former days known me well and shown me much love. In his joy at my coming he cared for me with all diligence. It chanced, however, that one day my abbot came to Provins to see the count on certain matters of business. As soon as I had learned of this, I went to the count, the prior accompanying me, and besought him to intercede in my behalf with the abbot. I asked no more than that the abbot should absolve me of the charge against me, and give me permission to live the monastic life wheresoever I could find a suitable place. The abbot, however, and those who were with him took the matter under advisement, saying that they would give the count an answer the day before they departed. It appeared from their words that they thought I wished to go to some other abbey, a thing which they regarded as an immense disgrace to their own. They had, indeed, taken particular pride in the fact that, upon my conversion, I had come to them, as if scorning all other abbeys, and accordingly they considered that it would bring great shame upon them if I should now desert their abbey and seek another. For this reason they refused to listen either to my own plea or to that of the count. Furthermore, they threatened me with excommunication unless I should instantly return; likewise they forbade the prior with whom I had taken refuge to keep me longer, under pain of sharing my excommunication. When we heard this both the prior and I were stricken with fear. The abbot went away still obdurate, but a few days thereafter he died	atque ad terram comitis Theobaldi proximam, ubi antea in cella moratus fueram, abscessi. ^[0156A] Ipse quippe et mihi aliquantulum notus erat, et oppressionibus meis quas audierat admodum compatiebatur. Ibi autem in castro Privigni [al. Pruvini] morari coepi, in cella videlicet quadam Trecensium monachorum, quorum prior antea mihi familiaris exstiterat, et valde dilexerat. Qui valde in adventu meo gavisus, cum omni diligentia me procurabat. Accidit autem quadam die ut ad ipsum castrum abbas noster ad praedictum comitem pro quibusdam suis negotiis veniret. Quo cognito, accessi ad comitem cum priore illo, rogans eum quatenus pro me ipse intercederet ad abbatem nostrum, ut me absolveret et licentiam daret vivendi monastice ubicunque mihi competens locus occurreret. Ipse autem, et qui cum eo erant, in consilio ^[0156B] rem posuerunt, responsuri comiti super hoc in ipsa die antequam recederent. Inito autem consilio, visum est eis me ad aliam abbatiam velle transire, et hoc suae dedecus immensum fore. Maximae namque gloriae sibi imputabant, quod ad eos in conversione mea divertissem, quasi caeteris omnibus abbatiis contemptis; et nunc maximum sibi imminere dicebant opprobrium, si eis abjectis ad alios transmearem. Unde nullatenus vel me vel comitem super hoc audierunt. Imo mihi statim comminati sunt, quod nisi festinus redirem, me excommunicarent. Et priori illi, ad quem refugeram, modis omnibus interdixerunt, ne me deinceps retineret, nisi excommunicationis particeps esse sustineret. ^[0156C] Quo audito, tam prior ipse quam ego valde anxiati fuimus. Abbas autem in hac obstinatione recedens, post paucos dies defunctus est.
As soon as his successor had been named, I went to him, accompanied by the Bishop of Meaux, to try if I might win from him the permission I had vainly sought of his predecessor. At first he would not give his assent, but finally, through the intervention of certain friends of mine, I secured the right to appeal to the king and his council, and in this way I at last obtained what I sought. The royal seneschal, Stephen, having summoned the abbot and his subordinates that they might state their case, asked them why they wanted to keep me against my will. He pointed out that this might easily bring them into evil repute, and certainly could do them no good, seeing that their way of living was utterly incompatible with mine. I knew it to be the opinion of the royal council that the irregularities in the conduct of this abbey would tend to bring it more and more under the control of the king, making it increasingly useful and likewise profitable to him, and for this reason I had good hope of easily winning the support of the king and those about him	Cui ^[0157A] cum alius successisset, conveni eum cum episcopo Meldensi, ut mihi hoc, quod a praedecessore ejus petieram, indulgeret. Cui rei cum nec ille primo acquiesceret, postea intervenientibus amicis quibusdam nostris, regem et consilium ejus super hoc compellavi, et sic quod volebam impetravi. Stephanus quippe regis tunc dapifer, vocato in partem abbate et familiaribus ejus, quaesivit ab ^[0158A] eis cur me invitum retinere vellent, ex quo incurrere facile scandalum possent, et nullam utilitatem habere, cum nullatenus vita mea et ipsorum convenire [al. congruere] possent. Sciebam autem in hoc regii consilii sententiam esse, ut quo minus regularis abbatia illa esset, magis regi esset subjecta atque utilis, quantum videlicet ad lucra temporalia. Unde me facile regis et suorum assensum consequi credideram.
Thus, indeed, did it come to pass. But in order that the monastery might not be shorn of any of the glory which it had enjoyed by reason of my sojourn there, they granted me permission to betake myself to any solitary place I might choose, provided only I did not put myself under the rule of any other abbey. This was agreed upon and confirmed on both sides in the presence of the king and his councellors. Forthwith I sought out a lonely spot known to me of old in the region of Troyes, and there, on a bit of land which had been given to me, and with the approval of the bishop of the district, I built with reeds and stalks my first oratory in the name of the Holy Trinity. And there concealed, with but one comrade, a certain cleric, I was able to sing over and over again to the Lord: “Lo, then would I wander far off”, and remain in the wilderness” (Ps. iv, 7)	^[0159A] Sicque actum est. Sed ne gloriationem suam, quam de me habebat, monasterium amitteret, concesserunt mihi ad quam vellem solitudinem transire, dummodo nulli me abbatiae subjugarem. Hocque in praesentia regis et suorum utrimque assensum est et confirmatum. Ego itaque ad solitudinem quamdam in Trecensi pago mihi antea cognitam me contuli, ibique a quibusdam terra mihi donata, assensu episcopi terrae oratorium quoddam in nomine sanctae Trinitatis ex calamis et culmo primum construxi. Ubi cum quodam clerico nostro latitans, illud vere Domino poteram decantare: «Ecce elongavi fugiens, et mansi in solitudine (Psal. 54. 8).»
11. Teacher in the Wilderness
11.[Teacher in the Wilderness]	CAP. XI
No sooner had scholars learned of my retreat than they began to flock thither from all sides, leaving their towns and castles to dwell in the wilderness. In place of their spacious houses they built themselves huts; instead of dainty fare they lived on the herbs of the field and coarse bread; their soft beds they exchanged for heaps of straw and rushes, and their tables were piles of turf. In very truth you may well believe that they were like those philosophers of old of whom Jerome tells us in his second book against Jovinianus	Quod cum cognovissent scholares , coeperunt undique concurrere, et relictis civitatibus et castellis solitudinem inhabitare, et pro amplis ^[0160A] domibus parva tabernacula sibi construere, et pro delicatis cibis herbis agrestibus et pane cibario victitare, et pro mollibus stratis culmum sibi et stramen comparare, et pro mensis glebas erigere. Et vere eos priores philosophos imitari crederes, de quibus et Hieronymus in libro secundo contra Jovinianum his commemorat verbis:
“Through the senses,” says Jerome, “as through so many windows, do vices win entrance to the soul. The metropolis and citadel of the mind cannot be taken unless the army of the foe has first rushed in through the gates. If any one delights in the games of the circus, in the contests of athletes, in the versatility of actors, in the beauty of women, in the glitter of gems and raiment, or in aught else like to these, then the freedom of his soul is made captive through the windows of his eyes, and thus is fulfilled the prophecy: ‘For death is come up into our windows’ (Jer. ix, 21). And then, when the wedges of doubt have, as it were, been driven into the citadels of our minds through these gateways, where will be its liberty? where its fortitude? where its thought of God? Most of all does the sense of touch paint for itself the pictures of past raptures, compelling the soul to dwell fondly upon remembered iniquities, and so to practice in imagination those things which reality denies to it.	. «Per sensus quasi per quasdam fenestras vitiorum ad animam introitus est. Non potest metropolis et arx mentis capi, nisi per portas irruerit hostilis exercitus. Si Circensibus quispiam delectatur, si athletarum certamine, si mobilitate histrionum, si formis mulierum; si splendore gemmarum, vestium, et caeteris hujusmodi, per oculorum fenestras animae capta libertas est, et impletur illud propheticum: Mors intravit per fenestras nostras (Jer. IX, 21). Igitur cum ^[0161A] per has portas quasi quidam perturbationum cunei ad arcem nostrae mentis intraverint, ubi erit liberbertas? ubi fortitudo ejus? ubi de Deo cogitatio? Maxime cum tactus depingat sibi etiam praeteritas voluptates, et recordationem vitiorum cogat animam compati, et quodam modo exercere quod non agit
“Heeding such counsel, therefore, many among the philosophers forsook the thronging ways of the cities and the pleasant gardens of the countryside, with their wellwatered fields, their shady trees, the song of birds, the mirror of the fountain, the murmur of the stream, the many charms for eye and ear, fearing lest their souls should grow soft amid luxury and abundance of riches, and lest their virtue should thereby be defiled. For it is perilous to turn your eyes often to those things whereby you may some day be made captive, or to attempt the possession of that which it would go hard with you to do without. Thus the Pythagoreans shunned all companionship of this kind, and were wont to dwell in solitary and desert places. Nay, Plato himself, although he was a rich man, let Diogenes trample on his couch with muddy feet, and in order that he might devote himself to philosophy established his academy in a place remote from the city, and not only uninhabited but unhealthy as well. This he did in order that the onslaughts of lust might be broken by the fear and constant presence of disease, and that his followers might find no pleasure save in the things they learned.”	His igitur rationibus invitati multi philosophorum reliquerunt frequentias urbium et hortulos suburbanos, ubi ager irriguus, et arborum comae, et susurrus avium, fontis speculum, rivus murmurans, et multae oculorum auriumque illecebrae, ne per luxum et abundantiam copiarum animae fortitudo mollesceret, et ejus pudicitia stupraretur. Inutile quippe est crebro videre per quae aliquando captus sis, et eorum te experimento committere ^[0161B] quibus difficulter careas. Nam et Pythagoraei hujusmodi frequentiam declinantes, in solitudine et desertis locis habitare consueverant.» Sed et ipse Plato cum dives esset et torum ejus Diogenes lutatis pedibus conculcaret, ut posset vacare philosophiae elegit academiam villam ab urbe procul non solum desertam, sed et pestilentem, ut cura et assiduitate morborum libidinis impetus frangerentur, discipulique sui nullam aliam sentirent voluptatem nisi earum rerum quas discerent.
