ABELARD

We can have few more apposite illustrations

of at once the strength and weakness of what 10

may be called the University principle, of what

it can do and what it cannot, of its power to

collect students, and its impotence to preserve and

edify them, than the history of the celebrated

Abelard. His name is closely associated with 15

the commencement of the University of Paris;

and in his popularity and in his reverses, in the

criticisms of John of Salisbury on his method,

and the protest of St. Bernard against his

teaching, we read, as in a pattern specimen, what a 20

University professes in its essence, and what it

needs for its "integrity." It is not to be supposed,

that I am prepared to show this here, as fully as

it might be shown; but it is a subject so

pertinent to the general object of these Essays, that it 25

may be useful to devote even a few pages to it.

The oracles of Divine Truth, as time goes on,

do but repeat the one message from above which

they have ever uttered, since the tongues of fire

attested the coming of the Paraclete; still, as

time goes on, they utter it with greater force and 5

precision, under diverse forms, with fuller

luminousness, and a richer ministration of thought

statement, and argument. They meet the

varying wants, and encounter the special resistance

of each successive age; and, though prescient of 10

coming errors and their remedy long before, they

cautiously reserve their new enunciation of the

old Truth, till it is imperatively demanded. And,

as it happens in kings' cabinets, that surmises

arise, and rumors spread, of what is said in 15

council, and is in course of preparation, and secrets

perhaps get wind, true in substance or in direction,

though distorted in detail; so too, before the

Church speaks, one or other of her forward

children speaks for her, and, while he does anticipate 20

to a certain point what she is about to say or

enjoin, he states it incorrectly, makes it error

instead of truth, and risks his own faith in the

process. Indeed, this is actually one source, or

rather concomitant, of heresy, the presence of 25

some misshapen, huge, and grotesque foreshadow

of true statements which are to come. Speaking

under correction, I would apply this remark to

the heresy of Tertullian or of Sabellius, which may

be considered a reaction from existing errors, and 30

an attempt, presumptuous, and therefore unsuccessful,

to meet them with those divinely

appointed correctives which the Church alone can

apply, and which she will actually apply, when

the proper moment comes. The Gnostics boasted

of their intellectual proficiency before the time 5

of St. Irenæus, St. Athanasius, and St.

Augustine; yet, when these doctors made their

appearance, I suppose they were examples of that

knowledge, true and deep, which the Gnostics

professed. Apollinaris anticipated the work of 10

St. Cyril and the Ephesine Council, and became

a heresiarch in consequence; and, to come down

to the present times, we may conceive that

writers, who have impatiently fallen away from

the Church, because she would not adopt their 15

views, would have found, had they but trusted

her, and waited, that she knew how to profit by

them, though she never could have need to

borrow her enunciations from them; for their

writings contained, so to speak, truth _in the ore_, truth 20

which they themselves had not the gift to

disengage from its foreign concomitants, and safely

use, which she alone could use, which she would

use in her destined hour, and which became their

stone of stumbling simply because she did not 25

use it faster. Now, applying this principle to

the subject before us, I observe, that, supposing

Abelard to be the first master of scholastic

philosophy, as many seem to hold, we shall have still

no difficulty in condemning the author, while we 30

honor the work. To him is only the glory of

spoiling by his own self-will what would have

been done well and surely under the teaching

and guidance of Infallible Authority.

Nothing is more certain than that some ideas

are consistent with one another, and others 5

inconsistent; and, again, that every truth must be

consistent with every other truth--hence, that

all truths of whatever kind form into one large

body of Truth, by virtue of the consistency

between one truth and another, which is a 10

connecting link running through them all. The science

which discovers this connection is logic; and,

as it discovers the connection when the truths are

given, so, having one truth given and the

connecting principle, it is able to go on to ascertain 15

the other. Though all this is obvious, it was

realized and acted on in the middle age with

a distinctness unknown before; all subjects of

knowledge were viewed as parts of one vast

system, each with its own place in it, and from 20

knowing one, another was inferred. Not indeed

always rightly inferred, because the art might

be less perfect than the science, the instrument

than the theory and aim; but I am speaking of

the principle of the scholastic method, of which 25

Saints and Doctors were the teachers--such

I conceive it to be, and Abelard was the ill-fated

logician who had a principal share in bringing it

into operation.

