Library of the Worlds Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 1 | Page 7

board, took the latter
into his house and intrusted him with the full care of Héloïse's further
education, telling him even to chastise her if necessary. So complete

was Fulbert's confidence in Abélard, that no restriction was put upon
the companionship of teacher and pupil. The result was that Abélard
and Héloïse, both equally inexperienced in matters of the heart, soon
conceived for each other an overwhelming passion, comparable only to
that of Faust and Gretchen. And the result in both cases was the same.
Abélard, as a great scholar, could not think of marriage; and if he had,
Héloïse would have refused to ruin his career by marrying him. So it
came to pass that when their secret, never very carefully guarded,
became no longer a secret, and threatened the safety of Héloïse, the
only thing that her lover could do for her was to carry her off secretly to
his home in Palais, and place her in charge of his sister. Here she
remained until the birth of her child, which received the name of
Astralabius, Abélard meanwhile continuing his work in Paris. And here
all the nobility of his character comes out. Though Fulbert and his
friends were, naturally enough, furious at what they regarded as his
utter treachery, and though they tried to murder him, he protected
himself, and as soon as Héloïse was fit to travel, hastened to Palais, and
insisted upon removing her to Paris and making her his lawful wife.
Héloïse used every argument which her fertile mind could suggest to
dissuade him from a step which she felt must be his ruin, at the same
time expressing her entire willingness to stand in a less honored
relation to him. But Abélard was inexorable. Taking her to Paris, he
procured the consent of her relatives to the marriage (which they agreed
to keep secret), and even their presence at the ceremony, which was
performed one morning before daybreak, after the two had spent a
night of vigils in the church.
After the marriage, they parted and for some time saw little of each
other. When Héloïse's relatives divulged the secret, and she was taxed
with being Abélard's lawful wife, she "anathematized and swore that it
was absolutely false." As the facts were too patent, however, Abélard
removed her from Paris, and placed her in the convent at Argenteuil,
where she had been educated. Here she assumed the garb of a novice.
Her relatives, thinking that he must have done this in order to rid
himself of her, furiously vowed vengeance, which they took in the
meanest and most brutal form of personal violence. It was not a time of
fine sensibilities, justice, or mercy; but even the public of those days

was horrified, and gave expression to its horror. Abélard, overwhelmed
with shame, despair, and remorse, could now think of nothing better
than to abandon the world. Without any vocation, as he well knew, he
assumed the monkish habit and retired to the monastery of St. Denis,
while Héloïse, by his order, took the veil at Argenteuil. Her devotion
and heroism on this occasion Abélard has described in touching terms.
Thus supernaturalism had done its worst for these two strong,
impetuous human souls.
If Abélard had entered the cloister in the hope of finding peace, he soon
discovered his mistake. The dissolute life of the monks utterly
disgusted him, while the clergy stormed him with petitions to continue
his lectures. Yielding to these, he was soon again surrounded by
crowds of students--so great that the monks at St. Denis were glad to
get rid of him. He accordingly retired to a lonely cell, to which he was
followed by more admirers than could find shelter or food. As the
schools of Paris were thereby emptied, his rivals did everything in their
power to put a stop to his teaching, declaring that as a monk he ought
not to teach profane science, nor as a layman in theology sacred science.
In order to legitimatize his claim to teach the latter, he now wrote a
theological treatise, regarding which he says:--
"It so happened that I first endeavored to illuminate the basis of our
faith by similitudes drawn from human reason, and to compose for our
students a treatise on 'The Divine Unity and Trinity,' because they kept
asking for human and philosophic reasons, and demanding rather what
could be understood than what could be said, declaring that the mere
utterance of words was useless unless followed by understanding; that
nothing could be believed that was not first understood, and that it was
ridiculous for any one to preach what neither he nor those he taught
could comprehend, God himself calling such people blind leaders of
the blind."
Here we have Abélard's central position, exactly the opposite