Such a life, likewise, the sons of the prophets who were the followers of Eliseus are reported to have led. Of these Jerome also tells us, writing thus to the monk Rusticus as if describing the monks of those ancient days: “The sons of the prophets, the monks of whom we read in the Old Testament, built for themselves huts by the waters of the Jordan, and forsaking the throngs and the cities, lived on pottage and the herbs of the field” (Epist. iv).	Talem et filii prophetarum Eliseo adhaerentes vitam referuntur duxisse (IV Reg. VI). De quibus ipse quoque Hieronymus, quasi de monachis illius temporis, ad Rusticum monachum inter caetera ita scribit (Epist. IV): «Filii prophetarum, quos monachos in Veteri ^[0161C] legimus Testamento, aedificabant sibi casulas prope fluenta Jordanis, et turbis et urbibus derelictis, polenta et herbis agrestibus victitabant.»
Even so did my followers build their huts above the waters of the Arduzon, so that they seemed hermits rather than scholars. And as their number grew ever greater, the hardships which they gladly endured for the sake of my teaching seemed to my rivals to reflect new glory on me, and to cast new shame on themselves. Nor was it strange that they, who had done their utmost to hurt me, should grieve to see how all things worked together for my good, even though I was now, in the words of Jerome, afar from cities and the market place, from controversies and the crowded ways of men. And so, as Quintilian says, did envy seek me out even in my hiding place. Secretly my rivals complained and lamented one to another, saying: “Behold now, the whole world runs after him, and our persecution of him has done nought save to increase his glory. We strove to extinguish his fame, and we have but given it new brightness. Lo, in the cities scholars have at hand everything they may need, and yet, spurning the pleasures of the town, they seek out the barrenness of the desert, and of their own free will they accept wretchedness.”	Tales discipuli nostri ibi super Arduzonem fluvium casulas suas aedificantes, eremitae magis quam scholares videbantur. Quanto autem illuc major scholarium erat confluentia, et quanto duriorem in doctrina nostra vitam sustinebant, tanto amplius mihi aemuli aestimabant gloriosum, et sibi ignominiosum. Qui cum cuncta quae poterant [al. potuerant] in me egissent, omnia cooperari mihi in bonum dolebant, atque ita juxta illud Hieronymi, me procul ab urbibus, foro, litibus, turbis remotum; sic quoque (ut Quintilianus ait), latentem invenit invidia. Quia ^[0161D] [al. Qui] apud semetipsos tacite conquerentes et ingemiscentes dicebant: «Ecce mundus totus post eum abiit, nihil persequendo profecimus, sed magis eum gloriosum effecimus. Exstinguere nomen ejus studuimus, sed magis accendimus. Ecce in civitatibus omnia necessaria scholares ad manum habent, et civiles delicias contemnentes, ad solitudinis inopiam confluunt, et sponte miseri fiunt.»
The thing which at that time chiefly led me to undertake the direction of a school was my intolerable poverty, for I had not strength enough to dig, and shame kept me from begging. And so, resorting once more to the art with which I was so familiar, I was compelled to substitute the service of the tongue for the labour of my hands. The students willingly provided me with whatsoever I needed in the way of food and clothing, and likewise took charge of the cultivation of the fields and paid for the erection of buildings, in order that material cares might not keep me from my studies. Since my oratory was no longer large enough to hold even a small part of their number, they found it necessary to increase its size, and in so doing they greatly improved it, building it of stone and wood. Although this oratory had been founded in honour of the Holy Trinity, and afterwards dedicated thereto, I now named it the Paraclete, mindful of how I had come there a fugitive and in despair, and had breathed into my soul something of the miracle of divine consolation.	Tunc autem praecipue ad scholarum regimen intolerabilis me compulit paupertas, cum fodere non valerem, et mendicare erubescerem. Ad artem itaque, quam noveram, recurrens [al. revertens], pro labore manuum ad officium linguae compulsus sum. Scholares autem ultro mihi quaelibet necessaria praeparabant, tam in victu scilicet quam in vestitu ^[0162A] vel cultura agrorum, seu in expensis aedificiorum, ut nulla me scilicet a studio cura domestica retardaret. Cum autem oratorium nostrum modicam eorum portionem capere non posset, necessario ipsum dilataverunt, et de lapidibus et lignis construentes melioraverunt [al. incolaverunt]. Quod cum in nomine [al. honore] sanctae Trinitatis esset fundatum, ac postea dedicatum, quia tamen ibi profugus ac tam desperatus divinae gratia consolationis aliquantulum respirassem, in memoriam hujus beneficii ipsum Paracletum [al. Paraclitum, et sic ubique] nominavi.
Many of those who heard of this were greatly astonished, and some violently assailed my action, declaring that it was not permissible to dedicate a church exclusively to the Holy Spirit rather than to God the Father. They held, according to an ancient tradition, that it must be dedicated either to the Son alone or else to the entire Trinity. The error which led them into this false accusation resulted from their failure to perceive the identity of the Paraclete with the Spirit Paraclete. Even as the whole Trinity, or any Person in the Trinity, may rightly be called God or Helper, so likewise may It be termed the Paraclete, that is to say the Consoler. These are the words of the Apostle: “Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulation” (2 Cor. i, 3). And likewise the word of truth says: “And he shall give you another comforter” (Greek “another Paraclete,” John, xiv, 16).	Quod multi audientes, non sine magna admiratione susceperunt, et nonnulli hoc vehementer calumniati sunt, dicentes non licere Spiritui sancto specialiter magis quam Deo ^[0162B] Patri Ecclesiam aliquam assignari; sed vel soli Filio, vel toti simul Trinitati secundum antiquam consuetudinem. Ad quam nimirum calumniam hic eos error plurimum induxit, quod inter Paracletum et Spiritum Paracletum nihil referre crederent. Cum ipsa quoque Trinitas et quaelibet in Trinitate persona sicut Deus vel adjutor dicitur, ita et Paracletus, id est consolator recte nuncupetur, juxta illud Apostoli: «Benedictus Deus et Pater Domini nostri Jesu Christi, Pater misericordiarum, et Deus totius consolationis, qui consolatur nos in omni tribulatione nostra (II Cor. I, 3).» Et secundum quod Veritas ait: «Et alium Paracletum dabit vobis (Joan. XIV, 16).»