Others will consider the great St. Anselm and 30

the school of Bec, as the proper source of Scholasticism;

I am not going to discuss the question;

anyhow, Abelard, and not St. Anselm, was the

Professor at the University of Paris, and it is

of Universities that I am speaking; anyhow,

Abelard illustrates the strength and the 5

weakness of the principle of advertising and

communicating knowledge for its own sake, which I have

called the University principle, whether he is,

or is not, the first of scholastic philosophers or

scholastic theologians. And, though I could not 10

speak of him at all without mentioning the

subject of his teaching, yet, after all, it is of him and

of his teaching itself, that I am going to speak,

whatever that might be which he actually taught.

Since Charlemagne's time the schools of Paris 15

had continued, with various fortunes, faithful, as

far as the age admitted, to the old learning, as

other schools elsewhere, when, in the eleventh

century, the famous school of Bec began to

develop the powers of logic in forming a new 20

philosophy. As the inductive method rose in

Bacon, so did the logical in the mediæval

schoolmen; and Aristotle, the most comprehensive

intellect of Antiquity, as the one who had

conceived the sublime idea of mapping the whole 25

field of knowledge, and subjecting all things to

one profound analysis, became the presiding

master in their lecture halls. It was at the end

of the eleventh century that William of

Champeaux founded the celebrated Abbey of St. 30

Victor under the shadow of St. Geneviève, and by

the dialectic methods which he introduced into his

teaching, has a claim to have commenced the

work of forming the University out of the Schools

of Paris. For one at least, out of the two

characteristics of a University, he prepared the way; 5

for, though the schools were not public till after

his day, so as to admit laymen as well as clerks,

and foreigners as well as natives of the place, yet

the logical principle of constructing all sciences

into one system, implied of course a recognition 10

of all the sciences that are comprehended in it.

Of this William of Champeaux, or de Campellis,

Abelard was the pupil; he had studied the

dialectic art elsewhere, before he offered himself for

his instructions; and, in the course of two years, 15

when as yet he had only reached the age of

twenty-two, he made such progress, as to be

capable of quarreling with his master, and

setting up a school for himself.

This school of Abelard was first situated in 20

the royal castle of Melun; then at Corbeil, which

was nearer to Paris, and where he attracted to

himself a considerable number of hearers. His

labors had an injurious effect upon his health;

and at length he withdrew for two years to his 25

native Britanny. Whether other causes coöperated

in this withdrawal, I think, is not known;

but, at the end of the two years, we find him

returning to Paris, and renewing his attendance

on the lectures of William, who was by this time 30

a monk. Rhetoric was the subject of the lectures

he now heard; and after a while the pupil

repeated with greater force and success his

former treatment of his teacher. He held a

public disputation with him, got the victory,

and reduced him to silence. The school of 5

William was deserted, and its master himself became

an instance of the vicissitudes incident to that

gladiatorial wisdom (as I may style it) which was

then eclipsing the old Benedictine method of the

Seven Arts. After a time, Abelard found his 10

reputation sufficient to warrant him in setting

up a school himself on Mount St. Geneviève;

whence he waged incessant war against the

unwearied logician, who by this time had rallied

his forces to repel the young and ungrateful 15

adventurer who had raised his hand against him.

Great things are done by devotion to one idea;

there is one class of geniuses, who would never

be what they are, could they grasp a second.

