those of Abelard and Heloise, but we had better be a little incredulous. The medallion is probably the work of a blundering restorer, who, some time in the fifteenth or sixteenth century, put it in the place of one more authentic and ancient.*

We are not certain that Abelard and Heloise ever dwelt in this house, which does not seem to be seven or eight hundred years old; but unquestionably the dwelling of Fulbert, the canon of Notre-Dame, was not far from this place.

The locality is nearly north from the cathedral. Between the house and the river there is now a wharf, but in the year 1116 or 1117, there must have been a sloping bank from the foot of the street to the running waters below. The street is narrow and winding. For centuries past it has been frequented by those connected with the metropolitan church. The different costumes of the various orders of these savers of souls according to the grace of Rome, give to the street a peculiar interest. On the bank of the river opposite, we may now see the splendid Hotel de Ville. In the early years of the twelfth century, the place where that splendid palace now stands, was a wide unoccupied shore.

cle.

In the year 1117, Heloise lived here with her un-
She had left the convent of Argenteuil, one

Remusat: Vie de Abelard, p. 51.

knows not when. The nuns there, most likely gave her all the instruction that they had to impart, which in the Middle Age was more than we boasting moderns are apt to think. The education of females in the convents had its excellencies as well as its defects. It was too subtile and poetic, not sufficiently prosy and practical. Christian girls were instructed in the literature and philosophy of antiquity, and other things were neglected. The imagination was developed more than the understanding, therefore the heart was endangered. Marriage was regarded by the church as at least a venial sin, and the budding maiden was not taught to look forward to a sanctified relationship in which she might find a home for her affections. Bunglers attempted to mend the work of God; confusion was introduced, and many a one innocent as Iphigenia or the daughter of Jephtha, went as a victim to an altar erected by the sightless, as a bride to the shadowy arms of death.

Heloise was then about seventeen years of age. Although so young, her name was known, not only in Paris, but throughout the kingdom. Her talents and acquirements were extraordinary; she was by nature a queen, and took the intellectual throne, like one who has a perfect right to rule. Her aristocracy was somewhat deeper than that of the cut and color of the dress; it was that elder aristocracy of vital force and blood, of brain and heart. A wooden head is good

enough in its place, but is rather ridiculous when thrust inside of a crown.

Fulbert was entirely of the earth, earthy. To eat dinners, acquire money, and get notoriety of the better kind, was, for him, to live. That such a piece of flesh as he, should have been placed in the ancient city of Paris, as a spiritual guide to a numerous flock, is one of the strange things which time has to record against humanity.

It is sad to see such a child of genius as Heloise given up to the guidance of such a stolid man. One sometimes has to pay a dear penalty for being related to certain persons.) Fulbert has no love for his niece of the beautiful and spiritual kind. She is admired by every body, and he likes her for the fame that she brings his house. He prides himself on being the uncle of such a queen of learning. A man who has made money, sometimes purchases for an immense sum a great work of art, and as its possessor, appropriates to himself a portion of the praises that are bestowed upon a production of genius; he cannot appreciate the noble picture or the statue which he owns, he does not love it for its beauty and intrinsic worth, but prizes it for some accidental and entirely outward value: such is the regard of Fulbert for Heloise. He cannot appreciate her endowments; in his dull eye a gifted soul has no deep, divine significance, he boasts of having a wonderful niece, as King Adme

tus might have boasted of having an excellent shepherd.

There are melancholy hours in which Heloise feels the oppression of solitude. The soul continually seeks for fellowship; it is happy when it finds an interpretation of its own moods in the expressed experience of another; alone, it is restless and sad. The house of Fulbert is to Heloise a prison, for among its inmates there is not one, with whom she can hold any communion of higher sentiment and thought. She is not indifferent to fame, but the approbation of the great, thoughtless, noisy world without, cannot satisfy the silent aspirations of her spirit. She is no longer a child; her heart has become the home of longings that are strange and new. A mystic tear now and then forces itself to her eye, and thoughts visit the soul, that seem like prophetic interpretations of life's future years.

Dear Heloise! one of the gods might love thee; Apollo himself might be satisfied with thy most precious of hearts; thou hast no guides, and art without experience; the serpent lurks near thee; I fear thou wilt accept the apple, which will turn to bitter ashes upon thy sweet lips!

XVI.

"THE OBSERVED OF ALL OBSERVERS."

WHEN Abelard returned to Paris, after his quarrel with Anselm at Laon, he found an unoccupied field; the schools were all opened to him. His old enemies were silent, and he took his place at the head of public instruction.

It is said, and it is probably true, that Abelard was made canon of Paris, as well as rector of the schools. There is no evidence, however, that he became a priest until afterwards; but unquestionably he was looking for advancement in the church.

In Paris, Abelard went on with his exegesis of Ezekiel, which had been begun and suspended at Laon. He was as successful in theology as in philosophy. In fact he was the first one who applied, to any extent, philosophy to the teaching of theology, and thus founded scholasticism, properly so called.

Abelard soon became the most noted man of all France, and his fame spread to distant nations. From Germany, from England, from Italy-from every civilized country, pupils flocked to Paris, attracted by the