XIII. ABELARD RETURNS TO PALLET TO PART WITH HIS MOTHER. SCARCELY had Abelard gained a final triumph over his opposers, when he was summoned* to Brittany by his mother. He who has no love for the one that bore him, that nourished him in infancy, is not capable of any human affection. Abelard forgot his ambition, forgot his triumphs, and obeyed the summons of his mother. But what did she want of her son at such a moment, when he had just reached the object of his ambition, when he had just grasped the prize for which he had been contending so long and so well? Her husband had been converted, as it was said; had embraced a religious life. Beranger, who had received just enough literary culture to make him discontented with a rude military life, who had probably become disgusted with the world, for whom the "times were out of joint," who perhaps was earnestly seek * Dúm verò hæc agerentur, charissima mihi mater mea Lucia reputriare me compulit, First letter, p. 14. ing the salvation of his soul, had sought an asylum in a convent. The great tide of life might roar madly on without; but as for him, he would cherish among the religious the hope of a more blessed existence hereafter, and strive by every recognized method to attain it. According to the custom of the times, his wife, Lucie, was about to imitate his example. Before bidding adieu to the world, she wished to see and embrace her son-her first-born! Many were those in the middle age, who, like the father and mother of Abelard, sought a resting-place under the shadow of the church. Man loves repose; he shrinks from the rude conflict with nature, by which he compels her to yield fruits for the nourishment of his body; he dreads antagonism with his fellow-man; he would escape from the limitations of external existence, and live wholly in the spirit; therefore he builds for himself a retreat, where he may enjoy, far from the profane, a higher, holier fellowship with kindred spirits, and realize a life that is wholly devoted to noble ends. Asceticism, whatever form it may take, has its root in the human heart. It equally points to the defects of the actual, and to the perennial beauty of the ideal. When men are happy in society, they will not build a monastery, nor attempt to found a new community. In the Middle Age, monastic institutions flourished, for society was profoundly unhappy. Especially at the beginning of the eleventh century, existence seemed to be for each one, at best, a calamity. Notwithstanding the promise of her priests, that Christianity should do away with all suffering upon earth, still life was full of sorrow, and the strong man in the midst of his loved ones watered the hearth-stone of his habitation with tears. The belief had been handed down from generation to generation, that the world would come to an end in the thousandth year from the nativity. As the appointed time drew nigh, each one seemed to listen for the blast of the last trump, and to watch for the bursting forth of flames from the bosom of the earth. Famine and pestilence were let loose, like angels of retribution, to punish a sin-darkened world. Highways were strown with the dead, and places of pilgrimage were packed with the victims of a desolating disease. Famine seized many that were spared by the pestilence. The stronger killed and eat the weaker. Forty-eight were massacred and devoured by a single wretch in the forest of Maçon. In one place, human flesh was publicly exposed for sale in the market-place. The beasts of the forests visited the habitations of men, for their daily food.* In the general despair of the times, every body sought refuge in the church. The abbots had to exer*Histoire de France, 1. iv., c. 1. cise their authority to keep all kings and nobles from turning monks. The Emperor Henry II., entering an abbey, exclaimed with the Psalmist: "This is my rest for ever; here will I dwell, for I have desired it." He was accepted on a vow of obedience, and sent back to his empire. The year one thousand, however, passed by, and a period of intense suffering was followed by a period of deep superstition. Monastic institutions greatly flourished in the eleventh century. The church, as we have alreedy seen, increased in splendor, and was corrupted by the spirit of the feudal world; but by the monks, with Hildebrand at their head, she was reformed. The course of Beranger and Lucie is, therefore, a common one. They are acting like multitudes of others in their times. Abelard has done well in going to receive the adieus of his mother. She claims a mother's right; and with the sage instinct of a truehearted woman, gives him counsel that is better than any precepts of philosophy.-When was a mother ever insincere to a son ?-He will not follow her advice, however, and calamities shall come as the avengers of his misdeeds. He shall follow the course of his father and mother to escape the multiplying ills of an unfortunate life, but shall find that no retreat can give quiet to a disturbed mind, and rest to a burthened heart. The soul of man must find peace in some other asylum than that of a convent. XIV. ANSELM OF LAON. WHEN Abelard returned to Paris no one hindered him from taking possession of the school that was his by right of conquest. William of Champeaux, abandoning his retreat, as well as the school of Saint Victor, had been made bishop of Chalons-Sur-Marne. The two hostile philosophers will not meet again, but their enmity has not ceased. William will fulfil with sufficient dignity the office of bishop, but he lacks magnanimity, even generosity, and will prejudice, some time during the few more years that remain to him on earth, the good St. Bernard against Abelard. His hatred shall be felt by his conquering pupil, even when the turf lies cold above him. Abelard is now the dictator of intellectual Paris. He has no rival in the schools, and his authority is su preme. He is in philosophy all that Napoleon will be in arms, and rules by the force of genius alone. He is not contented, for his warlike nature is not satisfied with peace. The conqueror droops when there are no more enemies to be subdued. When the |