The calm philosophical mind, which 20

contemplates parts without denying the whole, and the

whole without confusing the parts, is notoriously

indisposed to action; whereas single and simple

views arrest the mind, and hurry it on to carry

them out. Thus, men of one idea and nothing 25

more, whatever their merit, must be to a certain

extent narrow-minded; and it is not wonderful

that Abelard's devotion to the new philosophy

made him undervalue the Seven Arts out of which

it had grown. He felt it impossible so to honor 30

what was now to be added, as not to dishonor

what existed before. He would not suffer the

Arts to have their own use, since he had found a

new instrument for a new purpose. So he

opposed the reading of the Classics. The monks

had opposed them before him; but this is little 5

to our present purpose; it was the duty of men,

who abjured the gifts of this world on the

principle of mortification, to deny themselves

literature just as they would deny themselves

particular friendships or figured music. The doctrine 10

which Abelard introduced and represents was

founded on a different basis. He did not

recognize in the poets of antiquity any other merit

than that of furnishing an assemblage of elegant

phrases and figures; and accordingly he asks 15

why they should not be banished from the city

of God, since Plato banished them from his own

commonwealth. The _animus_ of this language is

clear, when we turn to the pages of John of

Salisbury and Peter of Blois, who were champions of 20

the ancient learning. We find them complaining

that the careful "getting up," as we now call it,

"of books," was growing out of fashion. Youths

once studied critically the text of poets or

philosophers; they got them by heart; they analyzed 25

their arguments; they noted down their fallacies;

they were closely examined in the matters which

had been brought before them in lecture; they

composed. But now, another teaching was

coming in; students were promised truth in a 30

nutshell; they intended to get possession of the sum-total

of philosophy in less than two or three

years; and facts were apprehended, not in their

substance and details, by means of living and,

as it were, personal documents, but in dead

abstracts and tables. Such were the 5

reclamations to which the new Logic gave occasion.

These, however, are lesser matters; we have

a graver quarrel with Abelard than that of his

undervaluing the Classics. As I have said, my

main object here is not what he taught, but why 10

and how, and how he lived. Now it is certain

his activity was stimulated by nothing very high,

but something very earthly and sordid. I grant

there is nothing morally wrong in the mere desire

to rise in the world, though Ambition and it are 15

twin sisters. I should not blame Abelard merely

for wishing to distinguish himself at the

University; but when he makes the ecclesiastical

state the instrument of his ambition, mixes up

spiritual matters with temporal, and aims at a 20

bishopric through the medium of his logic, he

joins together things incompatible, and cannot

complain of being censured. It is he himself,

who tells us, unless my memory plays me false,

that the circumstance of William of Champeaux 25

being promoted to the see of Chalons, was an

incentive to him to pursue the same path with an

eye to the same reward. Accordingly, we next

hear of his attending the theological lectures of

a certain master of William's, named Anselm, an 30

old man, whose school was situated at Laon. This

person had a great reputation in his day; John

of Salisbury, speaking of him in the next

generation, calls him the doctor of doctors; he had been

attended by students from Italy and Germany;

but the age had advanced since he was in his 5

prime, and Abelard was disappointed in a teacher,

who had been good enough for William. He left

Anselm, and began to lecture on the prophet

Ezekiel on his own resources.

Now came the time of his great popularity, 10

which was more than his head could bear; which

dizzied him, took him off his legs, and whirled

him to his destruction. I spoke in my foregoing

Chapter of those three qualities of true wisdom,

which a University, absolutely and nakedly 15

considered, apart from the safeguards which

constitute its integrity, is sure to compromise.

Wisdom, says the inspired writer, is _desursum_, is

_pudica_, is _pacifica_, "from above, chaste,

peaceable." We have already seen enough of Abelard's 20

career to understand that his wisdom, instead of

being "pacifica," was ambitious and contentious.

An Apostle speaks of the tongue both as a blessing

and as a curse. It may be the beginning of a fire,

he says, a "Universitas iniquitatis;" and alas! 25

such did it become in the mouth of the gifted

Abelard. His eloquence was wonderful; he

dazzled his contemporaries, says Fulco, "by the

brilliancy of his genius, the sweetness of his

eloquence, the ready flow of his language, and the 30

subtlety of his knowledge." People came to

him from all quarters--from Rome, in spite of

mountains and robbers; from England, in spite

of the sea; from Flanders and Germany; from

Normandy, and the remote districts of France;

from Angers and Poitiers; from Navarre by the 5

Pyrenees, and from Spain, besides the students

of Paris itself; and among those, who sought his

instructions now or afterwards, were the great

luminaries of the schools in the next generation.