Nay, since every church is consecrated equally in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, without any difference in their possession thereof, why should not the house of God be dedicated to the Father or to the Holy Spirit, even as it is to the Son ? Who would presume to erase from above the door the name of him who is the master of the house ? And since the Son offered Himself as a sacrifice to the Father, and accordingly in the ceremonies of the mass the prayers are offered particularly to the Father, and the immolation of the Host is made to Him, why should the altar not be held to be chiefly His to whom above all the supplication and sacrifice are made? Is it not called more rightly the altar of Him who receives than of Him who makes the sacrifice? Who would admit that an altar is that of the Holy Cross, or of the Sepulchre, or of St. Michael, or John, or Peter, or of any other saint, unless either he himself was sacrificed there or else special sacrifices and prayers are made there to him? Methinks the altars and temples of certain ones among these saints are not held to be idolatrous even though they are used for special sacrifices and prayers to their patrons.	Quid etiam impedit, cum omnis Ecclesia in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus ^[0162C] sancti pariter consecretur, nec sit eorum in aliquo possessio diversa [al. divisa], quod domus Domini non ita Patri, vel Spiritui sancto ascribatur, sicut Filio? Quis titulum ejus, cujus est ipsa domus, de fronte vestibuli radere praesumat? aut cum se Filius in sacrificium Patri obtulerit, et secundum hoc in celebrationibus missarum specialiter ad Patrem orationes dirigantur, et hostiae fiat immolatio, cur ejus praecipue altare esse non videatur, cui maxime supplicatio et sacrificium agitur? Nunquid rectius ejus cui immolatur, quam illius qui immolatur, altare dicendum est? an melius Dominicae crucis, aut sepulcri, vel beati Michaelis, seu Joannis, aut Petri, aut alicujus sancti, qui nec ibi immolantur, ^[0162D] nec eis immolatur, aut obsecrationes eis fiunt, altare quis esse confitebitur? Nimirum nec inter idololatras altaria vel templa aliquorum dicebantur, nisi quibus ipsi sacrificium atque obsequium impendere intendebant
Some, however, may perchance argue that churches are not built or altars dedicated to the Father because there is no feast which is solemnized especially for Him. But while this reasoning holds good as regards the Trinity itself, it does not apply in the case of the Holy Spirit. For this Spirit, from the day of Its advent, has had Its special feast of the Pentecost, even as the Son has had since His coming upon earth His feast of the Nativity. Even as the Son was sent into this world, so did the Holy Spirit descend upon the disciples, and thus does It claim Its special religious rites. Nay, it seems more fitting to dedicate a temple to It than to either of the other Persons of the Trinity, if we but carefully study the apostolic authority, and consider the workings of this Spirit Itself. To none of the three Persons did the apostle dedicate a special temple save to the Holy Spirit alone. He does not speak of a temple of the Father, or a temple of the Son, as he does of a temple of the Holy Spirit, writing thus in his first epistle to the Corinthians: “But he that is joined unto the Lord is one spirit.” (I Cor. vi, 17). And again: “What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own ?” (ib. 19).	Sed fortasse dicat aliquis, ideo Patri non esse vel ecclesias, vel altaria dedicanda, quod ejus aliquod factum [al. festum] non existit, quod specialem ei solemnitatem tribuat. Sed haec profecto ratio ipsi hoc Trinitati aufert, et Spiritui sancto non aufert. Cum ipse quoque Spiritus ex adventu suo propriam habeat Pentecostes solemnitatem, sicut Filius ex suo, Natalis sui festivitatem. Sicut enim Filius missus est in mundum, ita et Spiritus sanctus in discipulos propriam sibi vindicat solemnitatem. Cui etiam probabilius ^[0163A] quam alicui aliarum personarum templum ascribendum videtur, si diligentius apostolicam attendamus auctoritatem atque ipsius Spiritus operationem. Nulli enim trium personarum speciale [al. spirituale] templum specialiter ascribit Apostolus, nisi Spiritui sancto. Non enim ita templum Patris, vel templum Filii dicit, sicut templum Spiritus sancti, in prima ad Corinthios ita scribens: «Qui adhaeret Domino, unus spiritus est (I Cor. VI, 17).» Item: «An nescitis quia corpora vestra templum sunt Spiritus sancti, qui in vobis est, quem habetis a Deo, et non est vestri? (ibid., 19.)»
Who is there who does not know that the sacraments of God’s blessings pertaining to the Church are particularly ascribed to the operation of divine grace, by which is meant the Holy Spirit? Forsooth we are born again of water and of the Holy Spirit in baptism, and thus from the very beginning is the body made, as it were, a special temple of God. In the successive sacraments, moreover, the seven-fold grace of the Spirit is added, whereby this same temple of God is made beautiful and is consecrated. What wonder is it, then, if to that Person to Whom the apostle assigned a spiritual temple we should dedicate a material one? Or to what Person can a church be more rightly said to belong than to Him to Whom all the blessings which the church administers are particularly ascribed? It was not, however, with the thought of dedicating my oratory to one Person that I first called it the Paraclete, but for the reason I have already told, that in this spot I found consolation. None the less, even if I had done it for the reason attributed to me, the departure from the usual custom would have been in no way illogical.	.. Quis etiam divinorum sacramenta beneficiorum, quae in Ecclesia fiunt, operationi divinae gratiae, qua Spiritus sanctus intelligitur, nesciat specialiter ^[0163B] ascribi? Ex aqua quippe et Spiritu sancto in baptismo renascimur, et tunc primo quasi speciale templum Deo constituimur. In consummatione quoque septiformis Spiritus gratia traditur, quibus ipsum Dei templum adornatur atque dedicatur. Quid ergo mirum, si ei personae, cui specialiter spirituale templum Apostolus tribuit, nos corporale assignemus? Aut cujus personae rectius Ecclesia esse dicitur, quam ejus, cujus operationi cuncta, quae in Ecclesia ministrantur, beneficia specialiter assignantur? Non tamen hoc ita cogitamus [al. agitamus], ut cum Paracletum primo nostrum vocaverimus oratorium, uni ipsum personae nos dicasse fateamur; sed propter eam quam supra reddidimus causam, in memoriam scilicet nostrae consolationis. ^[0163C] *Quanquam si illo quoque, quo creditur, modo id fecissemus, non esset [al.* est] rationi adversum, licet consuetudini incognitum.**

12. Of The Persecution Directed Against Him By Sundry New Enemies Or, as it were, apostles	*CAP. XII. De persecutione quorumdam quasi novorum apostolorum in eum.---*
AND SO I dwelt in this place, my body indeed hidden away, but my fame spreading throughout the whole world, till its echo reverberated mightily—echo, that fancy of the poet’s, which has so great a voice, and nought beside. My former rivals, seeing that they themselves were now powerless to do me hurt, stirred up against me certain new apostles in whom the world put great faith. One of these (Norbert of Premontre) took pride in his position as canon of a regular order; the other (Bernard of Clairvaux) made it his boast that he had revived the true monastic life. These two ran hither and yon preaching and shamelessly slandering me in every way they could, so that in time they succeeded in drawing down on my head the scorn of many among those having authority, among both the clergy and the laity. They spread abroad such sinister reports of my faith as well as of my life that they turned even my best friends against me, and those who still retained something of their former regard for me were fain to disguise it in every possible way by reason of their fear of these two men.	Hoc autem loco me corpore latitante, sed fama tunc universum mundum perambulante, et illius poetici figmenti, quod echo dicitur , instar penitus recinente [al. resonante], quod videlicet plurimum vocis habeat, ^[0164A] sed nihil subest: priores aemuli cum per se jam minus valerent, quosdam adversum me novos apostolos, quibus mundus plurimum credebat, excitaverunt . Quorum alter regularium canonicorum vitam, alter monachorum se resuscitasse gloriabatur. Hi praedicando per mundum discurrentes, et me impudenter quantum poterant corrodentes, non modice [al. modicum] tam ecclesiasticis quibusdam quam saecularibus potestatibus contemptibilem ad tempus effecerunt, et de mea tam fide quam vita adeo sinistra disseminaverunt, ut ipsos quoque amicorum nostrorum praecipuos a me averterent, et qui adhuc pristini amoris erga me aliquid retinerent, hoc ipsi modis omnibus metu illorum dissimularent.
God is my witness that whensoever I learned of the convening of a new assemblage of the clergy, I believed that it was done for the express purpose of my condemnation. Stunned by this fear like one smitten with a thunderbolt, I daily expected to be dragged before their councils or assemblies as a heretic or one guilty of impiety. Though I seem to compare a flea with a lion, or an ant with an elephant, in very truth my rivals persecuted me no less bitterly than the heretics of old hounded St. Athanasius. Often, God knows, I sank so deep in despair that I was ready to leave the world of Christendom and go forth among the heathen, paying them a stipulated tribute in order that I might live quietly a Christian life among the enemies of Christ. It seemed to me that such people might indeed be kindly disposed toward me, particularly as they would doubtless suspect me of being no good Christian, imputing my flight to some crime I had committed, and would therefore believe that I might perhaps be won over to their form of worship.	Deus ipse mihi testis est, quoties aliquem ^[0164B] ecclesiasticarum personarum conventum adunari noveram, hoc in damnationem meam agi credebam. Stupefactus illico quasi supervenientis ictum fulguris, exspectabam ut quasi haereticus aut profanus in conciliis traherer aut Synagogis. Atque ut de pulice ad leonem, de formica ad elephantem comparatio ducatur, non me mitiori animo persequebantur aemuli mei, quam beatum olim Athanasium haeretici. Saepe autem (Deus scit) in tantam lapsus sum desperationem, ut Christianorum finibus excessis, ad gentes transire disponerem, atque ibi quiete sub quacunque tributi pactione inter inimicos Christi Christiane vivere. Quos tanto integre propitios me habiturum credebam, quanto me minus Christianum ex imposito mihi crimine suspicarentur, ^[0164C] et ob hoc facilius ad sectam suam inclinari posse crederent.
