_Abelard to Heloise_
Write no more to me, Heloise, write no more to me; 'tis time to end
communications which make our penances of nought avail. We retired
from the world to purify ourselves, and, by a conduct directly
contrary to Christian morality, we became odious to Jesus Christ. Let
us no more deceive ourselves with remembrance of our past pleasures;
we but make our lives troubled and spoil the sweets of solitude. Let
us make good use of our austerities and no longer preserve the
memories of our crimes amongst the severities of penance. Let a
mortification of body and mind, a strict fasting, continual solitude,
profound and holy meditations, and a sincere love of God succeed our
former irregularities.
Let us try to carry religious perfection to its farthest point. It is
beautiful to find Christian minds so disengaged from earth, from the
creatures and themselves, that they seem to act independently of
those bodies they are joined to, and to use them as their slaves. We
can never raise ourselves to too great heights when God is our
object. Be our efforts ever so great they will always come short of
attaining that exalted Divinity which even our apprehension cannot
reach. Let us act for God's glory independent of the creatures or
ourselves, paying no regard to our own desires or the opinions of
others. Were we in this temper of mind, Heloise, I would willingly
make my abode at the Paraclete, and by my earnest care for the house
I have founded draw a thousand blessings on it. I would instruct it
by my words and animate it by my example: I would watch over the
lives of my Sisters, and would command nothing but what I myself
would perform: I would direct you to pray, meditate, labour, and keep
vows of silence; and I would myself pray, labour, meditate, and be
silent.
And when I spoke it should be to lift you up when you should fall, to
strengthen you in your weaknesses, to enlighten you in that darkness
and obscurity which might at any time surprise you. I would comfort
you under the severities used by persons of great virtue: I would
moderate the vivacity of your zeal and piety and give your virtue an
even temperament: I would point out those duties you ought to
perform, and satisfy those doubts which through the weakness of your
reason might arise. I would be your master and father, and by a
marvellous talent I would become lively or slow, gentle or severe,
according to the different characters of those I should guide in the
painful path to Christian perfection.
But whither does my vain imagination carry me! Ah, Heloise, how far
are we from such a happy temper? Your heart still burns with that
fatal fire you cannot extinguish, and mine is full of trouble and
unrest. Think not, Heloise, that I here enjoy a perfect peace; I will
for the last time open my heart to you;--I am not yet disengaged from
you, and though I fight against my excessive tenderness for you, in
spite of all my endeavours I remain but too sensible of your sorrows
and long to share in them. Your letters have indeed moved me; I could
not read with indifference characters written by that dear hand! I
sigh and weep, and all my reason is scarce sufficient to conceal my
weakness from my pupils. This, unhappy Heloise, is the miserable
condition of Abelard. The world, which is generally wrong in its
notions, thinks I am at peace, and imagining that I loved you only
for the gratification of the senses, have now forgot you. What a
mistake is this! People indeed were not wrong in saying that when we
separated it was shame and grief that made me abandon the world. It
was not, as you know, a sincere repentance for having offended God
which inspired me with a design for retiring. However, I consider our
misfortunes as a secret design of Providence to punish our sins; and
only look upon Fulbert as the instrument of divine vengeance. Grace
drew me into an asylum where I might yet have remained if the rage of
my enemies would have permitted; I have endured all their
persecutions, not doubting that God Himself raised them up in order
to purify me.
When He saw me perfectly obedient to His Holy Will, He permitted that
I should justify my doctrine; I made its purity public, and showed in
the end that my faith was not only orthodox, but also perfectly clear
from all suspicion of novelty.
I should be happy if I had none to fear but my enemies, and no other
hindrance to my salvation but their calumny. But, Heloise, you make
me tremble, your letters declare to me that you are enslaved to human
love, and yet, if you cannot conquer it, you cannot be saved; and
what part would you have me play in this trial? Would you have me
stifle the inspirations of the Holy Ghost? Shall I, to soothe you,
dry up those tears which the Evil Spirit makes you shed--shall this
be the fruit of my meditations? No, let us be more firm in our
resolutions; we have not retired save to lament our sins and to gain
heaven; let us then resign ourselves to God with all our heart.
I know everything is difficult in the beginning; but it is glorious
to courageously start a great action, and glory increases
proportionately as the difficulties are more considerable. We ought
on this account to surmount bravely all obstacles which might hinder
us in the practice of Christian virtue. In a monastery men are proved
as gold in a furnace. No one can continue long there unless he bear
worthily the yoke of the Lord.
