SISTERS OF CHRISTIAN CH

GREAT LETTER WRITERS

S. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF
S. BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FROM

THE EDITION OF DOM. JOANNES MABILLON,

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

SAMUEL J. BALES, D.C.L.

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

VOL. III. — LETTERS AND SERMONS.

VOL. IV. — CANTICA CANTICORUM. EIGHTY-SIX SERMONS ON
THE SONG OF SOLOMON.

7-r. 6d. each J'o/.

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

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

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

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

:?tftftsFERRI£ "''
IH/mett.. /«»•'• "***«>

SOME LETTERS OF

SAINT BERNARD

ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX

PROM THE TRANSLATION BY THE LATE DR. EALES

Vicar of Stalisfield

SKLECTED, WITH A PREFACE, BY

FRANCIS AIDAN GASQUET, D.D.

Abbot President of the English Benedictine
Congregation

AUTHOR OF "HENRY VIII. AND THE ENGLISH MONASTERIES"

"THE GREAT PESTILENCE (A. D. 1348 -g>"

"THE OLD ENGLISH BIBLE," ETC.

NEW EDITION

NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO

BENZIGER BROTHERS

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See

1906

TO THE READER

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

S. Bernard's unique position in the Church in his
day, and the widespread authority he possessed, no
less than his acknowledged place among the spiritual
writers of all ages, tend to make his correspondence
peculiarly interesting, as revealing in a more intimate
way than any of his more formal writings, the char-

viii TO THE READER

acteristic qualifications and virtues, which won for
him the great position he held so long during the
middle ages. His learning and judgment no doubt
fully appear in his tracts, treatises, and sermons ; but
in the private letters that were intended only for the
eye of the recipient, the reader can get a deeper insight
into the man and the saint, and learn more fully,
because more naturally, his real qualities. In them
appear his prudence and zeal, his love of truth and
piety, the warmth of his human affections and his
natural eloquence with more genuine truth than,
say, in his commentary on The Canticle of
Canticles, his Mystical Vine, or his Treatise against
Abelard.

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

For the benefit of those readers of this little volume
who may not have access to any full account of S.
Bernard's career, it may be useful to give here a brief

TO THE READER ix

outline of his life. The Saint was born in the year
1091 in the village of Fontaine, in the province of
Burgundy. He received a good education in his
youth, and from the first displayed the best Christian
dispositions. At the age of three-and-twenty he
determined to dedicate his life to God in the cloister,
and made choice of Citeaux, a monastery then under
the fervent direction of S. Stephen Harding and which
S. Robert had founded only a few years previously
from Molesmes. Bernard took with him to Citeaux
thirty companions, and from this refuge he was sent
two years later, in 1115, to be Abbot of Clairvaux, the
first offshoot of the future great religious congregation
of Cistercians which had its centre at Citeaux.

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

x TO THE READER

Abelard by his learning and secured his condemnation.
In 1148 he preached the Crusade, the partial failure
of which he subsequently attributed to the sins of the
Crusaders.

During all this time he lived as a true monk in the
face of the world, and so many wonders and miracles
were worked by him, or through his instrumentality,
that he became commonly known as the Thaumaturgus
of the West. During his lifetime he founded 160
monasteries in various parts of the western world, and
he died at the age of sixty-three on 2oth August 1153.

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

S. Bernard in the midst of all his labours found
time for writing a great tmany letters. Four hundred
and eighty-two of these, some of considerable length,
have been preserved, and are to be found printed in

TO THE READER xi

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

FRANCIS AIDAN GASQUKT.

ATHEN/EUM CI.UB,

All Saints* Day, 1903.

CONTENTS

PAGE

LETTER

I. To THE CANONS REGULAR OK HORRICOURT . . i

II. To THE MONK ADAM . 3

III. To BRUNO, ARCHBISHOP ELECT OK COLOGNE . . 27

IV. To THE PRIOR AND MONKS OK THE GRAND CHAR

TREUSE 31

V. To PETER, CARDINAL DEACON 33

VI. To THE SAME ... 34

VII. To MATTHEW, THE LEGATE . .... 40

VIII. To GILBERT, BISHOP OK LONDON, UNIVERSAL DOCTOR 42
IX. To ARDUTIO (OR ARDUTIUS), BISHOP ELECT OF

GENEVA 44

X. To THE SAME, WHEN BISHOP 45

XI. To THE ABBOT OK SAINT NICASIUS AT KHEIMS . . 47

XII. To Louis, KING OK FRANCE 49

XIII. TO THE SAME POPE, IN THE NAME OK GEOKKREY,

BISHOP OK CHARTRES 52

XIV. To ALEXANDER, BISHOP OF LINCOLN . . 54
XV. To ALVISUS, ABBOT OK ANCHIN . • • 57

XVI. To RAINALD, ABBOT OF FOIGNV . . . 61

XVII. To THE SAME ... 66

XVIII. To THE SAME 69

xiv CONTENTS

LETTER PAUE

XIX. To SUGER, ABBOT OF S. DENIS 70

XX. To GUY, ABBOT OF MOLKSMES 85

XXI. To THE ABBOT OF S. JOHN AT CHARTRES . . 86

XXII. To SIMON, ABBOT OF S. NICHOLAS .... 90

XXIII. To THE SAME 92

XXIV. To OGER, REGULAR CANON 94

XXV. To THE SAME 107

XXVI. To THE SAME .112

XXVII. To THE SAME 115

XXVIII. To THE ABBOTS ASSEMBLED AT SOISSONS . . .117

XXIX. To HENRY, KING OF ENGLAND 121

XXX. To HENRY, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER . . . 122
XXXI. To THE ABBOT OF A CERTAIN MONASTERY AT YORK,

FROM WHICH THE PRIOR HAD DEPARTED, TAK
ING SEVERAL RELIGIOUS WITH HIM . . .124
XXXII. To THURSTAN, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK . . .127

XXXIII. To RICHARD, ABBOT OF FOUNTAINS, AND HIS

COMPANIONS, WHO HAD PASSED OVER TO THE
CISTERCIAN ORDER FROM ANOTHER . . . 129

XXXIV. HlLDEBERT, ARCHBISHOP OF TOURS, TO THE ABBOT

BERNARD ...«.'.. 131

XXXV. REPLY OF THE ABBOT BERNARD TO HILDEBERT,

ARCHBISHOP OF TOURS 133

XXXVI. To THE SAME HILDEBERT, WHO HAD NOT YET

ACKNOWLEDGED THE LORD INNOCENT AS POPE 135

XXXVII. To MAGISTER GEOFFREY, OF LORETTO . . . 138

XXXVIII. To HIS MONKS OF CLAIRVAUX 140

XXXIX. To THE SAME 143

CONTENTS xv

FACE
LETTER

XL. To THOMAS, PRIOR OF BEVERLEY . . . . 147
XLI. To THOMAS OK ST. OMKR, AFTER HE HAD BROKEN
HIS PROMISE OF ADOPTING A CHANGE OF

LIFE Ife

XLII. To THE ILLUSTRIOUS YOUTH, GEOFFREY DE PERRONE,

AND HIS COMRADES . . . • • • I(>5
XLIII. A CONSOLATORY LETTER TO THE PARENTS OF GEOF-

FREY l68

XLIV. CONCERNING THE MACCABEES HUT TO WHOM WRITTEN

is UNKNOWN l69

XLV. To A YOUTH NAMED FULK, WHO AFTERWARDS WAS

ARCHDEACON OF LANGRES *77

XLVI. To GUIGUES, THE PRIOR, AND TO THE OTHER MONKS

OF THE GRAND CHARTREUSE . . . .192
XLVII. To THE BROTHER OF WILLIAM, A MONK OF

CLAIRVAUX 2o6

XLVIII. To MAGISTER WALTER DE CHAUMONT
XLIX. To ROM AN us, SUB-DEACON OF THE ROMAN CURIA . 212
L. To GEOFFREY, OF LISIEUX . . . 214

LI. To THE VIRGIN SOPHIA

LI I. TO ANOTHER HOLY VIRGIN .
LIII. TO ANOTHER HOLY VIRGIN OF THE CONVENT OF

S. MARY OF TROYES . • 227

LIV. To ERMENGARDE, FORMERLY COUNTESS OF BRITTANY 230

LV. To THE SAME -231

LVI. To BEATRICE, A NOBLE AND RELIGIOUS LADY . . 232

LVII. To THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF LORRAINE . 234

LVIII. To THE DUCHESS OF LORRAINE . • 235

xvi CONTENTS

LETTER

LIX. To THE DUCHESS OK BURGUNDY . . . 337

NOTE TO TREATISE .... 2^8
LX. To THE SAME, AGAINST CERTAIN HEADS OK AKAE-

LARD'S HERESIES 2cg

LXI. To Louis THE YOUNGER, KING OK THE FRENCH . 294

LXII. To POPE INNOCENT 207

LXIII. To THE SAME, IN THE NAME OK GODKREY, BISHOP OK

LANGRES 2qg

LXIV. To THE ABOVE-NAMED FALCO 309

LXV. To THE CANONS OK LYONS, ON THE CONCEPTION OK
S. IV

300

LXVI. To THE PATRIARCH OK JERUSALEM . . . .308

S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER I (circa 1120)
To THE CANONS REGULAR OF HoRRicouRT1

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

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

Your letter, in which you have addressed to us an
exhortation so salutary and profitable, brings us con
vincing proof of your knowledge and charity, which
we admire, and for which we thank you. But that
which you have so kindly prefixed by way of praise
of me is, I fear, not founded on experience, although
you have thus given me an excellent occasion to

1 The title of this letter follows a MS. at Corbey. It does not appear
who these regular canons were.

A

2 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

practise humility if I know how to profit by it. Yet
it has excited great fear in me, who know myself to
be far below what you imagine. For which of us
who takes heed to his ways can listen without either
great fear or great danger, to praises of himself so
great and so undeserved ? It is not safe for any one
to commit himself to his own judgment or even to
the judgment of another ; for He who judgeth MS is the
Lord (i Corinthians iv. 4). As to the brothers con
cerning whose safety we recognize that your charity
has been solicitous, that we should return them to
you unharmed ; know that by the advice and per
suasion of many illustrious persons, and chiefly of that
very distinguished man William, Bishop of Chalons,1
they have taken refuge with us, and have begged us
with earnest supplication to receive them, which we
have done. Though they have quitted the rule of S.
Augustine for that of S. Benedict in order to embrace
a stricter life, yet they do not depart from the rule
of Him, who is the one Master in heaven and in
earth ; nor do they make void that first faith which
they promised among you, and which, indeed, they
promised, first of all, in baptism. They being such,
therefore, and having been so received, we are far
from thinking that your sense of right will be injured
by our having received them, or that you ought to
take it ill if we retain them ; yet if they desist from
their resolution during the year of probation which
the Rule requires, and desire to return to you, be
assured that we shall not detain them against their
will. In any case, most holy brethren, you would

1 This was William of Champeaux, a friend of S. Bernard, who died
in ii2i.

LETTER II 3

be wrong to resist, by an ill-considered and useless
anathema, the spirit of liberty which is in them ;
unless, perchance (which may God avert !), you
study more to promote your own interests than
those of Jesus Christ.

LETTER II (A.D. 1126)

TO THE MONK ADAM1

i. If you remain yet in that spirit of charity
which I either knew or believed to be with you
formerly, you would certainly feel the condemnation
with which charity must regard the scandal which
you have given to the weak. For charity would not
offend charity, nor scorn when it feels itself offended.
For it cannot deny itself, nor be divided against
itself. Its function is rather to draw together things
divided ; and it is far from dividing those that are
joined. Now, if that remained in you, as I have
said, it would not keep silent, it would not rest
unconcerned, nor pretend indifference, but it would
without doubt whisper, with groans and uneasiness at
the bottom of your pious heart, that saying, Who is
offended, and I burn not (2 Cor. xi. 29). If, then,
it is kind, it loves peace, and rejoices in unity ; it
produces them, cements them, strengthens them,
and wherever it reigns it makes the bond of peace.
As, then, you are in opposition to that true

1 The MS. in the Royal Library is inscribed : De Discretione Obedientia .
Of Discernment in Obedience. This Letter was written after the death ol
Abbot Arnold, which took place in Belgium in the year 1126.

4 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

mother of peace and concord, on what ground, I
ask you, do you presume that your sacrifice, what
ever it may be, will be accepted by God, when
without it even martyrdom profiteth nothing (i Cor.
xiii. 3) ? Or, on what ground do you trust that you
are not the enemy of charity when breaking unity,
rending the bond of peace, you lacerate her bowels,
treating with such cruelty their dear pledges, which
you neither have borne nor do bear ? You must
lay down, then, the offering, whatever it may be,
which you are preparing to lay on the altar, and
hasten to go and reconcile yourself not with one of
your brethren only, but with the entire body. The
whole body of the fraternity, grievously wounded by
your withdrawal, as by the stroke of a sword, utters
its complaints against you and the few with you,
saying : The sons of my mother have fought against me
(Cant. i. 5). And rightly ; for who is not with her,
is against her. Can you think that a mother, as
tender as charity, can hear without emotion the
complaint, so just, of a community which is to her
as a daughter ? Therefore, joining her tears with
ours, she says, / have nourished and brought up children,
and they have rebelled against me (Isa. i. 2). Charity is
God Himself. Christ is our peace, who hath made both
one (Eph. ii. 14). Unity is the mystery even of the
Holy Trinity. What place, then, in the kingdom of
Christ and of God has he who is an enemy of
charity, peace, and unity ?

2. My abbot, perhaps you will say, has obliged
me to follow him — ought I then to have been dis
obedient ? But you cannot have forgotten the
conclusion to which we came one day after a long

LETTER II 5

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

6 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

3. These things I say, yet I do not think that you
ought to have yielded to him in this even when living,
or that thus to have yielded ought to be called obedi
ence. For it is of that kind of obedience that it is
said in general : The Lord shall lead forth with the
workers of iniquity those who deviate in their obedience
(Ps. cxxv. 5, VULG.). And that no one may con
tend that obedience to an abbot, even in things evil,
is free from that penalty, there are words elsewhere
still more precise : The son shall not bear the iniquity of
the father, and the father shall not bear the iniquity of the
son (Ezek. xviii. 20). From these, then, it appears
clearly that those who command things evil are not
to be obeyed, especially when in yielding to wrong
commands, in which you appear to obey man, you
show yourself plainly disobedient to God, who has
forbidden everything that is evil. For it is altogether
unreasonable to profess yourself obedient when you
know that you are violating obedience due to the
superior on account of the inferior, that is, to the
Divine on account of the human. What then !
God forbids what man orders ; and shall I be deaf
to the voice of God and listen to that of man ?
The Apostles did not understand the matter thus
when they said, We must obey God rather than men
(Acts v. 29). Does not the Lord in the Gospel
blame the Pharisees : Ye transgress the commandment
of God on account of your traditions (S. Matt. xv. 3).
And by Isaiah : In vain they worship Me, he says,
teaching the commands and doctrines of men (Is. xxix.
13). And also to our first father.1 Because thou

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

LETTER II 7

hast obeyed thy wife rather than Me, the earth shall be
rebellious to thy work (Gen. iii. 17). Therefore to
do evil, whosoever it be that bids, is shown not to
be obedience, but disobedience.

4. To make this principle clear, we must note
that some actions are wholly good, others wholly
evil : and in these no obedience is to be rendered to
men. For the former are not to be omitted by us,
even if they are prohibited [by men] : nor the latter
done, even though they are commanded. But,
besides these, there are actions between the two, and
which may be good or evil according to circum
stances of place, time, manner, or person, and in
these obedience has its place, as it was in the matter
of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which
was in the midst of Paradise. When these are in
question, it is not right to prefer our own judgment
to that of our superiors, so as to take no heed of
what they order or forbid. Let us see whether it
be not such a case that I have condemned in you,
and whether you ought not to be condemned. For
clearness, I will subjoin examples of the distinction
which I have just made. Faith, hope, charity, and
others of that class are wholly good ; it cannot be
wrong to command, or to practice them, nor right
to forbid them, or to neglect the practice of them.
Theft, sacrilege, adultery, and all other such vices
are wholly evil ; it can never be right to practice or
to order them, nor wrong to forbid or avoid them.
The law is not made for things of this kind, for the
prohibition of no person has the power to render
null the commandments given, nor the command of
any to render lawful the things prohibited. There

8 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

are, finally, things of a middle kind which are not
in themselves good or evil ; they may be indif
ferently either prescribed or forbidden, and in these
things an inferior never sins in obeying. Such are,
for example, fasting, watching, reading, and such
like. But some things which are of this middle
kind often pass the bounds of indifferency, and
become the one or the other. Thus, marriage is
neither prescribed nor forbidden, but when it is
made may not be dissolved. That, therefore, which
before the nuptials was a thing of the middle kind
obtains the force of a thing wholly good in regard
to the married pair. Also, it is a thing indifferent
for a man in secular life to possess or not to possess
property of his own ; but to a monk, who is not
allowed to possess anything, it is wholly evil.

5. Do you see now, brother, to which branch of
my division your action belongs ? If it is to be put
among things wholly good it is praiseworthy : if
among those wholly evil it is greatly to be blamed :
but if it is to be placed among those of the middle
kind you may, perhaps, find in your obedience an
excuse for your first departure, but your delay in
returning is not at all excusable, since that was not
from obedience. For when your abbot was dead,
if he had previously ordered anything which was
not fitting, the former discussion has shown you
that you were no longer bound to obey him. And
although the matter is now sufficiently clear by
itself, yet because of some who seek for occasion to
object when reason does not support them, I will
put the matter clearly again, so that every shade of
doubt may disappear, and I will show you that your

LETTER II 9

obedience and your leaving your monastery, were
neither wholly good nor partly good, but plainly
wholly evil. Concerning him who is dead, I am
silent ; he has now God alone for his judge, and to
his own Lord he either stands or falls ; that God
may not say with righteous anger, " Men have taken
away from me even the right to judge." However,
for the instruction of the living I discuss, not even
what he has done, but what he has ordered ;
whether, that is to say, his order ought to have
been obligatory, inasmuch as a widespreading scandal
has followed upon it. And I say this first ; that if
there are any who followed him when he wrongly
left his cloister, but who followed in simplicity, and
without suspecting any evil, supposing that he had
license to go forth from the Bishop of Langres and
the Abbot of Citeaux (for to each of these was he
responsible) ; and it is not incredible that some of
those who were of his company may so have
believed ; this, my censure, does not touch them,
provided that when they knew the truth, they
returned without delay.

6. Therefore my discourse is against those only, or
rather for those, who knowingly and purposely put
their hands into the fire ; who being conscious of his
presumption, yet followed him who presumed, with
out caring for the prohibition of the Apostle, and his
precept, to withdraw from every brother who walks
disorderly (2 Thess. iii. 6). Despising also the voice
of the Lord himself, He who gathereth not with me
scattereth (S. Matt. xii. 30). To you, brethren, be
longs clearly and specially that reproach spoken by
Jeremiah, which I recall with grief : This is a nation that

io S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

obeyeth not the voice of the Lord their God (Jer. vii. 28).
For clearly that is the Voice of God pointing out His
enemy from the work that he does, and, as it were,
showing him with a stretched finger to ward off simple
souls from his ungodly example : He who is not with
Me, He says, scatters; ought you to have followed a
disperser ? And when God invites you to unite with
Him, ought you rather to follow a man who wishes
to disperse you ? He scorned his superiors, he ex
posed his inferiors to danger, he deeply troubled his
brethren, and yet ye seeing a thief joined yourself
with him ! I had determined to be silent concerning
him who is dead, but I am obliged, I confess, to
proceed still a little further, since I cannot blame
your obedience, if his command is not shown to
be altogether improper. Since the orders and the
actions of the man were similar to each other, it
seems impossible to praise or to blame the one with
out the other. Now it is very clear that orders of
that kind ought not to have been obeyed, since they
were contrary to the law of God. For who can
suppose that the institutions of our Fathers are not
to be preferred to those of lesser persons, or that the
general rules of the Order must not prevail over the
commands of private persons ? For we have this in
the Rule of S. Benedict.1

7. I should be able, indeed, to bring forward the
Abbot of Citeaux as a witness, who, as being superior
to your abbot as a father to a son, as a master to a
disciple, and, in a word, as an abbot to a monk com
mitted to his charge, rightly complains that you have
held him in contempt because of the other. I might

Reg. Cap. 71.

LETTER II n

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

8. How then can either the permission of your

12 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

9. You had then just reason to fear, and were
rightly distrustful of the goodness of your cause
when, in order to still the pangs of your consciences,
you tried to have recourse to the Holy See. O, vain
remedy ! which is nothing else than to seek girdles,
like our first parents, for your ulcerated consciences,
that is, to hide the ill instead of curing it. We have
asked and obtained (they say) the permission of the

LETTER II 13

Pope. Would that you had asked not his permission,
but his advice ; that is to say, not that he would
permit you to do it, but whether it was a thing per
mitted to you to do ! Why, then, did you solicit his
permission ? Was it to render lawful that which was
not so ? Then you wished to do what was not
lawful ; but what was not lawful was evil. The in
tention, therefore, was evil, which tended towards
evil. Perhaps you would say that the wrong thing
which you demanded permission to do ceased to be
such if it was done by virtue of a permission. But
that has been already excluded above by an irrefrag
able reason. For when God said, Do not despise one
of these little ones who believe in Me, He did not add
also, Unless with permission ; nor when He said, Take
care not to give scandal to one of these little ones (S. Matt,
xviii. 6-1 o), did He limit it by adding, Without
licence. It is then certain that except when the
necessary interests of the truth require, it is not per
mitted to any one to give any scandal, neither to
order it, nor to consent to it. Yet you think that
permission is to be obtained to do so. But to what
purpose ? Was it that you might sin with more
liberty and fewer scruples, and, therefore, with just
so much the more danger ? Wonderful precaution,
marvellous prudence ! They had already devised evil
in their heart, but they were cautious not to carry
it out in action except with permission. They con
ceived in sorrow, but they did not bring forth iniquity
until the Pope had afforded his consent to that un
righteous birth. With what advantage ? or, at least,
with what lessening of the evil ? Is it likely that
either an evil will cease to be or even be rendered

14 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

less because the Pope has consented to it ? But who
will deny it to be a bad thing to give consent to evil ?
Which, notwithstanding, I do not in any way believe
that the Pope would have done, unless he had been
either deceived by falsehood or overcome by im
portunity. In fact, unless it had been so, would he
weakly have given you permission to sow scandal, to
raise up schisms, to distress friends, to trouble the
peace of brethren, to throw into confusion their
unity, and, above all, to despise your own Bishop ?
And under what necessity he should have acted thus
I have no need to say, since the issue of the matter
sufficiently shows. For I see with grief that you
have gone forth, but I do not see that you have
profited in doing so.

10. Thus, in your opinion, to give assent to so
great and weighty evils is to show obedience, to
render assistance, to behave with moderation and
gentleness. Do you, then, endeavour to whitewash
the most detestable vices under the name of virtues ?
Or do you think that you can injure virtues without
doing injury to the Lord of virtues ? You hide the
vainest presumption, the most shameful levity, the
cruellest division under the names of obedience,
moderation, gentleness, and you soil those sacred
names with the vices hidden under them. May
I never emulate this obedience : such moderation
can never be pleasing to me, or rather seems to
resemble molestation ; may gentleness of this kind
ever be far from me. Such obedience is worse
than any revolt : such moderation passes all bounds.
Shall I say that it goes beyond them or does not
come up to them ? Perhaps it would be more

LETTER II 15

adequate to say that it is altogether without measure
or bound. Of what kind is that gentleness which
irritates the ears of all the hearers ? And yet I beg
you to show some sign of it now on my behalf.
Since you are so patient that you do not contend
with anybody, even with one who tries to drag
you away to forbidden ground, permit me, too,
I beg of you, to treat with you now somewhat
more unrestrainedly. Otherwise I have merited
much evil from you if you think that you must
resent from me alone what you are accustomed
to resent from no one else.

ii. Well, then, I call your own conscience to
witness. Was it willingly or unwillingly that you
went forth ? If willingly, then it was not from
obedience. If unwillingly, you seem to have had
some suspicion of the order which you carried out
with reluctance. But when there is suspicion, there
consideration is necessary. But you, either to dis
play your patience or to exercise it, obeyed without
discussion, and suffered yourself to be taken away,
not only without your own volition, but even against
your conscience. O, patience worthy of all im
patience ! I cannot, I confess, help being angry
with this most questionable patience. You saw
that he was a scatterer and yet you followed
him ; you heard him directing what was scanda
lous and yet you obeyed him ! True patience
consists in doing or in suffering what is dis
pleasing to us, not what is forbidden to us. A
strange thing ! You listened to that man softly
murmuring, but not to God openly protesting in
such words as these, like a clap of thunder from

1 6 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

heaven, Woe to him through whom scandal cometJi (S.
Matt, xviii. 7). And to be the better heard, not
only does the Lord Himself cry aloud, but His
Blood cries with a terrible voice to make even the
deaf hear. Its pouring forth is its cry. Since it
was poured forth for the children of God who were
scattered abroad that it might gather them together
into one, it justly murmurs against the scatterers.
He whose constant duty it is to collect souls to
gether hates without doubt those who scatter them.
Loud is His voice and piercing which calls bodies
from their graves and souls from Hades. That
trumpet blast calls together heaven and earth and
the things that are with them, giving them peace.
Its sound has gone out unto the whole world, and
yet it has not been able to burst through your deaf
ness ! What a voice of power and magnificence
when the words are spoken : Let the Lord arise and
let His enemies be scattered (Ps. Ixviii. 2). And again :
Disperse them by Thy power, O Lord, my protector, and
put them doivn (Ps. lix. 12). It is the blood of Christ,
brother Adam, which raises its voice as a sounding
trumpet on behalf of pious assemblies against wicked
scatterers ; it has been poured forth to bring to
gether those who were dispersed, and it threatens
to disperse those who scatter. If you do not hear
His voice, then listen to that which rolls from His
side. For how could He not hear His own blood
who heard the blood of Abel ?

12. But what is this to me? you say. It con
cerns one whom it was not right for me to contra
dict. The disciple is not above his master ; and it
was to be taught, not to teach, that I attached myself

LETTER II 17

to him. As a hearer, it became me to follow, not
to go before, my preceptor. O, simple one, the
Paulus of these times ! If only he had shown him
self another Antony,1 so that you had no occasion to
discuss the least word that fell from his lips, but only
to obey it without hesitation ! What exemplary
obedience ! The least word, an iota, which drops
from the lips of his superiors finds him obedient !
He does not examine what is enjoined, he is content
because it is enjoined ! 2 And this is obedience with
out delay. If this is a right view of duty, then with
out cause do we read in the Church : Prove all things,
hold fast that which is good (i Thess. v. 21). If this
is a right view, let us blot out of the book of the
Gospel Be ye wise as serpents, for the words following
would suffice, and harmless as doves (S. Matt. x. 16).
I do not say that inferiors are to make themselves
judges of the orders of those set over them, in which
it may be taken for granted that nothing is ordered
contrary to the Divine laws, but I assert that pru
dence also is necessary to notice if anything does so
contradict, and freedom firmly to pronounce against
these. But you reply, I have nothing to do with
examining what he orders ; it is his duty to do that
before ordering. Tell me, I pray you, if a sword
were put into your hand and he bade you turn it

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

* This clause is wanting in some MSS.

B

1 8 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

against his throat, would you obey ? Or if he
ordered you to fling yourself headlong into the fire,
or into the water, would you do it ? If you did not
even hinder him from such acts as these to the best
of your ability, would not you be held guilty of the
crime of homicide ? Come, then, see that you have
done nothing but co-operate in his crime under the
pretext of obedience. Do you not know that it has
been said by a certain person (for you would not,
perhaps, give credence to me) that it would be
better to be sunk in the depths of the sea than to
give scandals (S. Matt, xviii. 6). Why has He said this
unless that He wished to signify that in comparison
to the terrible punishments that are reserved for the
scandalous, temporal death would seem scarcely a
punishment but an advantage ? Why, then, did
you help him to make a scandal ? For you did
so in following and obeying him. Would it not
have been better, according to the declaration of
the Truth I have quoted, to hang a millstone from
his neck and so to plunge him in the depth of the
sea ? What then ? You that were so obedient a
disciple, who could not bear that he, your father
and master, should be separated from you for a
single instant, for a foot breadth (as it is said), you
have not hesitated to fall into the ditch behind him
with your eyes wide open, like another Balaam ?
Did you think that you were labouring for his
happiness when you showed toward him an obe
dience more hurtful for him than death ? Truly,
now, I experience how true is that saying : A man's
foes shall be they of his own household (Micah vii. 6).
If you see and feel this, do you not groan if you

LETTER II 19

perceive what you have done ? And if you do
perceive, do you not tremble ? For, indeed, your
obedience (it is not my judgment, but that of the
Truth Himself) has been worse for him than death.

13. If you are now convinced of this, I do not
know how you can help trembling and hastening to
repair your fault. Otherwise what conscience of
wrong will you carry hence to that terrible tribunal
where the Judge will not need witness, where the
Truth will scan even purposes, and penetrate in
search of faults to the hidden places of the heart,
where, in short, that Divine look will try the most
secret recesses of minds, and at the sudden shining
of that Sun of justice all the windings of human
souls will be spread open and give to the light
whatever, whether good or evil, they were hiding ?
Then, brother Adam, those who commit a sin, and
those who consent to it will be punished with equal
chastisement. Then thieves and the associates of
thieves will listen to a similar sentence ; the seducers
and the seduced will undergo an equal judgment.
Cease, then, to say again, What is it to me ? Let
him see to it. Can you touch pitch and say I am
not defiled ? Can you hide fire in your bosom and
not be burned ? Can you have your portion with
adulterers without resembling them in some respect ?
Isaiah did not think so, for he reproached himself
not only because he was himself unclean, but also
because he was the companion of the unclean :
Because, he says, I am a man of unclean lips and I dwell
in the midst of a people oj unclean lips (Isaiah vi. 5). For
he blames himself not because he dwelt among
sinners, but because he has not condemned their

20 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

sins. For, so he says : Woe is me because I have been
silent (Isaiah vi. 5, VULG.). But when did he consent
to the doing of evil, that he blames himself not to
have condemned it in others ? And did not David
also feel that he was defiled by the contact of sin
when he said : With men that work iniquity, and I will
not communicate with their chosen friends (Ps. cxl. 4,
VULG.). Or when he made this prayer : Cleanse me
O Lord from my secret sins, and spare Thy servaut from
the offences of others (Ps. xix. 12-13, VULG.). Where
fore he strove to avoid the society of sinners in order
not to share in their faults. For he says farther :
/ have not sat in the council of vanity, and I will not enter
into the company of those who do unjustly (Ps. xxv. 4—5,
VULG.). And then he adds : I have hated the congrega
tion of evil doers, and will not sit with the wicked (ibid.).
Finally, hear the counsel of the wise man : My son,
if sinners entice thee, consent thou not (Prov. i. 10).

14. Have you, then, against these and innumerable
other and similar testimonies of the truth, thought
that you ought to obey anybody? O, odious per
versity ! The virtue of obedience which always wars
on behalf of truth, is arrayed against truth. Happy
the disobedience of brother Henry, who soon re
penting of his error and retracing his steps, has the
happiness of not persisting longer in such an obedi
ence. The fruits of disobedience are sweeter and to
be preferred [to this] ; and now he tastes them with
a good conscience in the peaceable and constant
practice of the duties of his profession in the midst
of his brethren, and in the bosom of the Order to
which he has devoted himself ; while some of his
former companions are breaking the hearts of their

LETTER II 21

ancient brethren by the scandals they are making !
Whose disobedience of slackness and omission, if the
choice were given me, I would even prefer, with his
sense of penitence, than the punctilious obedience of
such as these, with scandal. For I consider that
he does better for the keeping unity in the bond of
peace who obeys charity, though disobedient to his
abbot, than those who so defer to a single man as to
prefer one to the whole body. I might boldly add
even this, that it is preferable to risk disobedience to
one person than to endanger the vows of our own
profession and all the other advantages of religion.

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

1 6. But perhaps you may turn what I say against
me, asking what I have done with the constancy
which ought to have kept me at Citeaux, whereas
I now dwell elsewhere. To which I reply, I am,
indeed, a Cistercian monk professed in that place,

22 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

17. Do you see, then, the proper scope of your
obedience ? How can it excuse your want of con
stancy, which is not even of weight to justify itself ?

LETTER II 23

Every one knows that a person makes his profession
solemnly and regularly in the presence of the abbot.
That profession is made, therefore, in his presence
only, not at his discretion also. The abbot is em
ployed as the witness, and not the arbiter of the
profession ; the helper of its fulfilment, not an
assistant to the breach of it ; to punish and not to
authorise bad faith. What, then ? Do I place in
the hand of the abbot the vows that I have taken,
without exception ratified by my mouth and signed
by my hand in presence of God and His Saints?
Do I not hear out of the Rule (Rule of S. Benedict,
C. 58) that if I ever do otherwise I shall be con
demned by God, whom I have mocked ? If my
abbot or even an angel from heaven should order
me to do something contrary to my vow, I would
boldly refuse an obedience of this kind, which would
make me a transgressor of my own oath and make
me swear falsely by the name of my God, for I know,
according to the truth of Scripture, that out of
my own mouth I must either be condemned or
justified (S. Luke xix. 22), and because The mouth
which lies slays the soul (Wisd. i. 1 1), and that we chant
with truth before God, Thou wilt destroy all those who
speak falsehood (Ps. v. 6), and because every one shall
bear his own burden (Gal. vi. 5), and every one shall give
account of himself to God (Rom. xiv. 12). If it were
otherwise with me, with what front could I dare to
lie in the presence of God and His angels, when
singing that verse from the Psalm : / will render unto
Thee my vows, which my lips have uttered (Ps. Ivi.

'3» 14)-

In fact, the abbot himself ought to consider the

*4 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

1 8. Let me, briefly, treat another objection which
may possibly be made to me, and I will bring to a
close an epistle which is already too long. It seems
that I may be reproached with acting otherwise than
I speak. For I may be asked, if I condemn those
who have deserted their monastery, not only with
the consent of their abbot, but at his command, on
what principle do I receive and retain those who
from other monasteries, who, breaking their vow of
constancy and contemning the authority of their
superiors, come to our Order ? To which my reply
will be brief, but dangerous ; for I fear that what
I shall say will displease certain persons. But I fear
still more lest by concealing the truth I should sing
untruly in the Church those words of the Psalmist :
/ have not hid my righteousness within my heart : my talk
hath been of Thy truth and of Thy salvation (Ps. xl. 12). I
receive them, then, for this reason, because I do not
consider that they are wrong to quit the monastery,
in which they were able, indeed, to make vows to
God, but by no means to perform them, to enter
into another house where they may better serve

LETTER II 25

God, Who is everywhere, and who repair the wrong
done by the breach of their vow of constancy by the
perfect performance of all other duties of the religious
life. If this displeasse any one, and he murmurs
against a man thus seeking his own salvation, the
Author of salvation Himself shall reply for him : Is
thine eye evil because he is good? (S. Matt. xx. 15).
Whosoever thou art who enviest the salvation of
another, care rather for thine own. Dost thou not
know that by the envy of the devil death entered into the
world? (Wisd. ii. 24). Take heed, therefore, to thy
self. For if there is envy there is death ; surely, thou
canst not both be envious and live. Why seek a
quarrel with thy brother, since he seeks only the best
means of fulfilling the vows which he has made ? If
the man seeks in what place or in what manner he
may best discharge what he has promised to God,
what wrong has he done to you ? Perhaps, if you
held him your debtor for a sum of money, however
small, you would oblige him to compass sea and dry
land until he rendered you the whole debt, even to
the last farthing. What, then, has your God deserved
from you that you are not willing for Him, too, to
receive what is due ? But in envying one you render
two hostile ; since you are trying both to defraud the
lord of the service due from his servant, and to
deprive the servant of the favour of his lord.
Wherefore do you not imitate him, and yourself
discharge what is due from you ? Do you think
that your debt, too, will not be required of you ?
Or do you not rather fear to irritate God against you
the more by wickedly saying in your heart, He will
not require it ?

26 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

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

LETTER III 27

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

LETTER III (A.D 1131)
To BRUNO/ ARCHBISHOP ELECT OF COLOGNE

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

i. You seek counsel from me, most illustrious
Bruno, as to whether you ought to accept the
Episcopate, to which it is desired to advance you.
What mortal can presume to decide this for you ?

1 Bruno, son of Englebert, Count of AUena, was consecrated, in 1132.

28 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

LETTER III 29

be confided rather than be so loved. But if you
shall have first learned to love yourself then you will
know, perhaps, how you should love me.

2. But what if God should quicken His grace and
multiply His mercy upon you, and His clemency is
able more quickly to replace the soul in a state of
grace than daily penitence ? Blessed, indeed, is he
unto whom the Lord will not impute sin (Ps. xxxii. 2), for
who shall bring accusation against the elect of God ?
If God justifies, who is he that condemns ? This short
road to salvation that holy thief attained, who in one
and the same day both confessed his iniquities and
entered into glory. He was content to pass by the
cross as by a short bridge from the religion of death1
unto the land of the living, and from this foul mire
into the paradise of joy (S. Luke xxiii. 43). This
sudden remedy of piety that sinful woman happily
obtained, in whose soul grace of a sudden began to
abound, where offences had so abounded. Without
much labour of penitence her sins were pardoned,
because she loved much (S. Luke vii. 37-50), and in
a short time she merited to receive that amplitude of
charity which, as it is written, covers the multitude of
sins (i S. Peter iv. 8). This double benefit and
most rapid goodness also that paralytic in the Gospel
experienced, being cured first in the soul, then in the
body.

3. But it is one thing to obtain the speedy forgive
ness of sins, and another to be borne in a brief space
from the sins themselves to the badges (fillets) of high
dignities in the Church. Yet I see that Matthew
from the receipt of custom was raised to the supreme

1 Unlikcness.

30 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

4. In the meantime let these provisional replies to
your queries suffice. If I do not express a decisive
opinion, it is because I do not myself feel assured.
This must needs be the case, for the gift of prophecy
and of wisdom only could resolve your doubt. For
who could draw clear water out of a muddy pool ?
Yet there is one thing that I can do for a friend with
out danger, and with the assurance of a good result ;
that is to offer to God my petition that He will assist
you in this matter. Leaving, therefore, to Him the

LETTER IV 31

secret things of His Providence, of which we are
ignorant, I will beg Him, with humble prayer and
earnest supplication, that He will work in you and
with respect to you that which shall be for His glory,
and at the same time for your good. And you have
also the Lord Norbert,1 whom you may conveniently
consult in person on all such subjects. For that good
man is more fitted than I to explain the mysterious
acts of Providence, as he is nearer to God by his
holiness.

LETTER IV

To THE PRIOR AND MONKS OF THE GRAND
CHARTREUSE

He commends himself to their prayers.

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

In the first place, when lately I approached your
parts, I was prevented by unfavourable circumstances
from coming to see you and to make your acquaint
ance ; and although my excuse may perhaps be
satisfactory to you, I am not able, I confess, to
pardon myself for missing the opportunity. It is a
vexation to me that my occupations brought it about,
not that I should neglect to come to see you, but that
I was unable to do so. This I frequently have to

1 The founder of the Praemonstratensian Order. See respecting him
Letter Ivi.

32 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

LETTER V 33

LETTER V (circa A.D. 1127)
To PETER, CARDINAL DEACON

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

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

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

Some of the brethren have drawn up in their own
way certain fragments of my instructions as they have
heard them. Of whom one is conveniently near to
you, viz.,Gebuin, Precentor and Archdeacon of Troyes.

c

34 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

You can easily, if you wish, obtain of him the notes
drawn up by him. Yet if your occupation would
leave you the time, and you should think fit to pay
to your humble sons the visit which you promised,
and which they have been expecting, I would do all
in my power to give you satisfaction, if I have in my
writings anything which could please you, or if I
were able to compose any work which should seem
worthy of you ; for I greatly esteem your high re
putation. I respect that care and zeal about holy
things which I have heard of in you, and I should
regard myself as very happy if these unpolished
writings, which are a part of my duty, should be in
any respect agreeable to you.

LETTER VI (circa A.D. 1127)
To THE SAME

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

i. Even if I should give myself to you entirely
that would be too little a thing still in my eyes, to
have recompensed towards you even the half of the
kindly feeling which you express towards my
humility. I congratulate myself, indeed, on the
honour which you have done me ; but my joy, I
confess, is tempered by the thought that it is not
anything I have accomplished, but only an opinion
of my merit which has brought me this favour. I

LETTER VI 35

should be greatly ashamed to permit myself in vain
complacency when I feel assured that what is loved
or respected in me is not, indeed, what I am, but
what I am thought to be ; for when I am thus loved
it is not then I that am loved, but something in me,
I know not what, and which is not me, is loved in
my stead. I say that I know not, but, to speak more
truly, I know very well that it is nothing. For what
ever is thought to exist, and does not, is nothing.
The love and he who feels it is real enough, but the
object of the love does not exist. That such should
be capable of inspiring love is wonderful, but still
more it is regrettable. It is from that we are able to
feel whence and whither we go, what we have lost,
what we find. By remaining united to Him, who is
the real Being, and who is always happy, we also
shall attain a continued and happy existence. By
remaining united to Him, I said ; that is, not only
by knowledge, but by love. For certain of the sons
of Adam when they had known God, glorified Him not as
God, nor were thankful, but became vain in their imagina
tions (Rom. i. 21). Rightly, then, were their foolish
hearts darkened, because since they recognised the
truth and despised it, they were justly punished for
their fault by losing the power to recognise it. Alas !
in thus adhering to the truth by the mind, but with
the heart departing from it, and loving vanity in its
place, man became himself a vain thing. And what
is more vain than to love vanity, and what is more
repugnant to justice than to despise the truth ?
What is more just than that the power to recognise
the truth should be withdrawn from those who have
despised it, and that those who did not glorify the

36 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

truth when they recognised it should lose the power
of boasting of the knowledge ? Thus the love of
vanity is the contempt of truth, and the contempt of
truth the cause of our blindness. And because they
did not /ike, he says, to retain God in their knowledge. He
gave them over unto a reprobate mind (Rom. i. 28).