13_call_To_Evil_Abbey_of_St_Gildas
13. Of The Abbey To Which He Was Called And Of The Persecution He Had From His Sons, That Is To Say The Monks, And From The Lord Of The Land	*CAP. XIII. De abbatia ad quam assumptus est, et persecutione tam filiorum, id est monachorum, quam tyranni in eum.---*
I was thus afflicted with so great perturbation \Ms of the spirit, and when the only way of escape seemed to be forme to seek refuge with Christ among the enemies of Christ, there came a chance whereby I thought I could for a while avoid the plottings of my enemies. But thereby I fell among Christians and monks who were far more savage than heathens and more evil of life. The thing came about in this wise. There was in lesser Brittany, in the bishopric of Vannes, a certain abbey of St. Gildas at Ruits, then mourning the death of its shepherd. To this abbey the elective choice of the brethren called me, with the approval of the prince of that land, and I easily secured permission to accept the post from my own abbot and brethren. Thus did the hatred of the French drive me westward, even as that of the Romans drove Jerome toward the East. Never, God knows, would I have agreed to this thing had it not been for my longing for any possible means of escape from the sufferings which I had borne so constantly.	Cum autem tantis perturbationibus incessanter affligerer, atque hoc extremum mihi superesset consilium, ut apud inimicos Christi ad Christum confugerem: occasionem quamdam adeptus qua insidias istas paululum declinare me ^[0165A] credidi, incidi in Christianos atque monachos gentibus longo saeviores, atque pejores . Erat quippe in Britannia minore in episcopatu Venetensi abbatia quaedam Sancti Gildasii Rivensis [al. Ruiensis, et melius: vulgo de Ruys] pastore defuncto desolata. Ad quam me concors fratrum electio cum assensu principis terrae vocavit, atque hoc ab abbate nostro et fratribus facile impetravit. Sicque me Francorum invidia ad Occidentem, sicut Hieronymum Romanorum expulit ad Orientem. Nunquam enim huic rei (sciat Deus) acquievissem, nisi ut quocunque modo has, quas incessanter sustinebam, oppressiones, ut dixi, declinarem.
The land was barbarous and its speech was unknown to me; as for the monks, their vile and untameable way of life was notorious almost everywhere. The people of the region, too, were uncivilized and lawless. Thus, like one who in terror of the sword that threatens him dashes headlong over a precipice, and to shun one death for a moment rushes to another, I knowingly sought this new danger in order to escape from the former one. And there, amid the dreadful roar of the waves of the sea, where the land’s end left me no further refuge in flight, often in my prayers did I repeat over and over again: “From the end of the earth will I cry unto Thee, when my heart is overwhelmed” (Ps. lxi, 2).	Terra quippe barbara, et terrae lingua mihi incognita erat, et turpis atque indomabilis illorum monachorum ^[0165B] vita omnibus fere notissima, et gens terrae illius inhumana atque incomposita. Sicut ergo ille, qui imminente sibi gladio perterritus in praecipitium se collidit, et ut puncto temporis mortem unam differat aliam incurrit; sic ego ab uno periculo in aliud scienter me contuli, ibique ad horrisoni undas Oceani cum fugam mihi ulterius terrae postremitas non praeberet, saepe in orationibus meis illud revolvebam: «A finibus terrae ad te clamavi, dum anxiaretur cor meum (Psal. ^[0166A] LX, 3).»
No one, methinks, could fail to understand how persistently that undisciplined body of monks, the direction of which I had thus undertaken, tortured my heart day and night, or how constantly I was compelled to think of the danger alike to my body and to my soul. I held it for certain that if I should try to force them to live according to the principles they had themselves professed, I should not survive. And yet, if I did not do this to the utmost of my ability, I saw that my damnation was assured. Moreover, a certain lord who was exceedingly powerful in that region had some time previously brought the abbey under his control, taking advantage of the state of disorder within the monastery to seize all the lands adjacent thereto for his own use, and he ground down the monks with taxes heavier than those which were extorted from the Jews themselves.	Quanta enim anxietate illa etiam, quam regendam susceperam, indisciplinata fratrum congregatio cor meum die ac nocte cruciaret, cum tam animae meae quam corporis pericula pensarem, neminem jam latere arbitror. Certum quippe habebam, quod si eos ad regularem vitam, quam professi fuerant, compellere tentarem, me vivere non posse. Quod si hoc inquantum possem non agerem, me damnandum [al. damnificandum] esse. Ipsam etiam abbatiam tyrannus quidam in terra illa potentissimus ita jamdiu sibi subjugaverat, ex inordinatione scilicet ipsius monasterii nactus occasionem, ut omnia loca monasterio adjacentia in usus proprios redegisset, ac gravioribus exactionibus monachos ipsos quam tributarios Judaeos exagitaret. ^[0166B]
The monks pressed me to supply them with their daily necessities, but they held no property in common which I might administer in their behalf, and each one, with such resources as he possessed, supported himself and his concubines, as well as his sons and daughters. They took delight in harassing me on this matter, and they stole and carried off whatsoever they could lay their hands on, to the end that my failure to maintain order might make me either give up trying to enforce discipline or else abandon my post altogether. Since the entire region was equally savage, lawless and disorganized, there was not a single man to whom I could turn for aid, for the habits of all alike were foreign to me. Outside the monastery the lord and his henchmen ceaselessly hounded me, and within its walls the brethren were forever plotting against me, so that it seemed as if the Apostle had had me and none other in mind when he said: “Without were fightings, within were fears” (II Cor. vii, 5).	Urgebant me monachi pro necessitudinibus quotidianis, cum nihil in commune haberent quod eis ministrarem, sed unusquisque de propriis olim marsupiis se et concubinas suas cum filiis et filiabus sustentaret. Gaudebant me super hoc anxiari, et ipsi quoque furabantur et asportabant quae poterant, ut cum in administratione ipsa deficerem, compellerer [al. compellerent] aut a disciplina cessare, aut omnino recedere. Cum autem tota terrae illius barbaries pariter exlex et indisciplinata ^[0167A] esset, nulli erant hominum ad quorum confugere possem adjutorium, cum a moribus omnium pariter dissiderem. Foris me tyrannus ille et satellites sui assidue opprimebant, intus mihi fratres incessanter insidiabantur, ut illud Apostoli in me specialiter dictum res ipsa indicaret, «foris pugnae, intus timores (II Cor. VII, 5).»
I considered and lamented the uselessness and the wretchedness of my existence, how fruitless my life now was, both to myself and to others; how of old I had been of some service to the clerics whom I had now abandoned for the sake of these monks, so that I was no longer able to be of use to either; how incapable I had proved myself in everything I had undertaken or attempted, so that above all others I deserved the reproach, “This man began to build, and was not able to finish” (Luke xiv, 30). My despair grew still deeper when I compared the evils I had left behind with those to which I had come, for my former sufferings now seemed to me as nought. Full often did I groan: “Justly has this sorrow come upon me because I deserted the Paraclete, which is to say the Consoler, and thrust myself into sure desolation; seeking to shun threats I fled to certain peril.”	Considerabam, et plangebam quam inutilem et miseram vitam ducerem, et quam infructuose tam mihi quam aliis viverem, et quantum antea clericis profecissem, et quod nunc eis propter monachos dimissis, nec in ipsis, nec in monachis aliquem fructum haberem, et quam inefficax in omnibus incoeptis atque conatibus meis redderer, ut jam mihi de omnibus illud improperari rectissime deberet: «Hic ^[0167B] homo coepit aedificare, et non potuit consummare (Luc. XIV, 30).» Desperabam penitus, cum recordarer quae fugeram, et considerarem quae incurrerem, ^[0168A] et priores molestias quasi jam nullas reputans, crebro apud me ingemiscens dicebam: «Merito haec patior, qui Paracletum, id est consolatorem, deserens in desolationem certam me intrusi, et minas evitare cupiens ad certa confugi pericula.»
