looked no further. In his diet, in all that regarded the care of the body, he was reserved and abstemious. More than what was absolutely necessary, he never sought for himself, and he condemned it in others. His reading was almost incessant; he often prayed; and he never interrupted his silence, unless when, urged by the entreaties of the monks, he sometimes conversed with them, or in public harangues explained to them the great maxims of religion. When able, he celebrated the sacred mysteries, offering to God the sacrifice of the immortal Lamb; and after his reconciliation to the apostolic see, almost daily. In a word, his mind, his tongue, his hand were ever employed in the duties of religion, in developing the truths of philosophy, or in the profound researches of literature."

The abbé of Cluny, observing that the health of Abelard was rapidly declining, sent him to the priory of Saint Marcellus, near Chalons, which, as well as the abbey, was in Burgundy. This priory was not far from the river Saone, and on account of its healthy location, was regarded as the best place for the residence of an invalid. On the 21st of April, 1142, Peter Abelard set out upon a new journey; that fiery soul of his vanished from the earth, into the viewless Eternity, went to those realms over which methinks troublesome Mother Church, notwithstanding her pre

tensions, has no jurisdiction. Let him who is sure that he is above ambition,-whom passion has never caused to err,-who has never laid snares for an enemy, who has never awakened in the breast of unsuspecting woman a love that he could not nobly and purely return;—let such a one stand upon the grave of Abelard and curse him; but we must let fall for him a sincere tear. Pity him we must; and with our pity mingles much admiration.

Peter the Venerable-blessings on the benevolent old man!-conveyed the heavy news to Heloise, in the kindest manner, tempering the sad narrative with the sweetest spirit of consolation. The monks of Saint Marcellus would not give up the body; but the good abbé of Cluny obtained it by stealth, and took it to its rightful owner, the abbess of Paraclete.

Heloise lived 21 years longer, and continued to be the object of the admiration and the veneration of her age. She died May 16, 1164. "Heloise," says the cautious and learned Charles de Remusat, "is, I believe, the first of women." We will at least say this, that no woman mentioned in history has loved so deeply as she. Every woman, before she learns to distrust man, loves, like Heloise, with the whole soul; but her soul was so finely tempered, her love was so profound, that distrust itself was conquered; in her eyes the real lover was continually clothed with her

own ideal; hence her love was eternal, like her own creative spirit. Procul, procul, este profani! but let those who know what a great and constant love means, circle near in silence, and lay gently upon the coffin's lid the mystic branch of perennial green.

XXX.

RETROSPECT.

O anime affannate

Venite a noi parlar.

DANTE.

In order to be perfectly fair towards Abelard, we here insert the most eloquent defence of him that has ever been written.*

"Once, a long time ago, lived two personages much enamored of each other. Never were lovers more true, more beautiful, more unfortunate, etc."

In commencing his fable, the ancient chronicler seems to enter with full sails upon our subject, for he sums up in few words the entire life of Heloise and Abelard. His personages are forgotten, but all the world knows ours. The history of their misfortunes has traversed the centuries; each generation has

*Lettres d'Abælard et Heloise, traduits sur les manuscrits de la bibliotheque royal, par E. Oddoul: precédées d'un essai historique, par M. et. Mme. Guizot. Edition illustre par I. Gigoux. Paris: E. Houdaile, 1839. Vol. 2, at the commencement. In translating this eulogy, we have omitted certain portions that seemed less important.

hailed in their united names the glorious symbol of love. In view of these noble victims poets have been inspired, tender hearts have been touched; and in their course, at once triumphal and melancholy, the two lovers have received every homage, here a flower, there a tear.

The renown which they have acquired is not usurped. How, in fact, can we help feeling a vivid sentiment of admiration in presence of that high love which neither time nor fortune can overcome; of that ardor of passion which neither blood nor tears can extinguish, which survives hope, and which, as a last testimony, breaks the very portals of the tomb; passion so exalted and superhuman, that tradition has been able to express it only with the aid of the mar vellous ?

Heloise appears to us from the first with that grandeur of character which did not quit her. It is an entrance upon the stage truly heroic. Scarcely has she had time to act or speak, before you are aware that an invincible sentiment is to govern her whole life, that this sentiment is her life itself. Abelard does not take her; she does not believe that she is giving herself; one would say that she awaits him, and that she belongs to him from all eternity, that she has come into the world only to acccomplish this mission of loving beyond all verisimilitude. The antique fatality, so terrible and so majestic, is here found