Attempt to break those shameful chains which bind you to the flesh,
and if by the assistance of grace you are so happy as to accomplish
this, I entreat you to think of me in your prayers. Endeavor with all
your strength to be the pattern of a perfect Christian; it is
difficult, I confess, but not impossible; and I expect this beautiful
triumph from your teachable disposition. If your first efforts prove
weak do not give way to despair, for that would be cowardice;
besides, I would have you know that you must necessarily take great
pains, for you strive to conquer a terrible enemy, to extinguish a
raging fire, to reduce to subjection your dearest affections. You
have to fight against your own desires, so be not pressed down with
the weight of your corrupt nature. You have to do with a cunning
adversary who will use all means to seduce you; be always upon your
guard. While we live we are exposed to temptations; this made a great
saint say, ‘The life of man is one long temptation’: the devil, who
never sleeps, walks continually around us in order to surprise us on
some unguarded side, and enters into our soul in order to destroy it.
However perfect anyone may be, yet he may fall into temptations, and
perhaps into such as may be useful. Nor is it wonderful that man
should never be exempt from them, because he always hath in himself
their source; scarce are we delivered from one temptation when
another attacks us. Such is the lot of the posterity of Adam, that
they should always have something to suffer, because they have
forfeited their primitive happiness. We vainly flatter ourselves that
we shall conquer temptations by flying; if we join not patience and
humility we shall torment ourselves to no purpose. We shall more
certainly compass our end by imploring God's assistance than by using
any means of our own.
Be constant, Heloise, and trust in God; then you shall fall into few
temptations: when they come stifle them at their birth--let them not
take root in your heart. ‘Apply remedies to a disease,’ said an
ancient, ‘at the beginning, for when it hath gained strength
medicines are of no avail’: temptations have their degrees, they are
at first mere thoughts and do not appear dangerous; the imagination
receives them without any fears; the pleasure grows; we dwell upon
it, and at last we yield to it.
Do you now, Heloise, applaud my design of making you walk in the
steps of the saints? Do my words give you any relish for penitence?
Have you not remorse for your wanderings, and do you not wish you
could, like Magdalen, wash our Saviour's feet with your tears? If you
have not yet these ardent aspirations, pray that you may be inspired
by them. I shall never cease to recommend you in my prayers and to
beseech God to assist you in your design of dying holily. You have
quitted the world, and what object was worthy to detain you there?
Lift up your eyes always to Him to whom the rest of your days are
consecrated. Life upon this earth is misery; the very necessities to
which our bodies are subject here are matters of affliction to a
saint. ‘Lord,’ said the royal prophet, ‘deliver me from my
necessities.’ Many are wretched who do not know they are; and yet
they are more wretched who know their misery and yet cannot hate the
corruption of the age. What fools are men to engage themselves to
earthly things! They will be undeceived one day, and will know too
late how much they have been to blame in loving such false good.
Truly pious persons are not thus mistaken; they are freed from all
sensual pleasures and raise their desires to Heaven.
Begin, Heloise; put your design into action without delay; you have
yet time enough to work out your salvation. Love Christ, and despise
yourself for His sake; He will possess your heart and be the sole
object of your sighs and tears; seek for no comfort but in Him. If
you do not free yourself from me, you will fall with me; but if you
leave me and cleave to Him, you will be steadfast and safe. If you
force the Lord to forsake you, you will fall into trouble; but if you
are faithful to Him you shall find joy. Magdalen wept, thinking that
Jesus had forsaken her, but Martha said, ‘See, the Lord calls you.’
Be diligent in your duty, obey faithfully the calls of grace, and
Jesus will be with you. Attend, Heloise, to some instructions I have
to give you: you are at the head of a society, and you know there is
a difference between those who lead a private life and those who are
charged with the conduct of others: the first need only labour for
their own sanctification, and in their round of duties are not
obliged to practise all the virtues in such an apparent manner: but
those who have the charge of others entrusted to them ought by their
example to encourage their followers to do all the good of which they
are capable. I beseech you to remember this truth, and so to follow
it that your whole life may be a perfect model of that of a religious
recluse.
God heartily desires our salvation, and has made all the means of it
easy to us. In the Old Testament He has written in the tables of law
what He requires of us, that we might not be bewildered in seeking
after His will. In the New Testament He has written the law of grace
to the intent that it might ever be present in our hearts; so,
knowing the weakness and incapacity of our nature, He has given us
grace to perform His will. And, as if this were not enough, He has
raised up at all times, in all states of the Church, men who by their
exemplary life can excite others to their duty. To effect this He has
chosen persons of every age, sex and condition. Strive now to unite
in yourself all the virtues of these different examples. Have the
purity of virgins, the austerity of anchorites, the zeal of pastors
and bishops, and the constancy of martyrs. Be exact in the course of
your whole life to fulfil the duties of a holy and enlightened
superior, and then death, which is commonly considered as terrible,
will appear agreeable to you.