The thing which tormented me most was the fact that, having abandoned my oratory, I could make no suitable provision for the celebration there of the divine office, for indeed the extreme poverty of the place would sarcely provide the necessities of one man. But the true Paraclete Himself brought me real consolation in the midst of this sorrow of mine, and made all due provision for His own oratory. For it chanced that in some manner or other, laying claim to it as having legally belonged in earlier days to his monastery, my abbot of St. Denis got possession of the abbey of Argenteuil, of which I have previously spoken, wherein she who was now my sister in Christ rather than my wife, Heloise, had taken the veil. From this abbey he expelled by force all the nuns who had dwelt there, and of whom my former companion had become the prioress. The exiles being thus dispersed in various places, I perceived that this was an opportunity presented by God himself to me whereby I could make provision anew for my oratory. And so, returning thither, I bade her come to the oratory, together with some others from the same convent who had clung to her.	Illud autem plurimum me cruciabat quod, oratorio nostro dimisso, de divini celebratione officii ita ut oporteret providere non poteram; quoniam loci nimia paupertas vix unius hominis necessitudini sufficeret. Sed ipse quoque verus Paracletus mihi maxime super hoc desolato veram attulit consolationem, et proprio prout debebat providit oratorio . Accidit namque ut abbas noster Sancti Dionysii praedictam illam Argenteoli [al. Argentolii] abbatiam, in qua religionis habitum nostra ^[0168B] illa jam in Christo soror potius quam uxor Heloissa susceperat, tanquam ad jus monasterii sui antiquitus pertinentem, quocunque modo acquireret, ^[0169A] et conventum inde sanctimonialium, ubi illa comes nostra prioratum habebat, violenter expelleret . Quae cum diversis locis exsules dispergerentur, oblatam mihi a Domino intellexi occasionem, qua nostro consulerem oratorio. Illuc namque reversus, eam cum quibusdam aliis de eadem congregatione ipsi adhaerentibus ad praedictum oratorium invitavi.
On their arrival there I made over to them the oratory, together with everything pertaining thereto, and subsequently, through the approval and assistance of the bishop of the district, Pope Innocent II promulgated a decree confirming my gift in perpetuity to them and their successors. And this refuge of divine mercy, which they served so devotedly, soon brought them consolation, even though at first their life there was one of want, and for a time of utter destitution. But the place proved itself a true Paraclete to them, making all those who dwelt round about feel pity and kindliness for the sisterhood. So that, methinks, they prospered more through gifts in a single year than I should have done if I had stayed there a hundred. True it is that the weakness of womankind makes their needs and sufferings appeal strongly to people’s feelings, as likewise it makes their virtue all the more pleasing to God and man. And God granted such favour in the eyes of all to her who was now my sister, and who was in authority over the rest, that the bishops loved her as a daughter, the abbots as a sister, and the laity as a mother. All alike marvelled at her religious zeal, her good judgment and the sweetness of her incomparable patience in all things. The less often she allowed herself to be seen, shutting herself up in her cell to devote herself to sacred meditations and prayers, the more eagerly did those who dwelt without demand her presence and the spiritual guidance of her words.	Eoque illis adductis, ipsum oratorium cum omnibus ei pertinentibus concessi et donavi, ipsamque postmodum donationem nostram assensu atque interventu ^[0170A] episcopi terrae papa Innocentius secundus ipsis et earum sequacibus per privilegium in perpetuum corroboravit. Quas ibi quidem primo inopem sustinentes vitam, et ad tempus plurimum desolatas, divinae misericordiae respectus, cui devote serviebant, in brevi consolatus est, et se eis quoque verum exhibuit Paracletum, et circumadja centes populos misericordes eis atque propitios effecit. Et plus (sciat Deus) *ut arbitror uno anno in terrenis commodis [al.* praediis] sunt multiplicatae, ^[0171A] quam ego per centum si ibi permansissem. Quippe quo [al. quanto] feminarum sexus est infirmior, tanto earum inopia miserabilior facile humanos ^[0172A] commovet [al. permovet] affectus, et earum virtus tam Deo quam hominibus est gratior. Tantam autem gratiam in oculis omnium illi sorori ^[0173A]** nostrae, quae caeteris praeerat, Dominus annuit ut eam episcopi quasi filiam, abbates quasi sororem, laici quasi matrem diligerent: et omnes pariter ejus religionem, prudentiam, et in omnibus incomparabilem patientiae mansuetudinem admirabantur. Quae quanto rarius se videri permittebat, ut scilicet clauso cubiculo sacris meditationibus atque orationibus purius vacaret, tanto ardentius ejus praesentiam atque spiritualis colloquii monita hi qui foris sunt efflagitabant.

14. Of the evil report of his iniquity	*CAP. XIV. De infamatione turpitudinis.---*
BEFORE long all those who dwelt thereabouts began to censure me roundly, complaining that I paid far less attention to their needs than I might and should have done, and that at least I could do something for them through my preaching. As a result, I returned thither frequently, to be of service to them in whatsoever way I could. Regarding this there was no lack of hateful murmuring, and the thing which sincere charity induced me to do was seized upon by the wickedness of my detractors as the subject of shameless outcry. They declared that I, who of old could scarcely endure to be parted from her I loved, was still swayed by the delights of fleshly lust. Many times I thought of the complaint of St. Jerome in his letter to Asella regarding those women whom he was falsely accused of loving, when he said (Epist. xcix): “I am charged with nothing save the fact of my sex, and this charge is made only because Paula is setting forth to Jerusalem.” And again : “Before I became intimate in the household of the saintly Paula, the whole city was loud in my praise, and nearly every one deemed me deserving of the highest honours of priesthood. But I know that my way to the kingdom of Heaven lies through good and evil report alike.”	Cnm autem omnes earum vicini vehementer me culparent, quod ^[0174A] earum inopiae minus quam possem et deberem consulerem, et facile id nostra saltem praedicatione valerem: coepi saepius ad eas reverti, ut eis quoquomodo subvenirem. In quo nec invidiae mihi murmur defuit, et quod me facere sincera charitas compellebat, solita derogantium pravitas impudentissime accusabat, dicens me adhuc quadam carnalis concupiscentiae oblectatione teneri, qui pristinae dilectae sustinere absentiam vix aut nunquam paterer. Qui frequenter illam beati Hieronymi querimoniam mecum volvens, qui ad Asellam de fictis amicis scribens (epist. XCIX), ait: «Nihil mihi objicitur ^[0175A] nisi sexus meus, et hoc nunquam objiceretur nisi cum Hierosolymam Paula proficiscitur.» Et iterum: «Antequam, inquit, domum sanctae Paulae nossem, totius in me urbis studia consonabant, omnium pene judicio dignus summo sacerdotio decernebar. Sed scio per bonam et malam famam pervenire ad regna coelorum.»
When I pondered over the injury which slander had done to so great a man as this, I was not a little consoled thereby. If my rivals, I told myself, could but find an equal cause for suspicion against me, with what accusations would they persecute me! But how is it possible for such suspicion to continue in my case, seeing that divine mercy has freed me therefrom by depriving me of all power to enact such baseness? How shameless is this latest accusation! In truth that which had happened to me so completely removes all suspicion of this iniquity among all men that those who wish to have their women kept under close guard employ eunuchs for that purpose, even as sacred history tells regarding Esther and the other damsels of King Ahasuerus (Esther ii, 5). We read, too, of that eunuch of great authority under Queen Candace who had charge of all her treasure, him to whose conversion and baptism the apostle Philip was directed by an angel (Acts viii, 27). Such men, in truth, are enabled to have far more importance and intimacy among modest and upright women by the fact that they are free from any suspicion of lust.	Cum hanc, inquam, in tantum virum detractionis [al. detractionis] injuriam ad mentem reducerem, non modicam hinc consolationem carpebam, inquiens: O si tantam suspicionis causam aemuli mei in me reperirent, quanta me detrectatione opprimerent! Nunc vero mihi divina misericordia ab hac suspicione liberato, quomodo hujus perpetrandae turpitudinis facultate ablata suspicio remanet? Quae etiam tam impudens haec criminatio ^[0176A] novissima? Adeo namque res ista omnem hujus turpitudinis suspicionem apud omnes removet, ut quicunque mulieres observare diligentius student, eis eunuchos adhibeant, sicut de Esther et caeteris regis Assueri puellis sacra narrat historia (Esther. II, 3). Legimus et potentem illum reginae Candacis eunuchum universis ejus gazis praeesse (Act. VIII, 27). Ad quem convertendum et baptizandum Philippus apostolus ab angelo directus est. Tales quippe semper apud verecundas et honestas feminas tanto amplius dignitatis et familiaritatis adepti sunt, quanto longius ab hac absistebant suspicione.
