Little is known concerning the monk Bernard, sometimes called Bernard of
Morlay and sometimes Bernard of Cluny. The former name is probably
derived from the place of his origin, the latter from the fact that in
the introduction to his poem 'De Contemptu Mundi' he describes himself
as a brother of the monks of Cluny. He lived in the twelfth century, a
period of much learning in the church; and that he was himself a man of
broad scholarship and brilliant abilities, the Latin poem, his only
surviving work, abundantly testifies.
This poem, divided into three books, consists in all of about three
thousand lines. It is introduced by a short address in prose to Father
Peter, the abbot of the monastery, in which the author describes the
peculiar operations of his mind in undertaking and accomplishing his
marvelous poem. He believes and asserts, "not arrogantly, but in all
humility and therefore boldly," that he had divine aid. "Unless the
spirit of wisdom and understanding had been with me and filled me, I had
never been able to construct so long a work in such a difficult metre."
This metre is peculiar. In technical terms each line consists of three
parts: the first part including two dactyls, the second part two
dactyls, the third part one dactyl and one trochee. The final trochee, a
long and a short syllable, rhymes with the following or preceding line.
There is also a rhyme, in each line, of the second dactyl with the
fourth. This will be made plain to the ordinary reader by quoting the
first two lines of the poem, divided into feet:--
Hora no | vissima | tempora | pessima | sunt, vigi | lemus;
Ecce mi | naciter | imminet | arbiter | ille su | premus.
The adoption of such a metre would seem to be a clog on flexibility and
force of expression. But in this poem it is not so. The author rejoices
in absolute freedom of diction. The rhythm and rhyme alike lend
themselves to the uses, now of bitter satire and revilings, now of
overpowering hope and exultant joy.
The title scarcely gives an idea of the subject-matter of the poem. The
old Benedictine, living for the time in his cell, had nevertheless known
the world of his day, had lived in it and been of it. To him it seemed
an evil world, full of crimes, of moils, of deceits, of abominations;
the Church seemed corrupt, venal, shameless, and Rome the centre and the
soul of this accursed world. Pondering on these conditions, the monk
turned his weary gaze toward the celestial country, the country of
purity and peace, and to the King on his throne, the centre and source
of eternal beatitude. The contrast, on which he dwelt for a long time,
filled him on the one hand with burning indignation, on the other with
entrancing visions and longings.
At last he broke out into magnificent poetry. It is not possible to
translate him into any other language than the Latin in which he wrote,
and preserve any of the grandeur and beauty which result from the union
of ardent thought with almost miraculous music of language. Dr. Neale
aptly speaks of the majestic sweetness which invests Bernard's poem. The
expression applies specially to those passages, abounding in all parts
of the poem, in which he describes the glory and the peace of the better
country. Many of these have been translated or closely imitated by Dr.
Neale, with such excellent effect that several hymns which are very
popular in churches of various denominations have been constructed from
Dr. Neale's translations. Other portions of the poem, especially those
in which the vices and crimes of the Rome of that time are denounced and
lashed with unsparing severity, have never been translated, and are not
likely ever to be, because of the impossibility of preserving in English
the peculiar force of the metre; and translation without this would be
of small value. The fire of the descriptions of heaven is increased by
the contrast in which they stand with descriptions of Rome in the
twelfth century. Here, for example, is a passage addressed to Rome:--
"Fas mihi dicere, fas mihi scribere 'Roma fuisti,'
Obruta moenibus, obruta moribus, occubuisti.
Urbs ruis inclita, tam modo subdita, quam prius alta:
Quo prius altior, tam modo pressior, et labefacta.
Fas mihi scribere, fas mihi dicere 'Roma, peristi.'
Sunt tua moenia vociferantia 'Roma ruisti.'"