Letters of Abelard and Heloise
with the cries of children, the songs of nurses, and all the hurry of
a family? What an odd fight will it be to see maids and scholars,
desks and cradles, books and distaffs, pens and spindles, one among
another? Those who are rich are never disturbed with the care and
charges of housekeeping; but with you scholars it is far otherwise*.
* _Heloissa dehortabat me nuptiis. Nuptia non conveniunt cum
philosophia_, &c. Oper. Abel. p 14.
He that will get an estate must mind the affairs of the world, and
consequently is taken off from the study of divinity and philosophy.
Observe the conduct of the wife Pagans in this point, who preferred a
single life before marriage, and be ashamed that you cannot come up
to them. Be more careful to maintain the character and dignity of a
philosopher. Don't you know, that there is no action of life which
draws after it so sure and long a repentance, and to so little
purpose? You fancy to yourself the enjoyments you shall have in being
bound to me by a bond which nothing but death can break: but know
there is no such thing as sweet chains; and there is a thousand times
more glory, honour, and pleasure, in keeping firm to an union which
love alone has established, which is supported by mutual esteem and
merit, and which owes its continuance to nothing but the satisfaction
of seeing each other free. Shall the laws and customs which the gross
and carnal world has invented hold us together more surely than the
bonds of mutual affection? Take my word for it, you'll see me too
often when you see me ev'ry day: you'll have no value for my love nor
favours when they are due to you, and cost you no care. Perhaps you
don't think of all this at present; but you'll think of nothing else
when it will be too late. I don't take notice what the world will
say, to see a man in your circumstances get him a wife, and so throw
away your reputation, your fortune and your quiet. In short,
continued she, the quality of mistress is a hundred times more
pleasing to me than that of a wife. Custom indeed, has given a
dignity to this latter name, and we are imposed upon by it; but
Heaven is my witness, I had rather be _Abelard's_ mistress than
lawful wife to the Emperor of the whole world. I am very sure I shall
always prefer your advantage and satisfaction before my own honour,
and all the reputation, wealth, and enjoyments, which the most
splendid marriage could bring me. Thus _Heloise_ argued, and
added a great many more reasons, which I forbear to relate, lest I
should tire my reader. It is enough for him to know, that they are
chiefly grounded upon her preference of love to marriage, and liberty
to necessity.
We might therefore suppose that _Heloise_ was afraid lest
marriage should prove the tomb of love. The Count de Buffi, who
passes for the translator of some of her Letters, makes this to be
her meaning, though cloathed in delicate language. But if we examine
those which she writ to _Abelard_ after their separation, and
the expressions she uses to put him in mind, that he was indebted for
the passion she had for him to nothing but love itself, we must allow
that she had more refined notions, and that never woman was so
disinterested. She loved _Abelard_ 'tis true; but she declared
it was not his sex that she most valued in him.
Some authors * are of opinion, that it was not an excess of love
which made _Abelard_ press _Heloise_ to marriage, but only
to quiet his conscience: but how can any one tell his reasons for
marriage better than he himself? Others say ** that if _Heloise_
did really oppose _Abelard's_ design of marrying her so
earnestly, it was not because she thought better of concubinage than
a married life, but because her affection and respect for her lover
leading her to seek his honour and advantage in all things, she was
afraid that by marrying him she should stand between him and a
bishoprick, which his wit and learning well deserved. But there is no
such thing in her Letters, nor in the long account which _Abelard_
has left us of the arguments which his mistress used to dissuade him
from marriage. These are the faults of many authors, who put such
words in the mouths of persons as are most conformable to their own
ideas. It is often more advantageous, that a woman should leave her
lover free for church dignities, than render him incapable of them by
marriage: but is it just therefore to suppose that _Heloise_ had
any such motives? There is indeed a known story of a man that was
possessed of a prebend, and quitted it for a wife. The day after the
wedding, he said to his bride, My dear, consider how passionately I
loved you, since I lost my preferment to marry you. You have done a
very foolish thing, said she; you might have kept that, and have had
me notwithstanding.
* _D'ctionnaire de Moreri_
** _Fran. d'Amboise._
But to return to our lovers. A modern author, who well understood
human nature, has affirmed, "That women by the favours they
grant to men, grow she fonder of them; but, on the contrary, the men
grow more indifferent*." This is not always true, _Abelard_
was not the less enamoured with _Heloise_ after she had given
him the utmost proofs of her love; and their familiarity was
so far from having abated his flame, that it seems all the
eloquence of _Heloise_ could not persuade _Abelard_ that he wronged
himself in thinking to marry her. He admired the wit, the passion,
and the ingenuity of his mistress, but in these things he did not
come short of her. He knew so well how to represent to her the
necessity of marriage, the discourse which he had about it with
Fulbert, his rage if they declined it, and how dangerous it might be
to both of them, that at last she consented to do whatever he
pleased: but still with an inconceivable reluctance, which showed
that she yielded for no other reason but the fear of disobliging him.