Such were Peter of Poitiers, Peter Lombard, John 10

of Salisbury, Arnold of Brescia, Ivo, and Geoffrey

of Auxerre. It was too much for a weak head

and heart, weak in spite of intellectual power;

for vanity will possess the head, and worldliness

the heart, of the man, however gifted, whose 15

wisdom is not an effluence of the Eternal Light.

True wisdom is not only "pacifica," it is

"pudica;" chaste as well as peaceable. Alas for

Abelard! a second disgrace, deeper than

ambition, is his portion now. The strong man--the 20

Samson of the schools in the wildness of his course,

the Solomon in the fascination of his

genius--shivers and falls before the temptation which

overcame that mighty pair, the most excelling

in body and in mind. 25

In a time when Colleges were unknown, and the

young scholar was commonly thrown upon the

dubious hospitality of a great city, Abelard might

even be thought careful of his honor, that he

went to lodge with an old ecclesiastic, had not 30

his host's niece Eloisa lived with him. A more

subtle snare was laid for him than beset the

heroic champion or the all-accomplished monarch of

Israel; for sensuality came upon him under the

guise of intellect, and it was the high mental

endowments of Eloisa, who became his pupil, 5

speaking in her eyes, and thrilling on her tongue,

which were the intoxication and the delirium of

Abelard....

He is judged, he is punished; but he is not

reclaimed. True wisdom is not only "pacifica," 10

not only "pudica;" it is "desursum" too. It is

a revelation from above; it knows heresy as

little as it knows strife or license. But Abelard,

who had run the career of earthly wisdom in two

of its phases, now is destined to represent its 15

third.

It is at the famous Abbey of St. Denis that we

find him languidly rising from his dream of sin,

and the suffering that followed. The bad dream

is cleared away; clerks come to him, and the 20

Abbot begging him to lecture still, for love

now, as for gain before. Once more his school is

thronged by the curious and the studious; but

at length a rumor spreads, that Abelard is

exploring the way to some novel view on the 25

subject of the Most Holy Trinity. Wherefore is

hardly clear, but about the same time the monks

drive him away from the place of refuge he had

gained. He betakes himself to a cell, and thither

his pupils follow him. "I betook myself to a 30

certain cell," he says, "wishing to give myself to

the schools, as was my custom. Thither so great

a multitude of scholars flocked, that there was

neither room to house them, nor fruits of the

earth to feed them," such was the enthusiasm of

the student, such the attraction of the teacher, 5

when knowledge was advertised freely, and its

market opened.

Next he is in Champagne, in a delightful

solitude near Nogent in the diocese of Troyes. Here

the same phenomenon presents itself, which is 10

so frequent in his history. "When the scholars

knew it," he says, "they began to crowd thither

from all parts; and, leaving other cities and

strongholds, they were content to dwell in the

wilderness. For spacious houses they framed for 15

themselves small tabernacles, and for delicate food they

put up with wild herbs. Secretly did they

whisper among themselves: 'Behold, the whole

world is gone out after him!' When, however,

my Oratory could not hold even a moderate 20

portion of them, then they were forced to enlarge

it, and to build it up with wood and stone."

He called the place his Paraclete, because it had

been his consolation.

I do not know why I need follow his life further. 25

I have said enough to illustrate the course of one,

who may be called the founder, or at least the first

great name, of the Parisian Schools. After the

events I have mentioned he is found in Lower

Britanny; then, being about forty-eight years of 30

age, in the Abbey of St. Gildas; then with St.

Geneviève again. He had to sustain the fiery

eloquence of a Saint, directed against his novelties;

he had to present himself before two Councils;

he had to burn the book which had given offense

to pious ears. His last two years were spent at 5

Clugni on his way to Rome. The home of the

weary, the hospital of the sick, the school of the

erring, the tribunal of the penitent, is the city

of St. Peter. He did not reach it; but he is

said to have retracted what had given scandal in 10

his writings, and to have made an edifying end.

He died at the age of sixty-two, in the year of

grace 1142.

In reviewing his career, the career of so great

an intellect so miserably thrown away, we are 15

reminded of the famous words of the dying

scholar and jurist, which are a lesson to us all,

"Heu, vitam perdidi, operosè nihil agendo." A

happier lot be ours!