2. From this blindness, then, it follows that we
frequently love and approve that which is not for
that which is ; since while we are in this body we
are wandering from Him who is the Fulness of
Existence. And what is man, O God, except that
Thou hast taken knowledge of Him ? If the know
ledge of God is the cause that man is anything, the
want of this makes him nothing. But He who calls
those things which are not as though they were,
pitying those reduced in a manner to nothing, and
not yet able to contemplate in its reality, and to
embrace by love that hidden manna, concerning
which the Apostle says : Your life is hidden with Christ
in God (Cor. iii. 3). But in the meantime He has
given us to taste it by faith and to seek for by strong
desire. By these two we are brought for the second
time from not being, to begin to be that His (new)
creature, which one day shall pass into a perfect man,
into the measure of the stature of the fulness of
Christ. That, without doubt, shall take place, when
righteousness shall be turned into judgment, that is,
faith into knowledge, the righteousness which is of
faith into the righteousness of full knowledge, and
also the hope of this state of exile shall be changed
into the fulness of love. For if faith and love begin
during the exile, knowledge and love render perfect
those in the Presence of God. For as faith leads to

LETTER VI 37

full knowledge, so hope leads to perfect love, and, as
it is said, If ye will not believe ye shall not understand
(Is. vii. 9, ace. to Ixx.), so it may equally be said
with fitness, if you have not hoped, you will not
perfectly love. Knowledge then is the fruit of faith,
perfect charity of hope. In the meantime the just
lives by faith (Hab. ii. 4), but he is not happy except
by knowledge ; and he aspires towards God as the
hart desires the water-brooks ; but the blessed drinks
with joy from the fountain of the Saviour, that is, he
delights in the fulness of love.

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

38 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

What shall we say to this, but that the children of men
are vain, the children of men are deceitful upon the weights,
so that they deceive each other by vanity (Ps. Ixi. 9 ; Ixx.).
We praise falsely, and are foolishly pleased, so that
they are vain who are praised, and they false who
praise. Some flatter and are deceptive, others praise
what they think deserving, and are deceived ; others
pride themselves in the commendations which are
addressed to them, and are vain. The only wise
man is he who says with the Apostle : I forbear, lest
any man should think of me above that which he seeth me
to be or that he heareth of me (2 Cor. xii. 6).

4. For the present I have noted down these things
too hastily (because of this in not so finished a way),
rather than dictated them for you, perhaps also at
greater length than I should, but to the best of my
poor ability. But that my letter may finish at the
point whence it began, I beg you not to be too
credulous of uncertain rumour about me, which, as
you know well, is accustomed to be wrong both in
giving praise and in attaching blame. Be so kind,
if you please, as to weigh your praises, and examine
with care how far your friendship for me and your
favour are well-founded, thus they will be the more
acceptable from my friend as they are fitted to my
humble merit. Thus when praise shall have pro
ceeded from grave judgment, and not from the error
of the vulgar, if it is more moderate it will be at the
same time more easy to bear. I assure you that
what attaches me (humble person as I am), to you
is the zeal, industry, and sincerity with which you
employ yourself, as they say, in the accomplishment
of your charge in holy things. May it be always

LETTER VI 39

thus with you that this may be said of you always
with truth. I send you the book which you desire to
have in order to copy ; as for the other treatises of
mine which you wish that I should send, they are but
few, and contain nothing which I should think worthy
of your attention, yet because I should prefer that
my want of intelligence should be blamed rather
than my goodwill, and I would rather endanger my
inexperience than my obedience in your sight, be so
good as to let me know by the present messenger
which of my treatises you wish that I should send
you, so that I may ask for them again from those
persons to whom they have been lent, and send them
wherever you shall direct. That you may know
what you wish for, I may say that I have written a
little book on Humility, four Homilies on the Praises
of the Virgin Mother (for the little book has this title),
upon that passage of S. Luke where it is said the
Angel Gabriel was sent (S. Luke i. 26). Also an
Apology dedicated to a certain friend of mine, in
which I have treated of some of our observances,
that is to say, those of Citeaux, and those of Cluny.
I have also written a few Letters to various persons,
and finally, there are some of my discourses which
the brethren who heard them have reproduced in
their own words and keep them in their hands.
Would that any of the simple productions of my
humble powers might be of any service to you, but
I do not dare to expect it.

40 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER VII (towards the end of A.D. 1127)
To MATTHEW, THE LEGATE

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

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

2. But the cause is great, they say, the necessity
weighty. They must, then, have recourse to some
one suitable to settle great matters. If they think
me such an one, I not only think, but know, that

LETTER VII 41

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

42 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER VIII (circa A.D. 1130)

To GILBERT, BISHOP OF LONDON, UNIVERSAL
DOCTOR

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

The report of your conduct has spread far and
wide, and has given to those whom it has reached
an odour of great sweetness. The love of riches
is extinct ; what sweetness results ! charity reigns ;
what a delight to all ! All recognise you for a
truly wise man, who has trodden under foot the
great enemy with true wisdom ; and this is most
worthy of your name and of your priesthood. It
was fitting that your special philosophy should shine
forth by such a proof, and that you should crown
all your distinguished learning by such a completion.
That is the true and unquestionable wisdom which
contemns filthy lucre and judges it a thing unworthy
[that philosophy should] dwell under the same roof
as the service of idols. That the Magister Gilbert
should become a bishop was not a great thing ; but
that a Bishop of London should embrace a life of
poverty, that is, indeed, grand. For the greatness
of the dignity could not add glory to your name ;
but the humility of poverty has highly exalted it.
To bear poverty with an equal mind, that is the
virtue of patience ; to seek it of one's own accord
is the height of wisdom. He is praised and regarded
as admirable who does not go out of his way after

LETTER VIII 43

money ; and shall he who renounces it have no
higher praise ? Unless that clear reason sees nothing
to be wondered at in the fact that a wise man acts
wisely ; and he is wise who having acquired all the
science of the learned of this world, and having
great enjoyment in acquiring them, has studied all
the Scriptures so as to make their meaning new
again. What then ? You have dispersed, you
have given to the poor, but money. But what is
money to that righteousness which you have gained
for it ? His righteousness, it is said, endureth for ever
(Ps. cxii. 9). Is it so with money ? Then it is a
desirable and honourable exchange to give that
which passes away for that which endures. May
it be granted to you always so to purchase, O,
admirable and praiseworthy Magister ! It remains
that your noble beginning should attain an ending
worthy of it ; and the tail of the victim be joined
to the head. I have gladly received your benedic
tion, which the perfectness of your virtue renders
the more precious to me. The bearer of this letter,
though exceedingly respectable for his own sake, I
desire to commend for my sake also, to your Great
ness. He is exceedingly dear to me for his good
ness and piety.

44 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER IX (circa A.D. 1135)

To ARDUTIO (OR ARDUTIUS), BISHOP ELECT OF
GENEVA

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

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

LETTER X 45

see, not your reward, but your destruction. I hope,
and pray God, that it may not be thus with you ;
and am prepared, if there is need, to render my aid,
as far as in me lies, to assist you in whatever you
think proper and expedient.

LETTER X (in the Same Year)
To THE SAME, WHEN BISHOP

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

i. Charity gives me boldness, my very dear friend,
to speak to you with great confidence. The episcopal
seat which you have lately obtained requires a man
of many merits ; and I see with grief none of these
in you, or at least not sufficient, to have preceded
your elevation. For your mode of life and your
past occupations seem in nowise to have been be
fitting the episcopal office. What then ? Would
you say, Is not God able of this stone to raise up a
son of Abraham ? Is not God able to bring about
that the good works which ought to have gone before
my episcopate may follow it ? Certainly He is, and
I desire nothing better than this, if it should be so.
I know not why, but that sudden change wrought by
the right hand of the Highest will please me more
than if the merits of your former life pleaded for
you. Then I could say, This is the Lord's doing; it is
marvellous in our eyes (Ps. cxviii. 23). So Paul, from
a persecutor, became the Doctor of the Gentiles ; so

46 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

Matthew was called from the toll-booth, so Ambrose
was taken from the palace, the one to the Episco
pate, the other to the Apostolate. So I have known
many others who have been usefully raised to the
Episcopate, from the habits and pursuits of secular
life. How many times it has been the case that
where sin abounded, grace also did much more
abound ?

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

LETTER XI 47

LETTER XI (circa A.D. 1120)
To THE ABBOT OF SAINT NICASIUS AT RHEIMS

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

i. How much I sympathize with your trouble only
He knows who bore the griefs of all in His own
body. How willingly would I advise you if I knew
what to say, or help you if I were able, as efficaciously
as I would wish that He who knows and can do all
things should advise and assist me in all my necessi
ties. If brother Drogo had consulted me about
leaving your house I should by no means have
agreed with him ; and now that he has left, if he
were to apply to enter into mine I should not receive
him. All that I was able to do in those circum
stances I have done for you, and have written, as you
know, to the abbot who has received him. After
this, reverend father, what is there more that I am
able to do on your behalf ? And as regards yourself,
your Holiness knows well with me that men are
accustomed to be perfected not only in hope, but also
to glory in tribulation. The Scripture consoles them,
saying : The furnace proveth the potters vessels, and
temptation the righteous man (Ecclus. xxvii. 6, VULG.) ;
The Lord is nigh unto them thai are of a contrite heart
(Ps. xxxiv. 1 8) ; and We must through much tribulation
enter into the kingdom of God (Acts xiv. 2 I ; and All
who will live godly in Christ suffer persecution (2 Tim. iii.
1 2). Yet none the less ought we to sympathize with
our friends whom we see placed in care and grief ;
because we do not know what will be the issue of

48 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

such, and fear lest it may be for ill ; since whilst,
indeed, to saints and the elect tribulation workcth
patience, patience experience, experience hope, and hope
maketh not ashamed (Rom. v. 3—5), to the con-
demnable and reprobate, on the contrary, tribulation
causes discouragement, and discouragement confusion,
and confusion despair, which destroys them.

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

3. I should be wrong to counsel you thus, if I did
not oblige myself to act thus. For when one of my
brethren, not only a professed religious, but also
nearly akin to me,1 was received and retained at
Cluny against my will, I was afflicted, indeed, but

LETTER XII 49

endured it in silence, praying both for them that they
might be willing to return the fugitive, and for him,
that he might be willing of his own accord to return ;
but if not, leaving the charge of my vengeance to
Him who shall render judgment to the patient and
contend in equity for the meek of the earth. Please
to warn brother Hugo, of Lausanne, with your own
mouth, and as from me, not to believe every spirit,
and not to be induced rashly to desert the certain for
the uncertain. Let him remember that perseverance
alone is always attacked by the devil, because it is the
only virtue which has the assurance of being crowned.
It will be safer for him simply to persevere in the
vocation wherein he is called than to renounce it
under the pretext of a life more perfect, at the risk of
not being found equal to that which he had the
presumption to attempt.

LETTER XII (A.D. 1127)
To Louis, KING OF FRANCE2

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

To LOUIS, the glorious King of France, STEPHEN,
Abbot of Citeaux, and the whole assembly of the
abbots and brethren of Citeaux, wish health, pros
perity, and peace in Christ Jesus.

1 This was Robert, to whom Letter I. was addressed.

2 Louis VI., "the Fat."

D

50 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

1. The King of heaven and earth has given you
a kingdom on earth, and will bestow upon you one
in heaven if you study to govern with justice and
wisdom that which you have received. This is what
we wish for you, and pray for on your behalf, that
you may reign here faithfully, and there in happiness.
But why do you of late put so many obstacles in the
way of our prayers for you, which, if you recollect,
you formerly with such humility requested ? With
what confidence can we now presume to lift up our
hands for you to the Spouse of the Church, while
you so inconsiderately, and without the slightest cause
(as we think), afflict the Church ? Grave indeed is
the complaint she lays against you before her Spouse
and Lord, that she finds you an opposer whom she
accepted as a protector. Have you reflected whom
you are thus attacking ? Not really the Bishop of
Paris,1 but the Lord of Paradise, a terrible God who
cuts off the spirit of Princes (Ps. Ixx. 12), and who has
said to Bishops, He who despiseth you despiseth me
(S. Luke x. 1 6).

2. That is what we have to say to you. Perhaps
we have to say it with boldness, but at the same time
in love ; and for your sake we pray you heartily,
in the name of the friendship with which you have

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

LETTER XII 51

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

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

52 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER XIII (A.D. 1127)

TO THE SAME POPE, IN THE NAME OF GEOFFREY,
BISHOP OF CHARTRES.

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

It is superfluous to recall to you, very holy Father,
the cause and order of a very afflicting history, and
to linger over what you have already heard from
the pious Bishop of Paris, and which must have
profoundly affected your paternal heart. Yet my
testimony also ought not to be wanting to my
brother and co-bishop ; what I have seen and heard
respecting this matter, this I have undertaken to
make you acquainted with in few \vords. When
the before-mentioned Bishop had brought forward
his complaint, which he did with great moderation,
in our provincial assembly, where had gathered with
our venerable metropolitan the Archbishop of Sens,
all the bishops of the province, and certain religious
also whom we had summoned, we determined to
represent to the King, with all becoming humility,
his unjust proceeding, and to beg that he would
restore to the Bishop unjustly maltreated what had
been taken from him ; but we obtained no satisfac
tion from him. Understanding, at length, that in

LETTER XIII 53

order to defend the Church we had decided to have
recourse to the weapons of the Church, he was afraid,
and promised the restitution demanded. But almost
in the same hour arrived your letter, ordering that
the interdict over the royal domains should be raised,
thus, unfortunately, strengthening the King in his evil
doings, so that he did not perform at all what he
had promised. Nevertheless, as he had given a fresh
promise that he would do what we required, we
presented ourselves on the day appointed. We
laboured for peace, and it did not come ; but in
stead of it worse confusion. Thus the effect of your
letter has been that the goods unjustly seized are
more unjustly retained, and those which remain are
seized day by day, and that so much more securely,
as he is assured of entire impunity in retaining them.
The just (as we consider) interdict of the Bishop has
been raised by your order, and as the fear of dis
pleasing you has made us suspend that which we
proposed to send forth by our own authority, and by
which we hoped to obtain peace, we are made in the
meantime the derision of our neighbours. How long
is this to be ? Let the compassion of your piety
be exercised in our behalf.

54 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER XIV (circa A.D. 1129)

TO ALEXANDER,1 BlSHOP OF LINCOLN

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

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

i. Your Philip, wishing to go to Jerusalem, has
found his journey shortened, and has quickly reached
the end that he desired. He has crossed speedily
this great and wide sea, and after a prosperous
voyage has now reached the desired shore, and
anchored at length in the harbour of salvation.
His feet stand already in the Courts of Jerusalem,
and Him whom he had heard of in Ephrata he has
found in the broad woods, and willingly worships in
the place where his feet have stayed. He has entered
into the Holy City, and has obtained an heritage with
those of whom it is rightly said : Now ye are no longer
strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints
and of the household of God (Ephesians ii. 19). He
goes in and out with the saints, and is become as
one of them, praising God and saying as they : Our

1 This Alexander was Bishop of Lincoln in England from 1123 to 1147*

LETTER XIV 55

conversation is in heaven (Philip, iii. 20). He is be
come, therefore, not a curious spectator only, but a
devoted inhabitant and an enrolled citizen of Jeru
salem ; but not the Jerusalem of this world with
which is joined Mount Sinai, in Arabia, which is
in bondage with her children, but of her who is
above, who is free, and the mother of us all (Gal.
iv. 25-26).

2. And this, if you are willing to perceive it, is
Clairvaux. This is Jerusalem, and is associated by
a certain intuition of the spirit, by the entire devotion
of the heart, and by conformity of daily life, with
her which is in heaven. This shall be, as he pro
mises himself, his rest for ever. He has chosen her
for his habitation, because with her is, although not
yet the realisation, at least the expectation, of true
peace of which it is said : The peace of God which passes
all understanding (Philip, iv. 17). But this is true
happiness ; although he has received it from above,
he desires to embrace it with your good permission,
or rather -he trusts that he has done this according
to your wish, knowing that you are not ignorant of
that sentence of the wise man, that a wise son is the
glory of his father.1 He makes request, therefore,
of your Paternity, and we also make request with
him and for him, to be so kind as to allow the
payments which he has assigned to his creditors 2
from his prebend to remain unaltered, so that he

1 Prov. x. i. Bernard always quotes this passage thus. In the
VULGATE it is, Filius sapiens latificat patrem.

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

56 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

may not be found (which God forbid) a defaulter
and breaker of his covenant, and so that the offering
of a contrite heart, which he makes daily, may not
be rejected by God, inasmuch as any brother has
a claim against him. And lastly, he entreats that
the house which he has built for his mother upon
Church land, with the ground which he has assigned
there, may be preserved to his mother during her
life. Thus much with regard to Philip.

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

LETTER XV 57

LETTER XV (circa A.D. 1129)
To ALVISUS, ABBOT OF ANCHIN

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

To ALVISUS, Abbot of Anchin.1

i. May God render to you the same mercy which
you have shown towards your holy son Godwin.
I know that at the news of his death you showed
yourself unmindful of old complaints, and remem
bering only your friendship for him, behaved with
kindness, not resentment, and putting aside the
character of judge, showed yourself a father in
circumstances that required it. Therefore, you
strove to render to him all the duties of charity
and piety which a father ought to render to a
son. What better, what more praiseworthy, what
more worthy of yourself could you have done ?
But who believed this ? Truly no one knows what
is in man, except the spirit of man which is in him
(i Cor. ii. n). Where is now that austerity, that
severity, that indignation which tongue, eyes, and
countenance were accustomed to display and terribly
to pour upon him ? Scarcely is the death of your
son named to you than your fatherly bosom is
moved. Suddenly all these sentiments which were
adopted for a purpose, and therefore only for a
time, disappeared, and those which were truly yours,

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

58 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

but were concealed — charity, piety, benignity — ap
peared. Therefore, in your pious mind, mercy and
truth have met together, and because mercy has
certainly prevailed over judgment, righteousness and
peace have kissed each other (Ps. Ixxxv. 10). For as
far as I seem to be able to form an idea, I think I
see what passed in your mind then, when truth,
fired with zeal for justice, prepared to avenge the
injury which it seemed to you had been done. The
sentiment of mercy which, after the example of
Joseph, prudently dissimulated at first, yet not en
during longer to be concealed, and in this also like
to Joseph (Gen. xlv. i), burst forth from the hidden
fount of piety, and making common cause with
truth, repressed agitation, calmed wrath, made peace
with justice.

2. Then from the pure and peaceful fountain of
your heart poured forth like limpid streams such
thoughts as these : What need have I to be angry ?
Would it not be better to pity him, and not to for
get what is written, / will have mercy and not sacrifice
(Hos. vi. 6), and to fulfil what is ordered, Study to
keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Eph.
iv. 3), so as to be able to count on what is promised,
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy (S.
Matt. v. 7) ? After all, was not that man my son ?
And who can rage against his son ? — unless, per
haps, he was only then my son when he was with
me, and not also when he deserted me. In with
drawing from me in body for a time, has he with
drawn equally from my heart, or can even death
take him away from me ? Must the necessity of
the body and of place so hamper the freedom of

LETTER XV 59

souls which love each other ? I am quite sure that
neither distance of places, nor the absence, or even
the death, of our bodies would be able to disjoin
those whom one spirit animates, one affection binds
together. Finally, if the souls of the righteous are in
the hand of God (Wisd. iii. i), we, both those who are
already at rest, having laid down the burden of the
flesh, and those who, being still in the flesh, do not
war according to the flesh, beyond a doubt are still
together. Mine he was when living, mine he will
be dead, and I shall recognize him as mine in the
common fatherland. If there is any who is able to
tear him from the Hands of God, then he may be
able to separate him from me also.

3. Thus your affection, father, has enabled you to
make excuses for your son. But what has it said
of me, or what satisfaction from me will be worthy
of you, which you could impose for the great injury
inflicted upon you, because when your son left you
he was received by me ? What can I say ? If I
should plead I have not received him (would I were
able to say so without sin) it would be a falsehood.
If I should plead I received him, indeed, but with
good reason, I should seem to wish to excuse myself,
The safer way will be to answer, I did wrong. But
how far did I do wrong ? I do not say it by way of
defence, but by whom would he not be received ?
Who, I say, would repel that good man from his
door when he knocked, or expel him when once
received ? But who knows if God did not wish to
supply our need out of your abundance, so that He
directed to us one of the many holy men who were
then in great number in your house, for our con-

60 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

solation, indeed, but none the less for a glory to
you ? " For a wise son is the glory of his father "
(Prov. x. i). Moreover, I did not make any solicita
tion to him beforehand. I did not gain him over by
promises to desert you or to come to us. Quite on
the contrary, God is my witness. I did not consent
to receive him until he begged me to do so, until he
knocked at my door and entreated to have it opened,
until I had tried to send him back to you, but as he
would not agree to that I at length yielded to his
importunity. But if it is a fault that I received him,
a monk, a stranger, alone, and received him in the
way I did, it will not be unworthy of you to pardon
such a fault, which was committed once only, for it
is not lawful for you to deny forgiveness even to
those who sin against you seventy times seven.

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

LETTER XVI 61

you to write to me, that you receive my excuses,
so that if they are sufficient I may be consoled by
your indulgence, but if, on the contrary, I must be
more humiliated (as it is just) that I may endeavour,
whatever else I can do, to give you fuller satisfaction.
Farewell.

LETTER XVI

To RAINALD, ABBOT OF FOIGNY

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

I. In the first place, do not wonder if titles of
honour affright me, when I feel myself so unworthy
of the honours themselves ; and if it is fitting that
you should give them to me, it is not expedient for
me to accept them. For if you think that you ought
to observe that saying, In honour preferring one another
(Rom. xii. 10), and: Submit yourselves one to another in
the fear of God (Eph. v. 21), yet the terms one another,
one to another, are not used at random, and concern
me as well as you. Again, if you think that the
declaration of the Rule is to be observed, " Let the
younger honour their elders," * I remember what the
Truth has ruled : The last shall be first, and the first
last (S. Matt. xx. 16), and, He that is the greater among
you, let him be as the younger (S. Luke xxii. 26), and
The greater thou art, the more humble thyself (Ecclus.
iii. 1 8), and Not because we have dominion over your faith,

1 Rule of S. Benedict cap. 63.

62 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

but are helpers of your joy (2 Cor. i. 24), and, Have they
made thee the master? Be then among them as one of
them (Ecclus. xxxii. i), and Be ye not called Rabbi ; and
Call no man your father upon the earth (S. Matt, xxiii.
8, 9). As much, then, as I am carried away by your
compliments, so much am I restrained by the weight
of these texts. Wherefore I rightly, I do not say
sing, but mourn ; While I suffer Thy terrors I am dis
tracted (Ps. Ixxxviii. 15), and Thou hast lifted me up and
cast me down (Ps. cii. 10). But I should, perhaps,
represent more truly what I feel if I say that he
who exalts me really humiliates me ; and he who
humiliates me, exalts. You, therefore, rather depress
me in heaping me with terms of honour, and exalt
me by humbling. But that you may not humble
so as to crush me, these and similar testimonies of
the Truth console me, which wonderfully raise up
those whom they make humble, instruct while they
humiliate. Thus this same Hand that casts me down
raises me up again and makes me sing with joy. //
was good for me, O Lord, that I was afflicted, that I might
learn Thy statutes; the law of Thy mouth is good unto me,
above thousands of gold and silver (Ps. cxix. 71, 72).
This marvel the word of God, living and efficacious,
produces. This, that Word by which all things are
done, gently and powerfully brings to pass ; this, in
short, is the work of the easy yoke and light burden
of Christ (S. Matt. xi. 30).

2. We cannot but wonder how light is the burden
of Truth. Is not that truly light which does not
burden, but relieves him who bears it ? What lighter
than that weight, which not only does not burden,
but even bears every one upon whom it is laid to

LETTER XVI 63

bear ? This weight was able to render fruitful the
Virgin's womb, but not to burden it.1 This weight
sustained the very arms of the aged Simeon, in which
He was received. This caught up Paul, though with
weighty and corruptible body, into the third heaven.
I seek in all things to find if possible something like
to this weight which bears them who bear it, and I
find nothing but the wings of birds which in any
degree resembles it, for these in a certain singular
manner render the body of birds at once more
weighty and more easily moved. Wonderful work
of nature ! that at the same time increases the
material and lightens the burden, and while the
mass is greater the burden is in the same degree
less. Thus plainly in the wings is expressed the
likeness of the burden of Christ, because they them
selves bear that by which they are borne. What
shall I say of a chariot ? This, too, increases the
load of the horse by which it is drawn, but at the
same time renders capable of being drawn a load
which without it could not be moved. Load is
added to load, yet the whole is lighter. See also
how the Chariot of the Gospel comes to the weighty
load of the Law, and helps to carry it on to per
fection, while decreasing the difficulty. His word,
it is said, runneth very swiftly (Ps. cxlvii. 15). His
word, before known only in Judea, and not able,
because of its weightiness, to extend beyond, which
burdened and weighed down the hands of Moses
himself, when lightened by Grace, and placed upon
the wheels of the Gospel, ran swiftly over the whole

1 Gravidare ; grav are. — [E.]

64 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

earth, and reached in its rapid flight the confines of
the world.

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

LETTER XVI 65

so indiscreetly. Therefore, against panegyrists of
each kind I am accustomed to strengthen myself
with those two verses : against the hostile with the
former, Let them be turned back and soon brought to
shame who wish me evil, but against the well-meaning,
Let them be turned backward and made to blush who say
over me, There, There !

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

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

E

66 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

our needs. If it were otherwise, if it were not the
work of Christ that was in question, would I suffer
to be so far away from me a companion so dear
and necessary to me, so obedient in labour, so
persevering in studies, so useful in conference, so
prompt in recollection ? Blessed are we if we still
remain thus until the end always and in everything,
seeking not our own interests, but those of Jesus
Christ.

To THE SAME

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

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

i. You complain, my very dear son, of your many
tribulations, and by your pious complaints you excite
me also to complain, for I am not able to feel that
you are sorrowing without sharing your sorrow, nor
can I be otherwise than troubled and anxious when
I hear of your troubles and anxieties. But since I
foresaw these very difficulties which you say have
happened to you, and predicted them to you, if you
remember — it seems to me that you ought to be
better prepared to endure them, and to spare me
vexation when you can, For am I not sufficiently

LETTER XVII 67

tried, and more than sufficiently, to lose you, not
to see you, nor to enjoy your society, which was
so pleasant to me ; so that I have almost regretted
that I should have sent you away from me. And
although charity obliged me to send you, yet not
being able to see you where you have been sent, I
mourn you as if lost to me. When, then, besides
this, you who ought to be the staff of my support,
belabour me as it were with the rod of your faint
heartedness, you heap sorrow upon sorrow, and
torment upon torment ; and if it is a mark of your
filial affection towards me that you do not hide any
of your difficulties from me, yet it is hard to add
fresh trouble to one already burdened. Why is it
needful to occupy with fresh anxieties one already
more than anxious enough, and to torture with
sharper pains the bosom of a father, already
wounded by the absence of his son ? I have shared
with you my weight of cares, as a son, as an intimate
friend, as a trusty assistant ; but how do you help to
bear your father's burden, if, instead of relieving me,
you burden me still more ? You, indeed, are loaded,
but I am not lightened of my load.

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

68 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

rather helps you than is helped by you, recognize
that to him you are not father and abbot, but equal
and friend. Do not complain if you find more trials
than consolations from those among whom you are.
You were sent to sustain and console others, because
you are spiritually stronger and better able to bear
than they, and because with the grace of God you
are able to aid and sustain all without needing
yourself to be aided and sustained by any. Finally,
if the burden is great, so also is the reward ; but, on
the other hand, the more assistance you receive, the
more your own reward is diminished. Choose,
therefore ; if you prefer those who are for you a
burden, your merit will be the greater ; but if, on
the contrary, you prefer those who console you,
you have no merit at all. The former are the
source whence it arises for you ; the second as the
abyss in which it is swallowed up ; for it is not
doubtful that those who are partakers of the labour,
will be also sharers of the reward. Knowing, then,
that you were sent to help, not to be helped, bear in
mind that you are the vicar of Him who came not
to be ministered unto, but to minister. I could have
wished to write at greater length, in order to comfort
you, but that it was not necessary ; for what need is
there of filling a dead leaf with superfluous words,
while the living voice is speaking ? I think that when
you have seen our prior, these words will be sufficient
for you, and your spirit will revive at his presence,
so that you will not require the consolation of written
words, in the delight and help which his discourse
will give you. Do not doubt that I have communi
cated to him, as far as was possible, my inmost

LETTER XVIII 69

mind, which you begged in your letters might be
sent to you. For you know well that he and I are
of one mind and one will.

LETTER XVIII

To THE SAME

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

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

" When have I not made the perils which I feared
Greater than they really were ?" l

I fear all things because I am uncertain of all things,
and feel often real sorrow for imaginary evils. The
mind which affection dominates is hardly master of
itself. It fears what it knows not ; it grieves when

1 Heroid. Ep. I. v. n.

yo S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

there is no need ; it is troubled more than it wished,
and even when it does not wish ; unable to rule its
sensibility, it pities or sympathizes against its will.
And because you see, my son, that neither my timid
industry nor your pious prudence in this respect are
of service to me, do not, I pray you, conceal from
me henceforth anything that concerns you, that you
may not increase my uneasiness by seeking to spare
me. The little books of mine which you have, please
return to me when you can.

LETTER XIX (A.D. 1127)
To SUGER, ABBOT OF S. DENIS

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

i. A piece of good news has reached our district ;
it cannot fail to do great good to whomsoever it shall
have come. For who that fear God, hearing what
great things He has done for your soul, do not
rejoice and wonder at the great and sudden change
wrought by the Right Hand of the Most High.
Everywhere your courage is praised in the Lord
the gentle hear of it and are glad, and even those
who do not know you,1 but have only heard of you,
what you were and what you are now, wonder and

1 Otherwise vidcrunt, have seen.

LETTER XIX 71

glorify God in you. But what adds still more to
their admiration and joy is that you have been able
to make your brethren partake of the counsel of
salvation poured upon you from above, and so to
fulfil what we read, Let him that hearcth say, Come
(Rev. xxii. 17), and that What I tell you in darkness that
speak ye in light, and what ye hear in the ear that preach
ye upon the house tops (S. Matt. x. 27). So a soldier
intrepid in war, or rather a general full of bravery
and devotedness, when he sees almost all his soldiers
turned to flight and falling everywhere under the
hostile blades, although he may see that he would be
able to escape alone, yet he prefers to die with those,
without whom he would think it shame to live. He
holds firm on the field of battle and combats bravely ;
he ranges, sword in hand, along the ranks, through
the bloody blades which seek him ; he terrifies his
adversaries and reanimates his followers with all his
powers of voice and gesture. Wherever the enemy
press on more boldly and there is danger of his
friends giving ground, there he is present ; the
enemy who strikes he opposes, the friend who sinks
exhausted he succours ; and he is the more prepared
to die for each one, that he despairs to save them all.
But while he makes heroic efforts to hinder and to
stop the pursuers who press upon his followers, he
raises as best he can those who are fallen and re
calls those who have taken flight. Nor is it rare
that his splendid valour procures a safety as wel
come as unhoped for, throws into confusion the
hostile ranks, forces them to fly from those whom
they were pursuing, and overcomes those who bore
themselves almost as victors, so that they who a

72 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

little before were struggling for life are now rejoicing
in victory.

2. But why do I compare an event so profoundly
religious to things secular, as if examples were want
ing to us from religion itself ? Was not Moses quite
certain of what God had promised him, that if, indeed,
the people over whom he ruled should have perished,
he himself should not only not perish with them,
but should be besides the chief of a great nation ?
Nevertheless, with what affection, with what zeal,
with what bowels of piety did he strive to save his
people from the wrath of God ? And, finally, inter
posing himself on behalf of the offenders, he cries :
If Thou wilt forgive their sin — ; and if not, blot me, I
pray Thee, out of Thy book which Thou hast written (Exod.
xxxii. 32). What a devoted advocate ! who, because
he does not seek his own interests, easily obtains
everything which he seeks. What a benign chief,
who, binding together his people with bonds of
charity as the head is united with the members,
will either save them with himself or else encounter
the same danger as they ! Jeremiah, also bound *
inseparably to his people, but by the bond of com
passion, not by sympathy for their revolt, quitted
voluntarily his native soil and his own liberty 2 to
embrace in preference the common lot of exile and
slavery. He was free to remain in his own country
had he chosen, while others must remove, but he
preferred to be carried away captive with his people,
to whom he knew that he could render service even
in captivity. Paul, animated beyond doubt by the
same spirit, desired that he might be anathema even

1 Vinctus, other wise junctus. * Otherwise voluntatem.

LETTER XIX 73

from Christ Himself for his brethren (Romans ix. 3).
He experienced in his own heart how true is that
saying, Love is as strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the
grave (Cant. viii. 6). Do you see of whose great
examples you have shown yourself an imitator ? But
I add one more whom I had almost passed over, that
of the holy king David, who, perceiving and lament
ing the slaughter of his people, wished to devote
himself for them, and desired that the Divine venge
ance should be transferred to himself and to his
father's house (2 Sam. xxiv. 17).

3. But who made you aspire to this degree of per
fection ? I confess that though I earnestly desired to
hear such things of you, I never hoped to see it come
to pass. Who would have believed that you would
reach, so to speak, by one sudden bound, the practice
of the highest virtues, and approach the most exalted
merit ? Thus we learn not to measure by the
narrow proportions of our faith and hope the infinite
pity of God, which does what It will and works upon
whom It will, lightening the burden which It imposes
upon us, and hastening the work of our salvation.
What then ? the zeal of good people blamed your
errors at least, if not those of your brethren : it was
against your excesses more than theirs that they
were moved with indignation ; and if your brothers
in religion groaned in secret, it was less against your
entire community than against you ; it was only
against you that they brought their accusation. You
corrected your faults, and their criticisms had no
longer an object ; your conversion at once stilled the
tumult of accusation. The one and only thing with
which we were scandalized was the luxury, the pride,

74 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

the pomp, which followed you everywhere.1 At
length you laid down your pride, you put off your
splendid dress, and the universal indignation ceased
at once. Thus you had at the same time satisfied
those who complained of you, and even merited our
praises. For what in human doings is deserving of
praise, if this is not considered most worthy of
admiration and approval ? It is true that a change
so sudden and so complete is not the work of man,
but of God. If in heaven the conversion of one
sinner arouses great joy, what gladness will the
conversion of an entire community cause, and of such
a community as yours ?

4. That spot so noble by its antiquity and the
royal favour, was made to serve the convenience of
worldly business, and to be a meeting-place for the
royal troops. They used to render to Caesar the
things which were Caesar's promptly and fully ; but
not with equal fidelity did they render the things of
God to God. I speak what I have heard, not what I
have seen : the very cloister itself of your monastery
was frequently, they say, crowded with soldiers,
occupied with the transaction of business, resounding
with noise and quarrels, and sometimes even acces
sible even to women. How, in the midst of all that,
could place be found for thoughts of heaven, for the
service of God, for the interests of the spiritual life ?
But now there is leisure for God's service, for prac
tising self-restraint and obedience, for attention to
sacred reading. Consider that silence and constant

1 It is, perhaps, of this man that Bernard speaks in his Apology c. 10:
" I have seen, I do not exaggerate, an abbot going forth escorted by 60
horses and more . . . etc."

LETTER XIX 75

quiet from all stir of secular things disposes the soul
to meditation on things above. And the laborious
exercise of the religious life and the rigour of ab
stinence are lightened by the sweetness of psalms
and hymns. Penitence for the past renders lighter
the austerity of the new manner of life. He who in
the present gathers the fruits of a good conscience,
feels in himself a desire for future good works, which
shall not be frustrated, and a well-founded hope.
The fear of the judgment to come gives way to the
pious exercise of brotherly charity, for love casteth out
fear (i S. John iv. 18). The variety of holy services
drives far away weariness and sourness of temper,
and I repeat these things to the praise and glory of
God, who is the Author of all ; yet not without
praise to yourself as being His co-worker in all
things. He was able, indeed, to do them without
you, but He has preferred to have you for the sharer
of His works, that He might have you for the sharer
of His glory also. The Saviour once reproached
certain persons because they made the house of prayer
a den of thieves (S. Matt. xxi. 13). He will doubtless
then have in commendation the man who has ac
complished the task of freeing His holy place from
the dogs, of rescuing His pearl from the swine ; by
whose ardour and zeal the workshop of Vulcan is
restored to holy studies, or rather the house of God
is restored to Him from being a synagogue of Satan
to be that which it was before.

5. If I recall the remembrance of past evils it is
not in order to cast confusion or reproach on any one,
but from the comparison with the old state of things
to make the beauty of the new appear more sharply

76 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

and strikingly ; because there is nothing which makes
the present good shine forth more clearly than a
comparison with the evils which preceded it. As we
recognize similar things from similar, so things which
are unlike either please or displease more when com
pared with their opposites. Place that which is black
beside that which is white, and the juxtaposition of
the two colours makes each appear more marked.
So, if beautiful things are put beside ugly, the former
are rendered more beautiful, the ugliness of the latter
is more apparent. That there may be no occasion
of offence or confusion, I am content to repeat with
the Apostle : Such, indeed, ye were, but ye are washed,
ye are sanctified (i Cor. vi. n). Now, the house of
God ceases to open to people of the world, there is
no access to sacred precincts for the curious ; no
gossip about trifling things with the idle ; the chatter
of boys and girls is no longer heard. The holy place
is open and accessible only to the children of Christ,
of whom it is said : Behold I and the children whom the
Lord hath given me (Isaiah viii. 18). It is reserved for
the praises of God and the performance of sacred
vows with due care and reverence. How gladly do
the martyrs, of whom so great a number ennoble
that place, listen to the loud songs of these children,
to whom they in turn reply no less with a voice of
charity : Praise, O ye servants of the Lord, praise the
name of the Lord (Ps. cxiii. i), and again, Sing praises
to our God, sing praises, sing praises to our King, sing
praises (Ps. xlvii. 6).

6. When your breasts are beaten with penitent
hands, and your pavements worn with your knees,
your altars heaped with vows and devout prayers,

LETTER XIX 77

your cheeks furrowed with tears ; when groans and
sighs resound on all sides and the sacred roofs echo
with spiritual songs instead of worldly pleadings,
there is nothing which the citizens of heaven more
love to look upon, nothing is more agreeable to the
eyes of the Heavenly King. For is not this what is
said : The sacrifice of praise shall honour me (Ps. 1. 23) ?
O, if any one had his eyes opened, as were those
of the prophet's servant at his prayer ! He would
doubtless see (2 Kings vi. 17) The princes go before,
joined with the minstrels in the midst of the players on
timbrels (Ps. Ixvii. 26, VULG.). We should see, I say,
with what care and ardour they assist at the chants,
and at the prayers how they unite themselves with
those who meditate, they watch over those who
repose, they preside over those who order and care
for all. The powers of heaven fully recognise their
fellow-citizens ; they earnestly rejoice, comfort, in
struct, protect, and provide for all those who take
the heritage of salvation, at all times. How happy I
esteem myself while I am still in this world to hear
of these things, although I am absent and do not see
them ! But your felicity, my brethren, to whom it
is given to bear part in them, far surpasses mine,
and blessed above all is he whom the Author of all
good has deigned to make the chief worker of so
good a work ; it is you, my dear friend, whom with
justice I congratulate for this, that you have brought
about all which I so greatly admire.

7. You are wearied, perhaps, with my praises, but
you ought not to be so ; they are far different from
the flatteries of those who call evil good and good evil
(Isaiah v. 20), and so please a person to lead him into

78 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

8. I would that you should take pleasure in the
praises of such as fear just as much to flatter vice as
to depreciate virtue. That is the true praise, which,
as it is wont to extol nothing but what is good, so it
knows not how to caress what is evil. All other is
pretended praise, but really blame, which Scripture

LETTER XIX 79

refers to : The sons of men are vain ; they are deceitful
upon the weights, so that they deceive even more than vanity
(Ps. Ixii. 10). Such are altogether to be avoided
according to the counsel of the wise man : My son, if
sinners entice thee consent thou not (Prov. i. 10), since
their milk and their oil, though they be sweet, are
poisonous and deadly. Their words, he says (that is,
those of flatterers), are softer than oil, and yet are they
very swords (Ps. Iv. 21). The righteous has oil, too,
but of mercy, of sanctification, of spiritual joy. He
has wine, which he pours into the wounds of the
haughty soul. But for the soul of him that mourns,
and for him of contrite heart, he has the oil of
mercy, with which he is wont to soften its sorrow.
Where he corrects, he pours in wine ; when he
soothes, oil ; but wine without bitterness, and oil with
out guile. Thus, not every praise is flattery, nor
every blame mixed with rancour. Blessed is he who
can say : Let the righteous smite me in mercy, and reprove
me : but let not the oil of the sinner break my head (Ps.
cxli. 5), which when you have put far from you, you
have shown yourself worthy of the oil and wine of
the saints.

9. Let the children of Babylon seek for themselves
pleasant mothers, but pitiless, who will feed them
with poisoned milk, and soothe them with caresses
which will make them fit for everlasting flames ; but
those of the Church, fed at the breasts of her wisdom,
having tasted the sweetness of a better milk, already
begin to grow up in it unto salvation, and being
fully satiated with it they cry : Thy fulness is better than
wine, Thy fragrance than the sweetest ointments (Cant,
i. i, 2). This to their mother. But, then, having

8o S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

tasted and known how sweet the Lord is, how truly
the best of fathers, they say to Him : How great is
Thy goodness, O Lord, which Thou hast laid tip for them
that fear Thee (Ps. xxxi. 19). Now my whole desire
is accomplished. Formerly when I saw with regret
with what avidity you sucked in1 from the lips of
flatterers their mortal poison, the seed of sin, I used,
with grief, to desire better things for you, saying :
Who shall give thee to me, my brother, who sucked the
breasts of my mother (Cant. viii. i) ? Far from thee
henceforth be those men \vith caresses and dishonest
praises, who bless you before your face and expose
you at the same time to the reproach and derision
of all men, whose applause in your presence is the
world's by-word, or rather makes you a by-word to
the world. If they murmur even now, say to them :
If I yet pleased you, I should not be the servant of Christ
(Gal. i. 10). Those whom we please in evil things
we cannot please in good things, unless they are
themselves changed, and begin to hate what we were,
and so at length to love what we are.

10. In our time two new and detestable abuses
have arisen in the Church, of which one (permit me
to say it) was no stranger to you when you lived in
forgetfulness of the duties of your profession ; but
this, thanks to God, has been amended to His glory,
to your everlasting gain, to our joy and an example
to all. God is able to bring about that we may soon
be consoled for the second of these evils, the odious
novelty of which I do not dare to speak of in public,
and yet am afraid to pass over in silence. My grief
urges my tongue to speak, but fear restrains the

1 Sugere. Bernard is playing upon the name of his correspondent Suger.

LETTER XIX 81

words ; fear only lest I may offend some one if I
speak openly of what troubles me, since truth some
times makes enemies. But for enmity of this kind
thus incurred I hear the truth consoling me. // is
needful, he says, that offences should come. And I do
not think that those words which follow, Woe to that
man by whom the offence cometh (S. Matt, xviii. 7) con
cern me. For when vices are attacked and a scandal
results thence, it is not he who makes the accusation
who is to answer for the scandal, but he who renders
it necessary. In short, I am neither more cautious
in word nor circumspect in action than he who says,
" It is better that a scandal should arise than that the
truth be compromised " (S. Greg. Magn. Horn. 7 in
Ezech. near the beginning, and S. Aug. de Lib. Arbitr.
et de Praedest. sanctor.). Although I know not what
advantage it would be were I to hold my tongue
about that which all the world proclaims with a loud
voice, nor can I alone pretend to overlook the pest
whose ill odour is in all nostrils, and not dare to
guard my own nose from its ill effect.

ii. For whose heart is not indignant, and whose
tongue does not murmur either openly or secretly
to see a deacon equally serving God and Mammon,1
against the precept of the Gospel heaping up ecclesi
astical dignities, so that he seems not to be inferior
to Bishops, yet so mixed up in military offices that
he is preferred even to Dukes. What monster is
this, that being a clerk, and wishing at the same
time to appear a soldier, is neither ? It is equally
an abuse that a deacon should serve at the table

' 1 This deacon was Stephen de Garlande, seneschal or officer of the table
to the King of France.

F

82 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

of the King, and that the server of the King should
minister at the altar during the holy mysteries. Is
it not a wonder, or rather a scandal, to see the same
person clothed in armour march at the head of
armed soldiery, and vested in alb and stole read the
Gospel in the midst of the Church ; at one time
give the signal for battle with the trumpet, and at
another convey the orders of the Bishop to the
people ? Unless, perhaps, that man (which would
be scandalous) is ashamed of the Gospel of which
S. Paul, that Vessel of election, was so proud ?
Perhaps he is ashamed to appear a cleric, and
thinks it more honourable to be supposed a soldier,
preferring the Court to the Church, the table of the
King to the Altar of Christ, and the cup of demons
to the chalice of Christ. This seems the more pro
bable, because he is prouder (they say) to be called
by the name of that one post which he has obtained
at the palace than by any of those titles of ecclesi
astical dignities which, in defiance of the canons, he
has heaped upon himself, and instead of delighting
to be called Archdeacon, Dean, or Provost to his
various Churches, he prefers to be styled Dapifcr
to H.M. the King. O, unheard of and hateful per
versity ! thus to prefer the title of servant of a man
to that of the servant of God, and to consider the
position of an official of an earthly king one of
higher dignity than that of an heavenly ! He who
prefers military warfare to the work of the ministry
places the world before the Church, is convicted
of preferring human things to Divine, earthly to
heavenly. Is it then more honourable to be called
the King's Dapifer than Dean or Archdeacon ? It

LETTER XIX 83

may be to a layman, not to a cleric ; to a soldier,
not to a deacon.

12. It is a strange but blind ambition to delight
more in the lowest things than in the highest, and
that the man whose lines had fallen to him in
pleasant places should recreate himself upon a dung
hill with eager desire, and count his precious lands
as nothing worth. This man mingles the two orders
and cunningly abuses each. Military pomps delight
him, but not the risks and labours of warfare ; the
revenues of religion, but not its duties. Who does
not see how great is the disgrace, as much to the
State as to the Church ? for just as it is no
part of clerical duty to bear arms at the pay
of the King, so it is no part of the royal duties
to administer lay affairs by means of clerics.1
What king has ever put at the head of his army
an unwarlike clerk instead of some brave soldier ?
What clerk, again, has ever thought it otherwise
than unworthy of him to be bound to obey any
lay person whatsoever ? The very sign which
he bears upon his head2 is rather the mark of
royalty than of servitude ; on the other hand, the
throne finds a better support in the force of arms
than in chanting of Psalms. Still, if the abasement
of the one contributes to the greatness of the other,
as is sometimes the case ; if, for example, the humi
liation of the King raised higher the dignity of the

1 Bernard here blames equally clerics who bear arms for the King's pay
and kings who impose military service upon clerks. Each is wrong : the
one because he loses sight of the dignity of his status, the others because
they confide without choice or discrimination functions of the Court or of
the Army upon clerks instead of giving them to laymen, as they ought.

2 The tonsure, or clerical crown.

84 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

priest, or the abasement of the clerk added some
thing to the royal honour ; as it happens, for in
stance, if a woman of noble rank marries a man
of the people, she indeed loses in grade by him,
but he gains by her ; if, then, I say, either the King
had advantage from the clerk, or the clerk from the
King, it would be an evil only in part, and perhaps
ought to be borne with ; but, on the contrary, since
there is no gain to either from the humiliation of
the other, but there is loss to each ; since neither
does it become a cleric, as has been said, to be or
to be called the server of the King ; nor is it for the
King's advantage to put the reins of government into
any but strong and brave hands. Truly then it is
strange that either power endures such a man as
this ; that the Church does not repulse the deacon-
soldier, or the State the prince-ecclesiastic.

13. I had wished to inculcate these principles by
still stronger and more detailed arguments, and
perhaps ought to do so, did not the necessary
limits of a letter oblige me to defer this for the
present ; and because, most of all, I fear to offend
you, I have spared a man for whom, it is said, you
had formerly a great regard. I would not that
you should have a friend at the expense of the
truth. But you have still a friendship for him ;
show yourself a true friend, and exert yourself to
make him, too, a friend of the Truth. Then at
length there will be a true friendship between you,
if it is bound together by a common love of truth.
And if he will not yield to you in this, hold fast
what you have ; join the tail to the head of the
sacrifice. You have received by the grace of God

LETTER XX 85

a robe of many colours ; take pains to make it reach
even to the feet, for what will it profit you to have
put your hand to the work if (which, God forbid)
you do not attain finally to presevere ? I end my
letter by warning you to make a good ending of
your good work.

LETTER XX (circa A.D. 1130)
To GUY, ABBOT OF MOLESMES

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

God who knows the hearts of all men, and is the
inspirer of all good dispositions, knows with what
sympathy I condole with you in this your adversity,
of which I have heard. But, again, when I consider
rather the person who has caused you this trial than
Him who permits it, just as much as I feel with you
in the present misfortune, so much I hope soon to
rejoice with you in the prosperity which must speedily
come. But only do not let yourself be at all crushed
by discouragement ; think with me how, by the
example of holy Job,1 you ought to receive with the
same cheerfulness troubles from the hand of the Lord
as you do blessings. Indeed, you ought, after the
example of holy David,2 not so much to be angry
with those people who have caused you such great
sufferings, although they are your own servants, as to

1 Job ii. 10. 2 2 Sam. xvi. 10.

86 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

know that you ought to humble yourself under the
mighty hand of God, who doubtless has sent them to
bring about this misfortune to you. But since it
appears that their correction devolves upon you, as
they are serfs of the Church committed to your
government, it is proper that these unfaithful serfs
should be punished for their very wicked presumption,
and that the loss of the monastery should be recom
pensed in some degree out of their goods. But that
you may not seem rather to be avenging your own
injury in this than punishing their fault, I beg you
and also advise you not to think so much of what
they deserve as what is fitting for you to do, so that
mercy may be exalted above strict justice, and that
in your moderation God may be glorified. For the
rest, I beg you to press upon that your son, who is
dear to me as well for your sake as in a great degree
for his own, with your own lips, as with my spirit,
not to show in his accusations a bitterness and a
violence such as prove that he forgets that precept of
our Lord — Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right
cheek turn to him the other also (S. Matt. v. 39).

LETTER XXI (circa A.D. 1128)
To THE ABBOT OF S. JOHN AT CHARTRES

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

i. As regards the matters about which you were
so good as to consult so humble a person as myself,
I had at first determined not to reply. Not because

LETTER XXI 87

I had any doubt what to say, but because it seemed
to me unnecessary or even presumptuous to give
counsel to a man of sense and wisdom. But con
sidering that it usually happens that the greater
number of persons of sense — or I might say
that all such — trust the judgment of another
person rather than their own in doubtful cases,
and that those who have a clear judgment in
the affairs of others, however obscure, frequently
hesitate and are undecided about their own, I
depart from my first resolution, not, I hope, with
out reason, and without prejudice to any wiser
opinion explain to you simply how the matter
appears to me. You have signified to me, if I do
not mistake, by the pious Abbot Ursus of S. Denis,
that you have it in contemplation to desert your
country and the monastery over which, by the
Providence of God, you are head, to undertake
a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, to occupy yourself
henceforth only with God and the salvation of
your own soul. Perhaps, if you aspire unto
perfection, it may be expedient for you to leave
your country, when God says, Go forth from thy
country and from thy kindred (Gen. xii. i). But I
do not see at all on what ground you ought to
risk, by your departure, the safety of the souls
entrusted to you. For is it pleasant to enjoy
liberty after having laid down your burden ?
But charity does not seek her own interests.
Perhaps the wish for quiet and rest attracts
you ? But it is obtained at the price of the
peace of others. Freely will I do without the
enjoyment of any desire, even a spiritual one,

88 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

which cannot be obtained except at the price of
a scandal. For where there is scandal, there,
without doubt, is loss of charity : and where
there is loss of charity, surely no spiritual advan
tage can be hoped for. Finally, if it is permitted
to any one to prefer his own quiet to the
common good, who is there that can say with
truth : For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain
(Phil. i. 21)? And where will that principle be
which the Apostle declares : No one lives to himself,
and no one dies to himself (Rom. xiv. 7) ; and, Not
seeking mine own profit, but the profit of many (i Cor.
x. 33) ; and, That he who lives should not any longer
live unto himself, but unto Him who died for all (2 Cor.
v. 15)?

2. But you will say: Whence comes my great
desire, if it is not from God ? With your per
mission I will say what I think. Stolen waters
are sweet (Prov. ix. 17); and for whosoever knows
the devices of the devil, it is not doubtful that
the angel of darkness is able to change himself
into an angel of light, and to pour upon the
thirsting soul those waters of which the sweet
ness is more bitter than wormwood. In truth,
what other can be the suggester of scandals, the
author of dissension, the troubler of unity and
peace, except the devil, the adversary of truth, the
envier of charity, the ancient foe of the human race,
and the enemy of the Cross of Christ ? If death
entered into the world through his envy, even so
now he is jealous of whatever good he sees you
doing ; and since he is a liar from the beginning,
he falsely promises now better things which he

LETTER XXI 89

does not see. For when did the Truth oppose
that most faithful saying, Art thou bound unto a wife ?
seek not to be loosed (i Cor. vii. 27). Or when did
charity urge to scandal, who at the scandals of
all shows herself burning with regret ? He, then,
the most wicked one, opposed to charity by
envy, and to truth by falsehood, mixing falsehood
and gall with the true honey, promises doubtful
things as certain, and gives out that true things
are false, not that he may give you what you
vainly hope for, but that he may take away what
you are profitably holding now. He prowls
around and seeks how he may take away from
the flock the care of the pastor, to make a prey
of it when there is none to defend it from his
attacks ; and, besides this, to bring down upon
the pastor that terrible rebuke, Woe to him by
whom scandal cometh (S. Matt, xviii. 7). But I have
full confidence in the wisdom given to you by
God, that by no cunning devices of the wicked one
you will be seduced or made to renounce certain
good, and for the hope of uncertain advantage to
incur certain evil.

90 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER XXII (circa A.D. 1129)
To SIMON, ABBOT OF S. NICHOLAS

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

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

LETTER XXII 91

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

92 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

party ; or at least that they should be set free from
the Order to associate themselves where it may
seem good with other brothers who live according
to their proposal.

LETTER XXIII (circa A.D. 1130)
To THE SAME

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

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

i. You have given me this formula of salutation
when you wrote, " to his friend all that a friend can
wish." * Receive what is thine own, and perceive
that the assumption of it is a proof that we are of
one mind, for my heart is not distant from him with
whom I have language in common. I must now
reply briefly to your letter, because of the time : for
when it arrived the festival of the Nativity of our
Lady 2 had dawned ; and being obliged to devote
myself entirely to its solemnities, I had no leisure
to think of anything else. Your messenger also was
anxious to be gone ; scarcely would he stay even

1 Suus Hit quod suits.

* It was by the example of the Cistercians, as, I think, all of whose
monasteries were dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, that she began to be
called Our Lady. Hence, Peter Cellensis says of Bernard: "He was a
most devoted child of Our Lady, to whom he dedicated not one church
only, but the churches of the whole Cistercian Order" (B. vi. Ep. 23).

LETTER XXIII 93

until to-morrow morning that I might write to you
these few words after all the Offices of the festival.
I send back to you a fugitive brother after having
subjected him to severe reprimand suited to his hard
heart. It seemed to me that there was nothing better
to do than to send him back to the place whence he
had fled, since I ought not, according to our rules,
to detain any monk in the house without the consent
of his abbot. You ought to reprove him very severely
also, and press him to make humble satisfaction and
then comfort him a little by a letter from yourself
addressed to his abbot on his behalf.

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

94 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

the cares of office while you are able to be of use,
because woe to you if you are over the flock and
do not profit them ; but deeper woe still if, because
you fear the cares of office, you abandon the oppor
tunity of usefulness.

LETTER XXIV (circa A.D. 1126)
To OGER, REGULAR CANON l

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

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

i. If I seem to have been too slow in replying
to your letter, ascribe it to my not having had an

1 Some blame and some ridicule such a title as this, as being a vicious
pleonasm, since these two words differ only in the language from which
each is borrowed, and mean exactly the same thing ; as if canons were
something different from regulars, or as if there were some canons who
were regulars and others who were not. But it may be seen in John Bapt.
Signy Lib. de Ord. Canon, \\. ii., and Navarre, Com. I. de Regul. ad c. 12,
Cui portio Detis, q. i, where he shows that every pleonasm is not neces
sarily a battology. For in legal documents certain expressions or clauses
are often repeated to give them more force. It is the same in Hebrew
(Ps. Ixxxvii. 5, Ps. Ixviii. 12 VULG. and Ixx.).

Oger was the first Dean of the Regular Canons of S. Nicholas des Pres,
near Tournay. Picard states this upon the authority of Denis Viller, Canon
and Chancellor of Tournay.

LETTER XXIV 95

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

96 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

to be in me. Nevertheless, if you may have heard
from me anything that is profitable to you, give
thanks to God, in whose hand I am and all my
words.

2. You explain to me also for what reason you
have not followed my advice, not only not to allow
yourself to be discouraged or overcome by despon
dency, but to bear patiently the burden laid upon you,
which once undertaken you were not at liberty to
lay down ; and I accept your explanations. I am
well aware, indeed, of the infertility of my wisdom,
and I always hold myself in suspicion for rashness
and inexperience, so that I ought not to take it ill,
nor do I, when the course which I approve is not
taken ; and I wish, on the contrary, that action
should be taken on better advice than mine. As
often as my opinion is chosen and followed I feel
myself weighed down, I confess it, with responsibility,
and await with inquietude, never with confidence,
the issue of the matter. Yet it is for you to see
if you have acted wisely in not following my advice
about this thing ; 1 it must be decided also by those

1 Bernard had counselled him not to resign his abbacy, and this advice
he had not followed. Hence is suggested the serious question : Is it lawful
to lay down the pastoral charge, to withdraw one's self from cares and
business, for the purpose of serving God in peace and quiet, and caring for
one's own soul ? The examples of so many holy men whom we know to
have done this add to the difficulty of the question. Many might be cited
among prelates of lower rank, not a few Bishops, Cardinals, and even some
Popes. Bruno III., Count of Altena, and afterwards Bishop of Cologne,
quitted his see, in 1119, and retired to the Cistercian monastery of Alden-
berg. Eskilus, Archbishop of Lunden, in Denmark, came to live at
Clairvaux as a simple monk ; Peter Damian, who, from a Benedictine
monk, became Cardinal and Bishop of Ostia, after he had rendered signal
service to the Church for a number of years, with wonderful constancy, in

LETTER XXIV 97

wiser persons than I, on whose authority you have
relied, whether you have done according to reason.
They will tell you, I say, whether it is lawful for
a Christian man to lay down the burden of obedience
before his death, when Christ was made obedient
to the Father even unto death. You will reply,
" I have acted by license, asked and received from
the Bishop." True, you have, indeed, asked for
license, but in a manner you ought not to have

the high office to which he had been raised, returned into his cell from love
of solitude and quiet, and passed the rest of his days in profound peace, in
the midst of his brethren ; but was blamed by the Pope because he, a useful
and able man, postponed public usefulness to his private safety. One
remarkable fact is recorded of him, that the Pope imposed upon him a
penance of a hundred years for quitting his Bishopric : he was to recite
Ps. 1. [15.] and give himself the discipline every day for a hundred years ;
and this he completed entirely in the space of one year. This I remember
to have read somewhere ( Works, Vol. i. ep. 10, new ed., Vol. iii. opusc. 20).
To Pope Alexander and Cardinal Hildebrand, who became Pope later
under the name of Gregory VII., he tries to justify his quitting his see,
and opposes numerous examples of conduct similar to his, to the blame of
the Pope and the cardinals.

But it is necessary to hold to what the law prescribes rather than to the
examples of other persons. The Angelical Doctor says : " Every pastor
is obliged by his function to labour for the salvation of others, and it is not
permitted to him to cease to do so, not even to have leisure for peaceful
meditation upon spiritual things. For the Apostle regards the obligation
to occupy himself with the salvation of others who depend upon him as
being of such importance that it must not be postponed even to heavenly
meditation : / know not what to choose, he says, for I am in a strait
betwixt two, having a desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far
better ; nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you (Phil. i.
22-23). It may be added that the Episcopate being a state more perfect
than that of the monk, it follows that just as it is not permitted to quit the
second to re-enter the world, s<> it is not allowable to renounce the first in
order to embrace the second, considering that the latter is less perfect than
the former. That would precisely be to look back after having put one's
hand to the plough, and to show one's self unfit for the kingdom of God "
(S. Luke ix. 62).

G

98 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

done, and, therefore, have rather extorted than asked
it. But an extorted or compelled license should
rather be called violence. What, therefore, the
Bishop did unwillingly, when overcome by your
importunity, was not to release you from your obli
gations, but violently to break them.

3. You may indeed be congratulated, since you
are thus exonerated ; but I fear lest you have, as
much as lieth in you, taken from the glory1 of God,
whose will you, beyond doubt, resist in casting your
self down from the post to which He had advanced
you. Perhaps you excuse yourself by pleading the
necessity of religious poverty ; but it is necessity that
brings the crown, in rendering achievements difficult
and almost impossible ; for all things are possible to
him who has faith. But answer to me what is most
true, that you have consulted your own quiet, rather
than the advantage of others. Nor is this strange.
I confess that I, too, am pleased that quiet should
delight you, if only it does not delight you too much.
For that, even although a great thing, which pleases
us to such a degree that we wish to bring it about,
even although by wrong means, pleases us too much ;
and because it cannot be brought about by right
means, it ceases to be good. For if you offer rightly,
but do not divide rightly, you have sinned (Gen. iv. 7, Ixx.).
Either, therefore, you ought not to have accepted
the cure of the Lord's flock, or, having accepted it,
ought not to have relinquished it, according to those
words : Art thou bound unto a wife ? seek not to be loosed
(i Cor. vii. 27).

4. But to what end do I strive in these arguments ?

1 Exoneratus ; exhonoratus.

LETTER XXIV 99

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

5. There is something, however, which I fear still
more for you, namely, that which is written of certain
sinners, that they rejoice in having done evil and delight
in wicked actions (Prov. ii. 14) ; that you should be
deceived, and not only think that what you have
done is not wrong, but also (which, God forbid)

ioo S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

glory in your heart, thinking that you have done
something great, and which is usually done by few,
in renouncing voluntarily the power to command
others, and, despising rule, have preferred to be sub
jected again to a ruler. That would be a false
humility, causing real pride in the heart of him that
should think such thoughts. For what can be more
proud than to ascribe to spontaneous and, as it were,
free choice that which the force of necessity or faint
hearted weakness obliges us to do ? But if you have
not been forced by necessity or exhausted by labour,
but have done it willingly, there is nothing more
proud than this ; for you have put your own will
before that of God, you have chosen to taste the
sweetness of repose rather than serve diligently in
the work to which He has set you. If, then, you
have not only despised God, but glory in utterly
contemning Him, your glorying is not good. Be
ware of boastfulness and self-satisfaction ; more use
ful for you were it to be always in care, always
humbly trembling, not, as I have said, with the fear
that provokes wrath, but with that which softens it.

6. If that horrible fear ever knocks at the door
of your soul to terrify it, and to suggest that your
service to God cannot be accepted, and that your
penitence is unfruitful because that in which God has
been offended by you cannot be amended ; do not
receive it even for a moment, but reply with con
fidence : I have done wrong indeed, but it is done
and cannot be undone. Who knows if God has
foreseen that good should come to me out of it, and
that He who is good has willed to do me good even
from my evil ? Let Him then punish the evil which

LETTER XXIV 101

I have done, but let the good which He had pro
vided for remain. The goodness of God knew how
to use our ill-governed wills and actions to the beauty
of the order which He established, and often, in His
goodness, even to our benefit. O indulgent bounty
of Divine love towards the sons of Adam ! which
does not cease to load us with benefits, not only
where no merit was found, but often even where
entire demerit was seen. But let us return to you.
According to the two kinds of fear which are dis
tinguished above, I wish you to fear, and yet not to
fear ; to presume, and yet not to presume. To feel
that you may repent, not to feel that you may have
confidence ; and again, to have confidence that you
may not distrust, and not to be confident that you
may not grow inactive.

7. You perceive, brother, how much confidence
I have in you, since I permit myself to blame you so
sharply, to judge and disapprove so freely what you
have done, when perhaps you have had better reasons
for doing it than have hitherto been made known to
me. For you have not perhaps wished to state those
reasons in your letters, by which your action might
well be excused, either through your humility or
through want of space. Leaving, then, undecided
for the present my opinion about any part of the
matter with which I may not be fully acquainted,
one thing that you have done I unreservedly praise,
namely, that when you had laid down the yoke of
ruling, yet without a yoke you were not willing to
continue, but took up again a discipline to which
you were attached, without being ashamed to become
a simple disciple when you had borne the title of

102 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

master. For you were able, when freed from your
pastoral charge, to remain under your own authority,
since in becoming abbot you were released from the
obedience owed to your former abbot.1 But you did
not wish to be under no authority but your own,
and as you had declined to rule over others, so you
shrunk from rule over yourself ; and inasmuch as
you thought yourself not fit to be the master of
others, so also you did not trust yourself to be your
own master, and in your distrust of yourself, even
for your own guidance, would not be your own dis
ciple. And rightly. For he who makes himself his
own master, subjects himself to a fool as master.
I know not what others may think of this ; as for
me, I have had experience of what I say, that it is
far more easy and safe to govern many others than
my own single self. It was, therefore, a proof of
prudent humility and of humble prudence that, by
no means believing that you were sufficient for your
own salvation, you proposed to live henceforth by the
judgment of another person.

8. I praise you also that you did not seek out
another master nor another place, but returned to
the cloister whence you had gone forth, and to the
master under whom you had made progress in good.
It was very right that the house which had nurtured
you, but had sent you forth through brotherly
charity, should receive you when freed from your
charge, rather than that another house should have
in its place the joy of possessing you. As, however,
you have not obtained the sanction of the Bishop for

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

LETTER XXIV 103

what you have done, do not be negligent in seeking
it, but either yourself, or through some third person,
be prompt to give him satisfaction as far as is in
your power. After this, study to lead a simple life
among your brethren, devoted to God, submissive
to your superior, respectful towards the older monks,
and obliging towards the younger. Be profitable in
word, humble in heart, pleasing to the Angels,
courteous to all. But beware of thinking that you
have a right to be honoured more than others be
cause you were once placed in a position of dignity,
but show yourself as one among the rest, only more
humble than all. For it is not becoming that you
should be honoured on account of a post, the labour
of which you have shunned.

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

104 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

for an hour (which may God forbid) to this most
injurious temptation you will suffer great loss to your
spiritual life.

10. This is the whole of the wisdom of that most
accomplished and eloqueut Doctor, by whom you
have wished to be taught from such a distance. This
is the eulogy, desired and waited for, which you have
been so eager to hear. This is the sum of all my
wisdom. Do not look for any other great thing
from me ; you have heard all. What can you re
quire more ? The fountain is drained, and would
you seek water from the dry sand ? I have sent
you, according to the example of that widow in the
Gospel,1 out of my poverty all that I had. Why art
thou ashamed, and why does thy countenance fall ?
You have obliged me. You have asked for a dis
course ; a discourse you have. A discourse, I say,
long enough, indeed, but saying nothing ; full of
words, empty of meaning. Such is the discourse
which ought to be received by you with charity, as
you have requested it, but which only seems to reveal
my lack of knowledge. Perhaps it would not be
impossible for me to find excuses for it. Thus I
might say that I have dictated it while labouring
under a tertian fever, as also while occupied with
the cares of my office, while yet it is written, Write
at leisure of wisdom (founded on Ecclus. xxxviii. 25).
I should rightly put these reasons forward if I had
adventured upon some great and laborious work.
But now, in such a brief treatise that my engage
ments afford me no excuse, I can allege nothing,

1 S. Luke xxi. 2-4.

LETTER XXIV 105

as I have often said already, but the insufficiency
of my knowledge.

ii. But I console myself in my mortification by
considering that if I had not done as you requested,
if I had not sent what you hoped for, you would not
have been quite sure of my goodwill to-day. I hope
that my good intention will content you when you
see that the power to do more was wanting to me.
And although my Letter be without utility to you,
it will profit me in promoting humility. Even a fool
when he holdelh his peace is counted wise (Prov. xvii. 28),
for that he holds his peace is counted to him as the
reserve of humility, not as want of sense. If, then,
I had still kept silence, I should have had the benefit
of a similar judgment, and have been called wise
without being so. But now some will ridicule me
as a man of little wisdom, some laugh at me as
ignorant, and others indignantly accuse me of pre
sumption. Do not think that all this serves little
to the profit of religion, since humility, which
humiliation teaches us to practise, is the foundation
of the entire spiritual fabric. Thus humiliation is
the way to humility, as patience to peace, as reading
is to knowledge. If you long for the virtue of
humility, you must not flee from the way of humi
liation. For if you do not allow yourself to be
humiliated, you cannot attain to humility. It is a
benefit to me, therefore, that my ignorance should
be made known, and that I should be rightly put
to confusion by those who are instructed, since I
have often been undeservedly praised by those who
could not form a correct opinion. The fear of the
Apostle makes me fear when he says, / forbear, lest

io6 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

any man should think of me above that which he seeth me
to be, or that he heareth of me (2 Cor. xii. 6). How
finely he has said / spare [restrain] you. The arro
gant, the proud, the desirous of vainglory, the
boaster of his own deeds, who either takes merit
to himself for what he has done, or even claims
what he has not done, he does not restrain him
self. He alone who is truly humble, he restrains
his own soul, who is even afraid to let the ex
cellency that is in him be known, that he may not
be thought to be what he is not.

12. Great in truth is the danger, that any one
should speak of us above what we feel our desert
to be. Who shall give me to be as deservedly
humiliated among men for well-founded reasons as
I have been undeservedly praised for ill-founded
ones ? I should, then, be able to take to myself
the word of the Prophet : After having been exalted
I have been cast down and filled with confusion (Ps.
Ixxxviii. 15, VULG.), and this, / will play and will be yet
more vile (2 Sam. vi. 21, 22). Yes, I will play this
foolish game that I may be ridiculed. It is a good
folly, at which Michal is angry and God is pleased.
A good folly which affords a ridiculous spectacle,
indeed, to men, but to angels an admirable one.
Yes, I repeat ; an excellent folly, by which we are
exposed to disgrace from the rich and disdain from
the proud. For, in truth, what do we appear to
people of the world to do except indulge in folly,
since what they seek with eagerness in this world
we, on the contrary, shun, and what they avoid we
eagerly seek ? Upon the eyes of all we produce the
effect of jugglers and tumblers, who stand or walk

LETTER XXV 107

on their hands, contrary to human nature, with their
heads downwards and feet in the air. But our
foolish game has nothing boyish in it, nothing of the
spectacle at the theatre, which represents low actions,
and with effeminate and corrupt gestures and bend-
ings provoke the passions, but it is cheerful, honour
able, grave, decent, and capable of delighting even
the celestial beings who gaze upon it. This it was
he was engaged in, who said, We are made a spectacle
to Angels and to men (i Cor. iv. 9). May it be ours
also in this meantime, that we may be ridiculed,
confounded, humiliated, until He shall come who
puts down the powerful and exalts the humble, to
fill us with joy and glory, and to raise us up for ever
and ever.

LETTER XXV. (circa A.D. 1127)
To THE SAME

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

i. I pass over now my want of experience, my
humble profession, or rather my profession of
humility, nor do I shelter myself behind (I do not
say my lowness, but, at least) my mediocrity of
position or name, since whatever I should allege of
that kind you would declare to be rather a pretext

io8 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

for delay than a reasonable excuse. It seems to
me that you interpret my shyness and modesty at
your will, now as indiscretion, now as false humility,
and now as real pride. Of these reasons, therefore,
since they would appear doubtful to you, I say
nothing. Only I wish that your friendship should
be fully convinced of one thing, that since the
departure of your messenger (not the one who
carries this letter, but the other) left me I have
not had a single instant of leisure to do what you
asked, so busy are my days and so short my nights.
Even now your latest letter has found me so en
grossed that it would take me too long to write to
you the mere occupations, which would be my
excuse with you. I have scarcely been able even
to read your letter through, except during my dinner,
for at that hour it was delivered to me, and scarcely
have I been able to write back to you these few
words hastily and, as it were, furtively. You will
see that you must not complain of the brevity of my
letter.

2. To speak the truth, my dear Oger, I am forced
to be angry with all these cares, and that on your
account, although in them, as my conscience bears
witness, I desire to serve only charity, by the require
ments of which, as I am debtor both to the wise and
to the unwise, I have been made unable as yet to
satisfy your wishes. What, then ? Does Charity
deny to you what you ask in the name of Charity ?
You have requested and begged, you have knocked
at the door, and Charity has rendered your requests
unavailing. Why are you angry with me ? It is
Charity whom you must be angry with, if you will

LETTER XXV 109

and dare to be so, since it is she who is the cause
that you have not obtained what you expected to
have by her means. Already she is displeased at
my long discourse, and is angry with you who have
imposed it. Not that the ardour with which you do
this is displeasing to her, since it is she which has
inspired you with it, but she wishes that your zeal
should be ruled according to knowledge, and that
you should be careful not to hinder greater things
for the sake of lesser. You see how unwillingly I
am torn away from writing to you at greater length,
since the pleasure of conversing with you, and the
wish to satisfy you, make me troublesome to my
mistress, Charity, who has long since been bidding
me to make an end, and I am not yet silent. How
wide is the matter for reply in your letter, if it were
permissible to do as you would wish, and as I, too,
should, perhaps, be well enough pleased to do !
But she who requires otherwise of me is mistress,
or rather is the Master. For God is charily (i S.
John iv. 1 6), and it is very evident that such is her
authority, that I ought to obey her rather than either
myself or you. And since it is incumbent on Charity
to obey God rather than men, I unwillingly, and with
grief, put off for a time the doing what you ask, not
refuse altogether to do it, and I fear in endeavouring
humbly to respond to your desires to appear to wish,
under the pretext of a pretended humility, which is
only pure pride, to revolt here below, I, who am
only a miserable worm of the earth, against the
strength of that power which, as you truly declare,
rules even the Angels in heaven.

3. As for the little treatise which you ask for, I

no S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

had asked for it back again from the person to whom
I had lent it, even before your messenger came to
me, but I have not yet received it ; but I will take
care that at all events when you come here, if you
are ever coming, you shall find it here, see and read
it, but not transcribe it. For that other treatise
which you mention that you have transcribed I had
sent to you to be read, indeed, but not to be copied ;
and I do not know to what good purpose or for
whose good you can have done it. In sending it to
you I did not intend that the Abbot of S. Thierry
should have it,1 and I had not bidden you to send it;
but I am not displeased that you have done so. For
why should I be afraid that my little book should
pass under his eyes, under whose gaze I would
willingly spread my whole soul if I were able ? But,
alas ! why does the mention of so good a man
present itself at such a time of hurried discourse,
when it is not permitted to me to linger, as would
be fitting, and converse with you about that excellent
man, when I ought already to have come to the end
of my letter ? I entreat you to make an opportunity
of going to see him, and do not give out my book to
be read or copied until you shall have gone over the
whole of it with him ; read it then together and
correct what in it needs correction, that every word
in it may have the support of two witnesses. After
that, I commit to the judgment of each of you

1 He is here, without doubt, speaking of the Apology to the Abbot
William. Oger was at Clairvaux while Bernard was writing it, as appears
from the last words of that work. But as he left before the final touches
were put to it, Bernard afterwards sent it to him for perusal; and he,
without direction, communicated it to Abbot William, to whom it was
inscribed, and to whom Bernard intended to send it.

LETTER XXV in

whether it be expedient that it should be shown
publicly, or only to a few persons, or to some
particular person only, or not at all to any one.
And I make you judge equally if that little preface l
which you have fitted to the same out of fragments
from other letters of mine should stand as it is, or
whether another fitter one should be composed.

4. But I had almost forgotten that you complained
at the beginning of your letter that I had accused
you of falsehood. I do not clearly recollect whether
I ever said that ; but if I said anything like it (for
I should prefer to think that I had forgotten rather
than that your messenger had falsely reported) do
not doubt that it was spoken in joke, and not
seriously. Can I have even thought that you had
used levity and were capable of trifling with your
word ? Far from me be such a suspicion of you,
who have from your youth been happy in bearing
the yoke of truth, and when I find in you a gravity
of character beyond your years. Nor am I so simple
as to see a falsehood in a word artlessly spoken with
out duplicity of heart ; nor so indifferent as to have
forgotten either the project which you have long
since formed or the obstacle which hinders its
realization.

1 This little preface is the Letter addressed to the same William, and
counted the 85th among the Letters of S. Bernard ; it is placed at the
head of the Apology.

ii2 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER XXVI. (circa A.D. 1127)
To THE SAME

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

i. You will, perhaps, be angry, or, to speak more
gently, will wonder that in place of a longer letter
which you had hoped for from me you receive this
brief note. But remember what says the wise man,
that there is a time for all things under the heaven ;
both a time to speak and a time to keep silence
(Eccles. iii. 1—7). But when shall silence have its
time, if our chatter shall occupy even these sacred
days of Lent ? Correspondence is more absorbing
than conversation, inasmuch as it is more laborious ;
since when in each other's presence we may say
with little labour what we will, but when absent we
require diligently to dictate in turn the words which
we mutually seek, or which are sought from us.
But while being absent from you I meditate, dictate
or write down what you are in time to read, where,
I pray you, is the silence and quiet of my retreat ? *

1 In this Letter the Saint expresses in forcible words how little he felt
himself inclined to write to his friends Letters without necessity or useful
ness, and to take time and leisure for doing so which belonged to more
important and sacred employments. Also, he felt that the labour of
literary composition interfered with the silence to which monks were
bound, as also with inward quiet and peace. Bernard speaks of the
function and calling of a monk like himself. For the monk, as such, is
not called to preach and to teach, but to devote himself in solitude to God

LETTER XXVI 113

But all these things, you say, you can do in silence ;
yet, if you think, you will not answer thus. For
what a tumult there is in the mind of those who
dictate, what a crowd of sentiments, variety of ex
pressions, diversity of senses jostle ; how frequently
one rejects that word which presents itself and seeks
another which still escapes ; what close attention
one gives to the consecutiveness of the line of thought
and the elegance of the expression ! How it can be
made most plain to the intellect, how it can be made
most useful to the conscience, what, in short, shall
be put before and what after for a particular reader,
and many other things do those who are careful in
their style, attend to most closely. And will you say
that in this I shall have quiet ; will you call this
silence, even though the tongue be still ?

2. Besides, it is not only the time, but also my
profession and my insufficiency which prevent my
undertaking what you desire, or being able to fulfil
it. For it is not the profession of a monk, which I
seem to be, or of a sinner, which I am, to teach, but
to mourn for sin. An unlearned person (as I truly
confess myself to be) never acts more unlearnedly
than when he presumes to teach what he knows not.

and to his own salvation, through meditation and the practice of virtues.
Wherefore he says, in ep. 42 : " Labour and retirement and voluntary
poverty, these are the signs of the monk ; these render excellent the
monastic life." But if there should be anywhere lurking slothful monks
who are so imprudent and rash as to abuse the authority of the Saint to
the excuse of their own indolence, let such hear him accusing them in plain
words: "I may seem, perhaps, to say too much in disparagement of
learning, as if I wished to blame the learned and prohibit the study of
literature. By no means. I do not overlook how greatly her learned sons
have profited and do profit the Church, whether in combating her enemies
or in instructing the simple," &c. (Sermon 36 on the Canticles).

H

U4 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

Therefore, to teach is the business neither of the un
learned in his rashness, nor of the monk in his bold
ness, nor of the penitent in his distress. It is for
this reason I have fled from the world and abide in
solitude, and propose to myself with the prophet, to
take heed to my ways that I offend not with my tongue
(Ps. xxxix. 2) since, according to the same prophet,
A man full of words shall not prosper upon the earth
(Ps. cxl. n), and to another Scripture, Death and life
are in the power of the tongue (Prov. xviii. 21). But
silence, says Isaiah, is the work of righteousness (Is.
xxxii. 17), and Jeremiah teaches us to wait in silence
for the salvation of the Lord (Lam. iii. 26). Thus to
this pursuit and desire of righteousness, since
righteousness is the mother, the nurse, and the
guardian of all virtues, I would not seem entirely
to deny what you have asked, and I invite and en
treat you and all those who, like you, desire to make
progress in virtue, if not by the teaching of my words,
at least by the example of my silence, to learn from
me to be silent, you who press me in your words to
teach what I do not know.

3. But what am I doing ? It will be wonderful
if you do not smile, seeing with what a flood of
words I condemn those who are too full of words,
and while I desire to commend silence to you, I
plead against silence by my loquacity. Our dear
Guerric,1 concerning whose penitence and whose
manner of life you wished to be assured, as far as I
can judge from his actions, is walking worthy of the
grace of God, and bringing forth works worthy of

1 This Guerric was made Abbot of Igny in 1138. He is mentioned
again in the following Letter,

LETTER XXVII 115

penitence. The little book which you ask of me I
have not beside me just now. A certain friend of
ours, with the same desire to read it as you, has kept
it a long time, but not to frustrate altogether the
desire of your piety,1 I send you another which I
have just completed on the Glories of the Virgin
Mother, which, as I have no other copy of it, I beg
that you will return to me as soon as possible, or
bring it with you if you will be coming here soon.

LETTER XXVII (circa A.D. 1127)
To THE SAME

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

i. I have sent you a short letter in reply to a
short one from you. You have given me an example
of brevity, and I willingly follow it. And truly what
need have true and lasting friendships, as you truly
say, of exchanging empty and fugitive words ? How
ever great be the variety of quotations and verses,
and the multiplicity of the phrases by which you
have endeavoured to display or to prove your friend
ship for me, 1 feel more certain of your affection
than I do that you have succeeded in expressing it,
and you will not be wrong if you think the same in
respect to me. When your letter came into my
hands you were present in my heart, and I am

1 Or benignity.

n6 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

quite convinced that it will be the same for me
when you receive my letter, and that when you read
it I shall not be absent. It is a labour for each of
us to scribble to the other, and for our messengers
a fatigue to carry our letters from the one to the
other, but the heart feels neither labour nor fatigue in
loving. Let those things cease, then, which without
labour cannot be carried on, and let us practise only
that which, the more earnestly it is done, seems to
cost the less labour. Let our minds, I say, rest from
dictating, our lips from conversing, our fingers from
writing, our messengers from running to and fro.1
But let not our hearts rest from meditating day and
night on the law of the Lord, which is the law of
love. The more we cease to be occupied in doing
this the less quiet shall we enjoy, and the more
engrossed we are in it, so much the more calm and
repose we shall feel from it. Let us love and be
loved, striving to benefit ourselves in the other, and
the other in ourselves. For those whom we love, on
those do we rely, as those who love us rely in turn
on us. Thus to love in God is to love charity, and
therefore it is to labour for charity, to strive to be
loved for the sake of God.

2. But what am I doing ? I promised brevity,
and I am sliding into prolixity. If you desire news
of Brother Guerric, or rather since you do so, he so
runs not as uncertainly, so fights not as one that
beateth the air. But since he knows that salvation
depends not on him who fights, nor on him who

1 This kind of correspondence is a hindrance to devotion and the spirit
of prayer, as he says in the Letter placed at the head of his Apology
addressed to Abbot William, and also in Letter 89.

LETTER XXVIII 117

runs, but on God, who shows mercy, he begs that
he may have the help of your prayers for him, so
that He who has already granted to him both to fight
and to run, may grant also to overcome and to attain.
Salute for me with my heart and by your mouth
your abbot, who is most dear to me, not only on
your account, but also because of his high character.
It will be most agreeable to me to see him at the
time and place which you have promised. I do not
wish to leave you ignorant that the hand of God has
for a little while been laid heavily upon me. It
seemed that I had been stricken to the fall, that the
axe had been laid to the root of the barren tree of
my body, and I feared that I might be instantly cut
down ; but lo ! by your prayers and those of my
other friends, the good Lord has spared me this
time also, yet in the hope that I shall bear good
fruits in the future.

LETTER XXVIII (circa A.D. 1130)
To THE ABBOTS ASSEMBLED AT SOISSONS 1

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

To the Reverend Abbots met in the name of the
Lord in Chapter at Soissons, brother BERNARD,

1 This was one of the first general Chapters held by the Black Monks
(as they are called) in the province of Rheims. It seems that its cause
and occasion was the Apology addressed by Bernard to Abbot William,

n8 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

Abbot of Clairvaux, the servant of their Holiness,
health and prayer that they may see, establish, and
observe the things which are right.

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

2. That those who now applaud you may not
hereafter ridicule you as having assembled to no
purpose (which God forbid !), strive, I beseech you,
to make your conduct holy and your resolutions
good, for too good they cannot be. Grant that you

who was the prime mover in calling together this assembly, after the
example of the Cluniacs and Cistercians, that they might re-establish the
observance of the Rule which was being let slip. It was held without
doubt at S. Medard under the Abbot Geoffrey, to whom Letter 66 was
addressed. He was Bishop of Chalons-sur-Marne when Peter the Vener
able spoke of him thus (B. ii. Ep. 43): "It is he who first spread the
divine Order of Cluny through the whole of France, who was its author
and propagator ; and, far more, it was he who expelled 'the old dragon'
from his resting-places in so many monasteries, and who roused monks
from their torpor." Innocent II. determined that these general Chapters
should be held every year in future.

LETTER XXVIII 119

may be too just or even too wise, yet it is plain that
you cannot be good beyond measure. And indeed
I read: Do not carry justice to excess (Eccles. vii. 17,
VULG.). I read : Be not wiser than is befitting (Rom.
xii. 3, VULG.). But is it ever said : Do not carry
goodness to excess ? or, Take care not to be too
good ? No one can be more good than it behoves
him to be. Paul was a good man, and yet he was
not at all content with his state ; he reached forward
gladly to the things that were before, forgetting those
that were behind (Phil. iii. 13), and striving to become
continually better than himself. It is only God who
does not desire to become better than He is, because
that is not possible.

3. Let those depart both from me and from you
who say : We do not desire to be better than our
fathers ; declaring themselves to be the sons of luke
warm and lax persons, whose memory is in execra
tion, since they have eaten sour grapes, and their
children's teeth are set on edge. Or if they pretend
that their fathers were holy men, whose memory
is blessed, let them imitate their sanctity, and not
defend, as laws instituted by them, the indulgences
and dispensations which they have merely endured.
Although holy Elias says, / am not better than my fathers
(i Kings xix. 4), yet he has not said that he did not
wish to be. Jacob saw upon the ladder Angels
ascending and descending (Gen. xxviii. 12) ; but was
any one of them either sitting, or standing still ? It
was not for angels to stand still on the uncertain
rounds of a frail ladder ; nor can anything remain
fixed in the same condition during the uncertain
period of this mortal life. Here have we no con-

120 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

tinuing city ; nor do we yet possess, but always seek
for, that which is to came. Of necessity you either
ascend or descend, and if you try to stand still you
cannot but fall. It may be held as certain that the
man is not good at all who does not wish to be
better ; and where you begin not to care to make
advance in goodness there also you leave off being
good.

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

LETTER XXIX 121

LETTER XXIX (A.D. 1132)
To HENRY, KING OF ENGLAND

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

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

There is in your land a property1 belonging
to your Lord and mine, for which He preferred
to die rather than it should be lost. This I have
formed a plan for recovering, and am sending a
party of my brave followers to seek, recover, and
hold it with strong hand, if this does not displease

1 The history of the Abbey of Wells, in England, explains to us what
is meant by these words of Bernard. "The Abbot of Clairvaux, Bernard,
had sent detachments of his army of invasion to take possession of the
most distant regions ; they won brilliant triumphs over the ancient enemy
of salvation, bearing from him his prey and restoring it to its true Sovereign.
God had inspired him with the thought of sending some hopeful slips from
his noble vine of Clairvaux into the English land that he might have fruit
among that nation, as in the rest of the world. The very letter is yet
extant which he wrote for these Religious to the King, in which he said
that there was a property of the Lord in that land of the King, and that
he had sent brave men out of his army to seek it, seize it, and bring it
back to its owner. He persuades the King to render assistance to his
messengers, and not to fail to fulfil in this his duty to his suzerain ; which
was done. The Religious from Clairvaux were received with honour by
the King and by the realm, and they laid new foundations in the province
of York, founding the Abbey of Rievaulx. And this was the first planting
of the Cistercian Order in the province of York." (Afonast. Anglican,
Vol. i. p. 733-) Further mention of Henry I. is made in the notes to
Letter 138.

122 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

you. And these scouts whom you see before you
I have sent beforehand on this business to investi
gate wisely the state l of things, and bring me faith
ful word again. Be so kind as to assist them as
messengers of your Lord, and in their persons fulfil
your feudal 2 duty to Him. I pray Him to render
you, in return, happy and illustrious, to His honour,
and to the salvation of your soul, to the safety and
peace of your country, and to continue to you happi
ness and contentment to the end of your days.

LETTER XXX (circa A.D. 1132)
To HENRY,3 BISHOP OF WINCHESTER

Bernard salutes him very respectfully.

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

1 Esse. The word is a common one with Bernard to signify the state
of a man or a business. See Letters 118, 304.

2 Since kings and princes are, as it were, vassals to God.

3 He was nephew, by his mother, of Henry I., King of England, brother
of King Stephen, and son of Stephen, Count of Blois. " His mother,
Adela," says William of Newburgh, "not wishing to appear to have borne
children only for the world, had him tonsured." In 1126, The History of
(he Abbey of Glastonbury counts him among the number of the abbots of
that monastery, and says, "he was a man extremely versed in letters, and
of remarkable regularity of character. By his excellent administration the
Abbey of Glastonbury profited so much that his name will be held in ever
lasting memory there" (Monast. Anglican. Vol. ii. p. 18). Henry was
elevated later on to the see of Winchester, and Bernard complains of him
in writing to Pope Eugenius. "What shall I say of his Lordship of
Winchester? The works which he does show sufficiently what he is,"

LETTER XXX 123

It is with great joy that I have learned from the
report of many persons that so humble a person
as myself has found favour with your Highness. I
am not worthy of it, but I am not ungrateful for it.
I return you, therefore, thanks for your goodness ; a
very unworthy return, but all that I am able to make.
I do not fear but that you will receive the humble
return that I make, since you have been so kind as
to forestall me by your affection and the honour
that you have done to me ; but I defer writing more
until I shall know by some token from your hand,

Harpsfield reports that he extorted castles from nobles whom he had invited
to a feast, and Roger that he had consecrated the intruder William to the
See of York (Annal. under year 1140). The latter calls him legate of the
Roman See. Brito and Henriquez must, therefore, be wrong in counting
him among the Cistercians, and the latter in particular, in speaking of him
as a man of eminent sanctity, taking occasion from the testimony of Wion
(Ligno vita), who calls him a man gifted with prophecy, because when on
his death-bed, in receiving the visit of his nephew, Henry, he predicted
to him that he would be punished by God on account of the death of
S. Thomas of Canterbury, whom he had himself consecrated ; as if that
saying may not have been inspired by fear rather than prophecy, as
Manrique rightly says in his Annals. Peter the Venerable wrote many
letters to him, which are still extant, among others Letters 24 and 25 in
Book iv., in which he requests that he may return to Cluny to die and be
buried there. Being invited to do so at the request of Louis, the King of
France, and of the chief nobles of Burgundy, and also at the letters of
Pope Hadrian IV., he sent on his treasures to Peter the Venerable, and,
leaving England without the permission of the King, arrived at Cluny in
1155. He discharged from his own means the debts of the abbey, which
were then enormous ; he expended for the support of the monks who lived
at Cluny, more than four hundred in number, 7,000 marks of silver, which
are equal to 40,000 livres. He gave forty chalices for celebrating mass,
and a silk pannus (which may have been an altar vestment, or more pro
bably a hanging— [E.]) of great price ; he buried with his own hands Peter
the Venerable, who died January ist, 1157. Having returned at length
to his see, he died, to the great grief of the Religious of Cluny, on August
the 9th, 1171.

124 s- BERNARD'S LETTERS

if you think fit to send one, how you receive these
few words. You may easily confide your reply, in
writing, or by word of mouth if it shall so please
you, to Abbot Oger, who is charged to convey to
you this note. I beg your Excellency also to be so
good as to honour that Religious with your esteem and
confidence, inasmuch as he is a man commendable
for his honour, knowledge, and piety.

LETTER XXXI (A.D. 1132)
To THE ABBOT OF A CERTAIN MONASTERY AT YORK,

FROM WHICH THE PRIOR HAD DEPARTED,
TAKING SEVERAL RELIGIOUS WITH HIM.1

i. You write to me from beyond the sea to ask of
me advice which I should have preferred that you

1 Letter 318 clearly shows what monastery these had left, namely, the
Benedictine Abbey of S. Mary, at York, and this the Monasticon Anglica-
num confirms.

The Abbey of S. Mary, at York, was founded in 1088 by Count Alan,
son of Guy, Count of Brittany, in the Church of S. Olave, near York, to
which King William Rufus afterwards gave the name of S. Mary. Hither
were brought from the monastery of Whitby the Abbot Stephen and
Benedictine monks, under whom monastic discipline was observed ; but
about the year 1132, under Geoffrey, the third abbot, it began to be
relaxed. It was at that time that the Cistercian order was everywhere
renowned, and was introduced into England in the year 1128 (its first
establishment being at Waverley, in Surrey). Induced by a pious emula
tion, twelve monks of S. Mary, who were not able to obtain from their
abbot permission to transfer themselves to this Cistercian Order, begged
the support of Thurstan, Archbishop of York, to put their project into
execution. With his support they left their monastery on October 4th,
1132, notwithstanding the opposition of their abbot, to the number of
twelve priests and one levite (deacon). Of these one was the Prior Richard,

LETTER XXXI 125

had sought from some other. I am held between
two difficulties, for if I do not reply to you, you may
take my silence for a sign of contempt ; but if I do
reply I cannot avoid danger, since whatever I reply
I must of necessity either give scandal to some one
or give to some other a security which they ought
not to have, or at all events more than they ought to
have. That your brethren have departed from you
was not with the knowledge nor by the advice or
persuasion of me or of my brethren. But I incline
to believe that it was of God, since their purpose
could not be shaken by all your efforts ; and that
the brethren themselves thought this also who so
earnestly sought my advice about themselves ; their
conscience troubling them, as I suppose, because
they quitted you. Otherwise, if their conscience,

another Richard the sacristan, and others named in the Histoiy before
mentioned, taking nothing from the monastery but their habit. Troubled
by their desertion, Abbot Geoffrey complained to the king, to the bishops
and abbots of the neighbourhood, as well as to S. Bernard himself, of the
injury done by this to the rights of all religious houses, without distinction.
Archbishop Thurstan wrote a letter of apology to William, Archbishop of
Canterbury, and at the same time Bernard himself wrote to Thurstan and
to the thirteen Religious to congratulate them, and another to Abbot
Geoffrey to justify their action (Letters 94 to 96 and 313). In the mean
time these monks were shut up in the Episcopal house of Thurstan ; and
as they refused, notwithstanding the censures of their abbot, to return to
their former monastery, Thurstan gave them in the neighbourhood of
Ripon a spot of ground previously uncultivated, covered with thorn bushes,
and situated among rocks and mountains which surrounded it on all sides,
that they might build themselves'a house there. Their Prior Richard was
given to them for abbot by Thurstan, who gave him the Benediction on
Christmas Day. Having passed a whole winter in incredible austerity of
life, they gave themselves and their dwelling-place, which they had called
Fountains, to S. Bernard. He sent to them a Religious, named Geoffrey,
of Amayo, from whose hands they received the Cistercian Rule with
incredible willingness and piety {Life of S. Bernard, B. iv. c. 2).

126 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

like that of the Apostle, did not reproach them, their
peace would not have been disturbed (Rom. xiv. 22).
But what can I do [that I may be hurtful to no one
neither by my silence nor by my reply to the ques
tions asked me ? Thus, perhaps, I may relieve my
self of the difficulty if I shall send those who question
me to a person more learned, and whose authority
is more reverend and sacred than mine. Pope S.
Gregory says in his book on the Pastoral Rule,
" Whosoever has proposed to himself a greater good
does an unlawful thing in subordinating it to a lesser
good." And he proves this by a citation from the
Gospel, saying, No one putting his hand to the plough and
looking back is fit for the kingdom of God (S. Luke ix. 62);
and he proceeds : " He who renounces a more per
fect state which he has embraced, to follow another
which is less so, is precisely the man who looks
back" (Part iii. c. 28). The same Pope in his third
Homily on Ezekiel, adds : "There are people who
taste virtue, set themselves to practise it, and while
doing so contemplate undertaking actions still better ;
but afterwards drawing back, abandon those better
things which they had proposed to themselves.
They do not, it is true, leave off the good practices
they had begun, but they fail to realize those better
ones which they had meditated. To human judg
ment these seem to stand fast in the good work,
but to the eyes of Almighty God they have fallen,
and failed in what they contemplated."

2. Here is a mirror. In it let your Religious
consider, not the features of their faces, but the
fact of their turning back. Here let them deter
mine and distinguish their motives, their thoughts,

LETTER XXXI 127

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

LETTER XXXII (A.D. 1132)
To THURSTAN, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

Bernard praises his charity and beneficence towards the
Religious.

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

The general good report of men, as I have ex-

128 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

perienced, has said nothing in your favour which the
splendour of your good works does not justify.
Your actions, in fact, show that your high reputa
tion, which fame had previously spread everywhere,
was neither false nor ill-founded, but manifest and
certain. Especially of late how brilliantly has your
zeal for righteousness and your sacerdotal energy
shone forth in the defence of the poor Religious
who had no other helper.1 Once, indeed, the whole
assembly of the saints used to venerate your works
of mercy and alms deeds ; but in doing so it nar
rated always what is common to you with very
many, since whosoever possesses the goods of this
world is bound to share them with the poor. But
this is your episcopal task, this the noble proof of
your paternal affection, this your truly divine fer
vour, the zeal which no doubt has inspired and
aroused in you who makes His angels spirits and
His ministers a flaming fire. This, I say, belongs
entirely to you. It is the ornament of your dignity,
the badge of your office, the adornment of your
crown. It is one thing to fill the belly of the hungry,
and quite another thing to have a zeal for holy
poverty. The one serves nature, the other grace.
Thou shall visit thy kind, He says, and thou shall not
sin (Job v. 24, VULG.). Therefore he who nourishes
the flesh of another sins not in so doing, but he who
honours the sanctity of another does good to his own
soul ; therefore he says again, Keep your alms in
your own hand until you shall find a righteous man to

1 What Thurstan did for the protection of these monks, who had taken
refuge with him in the desire to embrace a more austere life, may be seen
in a Letter from him which we have taken from the Monasticon Angli-
canuin and placed after those of S Bernard.

LETTER XXXIII 129

whom to give it. For what advantage ? Because
He who receives a righteous man in the name of a righteous
man shall receive a righteous man's reward (S. Matt.
x. 41). Let us, then, discharge the debt that nature
requires of us, that we may avoid sin ; but let us be
co-workers with grace, that we may merit to become
sharers of it. It is this that I so admire in you, as
I acknowledge that it was given to you from above.
O, Father, truly reverend and to be regarded with
the sincerest affection ; the praise for what you have
laid out of your temporal means to the relief of
our necessities, will be blended with the praises of
God for ever.

LETTER XXXIII (A.D. 1132)

To RICHARD/ ABBOT OF FOUNTAINS,2 AND HIS
COMPANIONS, WHO HAD PASSED, OVER TO THE
CISTERCIAN ORDER FROM ANOTHER.

He praises them for the renewal of holy discipline.

How marvellous are those things which I have
heard and learned, and which the two Geoffries

1 He had been Prior of the monastery of S. Mary, at York, which he
quitted, followed by twelve other Religious, as we have seen above. He
died at Rome, as may be seen in Mon. Anglic, p. 744. He had for suc
cessor another Richard, formerly sacristan of the same monastery of S.
Mary, who died at Clairvaux (ibid., p. 745). He is mentioned in the
32Oth letter of S. Bernard.

2 The monastery of Fountains, in the Diocese of York, passed over to
the Cistercian Rule in 1132. It is astonishing to read of the fervour of
these monks in Monust. Anglican. Vol. i. p. 733 and onwards. Com
pare also Letters 313 and 320 for what relates to the death of Abbot
Richard, the second of that name and Order.

I

130 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

have announced to me, that you have become newly
fervent with the fire from on high, that from weak
ness you have become strong, that you have flourished
again with new sanctity.

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

LETTER XXXIV 131

for you within the narrow limits of this billet. But
if anything is wanting, brother Geoffrey l will supply
it by word of mouth.

LETTER XXXIV (circa *.D. 1130)

HlLDEBERT, ARCHBISHOP OF TOURS, TO THE ABBOT
BERNARD.2

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

i. Few, I believe, are ignorant that balsam is
known by its scent, and the tree by its fruit. So,
dearly beloved brother, there has reached even to
me the report of you — how you are steadfast in
holiness, and sound in doctrine. For though I am

1 This Geoffrey, "a holy and religious man," who founded or reformed
numerous monasteries, had been sent by Bernard to Fountains to train
them according to the Rule of the Cistercian Order (Monast. Anglican.
Vol. i. p. 741). Concerning the same Geoffrey see The Life of S. Bernard,
B. iv. c. 2.

2 In not a few MSS. this Letter, with the answer following, is placed
after Letter 127, and in some even after Letter 252. Hildebert, the
author of this Letter, ruled the Church of Mans (1098-1125), whence, on
the death of Gilbert, he was translated to the Metropolitan See of Tours.
This is clear, first from Ordericus Vitalis, Bk. x., sub ann., 1098, and next
from the Acts of the Bishops of Mans, published in the third volume of
Atialecta, where Guido, his successor in the See of Mans, is said to have
been consecrated, after long strife, in 1126. Hildebert only ruled in
Tours six years and as many months. So say the Acts just mentioned.
With them agrees a dissertation by Duchesne, and John Maan's History
of the Metropolitan See of Tours, and so also Ordericus Vitalis on the
year 1125 (p. 882), where he assigns to Hildebert an Archiepiscopate of
about seven years. Hildebert, then, did not reach the year 1136, as

i32 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

2. As for me, having heard this report of you
everywhere, with desire I have desired to be received
into the inmost shrine of your friendship, and to be

Gallia Christiana says, but died in 1132, in which year John Maan places
his death. Horst, in the note to this Letter, refers to another Letter
of Hildebert (the 24th), which he thinks was also written to Bernard.
But this Letter, which in all the editions appears without the name of the
person to whom it was addressed, is entitled in two MSS. "To H., Abbot
of Cluny," which we have followed. From this Letter we understand
that Hildebert had it in mind to retire to Cluny, if the Supreme Pontiff
would allow him. Peter of Blois praises his Letters. (Ep. 101.)

LETTER XXXV 133

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

LETTER XXXV (circa A.D. 1130)

REPLY OF THE ABBOT BERNARD TO HILDEBERT,
ARCHBISHOP OF TOURS.

He repays his praises with praises.

A good man out of the good treasure of his heart
bringeth forth good things. Your letter so redounded
to your honour, as well as to mine, that I gladly
welcomed it, Most Reverend Sir, as giving me an
occasion of addressing to you the praises of which

134 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

you are so well worthy, and as affording me just
satisfaction that you have done me so much honour
as that your Highness should deign to stoop to me,
and to show so much esteem for my humble person.
Indeed, for one in high place not to be studious of
high things, but to condescend to those of low estate,
is a thing than which there is nothing more pleasing
to God or more rare among men. Who is the wise
man, except he who listens to the counsel of Wisdom,
which says : The greater thou art, the more humble thyself
(Ecclus. iii. 1 8) before all. This humility you have
shown towards me, the greater towards the less, an
elder to a younger. I, too, could extol your proved
wisdom in due praises, perhaps more just than those
of which your wisdom deemed me worthy. It is of
great importance in order to gain assured knowledge
of things, to rely on exact acquaintance with facts,
rather than on the uncertain testimony of public
rumour ; and then what we have proved for certain
we may proclaim without hesitation. What you
were pleased to write to me about myself, it is for
you to ascertain. I find an undoubted proof of your
own merit in your letter, though it be so full of my
praises. For though another, perhaps, might be
pleased with the marks of learning therein, with its
sweet and graceful language, its clear style, its easy
and commendable art, I place before all this the
wonderful humility, whereby your Greatness has
cared to approach one so humble as I, to overwhelm
me with praises, and to seek for my friendship. As
for what refers to me in your letter I read it not as
describing what I am, but what I would wish to be,
and what I am ashamed of not being. Yet whatever

LETTER XXXVI 135

I am, I am yours ; and if, by the grace of God, I
ever become anything better, be sure, Most Reverend
and dear Father, that I shall still remain yours.

LETTER XXXVI (circa A.D. 1131)
To THE SAME HILDEBERT, WHO HAD NOT YET

ACKNOWLEDGED THE LORD INNOCENT AS POPE.

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

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

i. To address you in the words of the prophet,
Consolation is hid from their eyes, because death divideth
between brethren (Hosea xiii. 14, VULG.). For it seems
as if according to the language of Isaiah they have
made a covenant with death, and are at agreement
with hell (Is. xxviii. 15). For behold, Innocent, that
anointed l of the Lord, is set for the fall and rising
again of many (cf. S. Luke ii. 34). Those who are
of God, gladly join themselves to him ; but he who
is of the opposite part, is either of Antichrist, or
Antichrist himself. The abomination is seen standing
in the holy place ; and that he may seize it, like a
flame he is burning the sanctuary of God. He

1 Christus.

136 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

persecutes Innocent, and in him all innocence.
Innocent, in sooth, flees from the face of Leo, as
saith the prophet : The lion hath roared ; who will not
/ear (Amos iii. 8). He flees according to the bidding
of the Lord, which says, When they persecute you in one
city flee ye into another (S. Matt. x. 23). He flees,
and thereby proves himself an apostolic man, by
ennobling himself with the apostle's example. For
Paul blushed not to be let down in a basket over
a wall (Acts ix. 25), and so to escape the hands of
those who were seeking his life. He escaped not
to spare his life, but to give place unto wrath ; not
to avoid death, but to attain life. Rightly does the
Church yield his place to Innocent, whom she sees
walking in the same steps.

2. However, Innocent's flight is not without fruit.
He suffers, no doubt, but is honoured in the midst
of his sufferings. Driven from the city, he is
welcomed by the world. From the ends of the
earth, men meet the fugitive with sustenance ; al
though the rage of that Shimei, Gerard of Angouleme,
has not yet entirely ceased to curse David. Whether
it pleases or does not please that sinner who sees
it with discontent, he cannot prevent Innocent being
honoured in the presence of kings, and bearing a
crown of glory. Have not all princes acknowledged
that he is in truth the elect of God ? The Kings
of France, England, and Spain, and finally the King
of the Romans, receive Innocent as Pope, and recog
nise him alone as bishop of their souls (2 Sam. xvii.).
Only Ahitophel is now unaware that his counsels
have been exposed and brought to nought. In vain
the wretch labours to devise evil counsel against the

LETTER XXXVI 137

people of God, and to plot against the saints who
stoutly adhere to their saintly Pontiff, scorning to
bow the knee to Baal. By no guile shall he avail
to procure for his parricide the kingdom over Israel
and the holy city, which is the church of the living God,
the pillar and ground of the truth. A threefold cord is
not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes iv. 12). The three
fold cord of the choice of the better sort, the assent
of the majority, and, what is more effective yet in
these matters, the witness of a pure life, commend
Innocent to all, and establish him as chief Pontiff.

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

138 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER XXXVII (circa A.D. 1131)
To MAGISTER GEOFFREY, OF LoRETTO.1

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

i. We look for scent in flowers and for savour
in fruits ; and so, most dearly beloved brother,
attracted by the scent of your name which is as
perfume poured forth, I long to know you also in
the fruit of your work. For it is not I alone,
but even God Himself, who has need of no man,
yet who, at this crisis, needs your co-operation,
if you do not act falsely towards us. It is a glorious
thing to be able to be a fellow-worker with God ;
but perilous to be able and not to be so. Moreover,
you have favour with God and man ; you have
knowledge, a spirit of freedom, a speech both lively
and effectual, seasoned with salt ; and it is not
right that with all these great gifts you should
fail the bride of Christ in such danger, for you are
the friend of the Bridegroom. A friend is best
tried in times of need. What then ? Can you con
tinue at rest while your Mother the Church is
grievously distressed ? Rest has had its proper
time, and holy peace has till now freely and duly

1 Geoffrey of Loretto, a most renowned doctor, afterwards Arch
bishop of Bordeaux. He took his name from Loretto, a place in the
Diocese of Tours, close to Poitou. It was once famous for a Priory,
subject to Marmoutiers. This is why Gerard of Angouleme is spoken
of to Geoffrey in this Letter as " the wild beast near you." Another de
rivation is " L'oratoire," a monastery of the Cistercians in the Diocese of
Angers.

LETTER XXXVII 139

done its own work. It is now the time for action,
because they have destroyed the law. That beast
of the Apocalypse (Apoc. xiii. 5-7), to whom is
given a mouth speaking blasphemies, and to make
war with the saints, is sitting on the throne of Peter,
like a lion ready for his prey. Another l beast also
stands hissing at your side, like a whelp lurking in
secret places. The fiercer here and the craftier
there are met together in one against the Lord
and his annointed. Let us, then, make haste to burst
their bonds and cast away their cords from us.

2. I, for my part, together with other servants
of God who are set on fire with the Divine flame,
have laboured, with the help of God, to unite the
nations and kings in one, in order to break down
the conspiracy of evil men, and to destroy every
high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge
of God. Nor have I laboured in vain. The Kings
of Germany, France, England, Scotland, Spain,
and Jerusalem, with all the clergy and people, side
with and adhere to the Lord Innocent, like sons
to a father, like the members to their head, being
anxious to preserve the unity of the spirit in the
bond of peace. And the Church is right in acknow
ledging him, whose reputation is discovered to be
the more honourable and whose election is found to
be the more sound and regular, having the advantage
as well by the merit as well as by the number of
the electors. And now, brother, why do you hold
back ? How long will the serpent by your side lull
your careless energies to repose ? I know that you
are a son of peace, and can by no reason be led

1 (ierard of Angoulcmc.

I4o S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

to desert unity. But, of course, that alone is not
enough, unless you study both to maintain it and
to make war with all your might upon the disturbers
thereof. And do not fear the loss of peace, for you
shall be rewarded by no small increase of glory if
your efforts succeed in quieting, or even silencing,
that wild beast near you ; and if the goodness of
God, through your means, rescue from the mouth
of the lion so great a prize for the Church as William,
Count of Poitiers.

LETTER XXXVIII (circa A.D. 1135)
To HIS MONKS OF CLAIRVAUX.

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

To his dearly-loved brethren the Monks of Clair-
vaux, the converts,1 and the novices, their brother

1 " Converts " (conversi) was the name formerly given to adults who
had been converted to the religious life, and who were distinguished by
this name from those who were offered as children. The lay brethren are
here meant ; cf. ep. 141 n. I. They were present at the election of an
abbot (ep. 36 n. 2), just as once the laity were joined with the clergy in the
election of a bishop. Here they are named before the novices, but in
Sermon 22 (de Diversis n. 2) they come after them ; they were not ad
mitted into the choir. Bernard, moreover, distinguishes them from the
monks. For at that time they were not among the Cistercians reckoned
among the monks, as is proved by the Exordium Cisterc. (c. 15),
although they made some profession. Hence Innocent II., in some deed
of privilege or in ep. 352, here says: "Let no one presume without your
leave to receive or to retain any one of your converts who have made their
profession, but are not monks, be he archbishop, bishop, or abbot." In
the Council of Rheims, held under F.ugenius III., the converts are

LETTER XXXVIII 141

BERNARD sends greeting, bidding them rejoice in the
Lord always.

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

2. And since you know these things, you must not
be angry at my long absence, which is not according
to my will, but is due to the necessities of the
Church ; rather pity me. I hope that it will not be
a long absence now ; do you pray that it may not be
unfruitful. Let any losses which may in the mean
time happen to befall you be regarded as gains, for

called " the professed " (Can. 7), and although they may have returned to
the world, yet they are declared incapable of matrimony, like the monks,
from whom, nevertheless, they are distinguished. For the early days of
Clairvaux cf. notes to ep. 31.

142 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

3. In the meanwhile, brethren, until I come, serve
the Lord in fear, that in Him being delivered from
the hand of your enemies you may serve Him without
fear. Serve Him in hope, for He is faithful that
promised ; serve Him by good works, for He is
bountiful to reward. To say nothing else, He rightly
claims this life of ours as His own, because He laid
down His own to obtain it. Let none, therefore, live
to himself, but to Him who died for him. For
whom can I more justly live than for Him whose
death was my life ? for whom with more profit to
myself than for Him who promises eternal life ? for
whom under a greater necessity than for Him who
threatens me with everlasting flames ? But I serve

LETTER XXXIX 143

Him willingly, because love gives liberty. To this I
exhort my children. Serve Him in that love which
casteth out fear, which feels no labours, seeks for no
reward, thinks of no merit, and yet is more urgent
than all. No terror is so powerful, no rewards so
inviting, no righteousness so exacting. May it join
me to you never to be divided, may it also bring me
before you, especially at your hours of prayer, my
brethren, dearly beloved and greatly longed for.

LETTER XXXIX (A.D. 1137)
To THE SAME

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

i. My soul is sorrowful until I return, and it
refuses to be comforted till it see you. For what is
my consolation in the hour of evil, and in the place
of my pilgrimage ? Are not you in the Lord ?
Wherever I go, the sweet memory of you never
leaves me ; but the sweeter the memory the more
I feel the absence. Ah, me ! that the time of my
sojourning here is not only prolonged, but its burden
increased, and truly, as the Prophet says, they who for
a time separate me from you have added to the pain of my
wounds (Ps. Ixix. 26). Life is an exile, and one that
is dreary enough, for while we are in the body we
are absent from the Lord. To this is added the

144 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

special grief which almost makes me impatient, that
I am forced to live without you. It is a protracted
sickness, a wearisome waiting, to be so long subject
to the vanity which possesses everything here, to be
imprisoned within the horrid dungeon of a noisome
body, to be still bound with the chains of death, and
the ropes of sin, and all this time to be away from
Christ. But against all these things one solace was
given me from above, instead of His glorious coun
tenance which has not yet been revealed, and that is
the sight of the holy temple of God, which is you.
From this temple it used to seem to me an easy pas
sage to that glorious temple, after which the Prophet
sighed when he said : One thing have I desired of the
Lord, which I will require, even that I may dwell in the
house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the
fair beauty of the Lord and to visit His temple (Ps. xxvi. 4).
2. What shall I say ? how often has that solace
been taken from me ? Lo, this is now the third
time, if I mistake not, that my children have been
taken from me. The babes have been too early
weaned, and I am not allowed to bring up those
whom I begot through the Gospel. In short, I am
forced to abandon my own children and look after
those of others, and I hardly know which is the more
distressing, to be taken from the former, or to have
to do with the latter. O, good Jesu ! is my whole
life thus to waste away in grief, and my years in
mourning ? It is good for me, O Lord, rather to die
than to live, only let it be amongst my brethren,
those of my own household, those who are dearest
to my heart. That, as all know, is sweeter and safer,
and more natural. Nay, it would be a loving act to

LETTER XXXIX 145

grant to me that I might be refreshed before I go
away, and be no more seen. If it please my Lord
that the eyes of a father, who is not worthy to be
called a father, should be closed by the hands of his
sons, that they may witness his last moments, soothe
his end, and raise his spirit by their loving prayers to
the blissful fellowship, if you think him worthy to
have his body buried with the bodies of those who
are blessed because poor, if I have found favour in
Thy sight, this I most earnestly ask that I may obtain
by the prayers and merits of these my brethren.
Nevertheless, not my will but Thine be done. Not
for my own sake do I wish for either life or death.

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

K

146 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

God, I would say for your consolation were it not
that it would sound like boasting. But as it is, it is
better that you should learn it from others.

4. Moved by the pressing request of the Emperor,
by the Apostolic command, as well as by the prayers
of the Church and the princes, whether with my will
or against my will, weak and ill, and, to say truth,
carrying about with me the pallid image of the King
of terrors, I am borne away into Apulia. Pray for
the things which make for the Church's peace and
our salvation, that I may again see you, live with you,
and die with you, and so live that ye may obtain.
In my weakness and time of distress, with tears and
groanings, I have dictated these words, as our dear
brother Baldwin l can testify, who has taken them
down from my mouth, and who has been called by
the Church to another office and elevated to a new
dignity. Pray, too, for him, as my one comfort now,
and in whom my spirit is greatly refreshed. Pray,
too, for our lord the Pope, who regards me and all
of you equally with the tenderest affection. Pray,
too, for my lord the Chancellor, who is to me as a
mother ; and for those who are with him — my lord
Luke, my lord Chrysogonus, and Master Ivo 2 — who

1 Baldwin, first Cardinal of the Cistercian Order, was created by
Innocent, A.D. 1130, at a Council held at Claremont. He was afterwards
made Archbishop of Pisa ; cf. Life of S. Bernard (lib. ii. n. 49) : " In Pisa
was Baldwin born, the glory of his native land, and a burning light to the
Church." So great a man did not think it beneath him to act as Bernard's
secretary, and his praises are sung in ep. 245, cf. ep. 201.

2 All these were Cardinals. Luke, of the title of SS. John and Paul,
was created A.D. 1132 ; Chrysogonus, of the title of S. Maria de Porticu,
A.D. 1134; Ivo, a regular Canon of S. Victor of Paris, A.D. 1130, of the
title of S. Laurence in Damascus ; to him ep. 193 was written.

LETTER XL 147

show themselves as brothers. They who are with
me — Brother Bruno and Brother Gerard1 — salute
you and ask for your prayers.

LETTER XL

To THOMAS, PRIOR OF BEVERLEY

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

BERNARD to his beloved son THOMAS, as being his
son.

i. What is the good of words? An ardent spirit
and a strong desire cannot express themselves simply
by the tongue. We want your sympathy and your
bodily presence to speak to us ; for if you come you
will know us better, and we shall better appreciate
each other. We have long been held in a mutual
bond as debtors one to another ; for I owe you faith
ful care and you owe me submissive obedience. Let
our actions and not our pens, if you please, prove
each of us. I wish you would apply to yourself
henceforth and carry out towards me those words of
the Only Begotten : The works which the Father hath

1 Bruno is called (ep. 209) the father of many disciples in Sicily. Gerard
seems to be Bernard's brother. For Bruno see also ep. 165 n. 4.

148 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

given Me to finish, the same works bear witness of Me (S.
John v. 36). For, indeed, only thus does the spirit
of the Only Son bear witness with our spirit that we
also are the sons of God, when, quickening us from
dead works, He causes us to bring forth the works of
life. A good or bad tree is distinguished, not by its
leaves or flowers, but by its fruit. So By their fruits,
He saith, ye shall know them (S. Matt. vii. 16). Works,
then, and not words, make the difference between
sons of God and sons of unbelief. By works, accord
ingly, do you display your sincere desire and make
proof of mine.

2. I long for your presence ; my heart has long
wished for you, and expected the fulfilment of your
promises. Why am I so pressing ? Certainly not
from any personal or earthly feeling. I desire either
to be profited by you or to be of service to you.
Noble birth, bodily strength and beauty, the glow of
youth, estates, palaces, and sumptuous furniture, ex
ternal badges of dignity, and, I may also add, the
world's wisdom — all these are of the world, and the
world loves its own. But for how long will
they endure ? For ever ? Assuredly not ; for the
world itself will not last for ever ; but these will
not last even for long. In fact, the world will
not be able long to keep these gifts for you, nor will
you dwell long in the world to enjoy them, for the
days of man are short. The world passes away with
its lusts, but it dismisses you before it quite passes
away itself. How can you take unlimited pleasure
in a love that soon must end ? But I ever love you,
not your possessions ; let them go whence they were
derived. I only require of you one thing : that you

LETTER XL 149

would be mindful of your promise, and not deny us
any longer the satisfaction of your presence among
us, who love you sincerely, and will love you for
ever. In fact, if we love purely in our life, we shall
also not be divided in death. For those gifts which
I wish for in your case, or rather for you, belong
not to the body or to time only ; and so they fail not
with the body, nor pass away with time ; nay, when
the body is laid aside they delight still more, and last
when time is gone. They have nothing in common
with the gifts above-mentioned, or such as they with
which, I imagine, not the Father, but the world has
endowed you. For which of these does not vanish
before death, or at last fall a victim to it ?

3. But, indeed, that is the best part, which shall
not be taken away for ever. What is that ? Eye
hath not seen it, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into
the heart of man (i Cor. ii. 9). He who is a man and
walks simply according to man's nature only, he who,
to speak more plainly, is still content with flesh and
blood, is wholly ignorant what that is, because flesh
and blood will not reveal the things which God alone
reveals through His Spirit. So the natural man is in
no way admitted to the secret ; in fact, he receiveth
not the things of the Spirit of God (i Cor. ii. 14).
Blessed are they who hear His words. / have called
you friends , for all things that I have heard of My Father
I have made known to you (S. John xv. 15). O, wicked
world, which wilt not bless thy friends except thou
make them enemies of God, and consequently un
worthy of the council of the blessed. For clearly he
who is willing to be thy friend makes himself the
enemy of God. And if the servant knoweth not what

150 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

his Lord doeth, how much less the enemy ? More
over, the friend of the Bridegroom standeth, and re-
joiceth with joy because of the Bridegroom's voice ;
whence also it says, My soul failed when [my beloved]
spake (Cant. v. 6). And so the friend of the world is
shut out from the council of the friends of God, who
have received not the spirit of this world but the
spirit which is of God, that they may know the things
which are given to them of God. / thank Thee, O
Father, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise
and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; even so,
Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight (S. Matt. xi.
25, 26), not because they of themselves deserved it.
For all have sinned, and come short of Thy glory,
that Thou mayest freely send the Spirit of Thy Son,
crying in the hearts of the sons of adoption : Abba,
Father. For those who are led by this Spirit, they
are sons, and cannot be kept from their Father's
council. Indeed, they have the Spirit dwelling
within them, who searches even the deep .things of
God. In short, of what can they be ignorant whom
grace teaches everything ?

4. Woe unto you, ye sons of this world, because
of your wisdom, which is foolishness ! Ye know not
the spirit of salvation, nor have share in the counsel,
which the Father alone discloses alone to the Son,
and to him to whom the Son will reveal Him. For who
hath known the mind of the Lord? Or who hath been
His counsellor? (Rom. xi. 34). Not, indeed, on one ;
but only a few, only those who can truly say : The
only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father,
He hath declared Him. Woe to the world for its
clamour ! That same Only Begotten, like as the

LETTER XL 151

Angel of a great revelation, proclaims among the
people : He who hath ears to hear let him hear. And
since he finds not ears worthy to receive His words,
and to whom He may commit the secret of the
Father, he weaves parables for the crowd, that hear
ing they might not hear, and seeing they might not
understand. But for His friends how different ! With
them He speaks apart : To you it is given to know the
mysteries of the kingdom of God (S. Luke viii. 8— 10) ; to
whom also He says: Fear not, little flock, for it is your
Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom (S. Luke
xii. 32). Who are these ? These are they whom He
foreknew and foreordained to be conformed to the image
of His Son, that He might be the first born among many
brethren. The Lord knows who are His. Here is
His great secret and the counsel which He has made
known unto men. But He judges no others worthy of
a share in so great mystery, except those whom He
has foreknown and foreordained as His own. For
those whom He foreordained, them also He called.
Who, except he be called, may approach God's
counsel ? Those whom He called, them also He
justified. Over them a Sun arises, though not that
sun which may daily be seen arising over good and
bad alike, but He of whom the Prophet speaks when
addressing himself to those alone who have been
called to the counsel, he says: Unto you that fear My
name shall the Sun of Righteousness arise (Malachi iv. 2).1

1 So all texts, except a few, in which the reading is : " Indeed, that
Sun is promised to those who have been called," &c. In the first edition,
and many subsequent ones : " For the Sun which arises is not that which
is daily to be seen rising over good and bad, but one promised by the
prophetic warning to such as fear God, to those only who have been
called," &c.

152 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

So while the sons of unbelief remain in darkness, the
child of light leaves the power of darkness and comes
into this new light, if once he can with faith say to
God : / ant a companion of all them that fear Thee (Ps.
cxix. 63). Do you see how faith precedes, in order
that justification may follow ? Perchance, then, we
are called through fear, and justified by love. Finally,
the just shall live by faith (Rom. i. 17), that/a/'//*, doubt
less, which works by love (Gal. v. 6).

5. So at his call let the sinner hear what he has to
fear ; and thus coming to the Sun of Righteousness,
let him, now enlightened, see what he must love.
For what is that saying: The merciful goodness of the
Lord endureth from everlasting to everlasting upon them
that fear Him (Ps. ciii. 17). From everlasting, because
of predestination, to everlasting, because of glorifi
cation. The one process is without beginning, the
other knows no ending. Indeed, those whom He
predestines from everlasting, He glorifies to ever
lasting, with an interval, at least, in the case of adults,
of calling and justification between. So at the rising
of the Sun of Righteousness, the mystery, hidden
from eternity, concerning souls that have been pre
destinated and are to be glorified, begins in some
degree to emerge from the depths of eternity, as each
soul, called by fear and justified by love, becomes
assured that it, too, is of the number of the blessed,
knowing well that whom He justified, them also He glori
fied (Rom. viii. 30). What then ? The soul hears
that it is called when it is stricken with fear. It feels
also that it is justified when it is surrounded with
love. Can it do otherwise than be confident that it
will be glorified ? There is a beginning ; there is

LETTER XL 153

continuation. Can it despair only of the consum
mation ? Indeed, if the fear of the Lord, in which
our calling is said to consist, is the beginning of
wisdom, surely the love of God — that love, I mean,
which springs from faith, and is the source of our
justification — is progress in wisdom. And so what
but the consummation of wisdom is that glorifica
tion which we hope for at the last from the vision of
God that will make us like Him ? And so one deep
calleth another because of the noise of the water-pipes (Ps.
xlii. 9), when, with terrible judgments, that un
measured Eternity and Eternal Immensity, whose
wisdom cannot be told, leads the corrupt and in
scrutable heart of man by Its own power and good
ness forth into Its own marvellous light.

6. For instance, let us suppose a man in the world,
held fast as yet in the love of this world and of his
flesh ; and, inasmuch as he bears the image of the
earthly man, occupied with earthly things, without
a thought of things heavenly, can any one fail to see
that this man is surrounded with horrible darkness,
unless he also is sitting in the same fatal gloom ?
For no sign of his salvation has yet shone upon him ;
no inner inspiration bears its witness in his heart as
to whether an eternal predestination destines him to
good. But, then, suppose the heavenly compassion
vouchsafes sometime to have regard to him, and to
shed upon him a spirit of compunction to make him
bemoan himself and learn wisdom, change his life,
subdue his flesh, love his neighbour, cry to God, and
resolve hereafter to live to God and not to the world ;
and suppose that thenceforward, by the gracious visi
tation of heavenly light and the sudden change ac-

154 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

complished by the Right Hand of the Most High, he
sees clearly that he is no longer a child of wrath, but
of grace, for he is now experiencing the fatherly
love and divine goodness towards him — a love which
hitherto had been concealed from him so completely
as not only to leave him in ignorance whether he
deserved love or hate, but also as to make his own
life indicate hatred rather than love, for darkness was
still on the face of the deep — would it not seem to
you that such an one is lifted directly out of the pro-
foundest and darkest deep of horrible ignorance into
the pleasant and serene deep of eternal brightness ?

7. And then at length God, as it were, divides the
light from the darkness, when a sinner, enlightened
by the first rays of the Sun of Righteousness, casts
off the works of darkness and puts on the armour of
light. His own conscience and the sins of his former
life alike doom him as a true child of Hell to eternal
fires ; but under the looks with which the Dayspring
from on high deigns to visit him, he breathes again,
and even begins to hope beyond hope that he shall
enjoy the glory of the sons of God. For rejoicing at
the near prospect with unveiled face, he sees it in the
new light, and says : Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy
countenance upon us ; Thou hast put gladness in my heart
(Ps. iv. 7) ; Lord, what is man that Thou hast such respect
unto him, or the son of man that Thou so regardcst him ?
(Ps. cxliv. 3). Now, O good Father, vile worm and
worthy of eternal hatred as he is, he yet trusts that
he is loved, because he feels that he loves ; nay, be
cause he has a foretaste of Thy love he does not
blush to make return of love. Now in Thy bright
ness it becomes clear, Oh ! Light that no man can

LETTER XL 155

approach unto, what good things Thou hast in store
for so poor a thing as man, even though he be evil !
He loves not undeservedly, because he was loved
without his deserving it ; and his love is for ever
lasting, because he knows that he has been loved
from everlasting. He brings to light for the comfort
of the sorrowful the great design which from eternity
had lain in the bosom of eternity, namely, that God
wills not the death of a sinner, but rather that he
should be converted and live. As a witness of this
secret, Oh ! man, thou hast the justifying Spirit bear
ing witness herein with thy spirit that thou thyself
also art the son of God. Acknowledge the counsel
of God in thy justification ; confess it and say, Thy
testimonies are my delight and my counsellors (Ps. cxix.
24). For thy present justification is the revelation
of the Divine counsel, and a preparation for future
glory. Or rather, perhaps, predestination itself is
the preparation for it, and justification is more the
gradual drawing near unto it. Indeed, it is said,
Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand (S. Matt,
iii. 2). And hear also of predestination that it is the
preparation : Come, inherit, He says, the kingdom pre
pared for you from the foundation of the world (S. Matt,
xxv. 34).

8. Let none, therefore, doubt that he is loved who
already loves. The love of God freely follows our
love which it preceded. For how can He grow
weary of returning their love to those whom He
loved even while they yet loved Him not? He loved
them, I say ; yes, He loved. For as a pledge of
His love thou hast the Spirit ; thou has also Jesus,
the faithful witness, and Him crucified. Oh ! double

156 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

proof, and that most sure, of God's love towards
us. Christ dies, and deserves to be loved by us.
The Spirit works, and makes Him to be loved. The
One shows the reason why He is loved : the Other
how He is to be loved. The One commends His
own great love to us ; the Other makes it ours. In
the One we see the object of love ; from the Other
we draw the power to love. With the One, therefore,
is the cause ; with the Other the gift of charity. What
shame to watch, with thankless eyes, the Son of God
dying — and yet this may easily happen, if the Spirit
be not with us. But now, since The love of God is
shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given
unto us (Rom. v. 5), having been loved we love ; and
as we love, we deserve to be loved yet more. For if,
says the Apostle, while we were yet enemies, we have been
reconciled to God through the death of His Son ; much more,
being reconciled, shall we be saved through His life (Rom.
viii. 32). For He that spared not His own Son, but de
livered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also
freely give us all things ?

9. Since, then, the token of our salvation is two
fold, namely, a twofold outpouring, of the Blood and
of the Spirit, neither can profit without the other.
For the Spirit is not given except to such as believe
in the Crucified ; and faith avails not unless it works
by love. But love is the gift of the Spirit. If the
second Adam (I speak of Christ) not only became a
living soul, but also a quickening spirit, dying as
being the one, and raising the dead as being the
other, how can that which dies in Him profit me,
apart from that which quickens ? Indeed, He Him
self says : // is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth

LETTER XL 157

nothing (S. John vi. 63). Now, what does " quick-
eneth " mean except " justifieth " ? For as sin is the
death of the soul (The soul that sinneth it shall die,
Ezek. xviii. 4), without doubt righteousness is its
life ; for The just shall live by faith (Rom. i. 17). Who,
then, is righteous, except he who returns to God,
who loves him, His meed of love ? And this never
happens unless the Spirit by faith reveal to the man
the eternal purpose of God concerning his future
salvation. Such a revelation is simply the infusion
of spiritual grace, by which, with the mortification of
the deeds of the flesh, man is made ready for the
kingdom which flesh and blood cannot inherit. And
he receives by one and the same Spirit both the
reason for thinking that he is loved and the power
of returning love, lest the love of God for us should
be left without return.

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

158 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

who hath believed our report? (Is. liii. i). Oh! that
they would be wise and understand. But except
they believe they shall not understand.

1 1. But you, too, ye unhappy and heedless lovers
of the world, have your purpose far from that of the
just. Scale sticks close to scale, and there is no air
hole between you. You, too, oh ! sons of impiety,
have your purpose communicated one to another, but
openly against the Lord and against His Christ (Ps. ii. 2).
For if, as the Scripture says, The fear of God, that is
piety (Job xxviii. 28),* of course any one who loves the
world more than God is convicted of impiety and
idolatry, of worshipping and serving the creature
rather than the Creator. But if, as has been said,
the holy and impious have each their purpose kept
for themselves, doubtless there is a great gulf fixed
between the two. For as the just keeps himself aloof

from the purpose and council of evil men (cf. Ps. i. 6), so
the impious never rise in the judgment, nor sinners
in the purpose 2 for the just. For there is a purpose
for the just, a gracious rain which God hath set apart
for His heritage. There is a purpose really secret,
descending like rain into a fleece of wool — a sealed
fount whereof no stranger may partake — a Sun of
Righteousness rising only for such as fear God.

12. Moreover, the prophet, noting that the rest
remain in their own dryness and darkness, being
ignorant of the rain and of the light of the just,
mocks and brands their unfruitful gloom and con-

1 The Ixx. has I5oi) Oeofftpeia tcrrl <ro<t>la. The VULGATE reads " Ecce
timor Domini ipsa est sapientia," with which the A. V. coincides, " Behold
the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom." Does Bernard quote from memory?

2 This must be the reading, not "congregation" [concilia], as in Ps. i.,
for the sense demands "purpose" \consilio\, and the MSS. so read.

LETTER XL 159

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

13. But do you, dearly beloved, if you are making
ready your inward ear for this Voice of God that is
sweeter than honey and the honey-comb, flee from
outward cares, that with your inmost heart clear and
free you also may say with Samuel, Speak, Lord, for
thy servant heareth (i Sam. iii. 9). This Voice sounds
not in the market-place, and is not heard in public.
It is a secret purpose, and seeks to be heard in secret.
It will of a surety give you joy and gladness in hear
ing it, if you listen with attentive ear. Once it ordered
Abraham (Gen. xii. i) to get him out of his country
and from his kindred, that he might see and possess
the land of the living. Jacob (Gen. xxxii. 10) left his
brother and his home, and passed over Jordan with
his staff, and was received in Rachel's embrace (Gen.
xxix. n). Joseph was lord in Egypt (Gen. xxxvii.
and xli.), having been torn by a fraudful purchase

160 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

from his father and his home. Thus the Church is
bidden, in order that the King may have pleasure in
her beauty, to forget her own people and her father's
house (Ps. xlv. u, 12). The boy Jesus was sought
by His parents among their kinsfolk and acquaintance,
and was not found (S. Luke ii. 44, 45). Do you
also flee from your brethren, if you wish to find the
way of salvation. Flee, I say, from the midst of
Babylon, flee from before the sword of the north-
wind. A bare sustenance I am ready to offer for the
help of every one that flees. You call me your abbot ;
I refuse not the title for obedience' sake — obedience,
I say, not that I demand it, but that I render it in
service to others, even as The Son of Man came not to
be ministered unto, but to minister and to give His life a
ransom for many (S. Matt. xx. 28). But if you deem
me worthy, receive as your fellow-disciple him whom
you choose for your master. For we both have one
Master, Christ. And so let Him be the end of this
Letter, who is The end of the law for righteousness to
even1 one that believeth (Rom. x. 4).

LETTER XLI

To THOMAS OF ST. OMER, AFTER HE HAD BROKEN
HIS PROMISE OF ADOPTING A CHANGE OF LIFE.

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

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

LETTER XLI 161

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

1 Bernard regards as a vow that kind of promise by which a man had
determined in his presence to enter the religious state. See Letter 395,
and Sermons on Canticles, 63, n. 6, in which he mourns the lapse and fall
of novices.

I.

1 62 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

more than torments ; and do you, who tremble at the
tongue of flesh, despise the sword which devours the
flesh ? Are these the fine moral principles with which,
as you write, you are being stored in the acquisition
of knowledge, the ardour and love for which so heats
and excites you that you do not fear to slight your
sacred vow ?

2. But, I pray you, what proof of virtue is it, what
instance of self-control, what advance in knowledge,
or artistic skill, to tremble with fear where no fear is
needful, and to lay aside even the fear of the Lord.
How much more wholesome the knowledge of Jesus
and Him crucified — a knowledge, of course, not easy
to acquire except for Him who is crucified to the world.
You are mistaken, my son, quite mistaken, if you
think that you can learn in the school of the teachers
of this world that knowledge which only the disciples
of Christ, that is, such as despise the world, attain ;
and that by the gift of God. This knowledge is
taught, not by the reading of books, but by grace ;
not by the letter, but by the spirit ; not by learning,
but by the practice of the commandments of God :
Sow, says the Prophet, to yourselves in righteousness,
reap the hope of life, kindle for yourselves the light of
knowledge (cf. Hos. x. 12). You see that the light of
knowledge cannot be duly attained, except the seed of
righteousness [first] enter the soul, so that from it may
grow the grain of life, and not the mere husk of vain
glory. What then ? You have not yet sown to
yourself in righteousness, and therefore you have not
yet reaped the sheaves of hope ; and do you pretend
that you are acquiring the true knowledge ? Per
chance for the true there is being substituted that which

LETTER XLI 163

puffeth up. You err foolishly, Spending thy money for
that which is not bread, and thy labour for that which
satisfieth not (Is. Iv. 2). I entreat you, return to the
former wish of your heart, and realize that this year
of delay which you have allowed to yourself has been
a wrong to God ; is not a year pleasing to the Lord,
but a seedplot of discord, an incentive to wrath, a
food of apostasy, such as must quench the Spirit, shut
off grace, and produce that lukewarmness which is
wont to provoke God to spue men out of His mouth
(cf. Rev. iii. 16).

3. Alas ! I think that, as you are called by the same
name, so you walk in the same spirit as that other
Thomas, once, I mean, Provost of Beverley. For
after devoting himself, like you, to our Order and
House with all his heart, he began to beg for delay,
and then by degrees to grow cold, until he openly
ended by being a Secular, an apostate, and, twofold
more, a child of hell, and was cut off prematurely by
a sudden and terrible death (S. Matt, xxiii. 15) — a
fate which, if it may be, let the pitiful and clement
Lord avert. The letter l which I wrote to him in vain
still survives. I simply freed my own mind, by
warning him, so far as I could, how it must soon end.
How happy would he have been if he had taken my
advice ! He cloked his sin. I am clean from his
blood. But that is not enough for me. For though
in so acting I am quite at ease on my own account,
yet that charity which seeketh not her own (i Cor. xiii.
5) urges me to mourn for him who died not in safety,
because he lived so carelessly. Oh ! the great depth
of the judgments of God ! Oh ! my God, terrible in

1 No. 107.

164 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

Thy counsels over the sons of men ! He bestowed
the Spirit, whom he was soon again to withdraw, so
that a man sinned a sin beyond measure, and grace
found entrance that sin might abound ; though this
was the fault, not of the Giver, but of him who added
the transgression. For it was the act of the man's
own freewill (whereby, using badly his freedom, he
had the power to grieve the free Spirit) to despise the
grace instead of bringing to good effect the inspira
tion of God, so as to be able to say : His grace which
ivas bestowed on me was not in vain (i Cor. xv. 10).

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

LETTER XLII 165

LETTER XLII

To THE ILLUSTRIOUS YOUTH, GEOFFREY DE
PERRONE, AND HIS COMRADES.

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

To his beloved sons, GEOFFREY and his com
panions, BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wishes
the spirit of counsel and strength.

i. The news of your conversion that has got
abroad is edifying many, nay, is making glad the
whole Church of God, so that The heavens rejoice and
the earth is glad (Ps. xcvi. n), and every tongue
glorifies God. The earth shook and the heavens dropped
at the presence of the God of Sinai (cf. Ps. Ixviii. 8, 9),
raining on those days more abundantly than usual
a gracious rain which God keeps for His inheritance
(Ps. Ixvii. 9, 10, VULG.). Never more will the cross
of Christ appear void of effect in you, as in many
sons of disobedience, who, delaying from day to day
to turn to God, are seized by sudden death, and go
down straightway to hell. We see flourish again
under our eyes the wood whereon the Lord of Glory
hung, who died not for His own nation only, But also
that He should gather together in one the children of God
that were scattered abroad (S. John xi. 52). He, yes,
He Himself draws you, who loves you as His own
flesh, as the most precious fruit of His cross, as the
most worthy recompense of the blood he shed. If,
then, the Angels Rejoice over one sinner that repenteth (S.
Luke xv. 10), how great must be their joy over so

1 66 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

many, and those, too, sinners. The more illustrious
they seemed for rank, for learning, for birth, for
youth, the wider was their influence as examples of
perdition. I had read, Not many nob/e, not many wise,
not many mighty hath God chosen (i Cor. i. 26, 27).
But to-day, through a miracle of Divine power, a
multitude of such is converted. They hold present
glory cheap, they spurn the charm of youth, they
take no account of high birth, they regard the wis
dom of the world as foolishness, they rest not in
flesh and blood, they renounce the love of parents
and friends, they reckon favours and honours and
dignities as dung that they may gain Christ. I should
praise you if I knew that this, your lot, were your
own doing. But it is the finger of God, clearly a
change due to the right hand of the Most High (cf.
Ps. Ixxvii. 10, VULG., Ixxvi. n). Your conversion is
a good gift and a perfect gift, without doubt descend
ing from the Father of lights (S. James i. 17). And
so to Him we rightly bring every voice of praise who
only doeth marvellous things, who hath caused that
plenteous redemption that is in Him to be no longer
without effect in you.

2. What, then, dearly beloved, remains for you to
do, except to make sure that your praiseworthy pur
pose attain the end it deserves ? Strive, therefore,
for perseverance, the only virtue that receives the
crown. Let there not be found among you Yea and
Nay (2 Cor. i. 18, sq.), that ye may be the sons of
your Father which is in Heaven, with whom, you
know, there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning
(S. James i. 17). You also, brethren, are changed
into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the

LETTER XLII 167

Spirit of the Lord (2 Cor. iii. 18). Take heed with all
watchfulness not to be yourselves found light, incon
stant, or wavering. For it is written, A double-minded
man is unstable in all his ways (S. James i. 8), and again,
Woe be ... to the sinner that goeth two ways (Ecclus.
ii. 12). And for myself, dearly beloved, I congratu
late you, and myself not less, for, as I hear, I have
been reckoned worthy of being chosen to have a part
in this, your good purpose. I both give you my
counsel and promise my help. If I am thought
necessary, or, rather, if I be deemed worthy, I do
not decline the task, and so far as in me lies will not
fail you. With eager devotion I submit my shoulders
to this burden,1 old though they be, since it is laid
on me from heaven. With a glad heart and open
arms, as they say, I welcome the fellow-citizens of
the saints and servants of God. How gladly, accord
ing to the prophet's command, do I assist with my
bread those that flee from the face of the sword, and
bring water to the thirsty (cf. Is. xxi. 14). The rest I
have left to the lips of my, or rather your, Geoffrey.
Whatsoever he shall say to you in my stead, that,
doubt not, is my counsel.

1 Hence it is clear that Bernard was already approaching old age when
he wrote this Letter.

1 68 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER XLIII

A CONSOLATORY LETTER TO THE PARENTS OF
GEOFFREY.

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

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

2. But perchance you fear the effect of a severe
life upon his body, which you know to be frail and
delicate. But of such fear it is said, " There were they
brought in great fear where no fear was" (Ps. xiv. 9).
Reassure yourselves, and be comforted. I will be to
him a father, and he shall be to me a son, until the
Father of mercies and the God of all consolation (cf. Rom.

LETTER XLIV 169

xv. 5) receive him from my hands. So do not
mourn ; do not weep. For your Geoffrey is hasten
ing to joy and not to grief. I will be to him father,
mother, brother, and sister. I will make the crooked
straight for him and the rough way smooth (cf. S. Luke
iii. 5). I will so order and arrange everything for
him that his soul shall profit and his body not suffer
loss. Moreover, he shall serve the Lord in joy and
gladness, and shall sing in the ways of the Lord that great
is the glory of the Lord (Ps. cxxxviii. 5).

LETTER XLIV

CONCERNING THE MACCABEES BUT TO WHOM
WRITTEN is UNKNOWN.1

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

i. Fulk, Abbot of Epernay, had already written
to ask me the same question as your charity has
addressed to your humble servant by Brother Hescelin.
I have put off replying to him, being desirous to
find, if possible, some statement in the Fathers
about this which was asked, which I might send to
him, rather than to reply by some new opinion of
my own. But as I do not come upon one, in the
meantime I reply to each of you with my thoughts
upon the matter, on condition that if you discover
anything better and more probable in your reading,
conversation, or by your meditations, you will not

1 Such is the title in almost all the MSS. But in one at Citcaux the
Letter is inscribed To Bruno of Cologne, as is believed, on the martyrdom
of the Maccabees. In an old edition // is thought to have been written to
Hugo of S. Victor.

i yo S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

omit to share it with me in turn. You ask, then,
why it seemed good to the Fathers to decree that an
annual commemoration, with veneration equal to our
martyrs, should be solemnly made in the Church, by
a certain peculiar privilege, to the Maccabees alone
out of all the ancient saints ? If I should say that
having made proof of the same courage as those,
they were worthy now of the same honours, that
would, perhaps, answer the question why they were
included, but not why they alone were ; while it is
quite evident that there were others amongst the
ancients who suffered with equal zeal for righteous
ness, but yet have not attained to be reverenced with
equal solemnities. If I reply that the latter have
not received the same honours as our martyrs be
cause, although their valour deserved it, the time
when they lived deprived them of it, why was not
the same consideration applied also to the Maccabees,
if, indeed, they, too, on account of the era when they
lived, did not at once enter into the light of Heaven,
but descended into the darkness of Hades ? For
the Firstbegotten from the dead, He who opened
to believers the kingdom of Heaven, the Lamb of
the tribe of Judah, who opens and no more shuts, at
Whose entrance with complete authority it was sung
by the heavenly powers : Lift up your heads, O ye
gates, and be ye lift up ye everlasting doors, and the King
of Glory shall come in (Ps. xxiv. 7), — He had not yet
appeared. If on that account it appears unsuitable
to commemorate with joy the passing away of those
which was not a passage of glory and of joy, why
was there an exception made for the Maccabees ? Or
if they obtained favour on account of the courage

LETTER XLIV 171

which they displayed, why was not the same favour
extended to those others ? Or ought it to be said,
in order to explain this difference, that if the martyrs
of the ancient law, as well as those of the new law,
have suffered for the same cause of religion, yet they
did not suffer in the same condition with those who
have attained to the glory of martyrdom ? It is agreed
that all the martyrs, whether of the Old or the New
Testament, equally suffered for the sake of religion ;
but there is a distinction, because the one class
suffered because they held it, the other because they
censured those who held it not ; the one because
they would not desert it, the other because they
declared that those would perish who deserted it,
and to sum up in a word, that in which the two
differ, perseverance in the faith has done in our
martyrs that which zeal for the faith has done in
those of the ancient law. The Maccabees are alone
among the ancient martyrs, because they possessed
not only the same cause as the new martyrdom, but
also, as I have said, the form of it ; and rightly,
therefore, they have attained the same glory and
fame as the new martyrs of the Church. For like
our martyrs, they were urged to pour libations to
false gods, to renounce the law of their fathers, and
even to transgress the commandments of God, and
like them they resisted and died.

2. Not so did Isaiah or Zecharias, or even that
great prophet, John the Baptist, die ; of whom the
first is said to have been sawn asunder, the second
slain between the temple and the altar (S. Matt, xxiii.
25), and the third beheaded in prison. If you ask
by whom ? It was by the wicked and irreligious.

172 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

3. It is certain that if the Maccabees had suffered
in such a matter, and for such a reason as S. John,
there would not have been any mention of them at
all. But a confession of the truth, not unlike that of
the Christian martyrs, made them like those ; and

LETTER XLIV 173

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

4. Nor them only, but those also who preceded
in their death, the Death of Him who was the Life
manifest in the flesh, either dying during His life, as
Simeon and John the Baptist, or for Him, as the
Innocents, we venerate with solemn rites, although
they, too, descended into Hades ; but for another
reason. Thus, in the case of the Innocents, it would

174 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

be unjust to deprive innocence dying on behalf of
righteousness of fame even in the present. John
also, knowing that from his day the kingdom of
heaven suffered violence, therefore proclaimed, Do
penitence, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand (S. Matt,
iii. 2, VULG.) ; and, seeing that the Life would im
mediately follow him, endured death with joy. He,
before his death, was careful to inquire from the
Lord Himself respecting this, and had the happiness
to be informed of it. For when he sent his disciples
to ask of Jesus Art Thou He that should come, or are we
to look for another ? he received for answer, after the
enumeration of very many miracles, And blessed is he
who shall not be offended in me (S. Matt. xi. 3-6). In
which answer the Lord intimated that He was about
to die, and by such a death as might be to the Jews
a stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness. At
this word the friend of the Bridegroom went onward
rejoicing and with a willing mind, because he could
not doubt that the Bridegroom also would speedily
come. Therefore he who so joyfully could die
merited also to be held in joyful remembrance. And
that old man, too, as full of virtues as of days, who
when death was already so near said, holding in his
arms Him who was the Life, Now lettest Thou Thy
servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salva
tion (S. Luke ii. 29, 30), as if he had said, / go down
without fear into Hades, because I feel that my re
demption is so nigh ; he, too, who died with such
fearless joy and such joyful security rightly deserves
to be commemorated with joy in the Church.

5. But on what principle shall a death be accounted
joyful which is not accompanied by the joys of

LETTER XLIV 175

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

6. But our martyrs desire to be unclothed and be
with Christ, knowing well that where the Body is
there without delay will the eagles be gathered
together. There will the righteous rejoice in the
sight of God, and be in joy and felicity. There,
there, O most blessed Jesus, shall every saint who is
delivered from this wicked world be rilled speedily
with the joy of Thy countenance. There in the
habitations of the just resounds for ever one song of
joy and salvation : Our soul is delivered as a bird out
of the net of the fowler : the net is broken and we are

1 76 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

delivered (Ps. cxxiv. 7). How could those sing this
song of gladness who in Hades sat in darkness and
the shadow of death, while as yet there was no
Redeemer for them, no Saviour ; while the Sun
rising from on high, Christ the first fruits of them
that slept, had not yet visited us ? Rightly, then,
does the Church, who has learnt to rejoice with them
that rejoice and to weep with them that weep, dis
tinguish, because of the time at which they lived,
between those whom she judges equal in valour : and
does not think the descent into Hades proper to be
followed with equal honour as is the passage into life.
7. Therefore, though the motive makes martyrdom,
yet the time and the nature of it determine the differ
ence between martyrdoms. Thus the time in which
they lived separates the Maccabees from the martyrs
of the new law and joins them with those of the old ;
but the nature of their martyrdom associates them
with the new and divides them from the old. From
these causes come the differences of observance with
which they are kept in memory in the Church. But
that which is common to the whole company of the
Saints before God is what the holy prophet declares :
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints
(Ps. cxvi. 15). And why he calls it precious he
explains to us : When He has given sleep to His Moved,
behold, children, the heritage of the Lord ; His reward, the
fruit of the womb (Ps. cxxvii. 3). Nor must we think
that martyrs alone are beloved, since we remember
that it was said of Lazarus, Our friend Lazarus sleeps
(S.John xi. 11), and elsewhere, Blessed arc the dead who
die in the Lord (Apoc. xiv. 13). Not those alone who
die for the Lord, like the martyrs, but without doubt

LETTER XLV 177

those also who die in the Lord as confessors are
blessed. There are two things, as it seems to me,
which make death precious, the life which precedes
it and the cause for which it is endured ; but more
the cause than the life. But when both the cause
and the life concur that is the most precious of all.

LETTER XLV (circa A.D. 1120)

To A YOUTH NAMED FULK, WHO AFTERWARDS
WAS ARCHDEACON OF LANGRES

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

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

i. I do not wonder at your surprise ; I should
wonder if you were not suprised that I should write
to you, a countryman to a citizen, a monk to a
scholastic,1 there being no apparent or pressing
reason for so doing. But if you recall what is
written — / am debtor both to the wise and to the unwise
(Rom. i. 14), and that Chanty seeketh not her own
(i Cor. xiii. 5) — perhaps you will understand that
what it orders is not mere presumption. For it is
Charity which compels me to reprove you ; to con
dole with you, though you do not grieve ; to pity

1 Either a canon holding a prebend of theology or simply a student —
here probably the former. But see n. 7.— [E.]

M

178 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

you, though you do not think yourself pitiable.
Nor shall it be unserviceable to you to hear patiently
why you are compassionated. In feeling your pain
you may get rid of its cause, and knowing your
misery begin to cease to be miserable. O, Charity,
good mother who both nourishest the weak, em-
ployest the vigorous, and blamest the restless, using
various expedients with various people, as loving all
her sons ! She blames with gentleness, and with
simplicity praises. It is she who is the mother of
men and angels, and makes the peace not only of
earth but of heaven. It is she who, rendering God
favourable to man, has reconciled man to God ; she,
my Fulk, makes those brethren, with whom you once
shared pleasant bread, to dwell in one manner of life
in a house (Ps. Ixviii. 6). Such and so honourable a
parent complains of being injured, of being wounded
by you.

2. But in what have I injured, you reply, or
wounded her ? In this, without doubt, that you
whom she had taken in her maternal bosom and
nourished with her milk, have untimely withdrawn
yourself, and having known the sweetness of the
milk which can train you up for salvation, have re
jected and disdained it so quickly and carelessly. O,
most foolish boy ! boy more in understanding than
in age ! who has fascinated you to depart so quickly
from a course so well begun ? My uncle, you will
say. So Adam once threw the blame of sin upon his
wife, and his wife upon the serpent, to excuse them
selves ; yet each received the well-deserved sentence of
their own fault. I am unwilling to accuse the dean ; I
am unwilling that you should excuse yourself by this

LETTER XLV 179

means, for you are inexcusable. His fault does not
excuse yours. But what did he do ? Did he use
violence ? Did he take you by force ? Nay, he
begged, not insisted ; attracted you by flatteries, not
dragged you by violence. Who forced you to yield
to his flatteries ? He had not yet given up what was
his own. What wonder that he should reclaim you,
who wast his ! If he demands a lamb from the flock,
a calf from the herd, and no one disputes his right,
who can wonder that having lost you, who are of
more value in his sight than many lambs or calves,
he should reclaim you ? Probably he does not aim
at that degree of perfection of which it is said, If any
one has taken away thy goods, seek them not again (S.
Luke vi. 30). But you, who had already rejected the
world, what had you to do with following a man of
the world ? The timid sheep flies when the wolf
approaches ; the gentle dove when she sees the
hawk ; the mouse, though hungry, dares not leave
his hole when the cat is prowling around ; and yet
you, when thon sawest a thief thou consentcdst with him
(Ps. 1. 1 8). For what else than a thief shall I call
him who has not hesitated to steal that most precious
pearl of Christ, your soul ?

3. I should wish, if it were possible, to pass over
his fault, lest the truth should obtain for me only
hatred and no result. But I am not able, I confess,
to pass a man untouched, who up to this very day is
found to have resisted the Holy Spirit with all his
power. For he who does not hinder evil when he
can, even although the evil purpose may be frustrated,
is not clear of that purpose. Assuredly he tried to
damp my fervour when it was new, but, thanks to

i8o S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

God, he did not succeed. Another nephew of his,
Guarike, your kinsman, he much opposed, but what
harm did he do ? On the contrary, he was of service.
For the old man at length unwillingly desisted from
persecution, and as the youth, his nephew, remained
unsubdued, he was the more meritorious for his temp
tation. But, alas ! how was he able to overcome you,
who was not able to overcome him ? Was he stronger
or more prudent than you ? Assuredly those who
knew both before preferred Fulk to Guarike. But
the event of the combat showed that men's judgment
had erred.

4. But what shall I say concerning the malice of
an uncle who withdraws his own nephews from the
Christian warfare to drag them with himself to perdi
tion ? Is it thus he is accustomed to benefit his
friends ? Those whom Christ calls to abide with Him
for ever this uncle calls back to burn with him for
evermore. I wonder if Christ is not reproving him
when he says, Hoiu often would I have gathered thy
nephews as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings
and thott wouldest not ? Behold thy house is left unto thee
desolate (S. Matt, xxiii. 37). Christ says, Suffer the
little children to come unto Me, for of such is the
kingdom of heaven (S. Matt. xix. 14). This uncle
says, Suffer my nephews to burn with me. Christ
says, They are Mine ; they ought to serve Me. But
their uncle says, They ought to perish with me.
Christ says, They are mine, I have redeemed them.
But I, says the uncle, have brought them up. You,
indeed, says Christ, have fed them, but with My
bread, not thine ; while I have redeemed them not
with thy blood, but Mine own. Thus the uncle,

LETTER XLV 181

according to the flesh, struggles against the Father
of spirits for his nephews, whom he disinherits of
heavenly possessions while he desires to load them
with earthly. Yet Christ, not considering it robbery
to draw to Himself those whom He has made and
redeemed with His own blood, has done when they
came to Him, what He had before promised, Him
who conieth unto me, I will in no wise cast out (S. John vi.
37). He opened gladly to Fulk, the first who knocked,
and made him glad also. What more ? he put off
the old man and put on the new, and showed forth
in his character and life the canonical function which
had existed in name alone. The report of it flies
abroad, to Christ, a sweet savour ; and the novelty
of the thing diffused on all sides brought it to the
ears of his uncle.

5. What then did the carnal guardian, who lost the
carnal solace of the flesh which he had brought up
and loved after a carnal fashion? Although to others
the event was a savour of life unto life (2 Cor. ii. 16),
not so to him. Wherefore ? Because the carnal man
recciveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are
foolishness unto him (i Cor. ii. 14). For if he had the
spirit of Christ he would not so greatly lament on
account of the flesh that which he rejoiced over on
account of the spirit. But because he relishes earthly
things, not those which are above, he is sad and
troubled, and reflects thus within himself : What do
I hear ? Woe is me ! from what hope have I fallen !
Ought he to do anything without my advice and
permission ? What right, what law, what justice,
what reason is it, that him, whom I have nourished
up from infancy, another person should have the

182 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

good of when grown up ? Now that my head is
white, alas ! I shall spend the remainder of my life in
grief, because the staff of my old age has deserted
me. Woe is me ! if this night my soul is required of
me, whose shall those things be which I have pre
pared ? My storehouses are full, disgorging this one
into that, my sheep fruitful, abounding in their goings
forth ; my oxen fat, and for whom shall these
remain ? My lands, my meadows, my houses, my
vases of gold and of silver, for whom have they been
amassed ? Certain of the richer and more profitable
honours of my Church I had acquired for myself ;
the rest, although I could not have them, I hoped
that Fulk should. What then shall I do ? Because
of him shall I lose so much ? For whatever I
possess, without him, I reckon as lost. Rather than
that I will both retain them, and recall him if I can.
What is done cannot be undone ; what is heard can
not be concealed. Fulk is a Canon Regular, and if
he returns to the world will be remarked and dis
graced. But it is better to hear that about him than
to live without him. Let integrity yield to conveni
ence, shame to necessity. I prefer not to spare the
ingenuousness of a youth, rather than to undergo
miserable melancholy.

6. Adopting then this counsel of the flesh, forgetful
of reason and law, as it were a lion prepared for prey,
and as a lioness robbed of her whelp, raging and
roaring, not respecting holy things, he burst into the
dwelling of the saints, in which Christ had hidden his
young soldier from the strife of tongues, who was one
day to be adjoined to the company of Angels. He
demands that his nephew be restored to him ; he

LETTER XLV 183

loudly complains that by him he had been wrongly
deserted ; while Christ resists, saying, Unhappy man,
what are you doing ? Why do you rob ? Why per
secute Me ? Is it not enough that you have taken
away your own soul from Me, and the souls of many
others by your example, but you must tear him also
from My hand with impious daring ? Do you not
fear the coming judgment, or do you despise My
terrors ? Upon whom do you wage war ? Upon
the terrible One, who takes away the spirit of
princes (Ps. Ixxvi. 12). Madman, return to thyself.
Remember thy last end and sin not, call to mind
with salutary fear what you are. And thou, O youth,
He says, if thou dost assent and agree to his wishes
thou shalt die the death.1 Remember that Lot's wife
was, indeed, delivered from Sodom because she be
lieved God, but was transformed in the way because
she looked back (Gen. xix. 26). Learn in the Gospel
that he who has once put his hand to the plough to
him it is not permitted to look back (Luke ix. 62).
Your uncle, who has already lost his own soul, seeks
yours. The words of his mouth are iniquity and
guile. Do not learn, my son, to do evil (Ps. xxxvi.
4). Do not turn aside to vanities and falsehoods
(Ps. xl. 4). Behold in the way in which you walk
he hides snares — he has stretched nets. His dis
courses are smooth as butter, and yet they are sharp
spears (Ps. Iv. 21). See, my son, that you are not

1 Bernard usually shows himself very doubtful of the salvation of those
who, having been called by God to the religious state, had not yielded to
their vocation, and much more of those who, having entered it, though not
made profession, had returned to the world. See Letters 107 and 108.
But Fulk had actually made profession.

1 84 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

taken with lying lips and a deceitful tongue. Let
divine fear transfix your flesh, that the desire of the
flesh may not deceive you. It flatters, but under its
tongue is suffering and sorrow ; it weeps, but be
trays ; it betrays to catch the poor when it has
attracted him (Ps. x. 9). Beware, I say, My son,
that you do not confer with flesh and blood (Gal. i.
16), for My sword shall devour flesh (Deut. xxxii. 42).
Despise entreaties and promises. He promises great
things, but I greater ; he offers more, but I most of
all. Will you throw away heavenly things for
earthly, eternal for temporal ? Otherwise it behoves
you to dissolve the vows which your lips have pro
nounced. He is rightly required to dissolve who was
not forced to vow, for, although I did not repulse
you when you knocked, I did not oblige you to
enter. You cannot, therefore, put aside what you
promised of your own accord. Behold each of you
I warn, and to each give salutary counsel. Do not
you, He says to the uncle, draw back a regular to
the world, for in so doing you make him to aposta
tize. Do not you, a regular, follow the secular life,
for in so doing you persecute Me. If you seduce a
soul for which I died you make yourself an enemy of
My cross. He who does not gather with Me scatters
(S. Matt. xii. 30). How much more he who scatters
what has been gathered ? And you, if you consent
to him you dissent from Me, for he who is not with Me
is against Me (ibid.}. How much more is he who was
with Me against Me if he deserts ? You, if you lead
astray a boy who has come to Me, shall be adjudged
a seducer and profaner, but you, if you destroy what
you had built, shall make yourself a deceiver. Both

LETTER XLV 185

of you must stand at My tribunal and by Me be
judged — the one for his prevarication, the other for
the leading astray ; and if the one shall die in his
iniquity his blood shall be required at the hand of
his seducer (Ezek. iii. 18). These and similar warn
ings Thou, O Christ, didst invisibly thunder to each,
I appeal to their conscience as witness. Thou didst
knock at the doors of the mind of each with kindly
terrors. Who would not fear them and recover
wisdom in fearing, unless it were one like the deaf
adder, that stoppeth her ear and refuseth to hear the voice
of the charmer, charm he never so wisely (Ps. Iviii. 4, 5),
who either does not hear, or pretends that he hears
not ?

7. But how far do I draw out this letter, already
too long, before speaking of a thing that is worthy
only of silence ? In what circuitous paths do I
approach the truth, fearing to draw the veil from
shame ! I say with shame. That what is known to
many I cannot conceal if I would. But why with
shame ? Why should I be ashamed to write what it
did not shame them to do ? If they are ashamed to
hear what they shamelessly did, let them not be
ashamed to amend what they were reluctant to hear.
Alas ! neither fear nor reason could keep back the
one from seduction, nor shame or his profession the
other from prevarication. What more ? A deceitful
tongue fits hasty words ; it conceiveth sorrow, and
brings forth iniquity. Your Church received its
scholar, whom it had better have been without. So
formerly Lyons recovered, without credit, by the zeal
and pertinacity of its dean, its canon whom it had
well lost, the nephew of the same dean. Just as the

1 86 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

one snatched Fulk from S. Augustine, so the other
Othbert from S. Benedict. How much more beauti
ful that a religious youth should draw to himself a
worldly old man, and so each should be victorious,
than that the worldly should draw back to himself
the religious, in which each is vanquished ! Oh,
unhappy old man! Oh, cruel uncle ! who, already
decrepit and soon about to die, before dying have
slain the soul of your nephew, whom you have
deprived of the inheritance of Christ in order that
you might have an heir of your sins. But he who is
evil to himself, to whom is he good ? He preferred
to have a successor in his riches rather than an inter
cessor for his iniquities.

8. But what have I to do with Deans, who are
our instructors, and have acquired authority in the
Churches. They hold the key of knowledge, and
take the highest seats in the synagogues. They judge
their subjects at their will, they recall fugitives, and
when they are recalled scatter them again as they
choose. What have I to do with that ? I confess
that because of you, my Fulk, I have exceeded some
what the degree proper to my humility in speaking
of these, since I wished to be indulgent to your
fault, and make your shame little in comparison. I
pass over these that they may not have ground to
rail, not at the blame, but at him who blames, for
they would rather find fault with my presumption
than occupy themselves with their own correction.
At all events it is not a prince of the Church that I
have undertaken to reprimand, but a young student,
gentle and obedient. Unless, perhaps, you show
yourself to be a child in sense, not in malice, and

LETTER XLV 187

object to my boldness, saying, What has he to do
with me ? What do the faults which I commit
matter to him ? Am I a monk ? And to this I
confess I have nothing to answer, except that I
counted, in addressing myself to you, on the sweet
ness of character with which you are endowed by
nature, and that I was actuated by the love of God,
to which I appealed in the first words of my letter.
It was in zeal for Him that, pitying your error and
your unhappiness, I was moved to interfere beyond
my custom in order to save you, although you were
not mine.1 Your serious fall and miserable case has
moved me thus to presume. For whom of your
contemporaries have you seen me reprimand ? To
whom have I ever addressed even the briefest letter ?
Not that I regarded them as saints, nor had nothing
to blame in them.

9. WThy, then, you will say, do you blame me
especially, when in others you see what you might,
perhaps, more justly find fault with ? To which I
reply : Because of the excessiveness of your error,
of the enormity of your fault, for although many
others live loosely, without rule and discipline, yet
they have not yet professed obedience to these.
They are sinners indeed, but not apostates. But
you, however honourably and quietly you may live,
although you may conduct yourself chastely, soberly,
and religiously, yet your piety is not acceptable to
God, because it is rendered valueless by the viola
tion of your vow. Therefore, beloved, do not com
pare yourself with your contemporaries, from whom
the profession which you have made separates you,

1 i.e., not owing me obedience as a monk.

1 88 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

nor flatter yourself so much because of your self-
restraint in comparison with men of the world, since
the Lord says to you, / would thou wert hot or cold
(Apoc. iii. 15, 1 6). Here is plainly shown that you
please God less, being lukewarm, than if you were even
such as those are, entirely cold towards Him. For
them God waits patiently until their cold shall pass
into heat, but you He sees with displeasure to have
fallen away to lukewarmness, after having been fer
vent in warmth. And because I have found thee
lukewarm, He says, / will vomit thee from My mouth
(ibid.), and deservedly, because you have returned to
your vomit and rejected His grace !

10. Alas! how have you so soon grown weary
of the Saviour, of whom it is written, Honey and milk
are under His tongue (Cantic. iv. n). I wonder that
nourishment so sweet should be distasteful to you,
if you have tasted how sweet the Lord is. Or
perhaps you have not yet tasted and do not know
how sweet is Christ, so that you do not desire what
you have not tried ; or if you have, then your taste
is surely depraved. He is the Wisdom of God who
says : He who cats of Me shall always hunger, and he
who drinks of Me shall never cease to desire to drink again
(Ecclus. xxiv. 29). But how can he hunger or thirst
for Christ who is full of the husks of wine ? You
cannot drink of the cup of Christ and of the cup of demons
(i Cor. x. 21). The cup of demons is pride, detrac
tion, envy, debauch, and drunkenness, with which
when your mind and body are saturated, Christ will
find in you no place. Do not wonder at what I say.
In the house of your uncle you are not able to drink
deep of the fulness of the house of God. Why, you

LETTER XLV 189

say ? Because it is a house of [carnal] delights.
Now, as fire and water cannot be together, so the
delights of the spirit and those of the flesh are in
compatible. Christ will not deign to pour His wine,
which is more sweet than honey and the honeycomb,
into the soul of him whom He finds among his cups
breathing forth the fumes of wine. Where there is
delicate variety of food, where the richness and splen
dour of the service of the table delights equally the
eyes and the stomach, the food of heaven is wanting
to the soul. Rejoice, O, young man, in thy youth !
but then, when temporal joy departs in time to come,
everlasting sorrow will possess thee ! May God pre
serve you, His child, from this. May He rather
destroy the deceiving and perfidious lips of those
who give you such advice, who say to you every
day, Good, good ! and who seek your soul ! They
are those with whom you are dwelling, and who
corrupt the good manners of a young man by their
evil communications (colhquia : otherwise counsels,
consilia).

1 1 . But now how long before you will come out
from their midst ? What do you in the town who
had chosen the cloister, or what have you to do with
the world which you had renounced ? The lines
have fallen to you in pleasant places, and do you
sigh after earthly riches ? If you wish to have both
together, it will be said to you soon, Remember, my son,
that you have received your good things when you were in
life (S. Luke xvi. 25). You have received, He said,
not you have seized ; so that you may not shelter
yourself under the vain excuse, that you are content
with what is your own, and do not seize what

i9o S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

belongs to another. And, after all, what are those
goods which you call yours ? The benefices of the
Church ? Certainly ; you do well in rising to keep
vigil, in going to Mass, in assisting at the day and
night offices, so you do not take the prabend of the
Church without return. It is just that he who serves
the Altar should live from the Altar. It is granted
therefore to you that if you serve well at the Altar
you should live from it, but not that you should live
in luxury and splendour at its expense, that you
should take its revenues to provide yourself with
gilded reins, ornamented saddles, silver spurs, furs of
all kinds, and purple ornaments to cover your hands
and adorn your neck. Whatsoever you take from
the Altar, in short, beyond necessary food and simple
dress, is not yours, and it is rapine and even sacrilege.
The Wise man prayed for necessary sustenance, not
for things superfluous (Prov. xxx. 8). The Apostle
says, having food and clothing (i Tim. vi. 8), not food
and magnificent dress. And a certain other saint
says, if the Lord shall give me bread to eat and raiment to
cover me (Gen. xxviii. 20). Take notice, to cover me.
So then let us too be content with raiment to cover
us, not with luxurious and costly clothing which is
worn to please women, and wakes the wearers like
them. But you say : Those with whom I associate
do this ; if I do not do as others, I shall be remarked
for singularity. Wherefore I say, go forth from the
midst of them ; that you may not either live with
singularity in the eyes of the town or perish by the
example of others.

12. What do you do in the town at all, O effemi
nate soldier ? Your fellow soldiers whom you have

LETTER XLV 191

deserted by flight are righting and overcoming ; they
knock and they enter in, they seize heaven and reign
while you scour the streets and squares, sitting upon
your ambling courser, and clad in purple and fine
linen. These are the ornaments of peace, not the
weapons of war. Or do you say, Peace, and there is
no peace (Ezekiel xiii. 10). The purple tunic does not
put to flight lust, and pride, and avarice, nor does it
protect against other fiery darts of the enemy.
Lastly, it does not ward off from you the fever
which you more fear, nor secure you from death.
Where are your warlike weapons, the shield of faith,
the helmet of salvation, the breast-plate of patience ?
Why do you tremble ? there are more with us than
with our enemies. Take your arms, recover your
strength while yet the combat lasts ; Angels are
spectators and helpers, the Lord himself is your aid
and your support, who will teach your hands to war
and your fingers to fight (Psalm cxliv. i). Let us come
to the help of our brothers, lest if they fight without
us they vanquish without us, and without us enter
into heaven ; lest, last of all, when the door has been
shut it be replied from within to us knocking too late,
Verily I say unto you, I know you not (S. Matthew xxv.
12). Make yourself known then and seen before
hand, lest you be unknown for glory and known
only for punishment. If Christ recognizes you in the
strife, He will recognize you in heaven, and as He
has promised, will manifest Himself to you (S. John
xiv. 21). If only you by repenting and returning
will show yourself such as to be able to say with
confidence Then shall I know even as also I am known
(i Corinthians xiii. 12). In the meantime I have by

192 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

these admonitions knocked sufficiently at the heart of a
young man modest and docile ; and nothing remains
for me now than to knock by my prayers also, for
him, at the door of the Divine Mercy, that the Lord
may finish my work if my remonstrances have found
his heart ever so little softened, so that I may
speedily rejoice over him with great joy.

LETTER XLVI (circa A.D. 1125)

TO GUIGUES, THE PRIOR, AND TO THE OTHER
MONKS OF THE GRAND CHARTREUSE

He discourses muck and piously of the law of true and sincere
chanty, of its signs, its degrees, its effects, and of its
perfection which is reserved for Heaven (jPatria).

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

i. I have received the letter of your Holiness as
joyfully as I had long and eagerly desired it. I have
read it, and the letters which I pronounced with my
mouth, I felt, as it were, sparks of fire in my heart,
which warmed my heart within me ; as coming from
that fire which the Lord has sent upon the earth
(S. Luke xii. 49). How great a fire must glow in
those meditations from which such sparks fly forth !
This, your inspired and inspiring salutation, was to
me, I confess, not as if coming from man, but like

LETTER XLVI 193

words descending surely from Him who sent the
salutation to Jacob. It is not for me, in fact, a
simple salutation given in passing, according to the
custom and usage of men, but it is plainly from the
very bowels of charity, as I feel, that this benediction,
so sweet and so unhoped for, has come forth. I pray
God to bless you, who have had the goodness to
prevent me with benedictions of such sweetness, that
confidence is granted to me, your humble servant, to
reply, since you have first written ; for though I had
meditated writing, I had hitherto not presumed to do
so. For I feared to trouble, by my eager scribbling,
the holy quiet which you have in the Lord, and the
religious silence which isolates you from the world.
I feared, also, to interrupt, even for a moment, those
mysterious whispers from God, and to pour my
words into ears always occupied with the secret
praises of heaven. I feared to become as one who
would trouble even Moses on the mountain, Elias in
the desert, or Samuel watching in the temple, if I
had tried to turn away ever so little, minds occupied
with divine communion. Samuel cries out : Speak,
Lord, for Thy servant hcareth (i Sam. iii. 10). And
should I presume to make myself heard ? I feared,
I say, lest presenting myself out of season before
you, as it were to David engaged in flight, or abiding
in solitude, you might not wish to listen, and might
say, " Excuse me, I cannot hear thee now ; I prefer
rather to give ear to words sweeter than thine." /
will hear what the Lord God will say unto me ; for He
shall speak peace unto His people, and to His saints, and
to those who are converted at heart (Ps. Ixxxiv. 9, VULG.).
Or, at least, this : Depart from me, ye evil-disposed, and

N

i94 s- BERNARD'S LETTERS

/ will study the commandments of my God (Ps. cxix. 115).
For could I be so rash as to dare to arouse the
much-loved spouse sweetly resting in the arms of her
bridegroom as long as she will ? Should I not hear
from her on the instant : Do not be troublesome to
me ; / am for My Beloved, and My Beloved is for Me ;
He feedeth among the lilies (Cant. ii. 16).

2. But what I do not dare to do, charity dares,
and with all confidence knocks at the door of a
friend, thinking that she ought by no means to suffer
repulse, who knows herself to be the mother of
friendships ; nor does she fear to interrupt for an
instant your rest, though so pleasant, to speak to you
of her own task. She, when she will, causes you to
withdraw from being alone with God ; she, also, when
she willed, made you attentive to me ; so that you
did not regard it as unworthy of you, not merely to
benignantly endure my speaking, but more, to urge
me to break the silence. I esteem the kindness, I
admire the worthiness, I praise and venerate the pure
rejoicing with which you glory in the Lord, for the
advances in virtue which, as you suppose, I have
made. I am proud of so great a testimony, and
esteem myself happy in a friendship so grateful to
me as that of the servants of God towards me.
This is now my glory, this is my joy and the re
joicing of my heart, that not in vain I have lifted
up mine eyes unto the mountains whence there has
now come to me help of no small value. These
mountains have already distilled sweetness for me ;
and I continue to hope that they will do so until our
valleys shall abound with fruit. That day shall be
always for me a day of festival and perpetual

LETTER XLVI 195

memorial, in which I had the honour to see and to
receive that worthy man, by whom it has come about
that I should be received into your hearts. And,
indeed, you had received me even before, if I may
judge by your letter ; but now with a more close
and intimate friendship, since, as I find, he brought
back to you too favourable reports concerning me
which, doubtless, he believed, though without suffi
cient cause. For, as a faithful and pious man, God
forbid that he should speak otherwise than he believed.
And truly I experience in myself what the Saviour
says : He who receives a righteous man in the name of a
righteous man shall receive a righteous mans reward
(S. Matt. x. 41). I have said, the reward of a
righteous man, because I am regarded as righteous,
only through receiving one who is righteous. If he
has reported of me something more than that, he has
spoken not so much according to the truth of the
case as according to the simplicity and goodness of
his heart. You have heard, you have believed, you
have rejoiced, and have written, thereby giving me
no little joy, not only because I have been honoured
with a degree of praise and a high place in the esti
mation of your Holiness, but also because all the
sincerity of your souls has made itself known to me
in no small measure. In few words, you have shown
to me with what spirit you are animated.

3. I rejoice, therefore, and congratulate you on
your sincerity and goodness as I congratulate myself
on the edification which you have afforded to me.
That is, indeed, true and sincere charity, and must be
considered to proceed from a heart altogether pure
and a good conscience and faith unfeigned, with

196 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

which we love our neighbour as ourself. For he
who loves only the good that himself has done, or, at
least, loves it more than that of others, does not love
good for its own sake, but on account of himself, and
he who is such cannot do as the prophet says : Give
thanks unto the Lord, because He is good (Ps. cxviii. i).
He gives thanks, indeed, perhaps, because the Lord
is good to him, not because He is good in Himself.
Wherefore let him understand that this reproach from
the same prophet is directed against him : They will
praise thee when thou doest well unto thy own soul (Ps.
xlix. 1 8). One man praises the Lord because He is
mighty ; another because He is good unto him ; and,
again, another simply because He is good. The first
is a slave, and fears for himself ; the second mer
cenary, and desires somewhat for himself ; but the
third is a son, and gives praise to his Father. There
fore both he who fears and he who desires are each
working for his own advantage ; charity which is in
him alone who is a son, seeketh not her own. Where
fore I think that it was of charity that was spoken,
The law of the Lord is pure, converting the soul (Ps. xix. 7),
because it is that atone which can turn away the mind
from the love of itself and of the world and direct it
towards God. Neither fear nor selfish love converts
the soul. They change sometimes the outward ap
pearance or the actions, but never affect the heart.
No doubt even the slave does sometimes the work of
God, but because he does it not of his own free will
he remains still in his hardness. The mercenary
person does it also, but not out of kindness, only as
drawn by his own particular advantage. Where
there is distinction of persons, there are personal

LETTER XLVI 197

interests, and where there are personal interests there
is a limit of willingness, and there, without doubt, a
rusting meanness. Let the very fear by which he is
constrained be a law to the slave, let the greedy
desire, with which the mercenary is bound, be a law
to him, since it is by it that he is drawn away and
enticed. But of these neither is without fault or is
able to convert the soul. But charity does convert
souls when it fills them with disinterested zeal.

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

198 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

5. But the slave and the mercenary have a law,
not from God, but which they have made for them
selves — the one by not loving God, the other by loving
something else more than Him. They have, I say, a
law which is their own and not of the Lord, to which,
nevertheless, their own is subjected ; nor are they
able to withdraw themselves from the unchangeable
order of the divine law, though each should make a
law for himself. I would say, then, that a person
makes a law for himself when he prefers his own will
to the common and eternal law, perversely wishing
to imitate his Creator ; so that as He is a law unto
Himself, and is under no authority but His Own, so
the man also will be his own master, will make his
own will a law to himself. Alas ! what a heavy and
insupportable yoke upon all the sons of Adam, which
weighs upon and bows down our necks, so that our
life is drawn near to the grave. Unhappy man that
I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this
death ? (Rom. vii. 24) with which I am so weighed

Mabillon reads substantiva, but another reading is sttbstantia. — [E.]

LETTER XLVI 199

down that unless the Lord had helped me, my soul
would almost have dwelt in the grave (Ps. xciv. 17).
With this load was he burdened who groaned, saying:
Why hast Thou set me as a mark against Thee, so that I
ant a burden to myself? (Job vii. 20). Where he says,
I am made a burden to myself, he showed that he was a
law unto himself, and the law no other than he him
self had made it. But when, speaking to God, he
commenced by saying, Thou hast set me as a mark
against Thee, he showed that he had not escaped from
the Divine law. For this is the property of that
eternal and just law of God, that he who would not
be ruled with gentleness by God, should be ruled as
a punishment by his own self ; and that all those
who have willingly thrown off the gentle yoke and
light burden of charity should bear unwillingly the
insupportable burden of their own will.

6. Thus the everlasting law does in a wonderful
manner, to him who is a fugitive from its power,
both make him an adversary and retain him as a
subject ; for while, on the one hand, he has not
escaped from the law of justice, by which he is dealt
with according to his merits, on the other he does
not remain with God in His light, or peace, or glory.
He is subjected to power, and excluded from happi
ness. O Lord, my God, why dost Thou not take away
my sin, and pardon my transgression? (Job vii. 21).
So that throwing down the heavy weight of my own
will, I may breathe easily under the light burden of
charity ; that I may not be overborne any longer by
servile fear, nor allured by selfish cupidity, but may
be impelled by Thy spirit, the spirit of liberty, which
is that of Thy children. Who is it who witnesses to

200 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

my spirit that I, too, am one of Thy children, since
Thy law is mine, and as Thou art, so am I also, in
this world ? For it is quite certain that those who
do this which the Apostle says owe no one anything except
to love one another (Rom. xiii. 8) are themselves as
God is in this world, nor are they slaves or merce
naries, but sons. Therefore neither are sons without
law, unless, perhaps, some one should think the con
trary because of this which is written, the law is not
made for a righteous man (i Tim. i. 9). But it ought
to be remembered that the law promulgated in fear
by a spirit of slavery is one thing, and that given
sweetly and gently by the spirit of liberty is another.
Those who are sons are not obliged to submit to the
first, but they are always under the rule of the second.
Do you wish to hear why it is said that law is not
made for the righteous ? You have not received, he
says, the spirit of slavery again in fear. Or why, never
theless, they are always under the rule of the law of
charity ? But ye have received the spirit of the adoption of
sons (Rom. viii. 15). Listen, now, in what manner
the righteous man confesses that at the same time he
is and is not under the law. / became, he says, to
those which were under the law as being under the law,
although I myself was not under the law : but to those who
were without law, I was as being without law, since I was
not without the laiv of God but in the law of Christ ( I Cor.
ix. 20, 21). Whence it is not accurately said the
righteous have no law, or the righteous are without
law, but that the law was not made for the righteous ;
that is, it is not, as it were, imposed upon unwilling
subjects, but given freely to willing hearts by Him to
whose sweet inspiration it is due. Wherefore the

LETTER XLVI 201

Lord also beautifully says, Take My yoke upon you
(S. Matt. xi. 29). As if He would say, I do not
impose it upon you against your will, take it if you
are willing ; otherwise you will find not rest, but
labour, for your souls.

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

202 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

by the grace of God, it has fully obtained, the body
and all the good things which belong to the body
will be loved only for the sake of the soul, the soul
for the sake of God, and God alone for Himself.

8. However, as we are in fleshly bodies, and are
born of the desire of the flesh, it is of necessity that
our desire, or affection, should begin from the flesh ;
but if it is rightly directed, advancing step by step
under the guidance of grace, it will at length be per
fected by the Spirit, because that is not first which is
spiritual, but that which is natural, and afterwards that
which is spiritual; and it is needful that we should first
bear the image of the earthly and afterwards that of the
heavenly (i Cor. xv. 46, 49). First, then, a man loves
his own self for self's sake, since he is flesh, and he
cannot have any taste except for things in relation
with him ; but when he sees that he is not able to
subsist by himself, that God is, as it were, necessary
to him, he begins to inquire and to love God by
faith. Thus he loves God in the second place, but
because of his own interest, and not for the sake of
God Himself. But when, on account of his own
necessity, he has begun to worship Him and to
approach Him by meditation, by reading, by prayer,
by obedience, he comes little by little to know God
with a certain familiarity, and in consequence to find
Him sweet and kind ; and thus having tasted how
sweet the Lord is, he passes to the third stage, and
thus loves God no longer on account of his own
interest, but for the sake of God Himself. Once
arrived there, he remains stationary, and I know not
if in this life man is truly able to rise to the fourth
degree, which is, no longer to love himself except for

LETTER XLVI 203

the sake of God. Those who have made trial of this
(if there be any) may assert it to be attainable ; to
me, I confess, it appears impossible. It will be so
without doubt when the good and faithful servant
shall have been brought into the joy of his Lord, and
inebriated with the fulness of the house of God.
For being, as it were, exhilarate, he shall in a
wonderful way be forgetful of himself, he shall lose
the consciousness of what he is, and being absorbed
altogether in God, shall attach himself unto Him with
all his powers, shall thenceforth be one spirit with
Him.

9. I consider that the prophet referred to this when
he said : / will enter into the powers of the Lord : O, Lord,
I will make mention of Thy righteousness only (Ps. Ixxi. 1 6).
He knew well that when he entered into the spiritual
powers of God he would be freed from all the in
firmities of the flesh, and would have no longer to
think of them, but would be occupied only with the
perfections of God. Then, for certain, each of the
members of Christ would be able to say of himself,
what Paul said of their Head : If we have known Christ
according to the flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him no
more (2 Cor. v. 16). There no one knows himself
according to the flesh, becauseyfcsA and blood will not in
herit the kingdom of God (i Cor. xv. 50). Not that the
substance of flesh will not be there, but that every
fleshly necessity will be away ; the love of the flesh is to
be absorbed into the love of the spirit, and the weak
human passions which exist at present will be
absorbed into powers divine. Then the net of charity,
which is now drawn through a great and vast sea, and
does not cease to bring together from every kind of

204 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

fish, at length drawn to the shore, shall retain only
the good, rejecting the bad. And while in this life
charity fills with all kinds of fishes the vast spaces of
its net, suiting itself to all according to the time,
making, in a sense, its own, and partaking of the good
and evil fortunes of all, it is accustomed not only to
rejoice with them that rejoice, but to weep with them
that weep. But when it shall have reached the shore
[of eternity], casting away as evil fish all that it bore
with grief before, it will retain those only which are
sources of pleasure and gladness. Then Paul will no
longer be weak with the weak, or be scandalized with
those who are scandalized, since scandal and weak
ness will be far away. We ought not to think that he
will still let fall tears over those who have not re
pented here below ; and as it is certain that there
will no longer be sinners, so there will be no one to
repent. Far be it from us to think that he will
mourn and deplore those whose portion is everlasting
fire with the devil and his angels, when in that City
of God which the streams of that river make glad
(Ps. xlvi. 4), the gates of which the Lord loves more
than all the dwellings of Jacob (Ps. Ixxxvii. 2), because
in those dwellings, although the joy of victory is
sometimes tasted, yet the combat always continues,
and sometimes the struggle is for life ; but in that
dear country there is no place for adversity or sorrow,
as in that Psalm we sing : The abiding place of all those
who rejoice is in Thee (Ps. Ixxxvii. 7, VULG.), and again :
Everlasting joy shall be unto them (Is. Ixi. 7). How,
then, shall any remembrance be of mercy, where the
justice of God shall be alone remembered ? There
can be no feeling of compassion called into exercise

LETTER XLVI 205

where there shall be no place for misery, or occasion
for pity.

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

206 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER XLVII
To THE BROTHER OF WILLIAM, A MONK OF

CLAIRVAUX.1

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

i. Although you are unknown to me by face, and
although distant from me in body, yet you are my
friend, and this friendship between us makes you to
be present and familiar to me. It is not flesh and
blood, but the Spirit of God which has prepared for
you, though without your knowledge, this friendship,
which has united your brother William and me with
a lasting bond of spiritual affection, which includes
you, too, through him, if you think it worth accept
ance. And if you are wise you will not despise the
friendship of those whom the Truth declares blessed,
and calls kings of heaven ; which blessedness we
would not envy to you, nor if communicated to you
would it be diminished to us, nor would our boun
daries be at all narrowed if you should reign over
them too. For what cause can there be for envy
where the multitude of those who share a blessing
takes nothing from the greatness of the share which

1 Such of the title of the Letter in two Vatican MSS. and in certain
others. In those of Citeaux it is inscribed Letter of exhortation to a friend.
But at the end of Letter 106 I conjecture the reference to be to Ivo, who
signs it with William.

LETTER XLVII 207

each enjoys ? I wish you to be the friend of the
poor, but especially their imitator. The one is the
grade of beginner, the other of the perfect, for the
friendship of the poor makes us the friend of kings,
but the love of poverty makes us kings ourselves.
The kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of the poor,
and one of the marks of royal power is to do good
to friends according to our will. Make to yourselves
friends, it is said, of the mammon of unrighteousness, that
when ye fail they may receive you into everlasting habita
tions (S. Luke xvi. 9). You see what a high dignity
sacred poverty is, so that not only does it not seek
protection for itself, but extends it to those who
need. What a power is this, to approach by one's
self to the Throne of God without the intervention
of any, whether angels or men, with simple confid
ence in the Divine favour, thus reaching the summit
of existence, the height of all glory !

2. But would that you, without pretence, would
consider how you hinder your own attainment of
these advantages. Alas ! that a vapour which ap
pears but for a moment should block up the entrance
to eternal glory, hide from you the clearness of the
unbounded and everlasting light, prevent you from
recognizing the true nature of things, and deprive
you of the highest degree of glory ! How long will
you prefer to such glory the grass of the field, which
to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven ? I
mean carnal and worldly glory. For all fiesh is
grass, and its glory as the flower of the field (Is. xl. 6).
If you are wise, if you have a heart to feel and eyes
to see, cease to pursue those things which it is misery
to attain. Happy is he who does not toil at all after

208 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

those things, which when possessed are a burden,
when loved a defilement, and when lost a torment.
Will it not be better to have the honour to renounce
them than the vexation to lose them ? Or will it be
more prudent to yield them up for the love of Christ
than to have them taken away by death ? — death,
which is a robber lying in wait for you, into whose
hands you cannot help falling, with all that belongs
to you. When he shall do so you cannot foresee,
because he will come as a thief in the night. You
brought nothing into this world, and it is certain you can
carry nothing out (i Tim. vi. 7). You shall sleep your
sleep, and find nothing in your hands. But these
things you know well, and it would be superfluous
laboriously to teach them to you. Rather I will
pray God that you may have the grace to fulfil
in practice what it has been given you already to
know.

LETTER XLVIII
To MAGISTER 1 WALTER DE CHAUMONT.

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

MY DEAR WALTER,

I often grieve my heart about you whenever
the most pleasant remembrance of you comes back

1 S. Bernard usually designates thus Doctors and Professors of Belles
Lettres. See Letters 77, 106, and others. It is thus that in the Spiri-
legium iii. pp. 137, 140, Thomas d'Etampes is called sometimes Magister,
sometimes Doctor. In a MS. at the Vatican we read, "To Magister
Gaucher."

LETTER XLVIII 209

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

2. But be it so; suppose that you may for a
while call these things yours, and boast in the praise
they bring you, and be called of men Rabbi and

O

210 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

make for yourself a great name, though only upon
the earth ; what shall be left to you after death of
all these things ? Scarcely a remembrance alone —
and that, too, only upon earth. For it is written,
They have slept their sleep, and all the men whose hands
were mighty have found nothing (Ps. Ixxvi. 5). If this
be the end of all your labours — allow me to say so
— what have you more than a beast of burden ?
Indeed, it will be said even of your palfrey when
he is dead that he was good. Look to it, then, how
you must answer it before that terrible judgment
throne if you have received your soul in vain, and
such a soul ! if you are found to have done nothing
more with your immortal and reasonable soul than
some beast with his. For the soul of a brute lives
no longer than the body which it animates, and at
one and the same moment it both ceases to give life
and to live. Of what will you deem yourself worthy,
who, being made in the image of your Creator, do
not guard the dignity of so great a majesty ? And
being a man,1 but not understanding your honour,
art compared unto the foolish beasts and made like
unto them, seeing that forsooth, you labour at nothing
of a spiritual or eternal nature, but, like the spirit of
a beast which as soon as it is loosed from the body
is dissolved with the body, have been content to
think of nothing but material and temporal goods,
turning a deaf ear to the Gospel precept : Labour not
for the meat that perisheth, but for that meat which en-
dureth unto everlasting life (S. John vi. 27). But you
know well that it is written that only he ascends into

1 Some add "in honour" from Ps. xlviii., but it is wanting in the
MSS., and certainly is redundant here.

LETTER XLVIII 211

the hill of the Lord who hath not Lift up his mind
unto vanity (Ps. xxiv. 3).1 And not even he except
he hath clean hands and a pure heart. I leave you
to decide if you dare to claim this of your deeds and
thoughts at the present. But if you are not able to
do so, judge what is the reward of iniquity, if mere
unfruitfulness is enough for damnation. And, indeed,
the thorn or thistle will not be safe when the axe
shall be seen laid to the root of the fruit tree, nor
will He spare the thorn which stings, who threatens
even the barren plant. Woe, then ; aye ! double
woe to him of whom it shall be said, / looked that
he should bring forth grapes, and he hath brought forth
wild grapes (Is. v. 4).

3. But I know how freely and fully you can
nourish these thoughts, though I be silent, but yet I
know that, constrained by love of your mother, you
are not as yet able to abandon what you have long
known how to despise. What answer shall I make to
you in this matter ? That you should leave your
mother ? That seems inhuman. That you should
remain with her ? But what a misery for her to be a
cause of ruin to her son ! That you should fight at
once for the world and for Christ ? But no man can
serve two masters. Your mother's wish being con
trary to your salvation is equally so to her own.
Choose, therefore, of these two alternatives which you
will ; either, that is, to secure the wish of one or the
salvation of both. But if you love her much, have
the courage to leave her for her sake, lest if you leave
Christ to remain with her she also perish on your
account. Else you have ill-served her who bare you

1 Hath not received it in rain, Vui.o.

212 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

if she perish on your account. For how doth she
escape destruction who hath ruined him whom she
bare ? And I have spoken this in order in some way
to stoop to assist your somewhat worldly affection.
Moreover, it is a faithful saying and worthy of all
acceptation, although it is impious to despise a mother,
yet to despise her for Christ's sake is most pious.
For He who said, Honour thy father and mother (S.
Matt. xv. 4), Himself also said, He who loveth father or
mother more than Me is not worthy of Me (S. Matt. x. 37).

LETTER XLIX

To ROMANUS, SUB-DEACON OF THE ROMAN CURIA.

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

BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, to his dear
ROMANUS, as to his friend.

MY DEAREST FRIEND,

How good you are to me in renewing by a
letter the sweet recollection of yourself and in excus
ing my tiresome delay. It is not possible that any
forgetfulness of your affection could ever invade
the hearts of those who love you ; but, I confess, I
thought you had almost forgotten yourself until I
saw your letter. So now no more delays ; fulfil
quickly the promise that you have written ; and if
your pen truly expresses your purpose, let your acts
correspond to it. Why do you delay to give birth to

LETTER XLIX 213

that spirit of salvation which you have so long con
ceived ? Nothing is more certain to mortals than
death, nothing more uncertain than the hour of death,
since it is to come upon us as a thief in the night.
Woe unto them who are still with child [of that good
intention] in that day ! If it shall anticipate and pre
vent this birth of salvation, alas ! it will pierce through
the house and destroy the holy seed : For when they
shall say Peace and safety, then sudden destruction shall
come upon them as travail upon a woman ivith child, and
they shall not escape (i Thess. v. 3). I wish you not to
flee from death, but only to fear it. For the just,
though he avoids it not, because he knows that it
is inevitable, yet does not fear it. Moreover, he
awaits it as a rest (Wisdom iv. 7) and receives it in
perfect security ; for as it is the exit from the present
life, so it is the entrance into a better. Death is good
if by it thou die to sin, that thou mayest live unto
righteousness. It is necessary that this death should
go before, in order that the other which follows after
may be safe. In this life, so long as it lasts, prepare
for yourself that life which lasts for ever. While you
live in the flesh, die unto the world, that after the
death of the flesh you may begin to live unto God.
For what if death rend asunder the coarse envelope *
of your body so long as from that moment it clothes
you with a garment of joy ? O, how blessed are the
dead ivhich die in the Lord (Apoc. xiv. 13), for they hear
from the Spirit, that " they may rest from their
labours." And not only so, but also from new life
comes pleasure, and from eternity safety. Happy,
therefore, is the death of the just because of its rest ;

1 Saccus,

214 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

better because of its new life, best because of its
safety (Ps. xxxiv. 21). On the other hand, worst of
all is the death of sinners. And hear why worse. It
is bad, indeed, through loss of the world ; it is worse
through separation from the flesh ; worst of all
through double pain of worm and fire. Up, then,
hasten ; go forth out of the world, and renounce it
entirely ; let your soul die the death of the righteous,
that your last end also may be like His : Oh, how dear
in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints (Ps. cxvi.
13). Flee, I pray you, lest you stand in the way of
sinners. How canst thou live where thou durst not
die?1

LETTER L

To GEOFFREY, OF LISIEUX -

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

i. I am grieved for you, my son Geoffrey, I am
grieved for you. And not without reason. For who
would not grieve that the flower of your youth, which,
amid the joy of angels, you offered unimpaired to
God for the odour of a sweet stncll (P\\\\. iv. 18), should
now be trampled under the feet of devils, stained

1 A familiar figure of speech with Bernard. See Letter 107, § 13 ; 124,
§ 2, &c.

- Some have "Luxeuil." This word Ordericus also generally uses to
designate Lisieux, in Neustria, so that there is no uniform distinction of
names between Lisieux and Luxeuil, in the County of Burgundy, found
among writers of this period.

LETTER L 215

by the filthiness of vice and the uncleanness of the
world ? How can you, who once wast called by
God, follow the devil who calls you back ? How is
it that you, whom Christ began to draw after Him
self, have suddenly withdrawn your foot from the
very threshold of glory ? In you I now have proof
of the truth of the Lord's word, when He said : A
man's foes shall be they of his own household (S. Matt.
x. 36). Your friends and kinsfolk have approached
and stood against you. They have called you back
into the jaws of the lion, and have placed you once
more in the gates of death. They have placed you
in dark places, like the dead of this world ; and now
it is a matter for little surprise that you are descend
ing into the belly of hell, which is hasting to swallow
you up, and to give you over as a prey to be de
voured by those who roar in their hunger.

2. Return, I pray you ; return before the deep
swallow thee up and the pit shut her mouth upon thee
(Ps. Ixix. 1 6); before you sink whence you shall
never more rise ; before you be bound hand and foot
and cast into outer darkness, where there is weeping and
gnashing of teeth (S. Matt. xxii. 13); before you be
thrust down to the place of darkness and covered
with the gloom of death. Perhaps you blush to
return, because you gave way for an hour. Blush,
indeed, for your flight, but do not blush to return to
the battle after your flight, and to fight again. The
fight is not over yet. Not yet have the opposing
lines drawn off from each other. Victory is still in
your power. If you will, we are unwilling to con
quer without you, and we do not grudge to you
your share of glory. I will even gladly come to

216 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

meet you and gladly welcome you with open arms,
saying : // is meet that we should make merry and be
glad; for this thy brother was dead and is alive again ;
he was lost and is found (S. Luke xv. 32).

LETTER LI

To THE VIRGIN SOPHIA

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

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

i . Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain ; but a woman
thatfeareth the Lord, she shall be praised (Prov. xxxi. 31).
I rejoice with you, my daughter, in the glory of your
virtue, whereby, as I hear, you have been enabled to
reject the deceitful glory of the world. That, indeed,
deserves rejection and disdain. But whereas many
who in other respects are wise, are in their estimation
of worldly glory become foolish, you deserve to be
praised for not being deceived. It is as the flower of
the grass — (James i. 10) — a vapour that appeareth for a
little time (S. James iv. 14). And every degree of that
glory is without doubt more full of care than joy.
At one time you have claims to advance, at another,
yourself to defend ; you envy others, or are suspicious
of them ; you are continually aiming to acquire what
you do not possess, and the passion for acquiring is

LETTER LI 217

not satisfied even by success ; and as long as this is
the case, what rest is there in your glory ? But if
any there be, its enjoyment quickly passes, never to
return ; while care remains, never to leave. Be
sides, see how many fail to attain that enjoyment,
and yet how few despise it. Why so ? Just because
though many of necessity endure it [/'.<?., the depriva
tion of pleasure], yet but few make of doing so a
virtue. Few, I say, very few, and particularly of the
nobly-born. Indeed, not many noble are called; but God
hath chosen the base things of the world (i Cor. i. 26-28).
You are, then, blessed and privileged among women
of your rank in that, while others strive in rivalry
for worldly glory, you by your contempt of this glory
are raised to a greater height of glory, and are ele
vated by glory of a higher kind. Certainly you are
the more renowned and illustrious for having made
yourself voluntarily humble than for your birth in
a high rank. For the one is your own achievement
by the grace of God, the other is the doing of your
ancestors. And that which is your own is the more
precious, as it is the most rare. For if among men
virtue is rare — a " rare bird on the earth " — how
much rarer is it in the case of a weak woman of high
birth ? Who can find a virtuous woman ? (Prov. xxxi. i o).
Much more " a virtuous woman " of high birth as
well. Although God is not by any means an accepter
of persons, yet, I know not how, virtue is more pleasing
in those of noble birth. Perhaps that may be because
it is more conspicuous. For if a man is of mean
birth and is devoid of glory, it is not easily clear
whether he lacks virtue because he does not wish for
it or because he cannot attain it. I honour virtue

218 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

won under stress of necessity. But I honour more
the virtue which a free choice adopts than that which
necessity imposes.

2. Let other women, then, who have not any other
hope, contend for the cheap, fleeting, and paltry glory
of things that vanish and deceive. Do you cling to
the hope that confounds not. Do you keep yourself,
I say, for that far more exceeding weight of glory, which
our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh
(2 Cor. iv. 17) for you on high. And if the daughters
of Belial reproach you, those who walk with stretched
forth necks mincing as they go (Isaiah iii. 16), decked out
and adorned like the Temple, answer them : My king
dom is not of this world (S. John xviii. 36) ; answer
them : My time is not yet come, but your time is always
ready (S. John vii. 6) ; answer them : My glory is hid with
Christ in God (Col. iii. 3) ; When Christ, who is my life,
shall appear, then shall I also appear with Him in glory
(Col. iii. 4). And yet if one needs must glory, you
also may glory freely and fearlessly, only in the Lord.
I omit the crown which the Lord hath prepared for
you for ever. I say nothing of the promises which
await you hereafter, that as a happy bride you are to
be admitted to behold with open face the glory of
your Bridegroom ; that He will present you to Himself
a glorious bride, not having spot or wrinkle or any such
thing (Eph. v. 27) ; that He will receive you in an
everlasting embrace, will place His left hand under your
head and His right hand shall embrace you (Cant. ii. 6).
I pass over the appointed place, which being set
apart by the prerogative of virginity, you shall without
doubt gain among sons and daughters in the king
dom. I say nothing of that new song which you, a

LETTER LI 219

virgin among virgins, shall likewise sing in tones of
unrivalled sweetness, rejoicing therein and making
glad the city of God, singing and running and follow
ing the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. In fact, eye hath
not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart
of man the things which He hath prepared ( I Cor. ii. 9)
for you, and for which it behoves you to be pre
pared.

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

220 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

thyself with light as it were with a garment — For con
fession and worship arc before Him (Ps. xcvi. 6, VuLG.).
Before whom ? Him who is fairer than the sons of
men (Ps. xlv. 3), even Him whom the angels desire
to look upon.

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

LETTER LI 221

put off with the garment, belongs without doubt to
the garment, and not to the wearer of it.

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

222 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

LETTER LI I 223

LETTER LII

TO ANOTHER HOLY VIRGIN.

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

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

224 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

come the earthly, and charm you to prefer things
heavenly ?

2. And this is right. Poor and transient and
earthly are the things which you despise, but the
things you wish for are grand, heavenly, and ever
lasting. I will say still more, and still speak the
truth. You leave the darkness to approach the light ;
you come forth from the depth of the sea and gain
the harbour ; you breathe again in happy freedom
after a wretched slavery ; in a word, you pass from
death to life ; though up till now, living according to
your own will and not God's, to your own law and
not that of God, while living you were dead — living
to the world, but dead to God ; or rather, to speak
more truly, living neither to the world nor to God.
For when you wished while wearing the habit and
name of religion to live like one in the world, you
alone had rejected God from you by your own wish.
But when you could not effect your foolish wish,
then it was not you that rejected the world, but the
world you. And so, rejecting God and rejected by
the world, you had fallen between two stools,1 as
they say. You were not living unto God, because
you would not, nor to the world, because you could
not : you were anxious for one, unwelcome to the
other, and yet dead to both. So it must happen to
those who promise and do not perform, who make
one show to the world, and in their hearts desire
something else. But now, by the mercy of God,

1 Compare in this place Imitation of Christ, Bk. i. c. 25. "A religious
person who has become slothful and lukewarm has trouble upon trouble,
and suffers anguish on every side, because he lacks consolation from
within, and is debarred from seeking it without." Read also Sermons 3
and 5 upon the Ascension.

LETTER LII 225

you are beginning to live again, not to sin, but to
righteousness, not to the world, but to Christ, know
ing that to live to the world is death, and even to die
in Christ is life. Blessed are the dead which die in the
Lord (Rev. xiv. 13).

3. So from this time I shall not mention again
your unfulfilled vow, nor your disregard of your
profession. From henceforth your purity of body
will not be impaired by a corrupt mind, nor your
name of virgin disgraced by disorderly conduct ;
from henceforth the name you bear will not be a
deception, nor the veil you wear meaningless. For
why hitherto have you been addressed as " nun " *
and " holy virgin " when, professing holiness, you
did not live holily ? Why did you let the veil on
your head give a false impression of the reverence
due to you, while your eye launched burning and
passionate glances ? Your head was clothed, indeed,
with a veil, but it was lifted up with pride, and
though you were under the symbol of modesty,
your speech sounded far from modest. Your im
moderate laughter, unreserved demeanour, and showy
dress would have accorded better with the wimple 2

1 This expression is borrowed from the Rule of S. Benedict, in which it
is said that the younger shall call their elders nonna (in monasteries for
men noitnits), Chap. Ixiii.

2 Wimple. So all the MS. codices that I have seen, viz., at the Royal
Library, Colbert Library, Sorbonne, Royal College of Navarre, S. Victor
of Paris MS., MS. of Compiegne, and others at other libraries, which have
"with the wimple" (wimplaUt), though all editions except two (viz., that
of Paris, 1494, and of Lyons, 1530) have "one puffed up" (uni inflata).
They ask what "with the wimple" (wimplatae) means. Of course it is a
word formed from wimple or guimple, owing to the easy change of g to w.
In French "guimpe" or "guimple" is a woman's head-dress, once
common with women of noble birth (as we learn from the old pictures of

P

226 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

than the veil. But behold now, at the bidding of
Christ, the old things have passed away, and all
things begin to be made new, since you are changing
the care of the body for that of the soul, and are
desirous of a beautiful life more than beautiful
raiment. You are doing what you ought to do, or
rather what you ought to have done long ago, for
long ago you had vowed to do it. But the Spirit,
who breathes not only where He will but when He
will, had not then breathed on you, and so, perhaps,
you are to be excused for what you have done
hitherto. But if you suffer the ardent zeal wherewith,
beyond a doubt, your heart is now hot again, and
the divine flame that burns in your thoughts, to be
quenched, what remains for you but the certain
knowledge that you must be destined for that flame
which cannot be quenched. Nay, let the same Spirit
rather quench in you all carnal affections, lest haply
(which God forbid !) the holy desires of your soul,
so late conceived, should be stifled by them, and you
yourself be cast into hell fire.

noble ladies), but the more simple and modest refrained from wearing
it. So we read in the French poet, contained in Borellus' Glossartum
Gallicum : —

Moult fut humiliant et simple

Elle cut une voile en lieu de guimple.

Which may be rendered —

She was a lowly girl and simple,
And wore a veil in place of wimple.

Now, however, the word " wimple" is scarcely heard outside the cloisters
of nuns.

LETTER LI 1 1 227

LETTER LIII

TO ANOTHER HOLY VIRGIN OF THE CONVENT

OF S. MARY OF TROVES l

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

i. I am told that you are wishing to leave your
convent, impelled by a longing for a more ascetic
life, and that after spending all their efforts to dis
suade and prevent you, seeing that you paid no
heed to them, your spiritual mother or your sisters,
determined at length to seek my advice on the matter,
so that whatever course I approved, that you might
feel it your duty to adopt. You ought, of course, to
have chosen some more learned man as an adviser ;
yet since it is my advice you desire to have, I do not
conceal from you what I think the better course.
Ever since I learnt your wish, though I have been
turning the matter over in my mind, I cannot easily
venture to decide what temper of mind suggested it.
For you may in this thing have a zeal towards God,
so that your purpose may be excusable. But how
such a wish as yours can be fulfilled consistently
with prudence I entirely fail to see. " Why so ? "
you ask. " Is it not wise for me to flee from wealth
and the throng of cities, and from the good cheer
and pleasure of life ? Shall I not keep my purity

1 This convent still exists under the rule of S. Benedict. It had lately
been, as Bernard testifies, the object of a reform when he wrote. —
[Mabillon's note.]

228 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

more safely in the desert, where I can live in peace
with just a few, or even alone, and please Him alone
to whom I have pledged myself ? " By no means.
If one would live in an evil manner, the desert brings
abundant opportunity : the wood a protecting shade,
and solitude silence. The evil that no one sees, no
one reproves. Where no critic is feared, there the
tempter gains easier access, there wickedness is more
readily committed. It is otherwise in a convent. If
you do anything good no one prevents you, but if
you would do evil you are hindered by many
obstacles. If you yield to temptation, it is at once
known to many, and is reproved and corrected. So,
on the other hand, when you are seen to do anything
good, all admire, revere, and copy it. You see, then,
my daughter, that in a convent a larger renown
awaits your good deeds, and a more speedy rebuke
your faults, because there are others there to whom
you may set an example by good deeds and whom
you will offend by evil.

