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BERNARD THE MONK.

PEEP INTO THE TWELFTH CENTURY.

BY THE REV. CHAS. WILLIAMS,

OF ACCRINGTON.

[Delivered in the Literary Institution, Preston, and elsewhere.]

Our hero for to-night was a Roman Catholic-moreover, a Monk. At the same time, strange as it may sound to ultra-Protestant ears, he was an honest and godly man. It would be a great injustice to measure him by the standard of the nineteenth century. Since his day, Europe has had 700 years to make progress in; and if men are not by this time in every way better than they were then, it is a reproach and shame to them. Take away from the boastful youth the knowledge which was impossible in the twelfth century; the privileges that were not then within the reach of any,-the free press, the many books, and the equal laws which date their origin only a few years back; strip him of every thing that could not have been his, had he been the contemporary of Bernard, and he would be compelled to admit that, considering the age in which he lived, Saint Bernard must be ranked among the greatest and the best of I make this remark, that it may be remembered that our hero's lot was cast upon different days to ours, and that he struggled with difficulties to which happily we are strangers.

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In the last decade of the eleventh century, and in the fortress home of one of the noble and war-loving knights of Burgundy, Bernard was born. Burgundy, now one of the departments or provinces of the French empire, was at that time an independent dukedom, with an army of its own; in which army Bernard's father spent the greatest part of his life, seeking fame at the point of the sword, and revelling in the turbulent soldier-life of that age. The result was, that Bernard was left entirely to his mother's She made him. How many men of mark have owed their greatness to their mothers! The Roman matron formed her boy for endurance and command; and he became invincible on the field of battle, and a power in the senate. Napoleon's mother inspired him with ambition; and he became the first warrior of his day. Mothers ever make or mar their sons. As they bend them, so the twigs grow. And if their roots strike deep, and take firm hold of the soil, if they shoot up and are full of verdure and fruitfulness, to maternal culture it must, in a great measure, be ascribed. This was especially the case with Bernard. His mother was a gentle, pious woman; and, if a little superstitious, was the possessor of no small amount of intelligence and firmness. It was the business of her life to train her seven sons-of whom Bernard was the third-for GOD. Her dearest wish was to see them devoted to a monastic life. His nursery training over, and that we find the secret of his after-life, Bernard was placed in a public school at Chatillon, where he was instructed in the classics, well grounded in logic, and received a taste for literary studies.

At this juncture, just as Bernard was beginning to realise the fond expectation and high hopes of his mother, she died. His father at once resolved that his sons should enter the army-ardently desiring to see them hardy and renowned warriors, foremost in the battle charge, and the merriest at the convivial

tables of the barons. For this our hero showed no aptitude. He had caught his mother's spirit; and knowing that she had intented to devote him to a cloister life, himself cherished the purpose. Fancied appearances of the devoted parent-visions in which affection taught the imagination how to keep the maternal teacher before the mind's eye of the loving pupil-kept alive his resolution, and at last determined him to renounce the pomps, and vanities, and possessions of the world, for the hard life of a monk. By his eloquent pleading he won over all his brothers, who had grown to man's estate, with a large circle of relatives and friends. With these Bernard retired to a house at Chatillon, with a view of preparing for final seclusion. It may interest some to know that the father, heart-broken by the loss of his sons, followed them, and died a monk. As to the sincerity of the men, there can be no doubt. They left behind them wealth, comfort, luxury, and fame, at the supposed call of GOD, and to save their souls. We Protestants may make ourselves merry over the follies of monasticism; but it would more become us to emulate the self-sacrifice of these who surrendered all that they held dear at the command of duty.

Let us now look into the convent home that received these worthies, and gather what we can of the character of their convent life. There were nchly-endowed monasteries, where the monks lived a merry life; but these Bernard avoided, and chose one of the poorest. The convent of which Bernard and his thirty associates became inmates, was that of Citeaux. It belonged to the Cistercian order, and was celebrated for its extreme austerity, and the great severity of its discipline. Among the rules of the convent were these:-A monk must render absolute obedience to his abbot; and if commanded to do impossible things, may meekly represent the impossibility, but if the command be persisted in, must attempt the doing of it, in dependence on the

Almighty. No one was permitted to speak unasked; laughter was forbidden; worship was to be performed two hours after midnight; each in his turn was to clean the dishes, and to wash the feet of the entire brotherhood; the time of each monk was to be divided between work and prayer, as little as possible being allowed for meals and sleep; and no property could be held. Bernard was most diligent in the observance of these rules; and though only 22 years of age, so successful was he in his study and in his devotions, that his reputation for wisdom and sanctity gathered such numbers to Citeaux, that the place was speedily too small for them.

This led to the establishment of another convent, of which Bernard was the first abbot. The site was a wild and desolate spot in Burgundy, for a long time the haunt of robbers, and known as the valley of Wormwood. To this place-Clairvaux by nameBernard and 12 monks were dismissed from Citeaux to found a new establishment. The valley was uncultivated; seed time was past; the monks had to rear their convent with their own hands, and at the same time to provide themselves with food. Their labours and privations were equally great. Bread, made of barley and millet, with beech leaves, cooked in salt and water, constituted their only nourishment, and that too in winter, while engaged in the hard work of building a habitation. For 16 months these monks suffered fatigue, hunger, and cold; till Bernard looked more like a corpse than a living man; and then they reaped their first harvest, the rich and well-to-do sending them help when they could do without it. Notwithstanding these unparalleled hardships, Bernard made more progress in religious learning than most do under theological tutors and aided by the snug conveniences of modern colleges. Not without reason, he wrote to a teacher of speculative philosophy, "Believe me, thou wilt find more in woods than in books; and trees and stones shall

teach thee that which thou canst not learn from men." To Clairvaux, thousands flocked to hear the preaching of Bernard, and to obtain his counsel. The rich left behind them gifts; but these were disbursed in benefactions to the poor. The convent was ever thronged with congregations which had travelled from every part of Europe, to receive the blessing of the first and holiest monk of his day. Bernard, as we shall see, became the chief ecclesiastic of the twelfth century, exerting equal influence on the Church and on nations.

Bernard's active life is a good clue to the spiritual and social state of Christendom in the twelfth century. As a churchman, he is often classed with the Mystics. This is doubtless on account of the prominence he gave to faith, and the manner in which he contended in his controversy with the celebrated and much-maligned Abelard, for the duty of receiving without questioning the statements of Scripture. He held the papal doctrine of salvation, insisting, in a discussion before Roger, king of Sicily, that the way of salvation existed only in an outward and visible church, and that this church was necessarily linked with an external and visible head. On another occasion, in a dispute with the great spiritualist, Henri, who warned the people against trusting in rites and ceremonies, Bernard upheld the ordinances of the Church with considerable zeal. And yet Luther could say of him: "He set not against the wrath of GOD his own monkery, or his angelic life; but he took of that one thing which was necessary, and so was saved." Bernard was compelled to enter public life. The austerities and usefulness of the brotherhood at Clairvaux provoked the bitter opposition of the less pious and more self indulgent members of the monastic orders. Not content with defending himself, Bernard resolved on a reform of the convents, and preached a vigorous crusade.

The insight he thus affords us into the convent life of the twelfth century, is not very flattering to