The sixth book of the Ecclesiastical History tells us that the greatest of all Christian philosophers, Origen, inflicted a like injury on himself with his own hand, in order that all suspicion of this nature might be completely done away with in his instruction of women in sacred doctrine. In this respect, I thought, God’s mercy had been kinder to me than to him, for it was judged that he had acted most rashly and had exposed himself to no slight censure, whereas the thing had been done to me through the crime of another, thus preparing me for a task similar to his own. Moreover, it had been accomplished with much less pain, being so quick and sudden, for I was heavy with sleep when they laid hands on me, and felt scarcely any pain at all.	Ad quam quoque penitus removendam maximum illum Christianorum philosophum Origenem, cum mulierum quoque sanctae doctrinae intenderet, ^[0177A] sibi ipsi manus intulisse ecclesiasticae Historiae liber VI continet. Putabam tamen in hoc mihi magis quam illi divinam misericordiam propitiam fuisse, ut quod ille minus provide creditur egisse, atque inde non modicum crimen incurrisse; id aliena culpa in me ageret, ut ad simile opus me liberum praepararet, ac tanto minore poena, quanto breviore ac subita, ut oppressus somno cum mihi manus injicerent nihil poenae fere sentirem.
But alas, I thought, the less I then suffered from the wound, the greater is my punishment now through slander, and I am tormented far more by the loss of my reputation than I was by that of part of my body. For thus is it written: “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches” (Prov. xxii, i). And as St. Augustine tells us in a sermon of his on the life and conduct of the clergy, “He is cruel who, trusting in his conscience, neglects his reputation.” Again he says: “Let us provide those things that are good, as the apostle bids us (Rom. xii, 17), not alone in the eyes of God, but likewise in the eyes of men. Within himself each one’s conscience suffices, but for our own sakes our reputations ought not to be tarnished, but to flourish. Conscience and reputation are different matters: conscience is for yourself, reputation for your neighbour.” Methinks the spite of such men as these my enemies would have accused the very Christ Himself, or those belonging to Him, prophets and apostles, or the other holy fathers, if such spite had existed in their time, seeing that they associated in such familiar intercourse with women, and this though they were whole of body. On this point St. Augustine, in his book on the duty of monks, proves that women followed our Lord Jesus Christ and the apostles as inseparable companions, even accompanying them when they preached (Chap. 4). “Faithful women,” he says, “who were possessed of worldly wealth went with them, and ministered to them out of their wealth, so that they might lack none of those things which belong to the substance of life.” And if any one does not believe that the apostles thus permitted saintly women to go about with them wheresoever they preached the Gospel, let him listen to the Gospel itself, and learn therefrom that in so doing they followed the example of the Lord. For in the Gospel it is written thus: “And it came to pass afterward, that He went throughout every city and village, preaching and showing the glad tidings of the kingdom of God: and the twelve were with Him, and certain women, which had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities, Mary called Magdalene, and Joanna the wife of Chuza, Herod’s steward, and Susanna, and many others, which ministered unto Him of their substance” (Luke viii, 1-3).	Sed quod tunc forte minus pertuli ex vulnere, nunc ex detractione divitius [f. diutius] plector, et plus ex detrimento famae quam ex corporis crucior diminutione. Sicut enim scriptum est: «Melius est nomen bonum quam divitiae multae (Prov. XXII, 1).» Et ut beatus meminit Augustinus in sermone ^[0177B] quodam De vita et moribus clericorum : «Qui fidens conscientiae suae negligit famam suam, crudelis est.» Idem supra: «Providemus, inquit, bona, ut ait Apostolus, non solum coram Deo, sed etiam coram hominibus (Rom. XII, 17). Propter nos conscientia nostra sufficit in nobis. Propter nos fama nostra non pollui, sed pollere debet in nobis. Duae res sunt conscientia et fama. Conscientia tibi; fama proximo.» Quid autem horum invidia ipsi Christo vel ejus membris, tam prophetis scilicet quam apostolis, seu aliis Patribus sanctis objiceret, si in eorum temporibus existeret, cum eos videlicet corpore integros tam familiari conversatione feminis praecipue videret sociatos. Unde et beatus Augustinus in libro De opere monachorum, ipsas ^[0177C] etiam mulieres Domino Jesu Christo atque apostolis ita inseparabiles comites adhaesisse demonstrat, ut et cum eis etiam ad praedicationem procederent (cap. 4): «Ad hoc enim, inquit, et fideles mulieres habentes terrenam substantiam ibant cum eis, et ministrabant eis de sua substantia, ut nullius indigerent horum quae ad substantiam vitae hujus pertinerent. Et quisquis non putat ab apostolis fieri, ut cum eis sanctae conversationis mulieres cursitarent quocunque Evangelium praedicabant, Evangelium audiat et cognoscat quemadmodum hoc ipsius Domini exemplo faciebant. In Evangelio enim scriptum est: Deinceps et ipse iter faciebat per civitates, et castella, evangelizans regnum Dei, et duodecim ^[0177D] cum illo, et mulieres aliquae quae erant curatae a spiritibus immundis [al. malignis], et infirmitatibus, Maria, quae vocatur Magdalene, et Joanna uxor Cuzae procuratoris Herodis, et Susanna, et aliae multae quae ministrabant ei de facultatibus suis (Luc. VIII, 1).»
Leo the Ninth, furthermore, in his reply to the letter of Parmenianus concerning monastic zeal, says: “We unequivocally declare that it is not permissible for a bishop, priest, deacon or subdeacon to cast off all responsibility for his own wife on the grounds of religious duty, so that he no longer provides her with food and clothing; albeit he may not have carnal intercourse with her. We read that thus did the holy apostles act, for St. Paul says: ‘Have we not power to lead about a sister, a wife, as well as other apostles, and as the brethren of the Lord, and Cephas?’ (I Cor. ix, 5). Observe, foolish man, that he does not say: ‘have we not power to embrace a sister, a wife,’ but he says ‘to lead about,’ meaning thereby that such women may lawfully be supported by them out of the wages of their preaching, but that there must be no carnal bond between them.”	Et Leo nonus [al. Magnus] contra epistolam Parmeniani [al. Parmenii] de studio monasterii: «Omnino, inquit, profitemur non licere episcopo, presbytero, diacono, subdiacono propriam uxorem causa religionis abjicere cura sua, ut non ei victum et vestitum largiatur, sed non ut cum illa carnaliter jaceat. Sic et sanctos apostolos legimus egisse, ^[0178A] beato Paulo dicente: Nunquid non habemus potestatem sororem mulierem circumducendi, sicut fratres Domini et Cephas? (I Cor. IX, 5.) Vide insipiens quia non dixit: Nunquid non habemus potestatem sororem mulierem amplectendi, sed circumducendi; scilicet ut mercede praedicationis sustentarentur ab eis, nec tamen deinceps foret inter eos carnale conjugium.»
Certainly that Pharisee who spoke within himself of the Lord, saying: “This man, if He were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth Him: for she is a sinner” (Luke vii, 39), might much more reasonably have suspected baseness of the Lord, considering the matter from a purely human standpoint, than my enemies could suspect it of me. One who had seen the mother of Our Lord entrusted to the care of the young man (John xix, 27), or who had beheld the prophets dwelling and sojourning with widows (I Kings xvii, 10), would likewise have had a far more logical ground for suspicion. And what would my calumniators have said if they had but seen Malchus, that captive monk of whom St. Jerome writes, living in the same hut with his wife? Doubtless they would have regarded it as criminal in the famous scholar to have highly commended what he thus saw, saying thereof: “There was a certain old man named Malchus, a native of this region, and his wife with him in his hut. Both of them were earnestly religious, and they so often passed the threshold of the church that you might have thought them the Zacharias and Elisabeth of the Gospel, saving only that John was not with them.”	Ipse certe Pharisaeus, qui intra se de Domino ait: «Hic, si esset propheta, sciret utique quae et qualis esset mulier quae tangit eum, quia peccatrix est (Luc. VII, 39):» multo commodiorem, quantum ad humanum judicium spectat, turpitudinis conjecturam de Domino concipere poterat quam de nobis isti, aut qui matrem ejus juveni commendatam (Joan. XIX, 27), vel prophetas cum viduis maxime ^[0178B] hospitari atque conversari (III Reg. XVII, 10) videbat, multo probabiliorem inde suspicionem contrahere. Quid etiam dixissent isti detractores nostri, si Malchum illum captivum monachum, de quo beatus scribit Hieronymus , eodem contubernio cum uxore victitantem conspicerent? Quanto id crimini ascriberent, quod egregius ille doctor cum vidisset, maxime commendans, ait: «Erat illic senex quidam nomine Malchus ejusdem loci indigena, anus quoque in ejus contubernio. Studiosi ambo religionis, et sic ecclesiae limen terentes, ut Zachariam et Elisabeth de Evangelio crederes, nisi quod Joannes in medio non erat.»
Why, finally, do such men refrain from slandering the holy fathers, of whom we frequently read, nay, and have even seen with our own eyes, founding convents for women and making provision for their maintenance, thereby following the-example of the seven deacons whom the apostles sent before them to secure food and take care of the women? (Acts vi, 5). For the weaker sex needs the help of the stronger one to such an extent that the apostle proclaimed that the head of the woman is ever the man (I Cor. xi, 3), and in sign thereof he bade her ever wear her head covered (ib. 5). For this reason I marvel greatly at the customs which have crept into monasteries, whereby, even as abbots are placed in charge of the men, abbesses now are given authority over the women, and the women bind themselves in their vows to accept the same rules as the men. Yet in these rules there are many things which cannot possibly be carried out by women, either as superiors or in the lower orders. In many places we may even behold an inversion of the natural order of things, whereby the abbesses and nuns have authority over the clergy, and even over those who are themselves in charge of the people. The more power such women exercise over men, the more easily can they lead them into iniquitous desires, and in this way can lay a very heavy yoke upon their shoulders. It was with such things in mind that the satirist said:	Cur denique a detractione sanctorum Patrum se continent, quos frequenter legimus, vel etiam vidimus, monasteria quoque feminarum ^[0178C] constituere atque eis ministrare, exemplo quidem septem diaconorum, quos pro se apostoli mensis et procurationi mulierum praefecerunt? (Act. VI, 5.) Adeo namque sexus infirmior fortioris indiget auxilio, ut semper virum mulieri quasi caput praeesse Apostolus statuat. In cujus etiam rei signo ipsam semper velatum habere caput praecipit (I Cor. XX, 5). Unde non mediocriter miror consuetudines has in monasteriis dudum inolevisse, quod quemadmodum viris abbates, ita et feminis abbatissae praeponantur, et ejusdem regulae professione tam feminae quam viri se astringant. In qua tamen pleraque continentur quae a feminis tam praelatis quam subjectis nullatenus possunt adimpleri. ^[0178D] In plerisque etiam locis ordine perturbato naturali ipsas abbatissas atque moniales clericis quoque ipsis, quibus subest populus, dominari conspicimus, et tanto facilius eos ad prava desideria inducere posse, quanto eis amplius habent praeesse, et jugum illud in eos gravissimum exercere. Quod satyricus ille considerans ait:
“There is nothing more intolerable than a rich woman.” (Juvenal, Sat. VI, v, 459).	Intolerabilius nihil est quam femina dives. (JUVEN., Sat. VI, V. 459).
CH_15_Homicidal Monks
15	CAP. XV.
REFLECTING often upon all these things, I determined to make provision for those sisters and to undertake their care in every way I could. Furthermore, in order that they might have the greater reverence for me, I arranged to watch over them in person. And since now the persecution carried on by my sons was greater and more incessant than that which I formerly suffered at the hands of my brethren, I returned frequently to the nuns, fleeing the rage of the tempest as to a haven of peace. There, indeed, could I draw breath for a little in quiet, and among them my labours were fruitful, as they never were among the monks. All this was of the utmost benefit to me in body and soul, and it was equally essential for them by reason of their weakness.	Hoc ego saepe apud me pertractando, quantum mihi liceret, sororibus illis providere, et ^[0179A] earum curam agere disposueram; et quo me amplius revererentur, corporali quoque praesentia eis invigilare. Et cum me nunc frequentior ac major persecutio filiorum quam olim fratrum affligeret, ad eas de aestu hujus tempestatis quasi ad quemdam tranquillitatis portum recurrerem, atque ibi aliquantulum respirarem, et qui in monachis nullum, aliquem saltem in illis assequerer fructum. Ac tanto id mihi fieret magis saluberrimum, quanto id earum infirmitati magis esset necessarium.
But now has Satan beset me to such an extent that I no longer know where I may find rest, or even so much as live. I am driven hither and yon, a fugitive and a vagabond, even as the accursed Cain (Gen. iv, 14). I have already said that “without were fightings, within were fears” (II Cor. vii, 5), and these torture me ceaselessly, the fears being indeed without as well as within, and the fightings wheresoever there are fears. Nay, the persecution carried on by my sons rages against me more perilously and continuously than that of my open enemies, for my sons I have always with me, and I am ever exposed to their treacheries. The violence of my enemies I see in the danger to my body if I leave the cloister; but within it I am compelled incessantly to endure the crafty machinations as well as the open violence of those monks who are called my sons, and who are entrusted to me as their abbot, which is to say their father.	Nunc autem ita me Satanas impedivit, ut ubi quiescere possim, aut etiam vivere, non inveniam: sed vagus et profugus ad instar maledicti Cain ubique circumferar (Genes. IV, 14): quem, ut supra memini, «foris pugnae, intus timores (II Cor. VII, 5)» incessanter cruciant, ^[0179B] imo tam foris quam intus timores incessanter, pugnae pariter et timores. Et multo periculosior et crebrior persecutio filiorum adversum me saevit quam hostium. Istos quippe semper praesentes habeo, et eorum insidias jugiter sustineo. Hostium violentiam in corporis mei periculum video, si a claustro procedam. In claustro autem filiorum, id est monachorum mihi tanquam abbati, hoc est patri, commissorum tam violenta quam dolosa incessanter sustineo machinamenta.
Oh, how often have they tried to kill me with poison, even as the monks sought to slay St. Benedict! Methinks the same reason which led the saint to abandon his wicked sons might encourage me to follow the example of so great a father, lest, in thus exposing myself to certain peril, I might be deemed a rash tempter of God rather than a lover of Him, nay, lest it might even be judged that I had thereby taken my own life. When I had safeguarded myself to the best of my ability, so far as my food and drink were concerned, against their daily plottings, they sought to destroy me in the very ceremony of the altar by putting poison in the chalice. One day, when I had gone to Nantes to visit the count, who was then sick, and while I was sojourning awhile in the house of one of my brothers in the flesh, they arranged to poison me, with the connivance of one of my attendants, believing that I would take no precautions to escape such a plot. But divine providence so ordered matters that I had no desire for the food which was set before me; one of the monks whom I had brought with me ate thereof, not knowing that which had been done, and straightway fell dead. As for the attendant who had dared to undertake this crime, he fled in terror alike of his own conscience and of the clear evidence of his guilt.	O quoties veneno me perdere tentaverunt! sicut et in beato factum est Benedicto . Ac si haec ipsa causa, qua ille perversos deseruit filios, ad hoc ipsum me patenter tanti Patris adhortaretur exemplo, ne me certo videlicet opponens periculo temerarius Dei tentator ^[0179C] potiusquam amator; imo meipsius peremptor invenirer. A talibus autem eorum quotidianis insidiis cum mihi in administratione cibi vel potus quantum possem providerem, in ipso altaris sacrificio intoxicare me moliti sunt, veneno scilicet calici immisso. Qui etiam quadam die cum Namneti ad comitem in aegritudine sua visitandum venissem, hospitatum me ibi in domo cujusdam fratris mei carnalis, per ipsum qui in comitatu nostro erat famulum veneno interficere machinati sunt, ubi videlicet me minus a tali machinatione providere crediderunt. Divina autem dispositione tunc actum est, ut dum cibum mihi apparatum non curarem, frater quidam ex monachis quem mecum adduxeram, ^[0179D] hoc cibo per ignorantiam usus ibidem mortuus occumberet, et famulus ille, qui hoc praesumpserat, tam conscientiae suae quam testimonio ipsius rei perterritus aufugeret.