* _M. de la Bruyere._
_Abelard_ was willing to be near his mistress till she was
brought to bed, which in a short time she was of a boy. As soon as
_Heloise_ was fit to go abroad, _Abelard_ carried her to
Paris, where they were married in the most private manner that could
be, having no other company but Fulbert, and two or three particular
friends. However, the wedding quickly came to be known. The news of
it was already whispered about; people soon began to talk of it more
openly, till at last they mentioned it to the married pair.
Fulbert who was less concerned to keep his word than to cover the
reproach of his family, took care to spread it abroad. But _Heloise_,
who loved _Abelard_ a thousand times better than she did
herself, and always valued her dear Doctor's honour above her own,
denied it with the most solemn protestations, and did all she could
to make the world believe her. She constantly affirmed, that the
reports of it were mere slanders; that _Abelard_ never proposed
any such thing; and if he had, she would never have consented to it.
In short, she denied it so constantly, and with such earnestness,
that she was generally believed. Many people thought, and boldly
affirmed, that the Doctor's enemies had spread this story on purpose
to lessen his character. This report came to Fulbert's ears, who,
knowing that _Heloise_ was the sole author of it, fell into so
outrageous a passion at her, that after a thousand reproaches and
menaces, he proceeded to use her barbarously. But _Abelard_, who
loved her never the worse for being his wife, could not see this many
days with patience. He resolved therefore to order matters so as to
deliver her from this state of persecution. To this purpose they
consulted together what course was to be taken; and agreed, that for
setting them both free, her from the power and ill-humour of her
uncle, and him from the persecuting reports which went about of him,
_Heloise_ should retire into a convent, where she should take
the habit of a nun, all but the veil, that so she might easily come
out again, when they should have a more favourable opportunity. This
design was proposed, approved, and executed, almost at the same time.
By this means they effectually put a stop to all reports about a
marriage. But the Canon was too dangerous a person to be admitted to
this consultation; he would never have agreed to their proposal; nor
could he hear of it without the utmost rage. 'Twas then that he
conceived a new desire of revenge, which he pursued till he had
executed it in the most cruel manner imaginable. This retreat of
_Heloise_ gave him the more sensible affliction, because she was
so far from covering her own reputation, that she completed his
shame. He considered it as _Abelard's_ contrivance, and a
fresh instance of his perfidious dealing towards him. And this
reflection put him upon studying how to be revenged on them both at
one stroke; which, aiming at the root of the mischief, should forever
disable them from offending again.
While this plot was in agitation, the lovers, who were not apt to
trouble their heads about what might happen, spent their time in the
most agreeable manner that could be. _Abelard_ could not live
long without a sight of his dear wife. He made her frequent visits in
the convent of Argenteuil, to which she was retired. The nuns of
this abbey enjoyed a very free kind of life: the grates and parlours
were open enough. As for _Heloise_, she had such excellent
qualifications as made the good sisters very fond of her, and
extremely pleased that they had such an amiable companion. And as
they were not ignorant what reports there were abroad, that she was
married to the famous _Abelard_, (though she denied it to the
last,) the most discerning among them, observing the frequent visits
of the Doctor, easily imagined that she had reasons for keeping
herself private, and so they took her case into consideration, and
expressed a wonderful compassion for her misfortunes.
Some of them, whom _Heloise_ loved above the rest, and in
whom she put great confidence, were not a little aiding and assisting
in the private interviews which she had with _Abelard_, and in
giving him opportunities to enter the convent. The amorous Doctor
made the best use of every thing. The habit which _Heloise_ wore
the place where he was to see her, the time and seasons proper for
his visit, the stratagems which must be used to facilitate his
entrance, and carry him undiscovered to _Heloise's_ chamber, the
difficulties they met with, the reasons they had for not letting it
be known who they were, and the fear they were in of being taken
together; all this gave their amours an air of novelty, and added to
their lawful embraces all the taste of stolen delights.
These excesses had then their charms, but in the end had fatal
consequences. The furious Canon persisting in his design of being
revenged on _Abelard_, notwithstanding his marriage with his
niece, found means to corrupt a domestic of the unfortunate Doctor,
who gave admittance into his master's chamber to some assassins hired
by Fulbert, who seized him in his sleep, and cruelly deprived him of
his manhood, but not his life. The servant and his accomplices fled
for it. The wretched _Abelard_ raised such terrible outcries,
that the people in the house and the neighbours being alarmed,
hastened to him, and gave such speedy assistance, that he was soon
out of a condition of fearing death.
The news of this accident made great noise, and its singularity
raised the curiosity of abundance of persons, who came the next day
as in procession, to see, to lament and comfort him. His scholars
loudly bewailed his misfortune, and the women distinguished
themselves upon this occasion by extraordinary marks of tenderness.
And 'tis probable among the great number of ladies who pitied
_Abelard_, there were some with whom he had been very intimate: