Famous Affinities of History | Page 9

uncle and made a chance proposal that he should himself become
an inmate of Fulbert's household in order that he might teach this girl of
so much promise. Such an offer coming from so brilliant a man was
joyfully accepted.
From that time Abelard could visit Heloise without restraint. He was
her teacher, and the two spent hours together, nominally in the study of
Greek and Hebrew; but doubtless very little was said between them
upon such unattractive subjects. On the contrary, with all his wide
experience of life, his eloquence, his perfect manners, and his
fascination, Abelard put forth his power to captivate the senses of a girl
still in her teens and quite ignorant of the world. As Remusat says, he
employed to win her the genius which had overwhelmed all the great
centers of learning in the Western world.
It was then that the pleasures of knowledge, the joys of thought, the
emotions of eloquence, were all called into play to charm and move and
plunge into a profound and strange intoxication this noble and tender
heart which had never known either love or sorrow. ... One can imagine
that everything helped on the inevitable end. Their studies gave them
opportunities to see each other freely, and also permitted them to be
alone together. Then their books lay open between them; but either
long periods of silence stilled their reading, or else words of deepening
intimacy made them forget their studies altogether. The eyes of the two
lovers turned from the book to mingle their glances, and then to turn
away in a confusion that was conscious.
Hand would touch hand, apparently by accident; and when
conversation ceased, Abelard would often hear the long, quivering sigh
which showed the strange, half-frightened, and yet exquisite joy which
Heloise experienced.
It was not long before the girl's heart had been wholly won.

Transported by her emotion, she met the caresses of her lover with
those as unrestrained as his. Her very innocence deprived her of the
protection which older women would have had. All was given freely,
and even wildly, by Heloise; and all was taken by Abelard, who
afterward himself declared:
"The pleasure of teaching her to love surpassed the delightful fragrance
of all the perfumes in the world."
Yet these two could not always live in a paradise which was entirely
their own. The world of Paris took notice of their close association.
Some poems written to Heloise by Abelard, as if in letters of fire, were
found and shown to Fulbert, who, until this time, had suspected nothing.
Angrily he ordered Abelard to leave his house. He forbade his niece to
see her lover any more.
But the two could not be separated; and, indeed, there was good reason
why they should still cling together. Secretly Heloise left her uncle's
house and fled through the narrow lanes of Paris to the dwelling of
Abelard's sister, Denyse, where Abelard himself was living. There,
presently, the young girl gave birth to a son, who was named Astrolabe,
after an instrument used by astronomers, since both the father and the
mother felt that the offspring of so great a love should have no ordinary
name.
Fulbert was furious, and rightly so. His hospitality had been outraged
and his niece dishonored. He insisted that the pair should at once be
married. Here was revealed a certain weakness in the character of
Abelard. He consented to the marriage, but insisted that it should be
kept an utter secret.
Oddly enough, it was Heloise herself who objected to becoming the
wife of the man she loved. Unselfishness could go no farther. She saw
that, were he to marry her, his advancement in the Church would be
almost impossible; for, while the very minor clergy sometimes married
in spite of the papal bulls, matrimony was becoming a fatal bar to
ecclesiastical promotion. And so Heloise pleaded pitifully, both with
her uncle and with Abelard, that there should be no marriage. She

would rather bear all manner of disgrace than stand in the way of
Abelard's advancement.
He has himself given some of the words in which she pleaded with
him:
What glory shall I win from you, when I have made you quite
inglorious and have humbled both of us? What vengeance will the
world inflict on me if I deprive it of one so brilliant? What curses will
follow such a marriage? How outrageous would it be that you, whom
nature created for the universal good, should be devoted to one woman
and plunged into such disgrace? I loathe the thought of a marriage
which would humiliate you.
Indeed, every possible effort which another woman in her place would
employ to make him marry her she used in order to dissuade him.
Finally, her