After this, as their wickedness was manifest to every one, I began openly in every way I could to avoid the danger with which their plots threatened me, even to the extent of leaving the abbey and dwelling with a few others apart in little cells. If the monks knew beforehand that I was going anywhere on a journey, they bribed bandits to waylay me on the road and kill me. And while I was struggling in the midst of these dangers, it chanced one day that the hand of the Lord smote me a heavy blow, for I fell from my horse, breaking a bone in my neck, the injury causing me greater pain and weakness than my former wound.	Extunc itaque manifesta omnibus eorum nequitia, patenter jam coepi eorum prout poteram insidias declinare, etiam a conventu abbatiae me subtrahere, et in cellulis cum paucis habitare. Qui si me transiturum aliquo praesensissent, corruptos per pecuniam latrones in viis aut semitis, ut me interficerent, opponebant. Dum autem in istis laborarem periculis, forte me die quadam de nostra lapsum equitatura manus Domini vehementer collisit, colli videlicet mei canalem confringens. ^[0180A] Et multo me amplius haec fractura afflixit et debilitavit, quam prior plaga
Using excommunication as my weapon to coerce the untamed rebelliousness of the monks, I forced certain ones among them whom I particularly feared to promise me publicly, pledging their faith or swearing upon the sacrament, that they would thereafter depart from the abbey and no longer trouble me in any way. Shamelessly and openly did they violate the pledges they had given and their sacramental oaths, but finally they were compelled to give this and many other promises under oath, in the presence of the count and the bishops, by the authority of the Pontiff of Rome, Innocent, who sent his own legate for this special purpose. And yet even this did not bring me peace. For when I returned to the abbey after the expulsion of those whom I have just mentioned, and entrusted myself to the remaining brethren, of whom I felt less suspicion, I found them even worse than the others. I barely succeeded in escaping them, with the aid of a certain nobleman of the district, for they were planning, not to poison me indeed, but to cut my throat with a sword. Even to the present time I stand face to face with this danger, fearing the sword which threatens my neck so that I can scarcely draw a free breath between one meal and the next. Even so do we read of him who, reckoning the power and heaped-up wealth of the tyrant Dionysius as a great blessing, beheld the sword secretly hanging by a hair above his head, and so learned what kind of happiness comes as the result of worldly power (Cicer. 5, Tusc.) Thus did I too learn by constant experience, I who had been exalted from the condition of a poor monk to the dignity of an abbot, that my wretchedness increased with my wealth; and I would that the ambition of those who voluntarily seek such power might be curbed by my example.	Quandoque horum indomitam rebellionem per excommunicationem coercens, quosdam eorum, quos magis formidabam, ad hoc compuli, ut fide sua seu sacramento publice mihi promitterent, se ulterius ab abbatia penitus recessuros, nec me amplius in aliquo inquietaturos. Qui publice et impudentissime tam fidem datam quam sacramenta facta violantes, tandem per auctoritatem Romani pontificis Innocentii, legato proprio ad hoc destinato, in praesentia comitis et episcoporum, hoc ipsum jurare compulsi sunt, et pleraque alia. Nec sic adhuc quieverunt. Nuper autem cum illis, quos praedixi, ejectis ad conventum abbatiae rediissem, et reliquis fratribus, ^[0180B] quos minus suspicabar, me committerem, multo hos pejores quam illos reperi. Quos jam quidem non de veneno, sed de gladio in jugulum meum tractantes cujusdam proceris terrae conductu vix evasi. In quo etiam adhuc laboro periculo, et quotidie quasi cervici meae gladium imminentem suspicio, ut inter epulas vix respirem: sicut de illo legitur, qui cum Dionysii tyranni potentiam (Cicer. 5, Tusc.) atque opes conquisitas maximae imputaret beatitudini, filo latenter appensum super se gladium aspiciens [al. potestatem], quae terrenam potentiam felicitas consequatur edoctu est. Quod nunc quoque ipse, de paupere monacho, in abbatem promotus incessanter experior, tanto scilicet miserior quanto ditior effectus, ut nostro etiam exemplo eorum, qui id sponte ^[0180C] appetunt, ambitio refrenetur.
And now, most dear brother in Christ and comrade closest to me in the intimacy of speech, it should suffice for your sorrows and the hardships you have endured that I have written this story of my own misfortunes, amid which I have toiled almost from the cradle. For so, as I said in the beginning of this letter, shall you come to regard your tribulation as nought, or at any rate as little, in comparison with mine, and so shall you bear it more lightly in measure as you regard it as less. Take comfort ever in the saying of Our Lord, what he foretold for his followers at the hands of the followers of the devil: “If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you (John xv, 20). If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you. If ye were of the world, the world would love his own” (ib. 18-19). And the apostle says: “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (II Tim. iii, 12). And elsewhere he says: “I do not seek to please men. For if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ” (Galat. i, 10). And the Psalmist says: “They who have been pleasing to men have been confounded, for that God hath despised them.”	Haec, dilectissime frater in Christo, et ex diutina conversatione familiarissime comes, de calamitatum mearum historia, in quibus quasi a cunabulis jugiter laboro, tuae me desolationi atque injuriae illatae scripsisse sufficiat, ut, sicut in exordio praefatus sum epistolae, oppressionem tuam in comparatione mearum, aut nullam, aut modicam esse judices, et tanto eam patientius feras quanto minorem consideras. Illud semper in consolationem assumens, quod membris suis de membris diaboli Dominus praedixit: «Si me persecuti sunt, et vos persequentur. Si mundus vos odit, scitote quoniam me priorem vobis odio habuit. Si de mundo fuissetis, mundus quod suum erat ^[0180D] diligeret (Joan. XV, 20).» Et: «Omnes, inquit Apostolus, qui volunt pie vivere in Christo, persecutionem patientur (II Tim. III, 12).» Et alibi: «Haud quaero hominibus placere. Si adhuc hominibus placerem, Christi servus non essem (Galat. I, 10).» Et Psalmista: «Confusi sunt, inquit, qui hominibus placent, quoniam Deus sprevit eos (Psalm. LII, 6).»
Commenting on this, St. Jerome, whose heir methinks I am in the endurance of foul slander, says in his letter to Nepotanius: “The apostle says: ‘If I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ.’ He no longer seeks to please men, and so is made Christ’s servant” (Epist. 2). And again, in his letter to Asella regarding those whom he was falsely accused of loving: “I give thanks to my God that I am worthy to be one whom the world hates” (Epist. 99). And to the monk Heliodorus he writes: “You are wrong, brother, you are wrong if you think there is ever a time when the Christian does not suffer persecution. For our adversary goes about as a roaring lion seeking what he may devour, and do you still think of peace? Nay, he lieth in ambush among the rich.”	Quod diligenter beatus attendens Hieronymus, cujus me praecipue in contumeliis detractionum haeredem conspicio, ad Nepotianum scribens (epist. 2), ait: «Si adhuc, inquit Apostolus, hominibus placerem, Christi servus non essem. Desinit placere hominibus, et servus factus est Christi.» Idem ad Asellam de fictis ^[0181A] amicis (epist. 99): «Gratias ago Deo meo, quod dignus sim quem mundus oderit.» Et ad Heliodorum monachum (epist. 1): «Erras, frater, erras, si putas unquam Christianum persecutionem non pati. Adversarius noster tanquam leo rugiens devorare quaerens circuit, et tu pacem putas? (I Petr. V, 8.) Sedet in insidiis cum divitibus (Psal. IX, 10).»
Inspired by those records and examples, we should endure our persecutions all the more steadfastly the more bitterly they harm us. We should not doubt that even if they are not according to our deserts, at least they serve for the purifying of our souls. And since all things are done in accordance with the divine ordering, let every one of true faith console himself amid all his afflictions with the thought that the great goodness of God permits nothing to be done without reason, and brings to a good end whatsoever may seem to happen wrongfully. Wherefore rightly do all men say: “Thy will be done.” And great is the consolation to all lovers of God in the word of the Apostle when he says: “We know that all things work together for good to them that love God” (Rom. viii, 28). The wise man of old had this in mind when he said in his Proverbs: “There shall no evil happen to the just” (Prov. xii, 21). By this he clearly shows that whosoever grows wrathful for any reason against his sufferings has therein departed from the way of the just, because he may not doubt that these things have happened to him by divine dispensation. Even such are those who yield to their own rather than to the divine purpose, and with hidden desires resist the spirit which echoes in the words, “Thy will be done,” thus placing their own will ahead of the will of God. Farewell.	. His itaque documentis atque exemplis animati, tanto securius ista toleremus, quanto injuriosius accidunt. Quae si non ad meritum nobis, saltem ad purgationem aliquam proficere non dubitemus. Et quoniam omnia divina dispositione [al. dispensatione] geruntur, in hoc se saltem quisque fidelium in omni pressura consoletur, quod nihil inordinate fieri unquam summa Dei bonitas permittit, et quod quaecunque perverse fiunt optimo fine ipse terminat. ^[0182A] Unde et ei de omnibus recte dicitur: «Fiat voluntas tua (Matth. VI, 26).» Quanta denique diligentium Deum illa est ex auctoritate Apostolica consolatio, quae dicit: «Scimus quoniam diligentibus Deum omnia cooperantur in bonum (Rom. VIII, 28).» Quod diligenter ille sapientissimus attendebat, cum in Proverbiis diceret: «Non contristabit justum quidquid ei acciderit (Prov. XII, 21).» Ex quo manifeste a justitia eos recedere demonstrat, quicunque pro aliquo suo gravamine his irascuntur, quae erga se divina dispensatione geri non dubitant; et se propriae voluntati magis quam divinae subjiciunt, et ei quod in verbis sonat, «fiat voluntas tua,» desideriis occultis repugnant, divinae voluntati propriam anteponentes. Vale.

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