2. But I will take away from you every excuse for
your error, by that alternative in the parable we read
in the Gospel. Either you are one of the foolish
virgins, if, indeed, you are a virgin, or one of the
wise (S. Matt. xxv. 1-12). If you are one of the
foolish, the convent is necessary to you ; if of the
wise, you are necessary to the convent. For if you
are wise and well-approved, without doubt the reform
which, though newly introduced into that place, has
already won universal praise, will be greatly dis
credited, and, I fear, be weakened by your departure.
It will not fail to be said that, being good yourself,
you would not desert a house where the Rule was

LETTER LIII 229

well carried out.1 If you have been known to be
foolish, and you go away, we shall say that since
you are not suffered to live an evil life among good
companions, you could not endure longer the society
of holy women, and are seeking a dwelling where
you may live in your own way. And we shall be
quite right. For before the reform of the Rule you
never, I am told, were wont to talk of this plan ; but
no sooner did observances become stricter, than you,
too, became suddenly holier, and in hot haste to
think of the desert. I see, my daughter, I see in
this, and I would you also saw as I do, the serpent's
venom, the guile of the crafty one, and the trickery
of his changing skin. The wolf dwells in the wood.
If a poor little sheep like you should enter the shades
of the wood alone you would be simply seeking to
be his prey. But listen to me, my daughter ; listen
to my faithful warning. Whether sinner or saint,
do not separate yourself from the flock, lest the
enemy seize upon you, and there be none to deliver
you. Are you a saint ? Strive by your example to
gain associates in sanctity. A sinner ? Do not add
sin to sin, but do penance where you are, lest by
departing, not without danger, as I have shown, to
yourself, you bring scandal upon your sisters, and
provoke the tongues of may scoffers against you.

1 Cf. the French equivalent " Le bon ordre," i.e., the strict Rule of
Monastic Life.

230 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER LIV

To ERMENGARDE, FORMERLY COUNTESS OF BRITTANY l

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

To his beloved daughter in Christ, ERMENGARDE,
once the most noble Countess, now the humble hand
maid of Christ, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, offers
the pious affection of holy love.

Would that, as I now open this page before me,
so I could open my mind to you ! Oh ! that you
could read in my heart what God has deigned to
write there with His own finger concerning my

1 She was the wife of Count Alan, and a great benefactress to Clairvaux.
She built the monks a monastery near the town of Nantes (see Ernald,
Life of S. Bernard, ii. 34, and according to Mabillon's Chronology,
1135 A.D.). The name of the monastery is Buzay ; it is presided over by
the most illustrious Abbot Caumartin, who has communicated to me the
first charter founding the convent. In this charter Duke Conan, son of
Alan and Ermengarde, asserts that he and his mother had determined to
build the Abbey of Buzay, but that, misled by evil counsel of certain
persons, they had desisted from their undertaking. At length Bernard,
Abbot of Clairvaux, came into those parts. The House of Buzay was
dependent upon his abbey. Bernard, seeing the place almost desolate,
was deeply grieved, " and," says Conan, "rebuked me with the most
severe reproofs as false and perfidious ; and then ordered the abbot and
monks who tarried there to abandon the place and return to Clairvaux."
Conan interposed, and after restoring the property of the monastery which
he had taken away, took steps for the completion of the building. The
charter is signed by Bishops Roland, of Vannes ; Alan, of Rennes ; John,
of St. Malo ; Iterius, of Nantes ; and also by Peter, Abbot of the monas
tery, and Andrew, a monk. But to return to Ermengarde. Godfrey,
Abbot of Vendome (Bk. v. Letter 23), urges her to resume her purpose of
entering the religious life, which she appears to have abandoned. The
same Godfrey, in the next Letter, speaks of her as of royal blood.

LETTER LV 231

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

LETTER LV

To THE SAME

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

I have received the joy of my heart, good news
from you. I am happy to hear of your happiness ;

232 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

and your ready service, now so well known, makes
me quite easy in mind. This great happiness comes
in no way from flesh and blood, for you are living
in lowliness instead of state, in mean, not high place,
in poverty instead of wealth. You are deprived of
the consolation of living in your own country, and
of the society of your brother and your son. With
out doubt, then, the willing devotion that hath been
born in you is the work of the Holy Spirit. You
have long since conceived by the fear of God the
design of labouring for your salvation, and have at
last brought your design to execution, the spirit of
love casting out fear in your soul. How much more
gladly would I be present to say this to you, than be
absent and write ! Believe me, I am annoyed at my
business, which constantly seems to hinder me from
the sight of you ; and I hail with joy the chances,
which I seldom seem to get, of seeing you. Such
opportunities are rare ; but, I confess, their very rarity
makes them sweet. For, indeed, it is better to see
you just sometimes than never at all. I hope to
come unto you shortly ; and I already offer you a
foretaste of the joy that shall shortly come in full.

LETTER LVI

To BEATRICE, A NOBLE AND RELIGIOUS LADY

He commends her love and anxious care.

1 wonder at your zealous devotion and loving
affection towards me. I ask, excellent lady, what
can possibly inspire in you such great interest and

LETTER LVI 233

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

234 s- BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER LVII
To THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF LORRAINE l

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

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

Ever since the needs of our Order obliged me to
send for necessaries into your land I have found
great favour and kindness in the eyes of your Grace.
You freely displayed the blessings of your bounty on
our people when they needed it. You freely re
mitted to them when travelling their toll,2 the dues on
their purchases, and any other legal due of yours.
For all these things your reward is surely great in
heaven, if, indeed, we believe that to be true which
the Lord promises in His Gospel : Inasmuch as ye
have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren ye

1 That is, Simon and Adelaide, not Gertrude, as most write. For the
account of the conversion of this Duchess by S. Bernard see Lift,
Bk. i. c. 14. She took the veil of a Religious in the Nunnery of Tart,
in the environs of Dijon, as is clear from the autograph Letters of her
son, Duke Matthew, who calls his mother Atheleide. These Letters
P. F. Chifflet refers to at the end of his four Opuscula, ed. Paris, 1679.
I do not refer to the pretended Letters of Gertrude to Bernard, and
Bernard to Gertrude, translated by Bernard Brito, from French into
Portuguese and thence into Latin.

2 Passagium, a fixed payment from travellers entering or passing
through a country; droit de passage or "toll."

LETTER LVIII 235

have done it unto me (S. Matt. xxv. 40). But why is
it that you allow your servants to take away again
what you bestow ? It seems to me that it is worthy
of you and for your honour, that when you have
been pleased to bestow anything for the safety of
your souls no one should venture to demand it back
again. If, then (which God forbid), you do not
repent of your good deed, and your general inten
tion in respect to us is still the same, be pleased to
order it to be a firm and unshaken rule ; that hence
forward our brethren may never fear to be disturbed
in this matter by any of your servants. But other
wise we do not refuse to follow our Lord's example,
who did not disdain to pay the dues. We also are
ready willingly to render to Caesar the things that are
Ccesar's (S. Matt. xvii. 26), custom to whom custom, and
tribute to whom tribute is due (Rom. xiii. 7), especially
because, according to the Apostle, we ought not to
seek our gift so much as your gain (Phil. iv. 17).

LETTER LVIII
To THE DUCHESS OF LORRAINE

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

I thank God for your pious goodwill which I know
that you have towards Him and His servants. For
whenever the tiniest little spark of heavenly love is
kindled in a worldly heart ennobled with earthly
honours, that, without doubt, is God's gift, not man's

236 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

virtue. For our part we are very glad to avail our
selves of the kind offers made to us of your bounty
in your letter. But having heard of the sudden and
serious stress of business, which, of course, must be
delaying you at this time, we think it meet to await
your opportunity as it shall please you. For, as far
as in me lies, I would not be a burden to any one,
particularly in things pertaining to God, where we
ought to seek not so much the profit of the gift as
advantage abounding to the giver. And so, if you
please, name a day and place in your answer by this
messenger, when, by God's help, having brought to
an end the business which now occupies, you will be
able to approach these regions, where our brother
Wido l will meet you, so that if he finds anything
in your country profitable for our Order you may
fulfil your promise with greater ease and speed. For
God loveth a cheerful giver (2 Cor. ix. 7). Otherwise,
if perchance the delay please you not, let me know
this also : for in this matter I am ready, as reason
allows, to obey your wishes. I salute the Duke, your
husband, through your mouth, and I venture to urge
him and you both, if you know that the castle for
which you are going to war does not belong to your
rightful domain, for the love of God to let it alone.
For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world
and lose his own soul? (S. Matt. xvi. 26).

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

LETTER LIX 237

LETTER LIX

To THE DUCHESS OF BURGUNDY*

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

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

1 Matilda, wife of Hugo I., Duke of Burgundy, who was cherishing her
anger against Hugo de Bese. This place was situate four leagues from
Dijon, and famous for the Monastery of that name (Bese) of the Bene
dictine Order. About this Hugo see Perard, pp. 221, 222.

238 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

servant. For he cannot be perjured and yet at the
same time keep faith with his Prince.1 Aye, and I
see not only no gain to you, but also much danger
arising, if those whom perhaps God has determined
to join together should be put asunder by you. May
the Lord grant His grace to you, most noble lady,
so dear to me in Christ, and to your children.
Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day
of salvation. Spend your corn on Christ's poor, that
in eternity you may receive it with usury.

NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE

i. The following Letter, which is the igoth of
S. Bernard, was ranked by Horst among the Treatises,
on account of its length and importance. It was
written on the occasion of the condemnation of the
errors of Abaelard by the Council of Sens, in 1140,
in the presence of a great number of French Bishops,
and of King Louis the Younger, as has been described
in the notes to Letter 187. In the Synodical Epistle,
which is No. 191 of S. Bernard, and in another,
which is No. 337, the Fathers of the Council an
nounced to Pope Innocent that they had condemned
the errors of Abaelard, but had pronounced no
sentence against him personally out of respect for
the appeal which he had made to the Holy See ; and
they add that " the chief heads of his errors are more
fully detailed in the Letter of the Bishop of Sens."

1 Legaliiati, i.e., good faith, which consists in performing promises
once made.

LETTER LX 239

I think that the Letter of which mention is thus
made can be no other than that given here, and in
which we find, in fact, the chief heads of Abaelard's
errors, with a summary refutation of each. They
are also the same as those which William, who had
become a simple monk at Igny, after having been
Abbot of Saint Thierry, had addressed to Geoffrey,
Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard, in a Letter
which is inserted among those of Bernard.

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

3. Of the heads of errors attributed to Abaelard,
some are wanting in his printed works, which has
given occasion to some writers for accusing Bernard,
as if he had attributed errors to Abaelard without
foundation, and so had himself been fighting against
shadows and phantoms. But it is certain that most
of these errors are to be found even in his printed

240 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

writings, as we shall show each in its place. As for
those which are no longer discoverable, William of
Saint Thierry, Geoffrey, and this unknown Abbot,
who had been once a disciple of Abaelard, and was
perfectly acquainted with his doctrine, quote word
for word statements both from his Apology and from
his Theology, which do not appear in the printed
editions ; and certainly Abaelard himself, in Book ii.
of his " Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans,"
p. 554, reserves certain points to be treated in his
Theology of which there is no mention in the printed
copies, which close thus : " The rest is wanting," so
that it appears that the printed copies of the Theology
have been mutilated.

4. Those writers have, therefore, done a very ill
service to Religion, to say nothing of the injury to
Bernard, who, in order to justify Abaelard, accuse
Bernard of having been hurried on by the impulse
of a blind zeal. They ought at least to acknowledge,
as Abaelard himself did, and also Berengarius, his
defender, that he had erred in various matters. And,
indeed, Abaelard himself, in his Apology, acknow
ledges, though perhaps not quite sincerely, that in
some respects he was wrong. " It is possible," he
says, " that I have fallen into some errors which I
ought to have avoided, but I call God as a witness
and judge upon my soul that in these points upon
which I have been accused, I have presumed to say
nothing through malice or through pride." It may
well be that he might be able to clear himself of the
reproach of malice, and even of that of heresy ; but,
a least, he could not deny that he had fallen into
various errors — a liking for new words and phrases,

LETTER LX

241

levity, and perhaps even pride and an excessive desire
for disputation. However this may be, Pope Innocent
bade the Bishops by a rescript that the man was to
be imprisoned and his books burned, and Godfrey
declares that the Pope himself had them thrown into
the flames at Rome. But Peter Abaelard at length
returned to better views. He desisted from his
Appeal by the advice and request of Peter the Vener
able, Abbot of Cluny, who has described his last days
in pleasing terms in a Letter which he wrote to
Heloise.

5. Bernard did not attack Abaelard in his dis
courses and writings with impunity. Not only was
Abaelard impatient of his censure, but also Beren-
garius, his disciple and defender, dared to accuse
Bernard of having spread certain errors in his books.
" You have certainly erred," says Berengarius, ad
dressing Bernard, " in asserting the origin of souls
from Heaven" (p. 310). And on p. 315: "The
origin of souls from Heaven is a fabulous thing, and
this I remember that you taught in these words (Serm.
in Cantica, No. 17): 'The Apostle has rightly said,
our conversation is in heaven.' These words which you
have expounded with great subtilty, savour much
to the palate of a Christian mind of heresy." But
enough of this foolish and impudent slanderer. The
unknown Abbot reports another calumny of Abaelard
against Bernard at the end of his second book : " It
is very astonishing to me that for such a long time
no reply should have been made by so many great
men whose teaching enlightens the Church, as the
light of the sun is reflected upon the moon, to our
Abaelard, who accused the Abbot of saying that God,

242 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

and Man assumed by God, are one Person in the
Trinity. Whereas Man is a material body composed
of various limbs and dissoluble, while God is neither
a material body, nor has any limbs, nor can be dis
solved. Wherefore, neither ought God to be called
Man, nor Man to be called God," etc. Thus Abae-
lard shows himself a Nestorian, while petulantly
accusing Bernard of error. Rightly does William of
Saint Thierry reply in his 8th chapter to Abaelard with
regard to this passage : " Thus we say similarly that
Christ is the Son of Man in the nature of His
Humanity, but not from that according to which
He has union with God, and is One of the Three
Persons in the Trinity ; because, as God Incarnate
was made the Son of Man on account of the human
nature which He assumed, so the man united to the
Son of God has become the Son of God on account
of the Divine Nature which has united him to itself."
6. Besides the heads of errors which Bernard
refutes in these books, he groups together some
others in No. 10, contenting himself with exposing
them ; these have been refuted by other authors, viz.,
by William, and by the unknown Abbot. As to the
Eucharistic species or the accidents, which, according
to Abaelard, remain in the air after consecration,
this was the view of William : " It appears to me, if
you agree with me," he says, writing to Geoffrey,
Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard, " that those
accidents, i.e., the form of the earlier substance,
which, I believe, is nothing else than a harmonious
combination of accidents into one, if they still exist,
do so in the Body of the Lord, not forming it, but by
the power and wisdom of God working upon them,

LETTER LX 243

shaping and modifying it, that it may become capable,
according to the purpose of the mystery and the
manner of a Sacrament, of being touched and tasted
in a form different from that proper to it, which it
could not do in its own." He says again in his book
to Rupertus, De Corpore ct Sanguine Domini, c. 3 : " In
opposition to every conception and mode of reason
ing in secular philosophy, the substance of bread is
changed into another substance, and has carried with
it certain accidents into the Eucharistic mystery, but
without altering them from what they were, and in
such a manner that the Body of the Lord is not
either white or round, though whiteness and round
ness are associated with it. And it so retains these
accidents that although they are truly present with
His Human Body, yet they are not in It, do not
touch it, or affect it," etc.

7. It was not only with respect to the Incarnation
of Our Lord that Abaelard thought, or at least ex
pressed himself, in an erroneous manner. He was
equally in error on the subject of the grace of Christ,
which he reduced simply to the reason granted to
man by God, to the admonitions of the Holy Scrip
tures, and to good examples, and thus made it
common to all men. " We may say, then," he
taught, " that man, by the reason which he has
received from God, is able to embrace the grace
which is offered him ; nor does God do any more
for a person who is saved before he has embraced
the offered grace, than for one who is not saved.
But just as a man who exposes precious jewels for
sale, in order to excite in those who see them the
wish to purchase ; thus God makes His grace known

244 s- BERNARD'S LETTERS

before all, exhorts us by the Scriptures, and reminds
us by examples, so that men, in the power of that
liberty of will which they have, may decide to em
brace the offer of grace." And a little farther on he
continues : " That vivification is attributed to grace :
because Reason, by which man discerns between
good and evil, and understands that he ought to
abstain from the one and to do the other, comes
from God. And therefore it is said that he does this
under the inspiration of God : because God enables
him by the gift of Reason which He has bestowed to
recognize what is sinful." Such were the errors
William has extracted, among many others, from the
writings of Abaelard, and without doubt from his
Theology, which, perhaps because of these and other
similar passages, was mutilated by his scholars.
Nor can we refuse to credit the good faith of
William, who was a learned and pious man : especi
ally as Abaelard in his Book iv., on the Epistle to
the Romans, teaches the same hurtful doctrine (p.
653 and following). We learn from all these expres
sions of Abaelard that he thought, or at least certainly
wrote, with the same impiety concerning the grace
of Christ as he did on the Incarnation, and that
Bernard was perfectly correct in saying (Letter 192):
" He speaks of the Trinity like Arius, of grace like
Pelagius, and of the Person of Christ like Nestorius."
Proof of the truth of these words of Bernard as con
cerns the two last charges will be found in reading
the letter given here ; and as to the third, it will be
sufficient to show that Bernard has in nowise ex
aggerated, to read the end of Book iii. of the Theology
of Abaelard ; there it will be found in his own words,

LETTER LX 245

" that those who abhor our words respecting the
faith may be easily convinced when they hear that
God the Father and God the Son are joined with us
according to the sense of the words." In what
manner ? " Let us ask, then," he continues, " if
they believe in the wisdom of God of which it is
written : Thou hast made all tilings with wisdom, O Lord,
and they will reply without hesitation that they do
so believe. But this is to believe in the Son ; as for
believing in the Holy Ghost, it is nothing else than
believing in the goodness of God." These words
seem clearly to be not only Arian, but even Sabellian,
although, as I must frankly confess, Abaelard formally
rejects that error in its logical consequences in
another passage on p. 1069. But especially in
matters of faith, it is a matter of importance, not
only to think rightly, but also to speak and write
with exactness. Thus it is with reason that William
of Saint Thierry says in citing the very words of
Abaelard with respect to the brass and the seal,
and with respect to power in general and a certain
power : " As for the Divine Persons, he destroys
them like Sabellius, and when he speaks of their
unlikeness and their inequality, he goes straight to
the feet of Arius in his opinion." I only cite
these passages to make those persons ashamed who.
although they detest these errors, yet take up the
defence of Abaelard against Bernard, and do not
hesitate to accuse the latter of precipitation and of
excess of zeal against him. William cle Conches
expresses himself in almost the same manner as
Abaelard with respect to the mystery of the Holy
Trinity, and Abbot William of S. Thierry confutes

246 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

his errors also in his letter to Bernard. Nor is there
anything worse that can happen to religion than that
philosophers should attempt to explain the mysteries
of our faith by the power of Reason alone.

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

LETTER LX 247

your curiosity will be completely satisfied in learn
ing in what respects, how, and wherefore he was
condemned."

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

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

HEADS OF HERESIES OF PETER ABAELARD.

I. — The shocking analogy made between a brazen sea/, and
between genus and species, and the Holy Trinity.

"The Wisdom of God being a certain power, as a
seal of brass is a certain [portion of] brass ; it follows
clearly that the Wisdom of God has its being from
His Power, similarly as the brazen is said to be what
it is from its material : or the species derives what it
is from its genus, which is, as it were, the material of
the species, as the animal is of man. For just as, in
order that there may be a brazen seal, there must be
brass, and in order that there may be man, there
must be the genus Animal, but not reciprocally : so

248 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

in order that there may be the Divine Wisdom,
which is the power of discernment, there must be
the Divine Power ; but the reciprocal does not
follow." And a little further on we read : " The
Beneficence, the name under which the Holy Spirit
is designated, is not in God Wisdom or Power."

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

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

LETTER LX 249

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

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

250 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

" It should be known that all our Doctors who
were after the Apostles agree in this, that the devil
had dominion and power over man, and held him
in bondage of right." And a little farther on : " It
seems to me that the devil has never had any right
over man, but rightly held him in bondage as a
jailer, God permitting ; nor did the Son of God
assume our flesh in order to free us from the yoke
of the devil." And again : " How does the Apostle
say that we are justified or reconciled to God by the
death of His Son, when on the contrary, He ought
to have been more angry still against man, who had
committed in putting His Son to death, a fault much
more great than in transgressing His first precept by
eating one apple ; and would it not have been more
just ? For if that first sin of Adam was so great,
that it could not be expiated except by the death of
Christ ; what is there which can be capable of ex
piating the Death of Christ itself, and all the great
cruelties committed upon Him and His Saints ?
(See Letter V. 21.) Did the death of His innocent
Son please God so much, that for the sake of it He
has become reconciled to us, who have caused it by
our sins, on account of which the innocent Lord was
slain ? And could He forgive us a fault much less
great, only on condition that we committed a sin so
enormous ? Were multiplied sins needful in order
to the doing of so great a good, as to deliver us from
our sins and to render us, by the death of the Son
of God, more righteous than we were before ? "

LETTER LX 251

Again : " To whom will it not seem cruel and un
just that one should have required the innocent
blood, or any price whatever, or that the slaughter
of the innocent, under any name or title, should be
pleasing to him ? Still less that God held the death
of His Son so acceptable that He would, for its sake,
be reconciled to the world. These and similar con
siderations raise questions of great importance, not
only concerning redemption, but also concerning
our justification by the death of our Lord Jesus
Christ. But it seems to me that we were neverthe
less justified by the Blood of Christ, and reconciled
with God by the special grace shown to us when
His Son took upon Him our nature, and in it gave
us an example both by word and deed, until His
Death. He has united us so closely with Him by
His love for us, that we are fired by so great benefit
of Divine grace, and will hesitate at no suffering,
provided it be for Him. Which benefit indeed we
do not doubt aroused the ancient Fathers, who
looked forward to this by faith, to an ardent love
of God, as well as those of more recent time." And
below : " I think then that the cause and design of
the Incarnation was to enlighten the world with the
wisdom of God, and arouse it to love of Him."

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

" When I say that Christ is one of the Three
Persons in the Trinity I mean this : that the Word,
who was from eternity one of the Three Persons in
the Trinity, is so ; and I think that this expression

252 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

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

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

l< It is frequently asked whether it is true, as is
said by some persons, that all men need to be saved
by the mercy of God, and that their need is such
that no one is able to have the will to do good
unless by the preventing grace of God, which in
fluences his heart and inspires in him the will to
do good, and multiplies it when produced, and
preserves it after having been multiplied. If it is true
that man is not able to do anything good by him
self, and that he is incapable of raising himself up
in any way whatever by his free will for the recep
tion of Divine grace, without the help of that grace,
as is asserted, it does not appear on what ground,
if he sins, he can be punished. For if he is not able
to do anything good of himself, and if he is so con
stituted that he is more inclined to evil than to good,
is he not free from blame if he sins, and is God who
has given to him a nature so weak and subvertible
deserving of praise for having created such a being ?
Or, on the contrary, does it not rather seem that He

LETTER LX 253

merits to be reproached ? " And a little farther on :
" If it were true that man is unable to raise himself
up without the grace of another, in order to receive
the Divine grace, there does not seem to be any
reason wherefore man should be held culpable ; and
it would seem that if he has not the grace of God the
blame should be rather reflected upon his Creator.
But this is not so, but very far otherwise, according
to the truth of the case, for we must lay down that
man is able to embrace that grace which is offered
to him by the reason which has, indeed, been be
stowed upon him by God ; nor does God do any
thing more for a person, who is saved before he has
accepted the grace offered to him, than for another
who is not saved. In fact, God behaves with regard
to men in like manner as a merchant who has
precious stones to sell, who exhibits them in the
market, and offers them equally to all, so that he
may excite in those who view them a desire to pur
chase. He who is prudent, and who knows that he
has need of them, labours to obtain the means, gains
money and purchases them ; on the contrary, he
who is slow and indolent, although he desires to
have the jewels, and although he may be also more
robust in body than the other, because he is indo
lent does not labour, and, therefore, does not pur
chase them, so that the blame for being without
them belongs to himself. Similarly, God puts His
grace before the eyes of all, and advises them in the
Scriptures and by eminent doctors to avail them
selves of their freedom of will to embrace this offered
grace ; certainly he who is prudent and provident
for his future, acts according to his free will, in

254 s- BERNARD'S LETTERS

which he can embrace this grace. But the slothful,
on the contrary, is entangled with carnal desires,
and although he desires to attain blessedness, yet
he is never willing to endure labour in restraining
himself from evil, hut neglects to do what he ought,
although he would be able by his free will to embrace
the grace offered him, and so he finds himself passed
over by the Almighty."

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

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

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

" It should be known that when it is said, Original
sin is in infants, this is spoken of the penalty, tern-

LETTER LX

255

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

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

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

256 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

the negligence of the ministers. As for His Body,
He replaces and preserves it as it pleases Him
to do."

X. — That man is made neither better nor worse by ivorks.

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

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

"There is objected to us the action of the Jews
who have crucified Christ ; that of the men who in
persecuting the Martyrs thought that they were doing

LETTER LX 257

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

XII. — Of the power of binding and loosing.

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

R

258 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

explain this passage also in the same manner in which
I have explained the preceding."

XIII. — Concerning suggestion, delectation, and consent.

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

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

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

LETTER LX 259

LETTER LX (A.D. 1140)

To THE SAME, AGAINST CERTAIN HEADS OF
ABAELARD'S HERESIES.

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

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

260 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

CHAPTER I

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

i. We have in France an old teacher turned into
a new theologian, who in his early days amused
himself with dialectics, and now gives utterance to
wild imaginations upon the Holy Scriptures. He is
endeavouring again to quicken false opinions, long
ago condemned and put to rest, not only his own,
but those of others ; and is adding fresh ones as
well. 1 know not what there is in heaven above
and in the earth beneath which he deigns to confess
ignorance of : he raises his eyes to Heaven, and
searches the deep things of God, and then returning
to us, he brings back unspeakable words which it
is not lawful for a man to utter, while he is pre
sumptuously prepared to give a reason for every
thing, even of those things which are above reason ;
he presumes against reason and against faith. For
what is more against reason than by reason to attempt
to transcend reason ? And what is more against
faith than to be unwilling to believe what reason
cannot attain ? For instance, wishing to explain that
saying of the wise man : He who is hasty to believe is
light in mind (Ecclus. xix. 4). He says that a hasty
faith is one that believes before reason ; when
Solomon says this not of faith towards God, but of
mutual belief amongst ourselves. For the blessed
Pope Gregory denies plainly that faith towards God
has any merit whatever if human reason furnishes
it with proof. But he praises the Apostles, because

LETTER LX 261

they followed their Saviour when called but once
(Horn, in Evang. 26). He knows doubtless that this
word was spoken as praise : At the hearing of the ear
he obeyed me (Ps. xviii. 44), that the Apostles were
directly rebuked because they had been slow in
believing (S. Mark xvi. 14). Again, Mary is praised
because she anticipated reason by faith, and Zacharias
punished because he tempted faith by reason (S. Luke
i. 20, 45), and Abraham is commended in that
against hope he believed in hope (Rom. iv. 18).

2. But on the other hand our theologian says :
" What is the use of speaking of doctrine unless
what we wish to teach can be explained so as to
be intelligible ? " And so he promises understanding
to his hearers, even on those most sublime and
sacred truths which are hidden in the very bosom
of our holy faith ; and he places degrees in the
Trinity, modes in the Majesty, numbers in the
Eternity. He has laid down, for example, that God
the Father is full power, the Son a certain kind of
power, the Holy Spirit no power. And that the
Son is related to the Father as force in particular to
force in general, as species to genus, as a thing
formed of material, to matter,1 as man to animal, as
a brazen seal to brass. Did Arius ever go further ?
Who can endure this ? Who would not shut his
ears to such sacrilegious words ? Who does not
shudder at such novel profanities of words and
ideas ? He says also that " the Holy Spirit pro
ceeds indeed from the Father and the Son, but
not from the substance of the Father or of the
Son." Whence then ? Perhaps from nothing, like

1 Materiatum ; tnateria.

262 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

everything created. But the Apostle does not deny
that they are of God, nor is he afraid to say : Of
whom are all things (Rom. xi. 36). Shall we say then
that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the
Son in no other way than all things do, that is, that
He exists not essentially but by way of creation, and
is therefore a creature like all other things. Or will
this man, who is always seeking after new things,
who invents what he does not find, affirms those
things which are not, as though they are, will he
find for himself some third way, in which he may
produce Him from the Father and the Son ? But,
he says, " if He were of the substance of the Father,
He would surely have been begotten, and so the
Father would have two Sons." As though every
thing which is from any substance has always as its
father that from which it is. For lice and phlegm
and such things, are they sons of the flesh, and not
rather of the substance of the flesh ? Or worms
produced by rotten wood, whence derive they their
substance but from the wood ? yet are they not sons
of the wood. Again, moths have their substance
from the substance of garments, but not their gene
ration. And there are many instances of this kind.

3. Since he admits that the Holy Spirit is consub-
stantial with the Father and the Son, I wonder how an
acute and learned man (as at least he thinks himself)
can yet deny that He proceeds in substance from the
Father and the Son, unless perchance he thinks that the
two first persons proceed from the substance of the
third. But this is an impious and unheard of opinion.
But if neither He proceeds from their substance, nor
They from His, where, I pray, is the consubstanti-

LETTER LX 263

ality ? Let him then either confess with the Church
that the Holy Spirit is of their substance, from whom
He does not deny that He proceeds, or let him with
Arius deny His consubstantiality, and openly preach
His creation. Again he says, if the Son is of the
substance of the Father, the Holy Spirit is not ; they
must differ from each other, not only because the
Holy Spirit is not begotten, as the Son is, but also
because the Son is of the substance of the Father,
which the Holy Spirit is not. Of this last distinction
the Catholic Church has hitherto known nothing. If
we admit it, where is the Trinity ? where is the
Unity ? If the Holy Spirit and the Son are really
separated by this new enumeration of differences,
and if the Unity is split up, then especially let it be
made plain that that distinction which he is endea
vouring to make is a difference of substance. More
over, if the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the
substance of the Father and the Son, no Trinity
remains, but a duality. For no Person is worthy to
be admitted into the Trinity whose substance is not
the same as that of the others. Let him, therefore,
cease to separate the procession of the Holy Spirit
from the substance of the Father and the Son, lest
by a double impiety he both take away number from
the Trinity and attribute it to the Unity, each of
which the Christian faith abhors. And, lest I seem
in so great a matter to depend on human reasonings
only, let him read the letter of Jerome to Avitus, and
he will plainly see, that amongst the other blasphe
mies of Origen which he confutes, he also rejects
this one, that, as he said, the Holy Spirit is not of
the substance of the Father. The blessed Athanasius

264 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

thus speaks in his book on the Undivided Trinity :
" When I spoke of God alone I meant not the Person
only of the Father, because I denied not that the
Son and the Holy Spirit are of this same Substance
of the Father."

CHAPTER II

In the Trinity it is not possible to admit any disparity : but
equality in every way to be predicated.

4. Your holiness sees how in this man's scheme,
which is not reasoning but raving,1 the Trinity does
not hold together and the Unity is rendered doubt
ful, and that this cannot be without injury to the
Majesty. For whatever That is which is God, it is
without doubt That than which nothing greater can
be conceived.2 If, then, in this One and Supreme
Majesty we have found anything that is insufficient
or imperfect in our consideration of the Persons, or
if we have found that what is assigned to one is taken
from another, the whole is surely less than That, than
which nothing greater can be conceived. For indu
bitably the greatest which is a whole is greater than
that which consists of parts. That man thinks
worthily, as far as man can, of the Divine Majesty
who thinks of no inequality in It where the whole is
supremely great ; of no separation where the whole
is one ; of no chasm where the whole is undivided ;
in short, of no imperfection or deficiency where the
whole is a whole. For the Father is a whole, as are

1 Non disputante, sed dementante.

2 Anselm greatly approves this idea respecting God in his Monologium
and his Apologetictis at the commencement.

LETTER LX 265

the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit ; the Son is
a whole, as are He Himself and the Father and the
Holy Spirit ; the Holy Spirit is a whole, as are
He Himself and the Father and the Son. And
the whole Unity is a whole neither superabound-
ing in the Three, nor diminished in Each Per
son. For they do not individually divide between
Them that real and highest Good which they are,
since they do not possess It in the way of participa
tion, but are essentially the very Good. For those
phrases which we most rightly use, as One from
Another, or One to Another, are designations of the
Persons, not division of the Unity. For although in
this ineffable and incomprehensible essence of the
Deity we can, by the requirements of the properties
of the Persons, say One and Another in a sober and
Catholic sense, yet there is not in the essence One
and Another, but simple Unity ; nor in the confession
of the Trinity any derogation to the Unity, nor is the
true assertion of the Unity any exclusion of the pro-
pria of the Persons. May that execrable similitude of
genus and species be accordingly as far from our
minds as it is from the rule of truth. It is not a
similitude, but a dissimilitude, as is also that of brass
and the brazen seal ; for since genus and species are
to each other as higher and lower, while God is One,
there can never be any resemblance between equality
so perfect and disparity so great. And again, with
regard to his illustration of brass, and the brass which
is made into a seal, since it is used for the same kind
of similitude, it is to be similarly condemned. For
since, as I have said, species is less than and inferior
to genus, far be it from us to think of such diversity

266 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

between the Father and the Son. Far be it from us
to agree with him who says that the Son is related to
the Father as species to genus, as man to animal, as
a brazen seal to brass, as force to force absolutely.
For all these several things by the bond of their com
mon nature are to each other as superiors and infe
riors, and therefore no comparison is to be drawn
from these things with That in which there is no ine
quality, no dissimilarity. You see from what unskil-
fulness or impiety the use of these similitudes descends.

CHAPTER III

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

5. Now notice more clearly what he thinks,
teaches, and writes. He says that Power properly
and specially belongs to the Father, Wisdom to the
Son, which, indeed, is false. For the Father both is,
and is most truly called, Wisdom, and the Son Power,
and what is common to Both is not the proprium of
Each singly. There are certainly some other names
which do not belong to Both, but to One or the
Other alone, and therefore His own Name is peculiar
to Each, and not common to the Other. For the
Father is not the Son, nor the Son the Father, for
He is designated by the name of Father, not be
cause He is the Father with regard to Himself,
but with regard to His Son, and in like manner
by the name of Son is expressed not that He is
Son with regard to Himself, but to the Father.

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It is not so with power and many other attributes
which are assigned to the Father and the Son in
common, and not singly to Each taken by Himself.
But he says, " No ; we find that omnipotence belongs
especially to the proprium of the Person of the
Father, because He not only can do all things in
union with the other two Persons, but also because
He alone has His existence from Himself, and
not from Another, and as He has His existence
from Himself, so has He His power." O, second
Aristotle ! By parity of reasoning, if such were
reasoning, would not Wisdom and> Kindness belong
properly to the Father, since equally the Father has
His Wisdom and Kindness from Himself, and not
from another, just as He has His Being and His
Power ? And if he does not deny this, as he cannot
reasonably do, what, I ask, will he do with that
famous partition of his in which, as he has assigned
Power to the Father and Wisdom to the Son, so he
has assigned Loving Kindness to the Holy Spirit
properly and specially ? For one and the same
thing cannot well be the proprium of two, that is,
to be the exclusive property of each. Let him
choose which alternative he will : either let him
give Wisdom to the Son and take It from the
Father, or assign It to the Father and deny It to
the Son ; and again, let him assign Loving Kindness
to the Spirit without the Father, or to the Father
without the Spirit ; or let him cease to call attributes
which are common, propria; and though the Father
has His Power from Himself, yet let him not dare
to concede It to Him as being a proprium, lest on his
own reasoning he be obliged to assign Him Wisdom

268 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

and Loving Kindness which He has in precisely the
same way, as His propria also.

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

7. For why do you fashion for yourself the com-

LETTER LX 269

parison, and with such beating about the bush, apply
it to questions long ago settled and ill-fitted for
debate ? Why do you bring it forward with such
waste of energy, impress it on us with such a useless
multiplicity of words, produce it with such a flourish,
if it does not effect the purpose for which it was
adduced, viz., that the members be harmonized with
each other in fitting proportions ? Is not this a
labour and a toil, to teach us by means of it, the
relation which exists between the Father and the
Son ? We hold according to you, that a man being
given an animal is given, but not conversely, at
least by the rule of your logic ; for by it it is not
that when the genus is given we know the species,
but the species being given we know the genus.
Since, then, you compare the Father to the genus,
the Son to the species, does not the condition
of your comparison postulate, that in like manner,
when the Son is known you declare the Father to be
known and not conversely ; that, as he who is a man
is necessarily an animal, but not conversely, so also,
He who is the Son is necessarily the Father, but not
conversely ? But the Catholic faith contradicts you
on this point, for it plainly denies both, viz., that the
Father is the Son, and that the Son is the Father.
For indubitably the Father is one Person, the Son
another ; although the Father is not of a different
substance from the Son. For by this distinction the
godliness of the Faith knows how to distinguish
cautiously between the propria of the Persons, and
the undivided unity of the Essence ; and holding a
middle course, to go along the royal road, turning
neither to the right by confounding the Persons, nor

270 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

looking to the left by dividing the Substance. But
if you say that it rightly follows as a necessary truth
that He who is the Son is also the Father, this helps
you nothing ; for an identical proposition is neces
sarily capable of being converted in such a way that
what was true of the original proposition is true of
the converse ; and your comparison of genus and
species, or of brass and the brazen seal does not
admit of this. For as it does not follow as a necessary
consequence that the Son is the Father, and the
Father the Son, so neither can we rightly produce a
convertible consequence between man and animal,
and between a brazen seal and brass. For though it
be true to say, " If he is a man he is an animal,"
still the converse is not true, " If he is an animal he
is a man." And again, if we have a brazen seal it
necessarily follows that it is brass ; but if we have
brass it does not necessarily follow that it is a brazen
seal. But now let us proceed to his other points.

8. Lo ! according to him we have omnipotence in
the Father, a certain power in the Son. Let him tell
us also what he thinks of the Holy Spirit. That
loving-kindness, he says, which is denoted by the
name of the Holy Spirit is not in God power or
wisdom (Theol. ii. 1085). / saw Satan as lightning
fall from heaven (S. Luke x. 18). So ought he to fall
who exercises himself in great matters, and in things
that are too high for him. You see, Holy Father,
what ladders, nay what dizzy heights, he has set up
for his own downfall. All power, half power, no
power. I shudder at the very words, and I think
that very horror enough for his confutation. Still, I
will bring forward a testimony which occurs to my

LETTER LX 271

troubled mind, so as to remove the injury done to
the Holy Spirit. We read in Isaiah : The Spirit of
wisdom, the Spirit of ghostly strength (Is. xi. 2). By
this his audacity is plainly and sufficiently answered,
even if it is not crushed. Be it that blasphemy against
the Father or the Son may be forgiven, will blasphemy
against the Spirit ? The Angel of the Lord is waiting
to cut you asunder ; for you have said " The Holy
Spirit in God is not power or wisdom." So the foot
of pride stumbles where it intrudes [where it ought
not].

CHAPTER IV

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

9. It is no wonder if a man who is careless of
what he says should, when rushing into the mysteries
of the Faith, so irreverently assail and tear asunder
the hidden treasures of godliness, since he has neither
piety nor faith in his notions about the piety of faith.
For instance, on the very threshold of his theology (I
should rather say his stultology) he defines faith as
private judgment ; as though in these mysteries it is
to be allowed to each person to think and speak as
he pleases, or as though the mysteries of our faith
are to hang in uncertainty amongst shifting and
varying opinions, when on the contrary they rest on
the solid and unshakable foundation of truth. Is
not our hope baseless if our faith is subject to
change ? Fools then were our martyrs for bearing
so cruel tortures for an uncertainty, and for entering,
without hesitation, on an everlasting exile, through a

272 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

bitter death, when there was a doubt as to the re
compense of their reward. But far be it from us to
think that in our faith or hope anything, as he sup
poses, depends on the fluctuating judgment of the
individual, and that the whole of it does not rest on
sure and solid truth, having been commended by
miracles and revelations from above, founded and
consecrated by the Son of the Virgin, by the Blood
of the Redeemer, by the glory of the risen Christ.
These infallible proofs have been given us in super
abundance. But if not, the Spirit itself, lastly, bears
witness with our spirit that we are the sons of God.
How, then, can any one dare to call faith opinion,
unless it be that he has not yet received that Spirit,
or unless he either knows not the Gospel or thinks it
to be a fable ? I know in whom I have believed, and I
am confident (2 Tim. i. 12), cries the Apostle, and you
mutter in my ears that faith is only an opinion. Do
you prate to me that that is ambiguous than which
there is nothing more certain ? But Augustine says
otherwise : " Faith is not held by any one in whose
heart it is, by conjectures or opinions, but it is sure
knowledge and has the assent of the conscience."
Far be it from us, then, to suppose that the Christian
faith has as its boundaries those opinions of the
Academicians, whose boast it is that they doubt of
everything, and know nothing. But I for my part
walk securely, according to the saying of the teacher
of the Gentiles, and I know that I shall not be con
founded. I am satisfied, I confess, with his definition
of faith, even though this man stealthily accuses it.
Faith, he says, is the substance of things hoped for, the
evidence of things not seen (Heb.xi. i). The substance,

LETTER LX 273

he says, of things hoped for, not a phantasy of empty
conjectures. You hear, that it is a substance ; and
therefore it is not allowed you in our faith, to suppose
or oppose at your pleasure, nor to wander hither and
thither amongst empty opinions, through devious
errors. Under the name of substance something
certain and fixed is put before you. You are en
closed in known bounds, shut in within fixed limits.
For faith is not an opinion, but a certitude.

10. But now notice other points. I pass over his
saying that the spirit of the fear of the Lord was not
in the Lord ; that there will be no holy fear of the
Lord in the world to come ; that after the consecra
tion of the bread and of the cup, the former acci
dents which remain are suspended in the air ; that
the suggestions of devils come to us, as their sagacious
wickedness knows how, by the contact of stones
and herbs ; and that they are able to discern in
such natural objects strength suited to excite various
passions ; that the Holy Spirit is the anima inundi ;
that the world, as Plato says, is so much a more
excellent animal, as it has a better soul in the Holy
Spirit. Here while he exhausts his strength to make
Plato a Christian, he proves himself a heathen. All
these things and his other numerous silly stories of
the same kind I pass by, I come to graver matters.
To answer them all would require volumes. 1 speak
only of those on which 1 cannot keep silence.