‘The death of His saints,’ says the prophet, ‘is precious in the
sight of the Lord.’ Nor is it difficult to discover why their death
should have this advantage over that of sinners. I have remarked
three things which might have given the prophet an occasion of
speaking thus:--First, their resignation to the will of God; second,
the continuation of their good works; and lastly, the triumph they
gain over the devil.
A saint who has accustomed himself to submit to the will of God
yields to death without reluctance. He waits with joy (says Dr.
Gregory) for the Judge who is to reward him; he fears not to quit
this miserable mortal life in order to begin an immortal happy one.
It is not so with the sinner, says the same Father; he fears, and
with reason, he trembles at the approach of the least sickness; death
is terrible to him because he dreads the presence of the [1]offending
Judge; and having so often abused the means of grace he sees no way
to avoid the punishment of his sins.
The saints have also this advantage over sinners, that having become
familiar with works of piety during their life they exercise them
without trouble, and having gained new strength against the devil
every time they overcame him, they will find themselves in a
condition at the hour of death to obtain that victory on which
depends all eternity, and the blessed union of their souls with their
Creator.
I hope, Heloise, that after having deplored the irregularities of
your past life, you will ‘die the death of the righteous.’ Ah, how
few there are who make this end! And why? It is because there are so
few who love the Cross of Christ. Everyone wishes to be saved, but
few will use those means which religion prescribes. Yet can we be
saved by nothing but the Cross: why then refuse to bear it? Hath not
our Saviour bore it before us, and died for us, to the end that we
might also bear it and desire to die also? All the saints have
suffered affliction, and our Saviour himself did not pass one hour of
His life without some sorrow. Hope not therefore to be exempt from
suffering: the Cross, Heloise, is always at hand, take care that you
do not receive it with regret, for by so doing you will make it more
heavy and you will be oppressed by it to no profit. On the contrary,
if you bear it with willing courage, all your sufferings will create
in you a holy confidence whereby you will find comfort in God. Hear
our Saviour who says, ‘My child, renounce yourself, take up your
Cross and follow Me.’ Oh, Heloise, do you doubt? Is not your soul
ravished at so saving a command? Are you insensible to words so full
of kindness? Beware, Heloise, of refusing a Husband who demands you,
and who is more to be feared than any earthly lover. Provoked at your
contempt and ingratitude, He will turn His love into anger and make
you feel His vengeance. How will you sustain His presence when you
shall stand before His tribunal? He will reproach you for having
despised His grace, He will represent to you His sufferings for you.
What answer can you make? He will then be implacable: He will say to
you, ‘Go, proud creature, and dwell in everlasting flames. I
separated you from the world to purify you in solitude and you did
not second my design. I endeavoured to save you and you wilfully
destroyed yourself; go, wretch, and take the portion of the
reprobates.’
Oh, Heloise, prevent these terrible words, and avoid, by a holy life,
the punishment prepared for sinners. I dare not give you a
description of those dreadful torments which are the consequences of
a career of guilt. I am filled with horror when they offer themselves
to my imagination. And yet, Heloise, I can conceive nothing which can
reach the tortures of the damned; the fire which we see upon this
earth is but the shadow of that which burns them; and without
enumerating their endless pains, the loss of God which they feel
increases all their torments. Can anyone sin who is persuaded of
this? My God! can we dare to offend Thee? Though the riches of Thy
mercy could not engage us to love Thee, the dread of being thrown
into such an abyss of misery should restrain us from doing anything
which might displease Thee.
I question not, Heloise, but you will hereafter apply yourself in
good earnest to the business of your salvation; this ought to be your
whole concern. Banish me, therefore, for ever from your heart--it is
the best advice I can give you, for the remembrance of a person we
have loved guiltily cannot but be hurtful, whatever advances we may
have made in the way of virtue. When you have extirpated your unhappy
inclination towards me, the practice of every virtue will become
easy; and when at last your life is conformable to that of Christ,
death will be desirable to you. Your soul will joyfully leave this
body, and direct its flight to heaven. Then you will appear with
confidence before your Saviour; you will not read your reprobation
written in the judgment book, but you will hear your Saviour say,
Come, partake of My glory, and enjoy the eternal reward I have
appointed for those virtues you have practised.
Farewell, Heloise, this is the last advice of your dear Abelard; for
the last time let me persuade you to follow the rules of the Gospel.
Heaven grant that your heart, once so sensible of my love, may now
yield to be directed by my zeal. May the idea of your loving Abelard,
always present to your mind, be now changed into the image of Abelard
truly penitent; and may you shed as many tears for your salvation as
you have done for our misfortunes.
[Footnote 1: Errata--offended]