274 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

CHAPTER V

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

ii. I find in a book of his sentences, and also in
an exposition of his of the Epistle to the Romans,
that this rash inquirer into the Divine Majesty attacks
the mystery of our Redemption. He admits in the
very beginning of his disputation that there has never
been but one conclusion in our ecclesiastical doctors
on this point, and this he states only to spurn it, and
boasts that he has a better ; not fearing, against the
precept of the Wise Man, To cross the ancient boundaries
which our fathers have marked out (Prov. xxii. 28). It
is needful to know, he says, that all our doctors since
the Apostles agree in this, that the devil had power
and dominion over man, and that he rightly pos
sessed it, because man, by an act of the free will
which he had, voluntarily consented to the devil.
For they say that if any one conquers another, the
conquered rightly becomes the slave of his con
queror. Therefore, he says, as the doctors teach,
the Son of God became incarnate under this neces
sity, that since man could not otherwise be freed,
he might, by the death of an innocent man, be set
free from the yoke of the devil. But as it seems to
us, he says, neither had the devil ever any power
over man, except by the permission of God, as a
jailer might, nor was it to free man that the Son
of God assumed flesh. Which am I to think the

LETTER LX 275

more intolerable in these words, the blasphemy or
the arrogance ? Which is the more to be con
demned, his rashness or his impiety ? Would not
the mouth of him who speaks such things be more
justly beaten with rods than confuted with reasons ?
Does not he whose hand is against every man, rightly
provoke every man's hand to be raised against him ?
All, he says, says so, but so do not I. What, then,
do you say ? What better statement have you ?
What more subtle reason have you discovered ?
WThat more secret revelation do you boast of which
has passed by the Saints and escaped from the wise ?
He, I suppose, will give us secret waters and hidden
bread.

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

276 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

men preach to us than that which you alone deny,
viz., that God became man to free man ? And if an
angel from heaven should preach to us any other
Gospel, let him be anathema.

13. But you do not accept the Doctors since the
Apostles, because you perceive yourself to be a man
above all teachers. For example, you do not blush
to say that all are against you, when they all agree
together. To no purpose, therefore, should I place
before you the faith and doctrine of those teachers
whom you have just proscribed. I will take you to
the Prophets. Under the type of Jerusalem the
prophet speaks, or rather the Lord in the prophet
speads to His chosen people : / will save you and
deliver you , fear not (Wisd. iii. 16). You ask, from
what power ? For you do not admit that the devil
has or ever has had power over man. Neither, I
confess, do I. It is not, however, that he has it not
because you and I wish it not. If you do not con
fess it, you know it not ; they whom the Lord has
redeemed out of the hand of the enemy, they know it
and confess it. And you would by no means deny
it, if you were not under the hand of the enemy.
You cannot give thanks with the redeemed, because
you have not been redeemed. For if you had been
redeemed you would recognize your Redeemer, and
would not deny your redemption. Nor does the
man, who knows not himself to be a captive, seek
to be redeemed. Those who knew it called unto
the Lord, and the Lord heard them, and redeemed
them from the hand of the enemy. And that you
may understand who this enemy is, He says : Those
whom He redeemed from the hand of the enemy He

LETTER LX 277

gathered out of all lands (Ps. cvii. 2, 3). But first,
indeed, recognize Him Who gathered them, of Whom
Caiaphas in the Gospel prophesied, saying that Jesus
should die for the people, and the Evangelist pro
ceeds thus : And not for that nation onfy, but that He
might gather together into one all the children of God
which were scattered abroad (S. John xi. 51, 52).
Whither had they been scattered ? Into all lands.
Therefore those whom He redeemed He gathered
together from all lands. He first redeemed, then
gathered them. For they were not only scattered,
but also taken captive. He redeemed and gathered
them ; but redeemed them from the hand of the
enemy. He does not say of the enemies, but of
the enemy. The enemy was one, the lands many.
Indeed, he gathered them not from one land, but
from the lands, from the east and from the west,
from the north and from the south. What Lord
was there so powerful, who governed not one land
but all lands ? No other, I suppose, than He who
by another prophet is said to drink up a river, that
is, the human race, and not to wonder ; and to trust
that he can also draw up into his mouth Jordan,
i.e., the elect (Job xl. 18). Blessed are they who so
flow in that they can flow out, who so enter that
they can go out.

14. But now perhaps you do not believe the
Prophets, thus speaking with one accord of the
power of the devil over man. Come with me then
to the Apostles. You said, did you not ? that you
do not agree with those who have come since the
Apostles ; may you agree then with the Apostles ;
and perhaps that may happen to you which one of

278 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

them describes, speaking of certain persons : If God,
peradventurc, will give them repentance to the acknowledg
ing of the truth, and that they may recover themselves out
of the snare of the devil, who are taken captive by him at
his will (2 Tim. ii. 25, 26). It is Paul who thus asserts
that men are taken captive by the devil at his will.
Do you hear ? " at his will ; " and do you deny his
power ? But if you do not believe Paul, come now
to the Lord Himself, if perchance you may listen to
Him and be put to silence. By Him the devil is
called the prince of this world (S. John xiv. 30), and
the strong man armed (S. Luke xi. 21), and the pos
sessor of goods (S. Matt. xii. 29), and yet you say that
he has no power over men. Perhaps you think the
house in this place is not to be understood of the
world, nor the goods of men. But if the world is
the house of the devil and men his goods, how can
it be said he has no power over men ? Moreover,
the Lord said to those who took Him : This is your
hour and the power of darkness (S. Luke xxii. 53).
That power did not escape him who said : Who hath
delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath trans
lated us into the kingdom of His dear Son (Col. i. 1 3).
The Lord then neither denied the power of the devil
even over Him, nor that of Pilate, who was a member
of the devil. He said : Thou couldst have no power
against me at all except it were given thee from above
(S. John xix. n). But if that power given from
above so violently raged against the green tree, how
is it that it did not dare to touch the dry ? Nor I
suppose will he say, that it was an unjust power
which was given from above. Let him, therefore,
learn that not only had the devil power over man,

LETTER LX

279

but also a just power, and in consequence let him
see this, that the Son of God came in the flesh to
set man free. But though we say that the power of
the devil was a just one we do not say that his will
was. Whence it is not the devil who usurped the
power, who is just, nor man who deservedly was sub
jected to it ; but the Lord is just, who permitted the
subjection. For any one is called just and unjust,
not from his power but from his will. This power
of the devil over man though not rightly acquired,
but wickedly usurped, was yet justly permitted. And
in this way man was justly taken captive, viz., that
the justice was neither in the devil, nor in man, but
in God.

CHAPTER VI

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

15. Man therefore was lawfully delivered up, but
mercifully set free. Yet mercy was shown in such
a way that a kind of justice was not lacking even in
his liberation, since, as was most fitting for man's
recovery, it was part of the mercy of the liberator
to employ justice rather than power against man's
enemy. For what could man, the slave of sin, fast
bound by the devil, do of himself to recover that
righteousness which he had formerly lost ? There
fore he who lacked righteousness had another's im
puted to him, and in this way : The prince of this
world came and found nothing in the Saviour, and
because he notwithstanding laid hands on the Inno-

280 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

cent he lost most justly those whom he held captive ;
since He who owed nothing to death, lawfully freed
him who was subject to it, both from the debt of
death, and the dominion of the devil, by accepting
the injustice of death ; for with what justice could
that be exacted from man a second time ? It was man
who owed the debt, it was man who paid it. For if
one, says S. Paul, died for all, then were all dead (2
Cor. v. 14), so that, as One bore the sins of all, the
satisfaction of One is imputed to all. It is not that
one forfeited,1 another satisfied ; the Head and body
is one, viz., Christ. The Head, therefore, satisfied for
the members, Christ for His children, since, according
to the Gospel of Paul, by which Peter's2 falsehood is
refuted, He who died for us, quickened us together with
Himself, forgiving us all our trespasses, blotting out the
handwriting of ordinances that was against us, and took
it out of the way, nailing it to His cross, having spoiled
principalities and powers (Col. ii. 13, 14).

16. May I be found amongst those spoils of which
the opposing powers were deprived, and be handed
over into the possession of my Lord. If Laban pursue
me and reproach me for having left him by stealth,

1 Forefecit, i.e., offended or transgressed. FWisfactltrtt or forefactum
denoted the crime or offence : and the former word is also used to signify
the penalty of a crime. Forisfactus is the criminal himself. Servus foris-
faftus is a free man who has been reduced to slavery as a punishment for
crime (Legibus A the Is tan. Reg. c. 3). From this word is the French for-
faire, forfait ; and the English forfeit, forfeiture.

It will be seen that the word is a legal term adopted into the language
of theology. The earliest instance of its use is apparently in the Glossa
of Isidore.

See Du Cange's Glossary s.v. Forisfacerc. Forcellini's ed. of Facciolati
does not give the word. — [E.]

2 i.e., Abaelard.

LETTER LX 281

he shall be told that I came to him by stealth, and
therefore so left him. The secret power of sin sub
jected me, the hidden plan of righteousness freed
me from him ; or I will reply, that if I was sold for
nothing shall I not be freely redeemed ? If Asshur
has reproached me without cause, he has no right to
demand the cause of my escape. But if he says,
"Your father sold you into captivity," I will reply,
" But my Brother redeemed me." Why should not
righteousness come to me from another when guilt
came upon me from another ? One made me a
sinner, the other justifies me from sin ; the one by
generation, the other by His blood. Shall there be
sin in the seed of the sinner and not righteousness in
the blood of Christ ? But he will say, " Let righteous
ness be whose it may, it is none of yours." Be it so.
But let guilt also be whose it may, it is none of mine.
Shall the righteousness of the righteous be upon him, and
the wickedness of the wicked not be upon him ? It is not
fitting for the son to bear the iniquity of the father,
and yet to have no share in the righteousness of his
brother. But now by man came death, by Man also
came life. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ
shall all be made alive (i Cor. xv. 21, 22). I attain to
one and to the other in the same way : to the one by
the flesh, to the other by faith. And if from the one
I was infected with concupiscence from my birth, by
Christ spiritual grace was infused into me. What
more does this hired advocate bring against me ?
If he urges generation, I oppose regeneration ; and
add that the former is but carnal, while the latter is
spiritual. Nor does equity suffer that they fight as
equals, but the higher nature is the more efficacious

282 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

cause, and therefore the spirit must necessarily over
come the flesh. In other words, the second birth is
so much the more beneficial as the first was baneful.
The offence, indeed, came to me, but so did grace ;
and not as the offence so also is the free gift ; for the
judgment was by one to condemnation, but the free gift
is of many offences unto justification (Rom. v. 16). From
the first man flowed down the offence, from the
highest heaven came down the free gift : both from
our father, one from our first father, the other from
the Supreme Father. My earthly birth destroys me,
and does not my heavenly much more save me ?
And I am not afraid of being rejected by the Father
of lights when I have been rescued in this way from
the power of darkness, and justified through His
grace by the blood of His Son: It is God that justi-
fieth, who is he that condemneth ? He who had mercy
on the sinner will not condemn the righteous; I mean
that I am righteous, but it is in His righteousness, for
Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one
that believeth (Rom. x. 4). In short, He was made our
righteousness by God the Father (i Cor. i. 30). Is not
that righteousness mine which was made for me ? If
my guilt was inherited, why should not my righteous
ness be accorded to me ? And, truly, what is given
me is safer than what was born in me. For this,
indeed, has whereof to glory, but not before God ;
but that, since it is effectual to my salvation, has
nothing whereof to glory save in the Lord. For if I
be righteous, says Job, yet will I not lift up my head
(Job x. 15), lest I receive the answer : What hast thou
that thou didst not receive ? now if thou didst receive it,
why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received it?
(i Cor. iv. 7).

LETTER LX 283

CHAPTER VII

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

17. This is the righteousness of man in the blood
of the Redeemer : which this son of perdition, by his
scoffs and insinuations, is attempting to render vain ;
so much so, that he thinks and argues that the whole
fact that the Lord of Glory emptied Himself, that He
was made lower than the angels, that He was born of
a woman, that He lived in the world, that He made
trial of our infirmities, that He suffered indignities,
that at last He returned to His own place by the way
of the Cross, that all this is to be reduced to one
reason alone, viz., that it was done merely that He
might give man by His life and teaching a rule of life,
and by His suffering and death might set before him
a goal of charity. Did He, then, teach righteousness
and not bestow it ? Did He show charity and not
infuse it, and did He so return to His heaven ? Is
this, then, the whole of the great mystery of godliness,
which was manifested in the flesh, justified in the Spirit,
seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in
the world, received up into glory (i Tim. iii. 16). O,
incomparable doctor ! he lays bare to himself the
deep things of God, he makes them clear and easy
to every one, and by his false teaching he so renders
plain and evident the most lofty sacrament of grace,
the mystery hidden from the ages, that any uncircum-
cised and unclean person can lightly penetrate to the

284 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

heart of it : as though the wisdom of God knew not
how to guard or neglected to guard against what Itself
forbade, but had Itself given what is holy to the dogs
and cast its pearls before swine. But it is not so.
For though it was manifested in the flesh, yet it was
justified in the Spirit : so that spiritual things are
bestowed upon spiritual men, and the natural man
does not perceive the things which are of the Spirit
of God. Nor does our faith consist in wisdom of
words but in the power of God. And, therefore, the
Saviour says : / thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven
and earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the
wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes
(S. Matt. xi. 25). And the Apostle says : If our Gospel
be hid, it is hid to them that are lost (2 Cor. iv. 3).

18. But see this man scoffing at the things which
are of the Spirit of God, because they seem to him
folly, and insulting the Apostle who speaks the hidden
wisdom of God in a mystery, inveighing against the
Gospel and even blaspheming the Lord. How much
more prudent would he be if he would deign to be
lieve what he has no power to comprehend, and
would not dare to despise or tread under foot this
sacred and holy mystery ! It is a long task to reply
to all the follies and calumnies which he charges
against the Divine counsel. Yet I take a few, from
which the rest may be estimated. " Since," he says,
" Christ set free the elect only, how were they more
than now, whether in this world or the next, under
the power of the devil?" I answer: It was just
because they were under the power of the devil, by
whom, says the Apostle, they were taken captive at his
will (2 Tim. ii. 26), that there was need of a liberator

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285

in order that the purpose of God concerning them
might be fulfilled. But it behoved Him to set them
free in this world, that He might have them as free-
born sons in the next. Then he rejoins : " Well, did
the devil also torture the poor man who was in the
bosom of Abraham as he did the rich man who was
condemned, or had he power over Abraham himself
and the rest of the elect ? " No, but he would have had
if they had not been set free by their faith in a future
Deliverer, as of Abraham it is written : Abraham be
lieved God, and it ivas counted unto him for righteousness
(Gen. xv. 6). Again : Abraham rejoiced to see My day,
and he saw it and was glad (§. John viii. 56). There
fore even then the Blood of Christ was bedewing
Lazarus, that he might not feel the flames, because he
had believed on Him who should suffer. So are we
to think of all the saints of that time, that they were
born just as ourselves under the power of darkness,
because of original sin, but rescued before they died,
and that by nothing else but the blood of Christ. For
it is written : The multitudes that went before and that
followed, cried saying, Hosanna to the Son of David,
Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord
(S. Matt. xxi. 9). Therefore blessing was given to
Christ coming in the flesh, both before He came and
afterwards, by multitudes of those who had been
blessed by Him, although those who went before did
not obtain a full blessing, this, of course, having been
kept as the prerogative of the time of grace.

286 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

CHAPTER VIII

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

19. Then he labours to teach and persuade us that
the devil could not and ought not to have claimed for
himself any right over man, except by the permission
of God, and that, without doing any injustice to the
devil, God could have called back His deserter, if He
wished to show him mercy, and have rescued him by
a word only, as though any one denies this ; then
after much more he proceeds : " And so what neces
sity, or what reason, or what need was there, when
the Divine compassion by a simple command could
have freed man from sin, for the Son of God to take
flesh for our redemption, to suffer so many and such
great privations, scorn, scourgings, and spittings on,
in short, the pain and ignominy of the cross itself,
and that with evil doers ? " I reply : The necessity
was ours, the hard necessity of those sitting in dark
ness and the shadow of death. The need, equally
ours, and God's, and the Holy Angels ! Ours, that
He might remove the yoke of our captivity ; His own,
that He might fulfil the purpose of His will ; the
Angels', that their number might be filled up. Further,
the reason of this deed was the good pleasure of the
Doer. Who denies that there were ready for the
Almighty other and yet other ways to redeem us, to
justify us, to set us free ? But this takes nothing from
the efficacy of the one which He chose out of many.
And, perhaps, the greatest excellence of the way chosen

LETTER LX 287

is that in a land of forgetfulness, of slowness of spirit,
and of constant offending, we are more forcibly and
more vividly warned by so many and such great suffer
ings of our Restorer. Beyond that no man knows,
nor can know to the full, what treasures of grace,
what harmony with wisdom, what increase of glory,
what advantages for salvation the inscrutable depth of
this holy mystery contains within itself, that mystery
which the Prophet when considering trembled at, but
did not penetrate (Habak. iii. 2 in LXX.), and which the
forerunner of the Lord thought himself unworthy to
unloose (S. John i. 27).

20. But though it is not allowed us to scrutinize the
mystery of the Divine Will, yet we may feel the effect
of its work and perceive the fruit of its usefulness.
And what we may know we may not keep to ourselves,
for to conceal their word is to give glory to kings,
but God is glorified by our investigating His sayings.
[Prov. xxv. 2. But the sense of the text is the reverse
of this.] Faithful is the saying and worthy of all ac
ceptation, that while we were yet sinners we were recon
ciled to God by the death of His Son (Rom. v. 10).
" Where there is reconciliation there is also remission
of sins. For if, as the Scripture says, our sins separate
between us and God" (Is. lix. 2), there is no reconcilia
tion while sin remains. In what, then, is remission
of sins ? This cup, He says, is tJie new testament in My
Blood which shall be shed for you for the remission of sins
(S. Matt. xxvi. 28). Therefore where there is recon
ciliation there is remission of sins. And what is that
but justification ? Whether, therefore, we call it
reconciliation, or remission of sins, or justification,
or, again, redemption, or liberation from the chains

288 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

of the devil, by whom we were taken captive at his
will, at all events by the death of the Only Begotten,
we obtain that we have been justified freely by His
blood, in whom, as S. Paul says again, we have redemp
tion through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according
to the riches of His grace (Eph. i. 7). You say, Why by
His blood when He could have wrought it by His
Word? Ask Himself. It is only allowed me to know
that it is so, not why it is so. Shall the thing formed
say to Him that formed it, " Why hast Thou made me
thus ? "

21. But these things seem to him foolishness, he
cannot restrain his laughter ; listen to his jeering.
" Why does the Apostle say," he asks, " that we are
justified, or reconciled to God by the death of His
Son, when He ought to have been the more angry
with man, as he sinned more deeply in crucifying His
Son, than in transgressing His first command by tast
ing of the apple ? " As if the iniquity of the malignant
were not able to displease, and the godliness of the
sufferer to please God, and that in one and the same
act. " But," he replies, " if that sin of Adam was
so heinous that it could not be expiated but by the
death of Christ, what expiation shall suffice for that
homicide which was perpetrated upon Christ ? " I
answer in two words, That very Blood which they
shed, and the prayer of Him whom they slew. He
asks again : "Did the death of His innocent Son so
please God the Father that by it He was reconciled to
us, who had committed such a sin in Adam, that be
cause of it our innocent Lord was slain ? Would He
not have been able to forgive us much more easily if
so heinous a sin had not been committed ? " It was

LETTER LX 289

not His death alone that pleased the Father, but His
voluntary surrender to death ; and by that death de
stroying death, working salvation, restoring innocence,
triumphing over principalities and powers, spoiling
hell, enriching heaven, making peace between things
in heaven and things on earth, and renewing all things.
And since this so precious death to be voluntarily
submitted to against sin could not take place except
through sin, He did not indeed delight in, but He
made good use of, the malice of the wrong-doers, and
found the means to condemn death and sin by the
death of His Son, and the sin [of those who con
demned Him]. And the greater their iniquity, the
more holy His will, and the more powerful to salva
tion ; because, by the interposition of so great a power,
that ancient sin, however great, would necessarily give
way to that committed against Christ, as the less to the
greater. Nor is this victory to be ascribed to the sin
or to the sinners, but to Him who extracted good from
their sin, and who bore bravely with the sinners, and
turned to a godly purpose whatever the cruelty of the
impious ventured on against Himself.

22. Thus the Blood which was shed was so power
ful for pardoning that it blotted out that greatest sin
of all, by which it came to pass that it was shed; and,
therefore, left no doubt whatever about the blotting
out of that ancient and lighter sin. Thus he rejoins :
" Is there any one to whom it does not seem cruel and
unjust, that any one should require the blood of an
innocent man as the price of some thing, or that the
death of an innocent man should in any way give him
pleasure, not to say that God should hold so acceptable
the death of His Son as by it to be reconciled to the

T

290 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

whole world ? " God the Father did not require the
Blood of His Son, but, nevertheless, He accepted it
when offered ; it was not blood He thirsted for, but
salvation, for salvation was in the blood. He died, in
short, for our salvation, and not for the mere exhibi
tion of charity, as this man thinks and writes. For he
so concludes the numerous calumnies and reproaches,
which he as impiously as ignorantly belches out against
God, as to say that " the whole reason why God ap
peared in the flesh was for our education by His word
and example," or, as he afterwards says, for our in
struction; that the whole reason why He suffered and
died was to exhibit or commend to us charity.

CHAPTER IX

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

23. But what profits it that He should instruct us if
He did not first restore us by His grace ? Or are we
not in vain instructed if the body of sin is not first
destroyed in us, that we should no more serve sin ?
If all the benefit that we derive from Christ consists in
the exhibition of His virtues, it follows that Adam must
be said to harm us only by the exhibition of sin. But
in truth the medicine given was proportioned to the
disease. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall
all be made alive (i Cor. xv. 22). As is the one, so is
the other. If the life which Christ gives is nothing
else but His instruction, the death which Adam gave
is in like manner only his instruction ; so that the one

LETTER LX 291

by his example leads men to sin, the other by His
example and His Word leads them to a holy life and
to love Him. But if we rest in the Christian faith,
and not in the heresy of Pelagius, and confess that by
generation and not by example was the sin of Adam
imparted to us, and by sin death, let us also confess
that it is necessary for righteousness to be restored to
us by Christ, not by instruction, but by regeneration,
and by righteousness life (Rom. v. 18). And if this
be so, how can Peter say that the only purpose and
cause of the Incarnation was that He might enlighten
the world by the light of His wisdom and inflame
it with love of Him ? Where, then, is redemption ?
There come from Christ, as he deigns to confess,
merely illumination and enkindling to love. Whence
come redemption and liberation ?

24. Grant that the coming of Christ profits only
those who are able to conform their lives to His, and
to repay to Him the debt of love, what about babes ?
What light of wisdom will he give to those who have
barely seen the light of life ? Whence will they gain
power to ascend to God who have not even learned
to love their mothers ? Will the coming of Christ
profit them nothing ? Is it of no avail to them that
they have been planted together with Him by baptism
in the likeness of His death, since through the weak
ness of their age they are not able to know of, or to
love, Christ ? Our redemption, he says, consists in
that supreme love which is inspired in us by the
passion of Christ. Therefore, infants have no redemp
tion because they have not that supreme love. Perhaps
he holds that as they have no power to love, so neither
have they necessity to perish, that they have no need

292 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

to be regenerated in Christ because they have received
no damage from their generation from Adam. If
he thinks this, he thinks foolishness with Pelagius.
Whichever of these two opinions he holds, his ill-will
to the sacrament of our salvation is evident ; and in
attributing the whole of our salvation to devotion, and
nothing of it to regeneration, it is evident too that, as
far as he can, he would empty of meaning the dispen
sation of this deep mystery ; for he places the glory of
our redemption and the great work of salvation, not
in the virtue of the Cross, not in the blood paid as its
price, but in our advances in a holy life. But God
forbid that I should glory save in the Cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ (Gal. vi. 14), in which are our salvation,
life, and resurrection.

25. And, indeed, I see three chief virtues in this
work of our salvation : the form of humility in which
God emptied Himself ; the measure of charity which
He stretched out even to death, and that the death of
the Cross ; the mystery of redemption, by which He
bore that death which He underwent. The former
two of these without the last are as if you were to
paint on the air. A very great and most necessary
example of humility, a great example of charity, and
one worthy of all acceptation, has He set us ; but they
have no foundation, and, therefore, no stability, if re
demption be wanting. I wish to follow with all my
strength the lowly Jesus ; I wish Him, who loved me
and gave Himself for me, to embrace me with the
arms of His love, which suffered in my stead; but I
must also feed on the Paschal Lamb, for unless I eat
His Flesh and drink His Blood I have no life in me.
It is one thing to follow Jesus, another to hold Him,

LETTER LX 293

another to feed on Him. To follow Him is a life-giving
purpose ; to hold and embrace Him a solemn joy ;
to feed on Him a blissful life. For His flesh is meat
indeed, and His blood is drink indeed. The bread of God
is He who cometh down from Heaven and giveth life to
the world (S. John vi. 56, 33). What stability is there
for joy, what constancy of purpose, without life ?
Surely no more than for a picture without a solid
basis. Similarly neither the examples of humility nor
the proofs of charity are anything without the sacrament
of our redemption.

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

294 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

LETTER LXI (A.D. 1138)
To Louis THE YOUNGER, KING OF THE FRENCH.

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

i. If the whole world were to conjure me to join it
in some enterprise against your royal Majesty, I should
still through fear of God not dare lightly to offend a
King ordained by Him. Nor am I ignorant who it is
that has said, Whosoever resisteth the power resisteth the
ordinance of God (Rom. xiii. 2). Nor yet do I forget
how contrary is lying to the Christian calling and still
more so to my profession. I say the truth, I lie not ;
what was done at Langres in the matter of our Prior l
was contrary to my expectation and my intention and
that of the Bishops. But there is One who knows
how to gain the assent of the unwilling, and who
compels, as He wills, the adverse wills of man to
subserve His counsel. Why should I not fear for
him whom I love as my own soul, that danger which
I have ever feared for myself ? Why should I not
shrink from the companionship of those who bind
heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them
on men's shoulders, but they themselves will not move
them with one of their fingers ? Still, what has been
done, has been done ; nothing against you, very much

1 This refers to Geoffrey, Bernard's kinsman, who after many disagree
ments had been at length unanimously taken from being third Prior of
Clairvaux to be Bishop of Langres, A.D. 1138.

LETTER LXI 295

against me. The staff of my weakness has been taken
from me, the light of mine eyes removed from me, my
right arm cut off. All these waves and storms have
gone over me. Wrath has swallowed me up, and on
no side do I see any way to escape. When I fly from
burdens, then I have them placed upon me to my
great discomfort. I feel that it is hard for me to kick
against the pricks. It would perhaps have been more
tolerable for a willing horse than for one that is restive
and obstinate. For if there were any strength in me,
would it not be easier for me to bear these burdens on
my own shoulders than on those of others ?

2. But I yield to Him that disposeth otherwise, to
contend with whom in wisdom or strength is neither
prudent nor possible for either me or the King. He
is, indeed, terrible among the kings of the earth. It is
a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God,
even for you, O King. How grieved have I been to
hear things of you so contrary to the fair promise of
your early days ! How much more bitter will be the
grief of the Church, after having tasted first of such
great joys, if, which God forbid, she shall chance to
be deprived of her pleasant hope of protection under
the shield of your good disposition, which up to the
present has been held over her. Alas ! the Virgin, the
Church of Rheims, has fallen,1 and there is none to
lift her up. Langres, too, has fallen, and there is none
to stretch out the hand to help. May the goodness of
God divert your heart and mind from adding yet more
to our grief, and from heaping sorrow upon sorrow.
Would that I may die before seeing a king of whom

1 This was after the death of Archbishop Reginald, which happened
A.n. 1139, on January I3th.

296 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

good things were thought, and still better hoped for,
endeavouring to go against the counsel of God, stirring
up against himself the anger of the supreme Judge,
bedewing the feet of the Father of the fatherless with
the tears of the afflicted, knocking at heaven's door
with the cries of the poor, the prayers of the saints,
and with the just complaints of Christ's beloved Bride,
the Church of the living God. May all this never
happen. I hope for better things, and expect things
more joyful. God will not forget to be gracious, nor
shut up His loving kindness in displeasure. He will
not make His Church sad through him, and because
of him, by whom He has already made her so much
to rejoice. By His long-suffering He will preserve
him whom He freely gave us, and if you think any
thing otherwise, this also He will reveal to you, and
will teach your heart in wisdom. This is my wish,
this is my prayer night and day. Think this of me,
think it of my brethren. The truth shall not be sinned
against by us, nor the King's honour and the good of
his kingdom diminished.

3. We give thanks to your clemency for the kindly
answer which you deigned to send us. But still we
are terrified to delay, as we see the land given over to
plunder and robbery. The land is yours ; and we
plainly see and mourn the disgrace brought on your
kingdom by your orders that we should abstain from
our rights, inasmuch as there is no one to defend them.
For in what else that has been done can the king's
majesty be truly said to have been diminished ? The
election was duly held ; the person elected is faithful,
which he would not be if he wished to hold your lands
otherwise than through you. He has not yet stretched

LETTER LXII 297

out his hand to your lands, he has not yet entered your
city, he has not yet put himself forward in any affair,
though most earnestly pressed to do so by the united
voice of clergy and people, by the oppression of the
afflicted, and by the prayers of all good men. And
since this is the state of affairs there is, you see, need
for counsel to be quickly taken, not less for the sake of
your honour than our necessity. And unless your
Serenity give answer according to their petition, by
the messengers who bring this, to your faithful people
who look to you, the hearts of many religious men
who are now devoted to you will be turned against
you (which would not be expedient), and I fear that
no little loss will accrue to the regalia belonging to the
Church, which yet are yours.

LETTER LXII (A.D. 1139)
To POPE INNOCENT.

On behalf of Falco, Archbishop elect of Lyons.

I think that I, who have so many times been listened
to in the affairs of others, shall not be confounded in
my own. I, my lord, hold the cause of my Archbishop
to be my own, being a member of him, and knowing
that there is nothing that affects the head but what
touches me, which, nevertheless, I would not say if
the man had taken this honour to himself, and had not
been called by God, as was Moses. Nor can I think
that it was the work of any but Him that the votes of
so many men were so readily given him, that there

298 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

was not even any hesitation, still less opposition. And
deservedly so. He is distinguished not only for his
high birth, but also for the nobility of his mind, for
his knowledge, and his irreproachable life. In short,
the integrity of his name fears not the tooth even of a
foe. What, therefore, has been so done for so good a
man is surely worthy to obtain the favour of the
Apostolic See, the fulness of honour, which is the
only thing now lacking, to increase the joy of its
people that has grown accustomed to its kindness, or,
I may say, to the liberality which he has fully deserved.
This is what the whole Church, with most earnest
supplication, implores ; this is what your son, with
his usual presumption, entreats of you.

LETTER LXIII (A.D. 1139)

To THE SAME, IN THE NAME OF GODFREY, BISHOP
OF LANG RES.

He expresses the same thought as in the preceding Letter.

Amidst the numerous evils which nowadays are
seen in the churches on the occasion of elections the
Lord hath looked down from heaven upon our Mother
Church of Lyons, and has without strife given it a
worthy successor to Peter of pious memory, its Arch
bishop, in the person of Falco, its Dean. I ask, my
lord, that he who has been unanimously elected by his
fellows, promoted for the good of all, and duly con
secrated, may receive at your hands the fulness of
honour that belongs to his office. And what makes

LETTER LXIV 299

me seek this is not so much consciousness of his
merits, but of my duty — duty laid upon me not only
by the metropolitan dignity of that Church, but
because I am placed in this position in order that
I may bear my testimony to the truth.

LETTER LXIV (A.D. 1139)

TO THE ABOVE-NAMED FALCO.
Bernard recommends to him the interests of certain Religious.

The Lord Bishop and I have written, as we thought
we ought to do, to my lord the Pope on your behalf,
and you have a copy of your letters. It is our deter
mination to stand by you with all our might, because
of the good which we hope for from you for the
Church. It concerns you so to act that we may not
be disappointed of our hope. For the rest, if I have
found favour in your sight I pray you think of those
poor and needy ones at the house of Benissons Dieu.1
Whatsoever you do to one of them you will do to me,
nay, to Christ. For they are both poor, and they live
amongst the poor. I especially implore you to prevent
the monks of Savigny from molesting them, for they
are calumniating them unjustly, as I consider. Or if
they think that they have justice on their side, judge
between them. I ask also that my son, Abbot Alberic,

1 Benissons Dieu was a Cistercian Abbey, an offshoot of Clairvaux, in
the Diocese of Lyons, and was founded A.D. 1138. Alberic was its first
Abbot. Not far from it was the monastery of Savigny, of the order of S.
Benedict, in the same diocese. Its Abbot was Iterius, of whom Bernard
here complains.

300 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

though well deserving of your favour through his own
merits, may still be in even greater regard through my
recommendation. For I love him tenderly, as a
mother loves her only child, and he that loveth me
will love him. In fact, I shall find out whether you
care for me by the way you treat him. For the farther
he is away from me the more necessary is it that he
should have consolation from your fatherly care.

LETTER XLV (circa A.D. 1140)

To THE CANONS OF LYONS, ON THE CONCEPTION
OF S. MARY.

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

i. It is well known that among all the Churches of
France that of Lyons is first in importance, whether
we regard the dignity of its See, its praiseworthy
regulations, or its honourable zeal for learning. Where
was there ever the vigour of discipline more flourish
ing, a more grave and religious life, more consummate
wisdom, a greater weight of authority, a more impos
ing antiquity ? Especially in the Offices of the Church,
that of Lyons has always shown itself opposed to
attempts at sudden innovation, and it is a proof of her
fulness of judgment that she has never suffered herself
to be stained with the mark of rash and hasty levity.

LETTER LXV 301

Wherefore I cannot but wonder that there should have
been among you at this time some who wished to
sully this splendid fame of your Church by introduc
ing a new Festival, a rite which the Church knows
nothing of, and which reason does not prove, nor
ancient tradition hand down to us. Have we the pre
tension to be more learned or more devoted than the
Fathers ? It is a dangerous presumption to establish
in such a matter what their prudence left unestablished.
And the matter in question is of such a nature that it
could not possibly have escaped the diligence of the
Fathers if they had not thought that they ought not to
occupy themselves with it.

2. The Mother of the Lord, you say, ought greatly
to be honoured. You say well, but the honour of a
queen loves justice. The royal Virgin does not need
false honour, since she is amply supplied with true
titles to honour and badges of her dignity. Honour
indeed the purity of her flesh, the sanctity of her life,
wonder at her motherhood as a virgin, adore her
Divine offspring. Extol the prodigy by which she
brought into the world without pain the Son, whom
she had conceived without concupiscence. Proclaim
her to be reverenced by the angels, to have been
desired by the nations, to have been known before
hand by Patriarchs and Prophets, chosen by God out
of all women and raised above them all. Magnify
her as the medium by whom grace was displayed, the
instrument of salvation, the restorer of the ages ; and
finally extol her as having been exalted above the
choirs of angels to the celestial realms. These things
the Church sings concerning her, and has taught me
to repeat the same things in her praise, and what I

302 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

have learnt from the Church I both hold securely
myself and teach to others ; what I have not received
from the Church I confess I should with great diffi
culty admit. I have received then from the Church
that day to be reverenced with the highest veneration,
when being taken up from this sinful earth, she made
entry into the heavens ; a festival of most honoured
joy. With no less clearness have I learned in the
Church to celebrate the birth of the Virgin, and from
the Church undoubtedly to hold it to have been holy
and joyful ; holding most firmly with the Church,
that she received in the womb that she should come
into the world holy. And indeed I read concerning
Jeremiah, that before he came forth from the womb
\yentre : otherwise de vulva] he was sanctified, and I
think no otherwise of John the Baptist, who, himself
in the womb of his mother, felt the presence of his
Lord in the womb (S. Luke i. 41). It is matter for
consideration whether the same opinion may not be
held of holy David, on account of what he said in
addressing God : In Thee I have been strengthened
from the womb : Thou art He who took me out of my
mother's bowels (Ps. Ixxi. 6) ; and again : / was cast
upon Thee from the womb : Thou art my God from my
mother s belly (Ps. xxii. 10). And Jeremiah is thus
addressed : Before I formed tJiee in the belly I knew
thee ; and before thou earnest out of the womb I sanctified
thee (Jer. i. 5). How beautifully the Divine oracle has
distinguished between conception in the womb and
birth from the womb ! and showed that if the one
was foreseen only, the other was blessed beforehand
with the gift of holiness: that no one might think that
the glory of Jeremiah consisted only in being the

LETTER LXV 303

object of the foreknowledge of God, but also of His
predestination.

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

304 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

of whom an angel singularly said, and many shall
rejoice in his birth (S. Luke i. 14, 15), and with rejoicing
honours his nativity. For why should not the birth
be holy, and even glad and joyful, of one who leaped
with joy even in the womb of his mother ?

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

5. What addition can possibly be made to these
honours ? That her conception, also, they say, which
preceded her honourable birth, should be honoured,
since if the one had not first taken place, neither
would the other, which is honoured. But what if
some one else, following a similar train of reasoning,
should assert that the honours of a festival ought to
be given to each of her parents, then to her grand-

LETTER LXV 305

parents, and then to their parents, and so on ad
infinitum ? Thus we should have festivals without
number. Such a frequency of joys befits Heaven, not
this state of exile. It is the happy lot of those who
dwell there, not of strangers and pilgrims. But a
writing is brought forward, given, as they say, by
revelation from on high,1 as if any one would not be
able to bring forward another writing in which the
Virgin should seem to demand the same honours to
her parents also, saying, according to the command
ment of the Lord, Honour thy father and thy mother
(Exod. xx. 12). I easily persuade myself not to be
influenced by such writings, which are supported
neither by reason nor by any certain authority. For
how does the consequence follow that since the con
ception has preceded the birth, and the birth is holy,
the conception should be considered holy also ?
Did it make the birth holy because it preceded it ?
Although the one came first that the other might be,
yet not that it might be holy. From whence came
that holiness to the conception which was to be
transmitted to the birth which followed ? Was it
not rather because the conception preceded without
holiness that it was needful for the being conceived to
be sanctified, that a holy birth might then follow ?
Or shall we say that the birth which was later than
the conception shared with it its holiness? It might
be, indeed, that the sanctification which was worked
in her when conceived passed over to the birth which
followed ; but it could not be possible that it should

1 A writing of this kind is attributed to an English abbot named Elsin
in the works of Anselm, pp. 505, 507 of the new edition.

U

3o6 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

have a retrospective effect upon the conception which
had preceded it.

6. Whence, then, was the holiness of that concep
tion ? Shall it be said that Mary was so prevented
by grace that, being holy before being conceived, she
was therefore conceived without sin ; or that, being
holy before being born, she has therefore com
municated holiness to her birth ? But in order to be
holy it is necessary to exist, and a person does not
exist before being conceived. Or perhaps, when her
parents were united, holiness was mingled with the
conception itself, so that she was at once conceived
and sanctified. But this is not tenable in reason.
For how can there be sanctity without the sanctifying
Spirit, or the co-operation of the Holy Spirit with sin ?
Or how could there not be sin where concupiscence
was not wanting ? Unless, perhaps, some one (will
say that she was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and
not by man, which would be a thing hitherto unheard
of. I say, then, that the Holy Spirit came upon her,
not within her, as the Angel declared : The Holy
Spirit shall come upon thee (S. Luke i. 35). And if it
is permitted to say what the Church thinks, and the
Church thinks that which is true, I say that she con
ceived by the Holy Spirit, but not that she was
conceived by Him ; that she was at once Mother
and Virgin, but not that she was born of a virgin.
Otherwise, where will be the prerogative of the Mother
of the Lord, to have united in her person the glory
of maternity and that of virginity, if you give the
same glory to her mother also ? This is not to
honour the Virgin, but to detract from her honour.
If, therefore, before her conception she could not

LETTER LXV 307

possibly be sanctified, since she did not exist, nor
in the conception itself, because of the sin which
inhered in it, it remains to be believed that she re
ceived sanctification when existing in the womb after
conception, which, by excluding sin, made her birth
holy, but not her conception.

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

8. And as this is so, what ground can there be for a
Festival of the Conception of the Virgin ? On what
principle, I say, is either a conception asserted to be
holy which is not by the Holy Ghost, not to say that
it is by sin, or a festival be established which is in
no wise holy ? Willingly the glorious Virgin will be
without this honour, by which either a sin seems to
be honoured or a sanctity supposed which is not a
fact. And, besides, she will by no means be pleased
by a presumptuous novelty against the custom of the
Church, a novelty which is the mother of rashness,
the sister of superstition, the daughter of levity. For
if such a festival seemed advisable, the authority of the
Apostolic See ought first to have been consulted, and

308 S. BERNARD'S LETTERS

the simplicity of inexperienced persons ought not to
have been followed so thoughtlessly and precipitately.
And, indeed, I had before noted that error in some
persons ; but I appeared not to take notice of it,
dealing gently with a devotion which sprang from
simplicity of heart and love of the Virgin. But now
that the superstition has taken hold upon wise men,
and upon a famous and noble Church, of which I am
specially the son,1 I know not whether I could longer
pass it over without gravely offending you all. But
what I have said is in submission to the judgment of
whosoever is wiser than myself; and especially I refer
the whole of it, as of all matters of a similar kind, to
the authority and decision of the See of Rome, and I
am prepared to modify my opinion if in anything I
think otherwise than that See.

LETTER LXVI (A.D. 1135)
To THE PATRIARCH OF JERUSALEM

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

I shall seem ungrateful if I do not reply to the
many patriarchal letters which you have vouchsafed
me. But what more can I do than salute him who
has saluted me ? For you have prevented me with

1 The Church of Lyons was the Mother Church of Bernard because of
its "metropolitan rights," as he himself says in Letter 172, since he was
born at Fontaines, near Dijon, and lived at the monastery of Clairvaux,
both of which places were in the Diocese of Langres and Province of
Lyons.

LETTER LXVI 309

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

THK END

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