The Story of Abelard's Adversities

(Lettres par Heloise et Abelard, Union Generale d'Editions, 1964, pp.34-37, 40- 43, 46- 47, 49-50 Translation (c) Garay & Jeay).

In Paris there lived a young woman called Heloise. She was the niece of a canon called Fulbert who loved her dearly and had done everything possible to give her a good education. She wasn't bad looking and she was outstanding in her pursuit of knowledge. As this quality is very rare among women, it gave her special status and made her famous throughout the kingdom. Considering all the qualities which usually appeal to lovers, I decided to begin a relationship with her and I believed that it would be very easy to accomplish. At that time I had such an excellent reputation and I was so outstanding because of my youth and good looks that I did not fear rejection, no matter what woman I might choose to honour with my love. And I was sure that this young woman would be all the more willing to consent to my desires because she was well educated and had a love of learning. Thus, although we might be separated, we could be united by exchanging letters; the pen is bolder than the spoken word and would allow us constant and delightful conversations.

Enflamed with passion for this young woman, I sought the opportunity for private daily contacts with her, in order to win her over more easily. To accomplish this, I contacted her uncle through some friends. He set his own price to allow me to lodge in his house, which was very near to my school. I pretended that the care of my own household was detrimental to my studies and too heavy a financial burden. A very avaricious man, Fulbert was also eager to assist his niece's studies. By flattering both of these obsessions, I easily won him over and achieved my goal, since he loved money and he thought that his niece would profit from my teaching. He urged me most eagerly concerning the education of Heloise. Responding to my wishes and hopes and intensifying my love, he placed his niece fully and completely under my control; saying that I might devote myself to teaching her, after school, whenever I could, night or day, and to punish her if I found her at fault. I admired his naivety and could barely conceal my astonishment at his confining a tender lamb to a ravenous wolf. When he handed her over to me to instruct and also to punish severely, what else was he doing but offering me permission to fulfill all my desires, along with the opportunity to take her with threats and blows, if I could not overcome her with caresses? But two considerations kept Fulbert from any suspicion of evil: his affection for his niece and my reputation for chastity.

The result was that we were first united under one roof and then united in our hearts. Pretending to study, we were entirely consumed by love. Study offered the privacy which love required. The books were opened but there were more words of love than philosophy lessons, more kissing than analysis. My hands were more often on her breasts than on our books. Love made us gaze into one another's eyes more often than reading directed them to the texts. And, the better to avoid suspicion, I sometimes struck her but the blows were given out of love not anger, tenderness, not hatred, and were sweeter than the sweetest balm. What more shall I say? Our ardor followed all the phases of love. We indulged in all that passion could invent. And the more such delights were new to us, the more we indulged in them and the less we wearied of them.

Enveloped in the delights of pleasure, I had less time for philosophy and gave less attention to my school. It became deadly boring for me to go or to remain there; it was also exhausting, as my nights were devoted to love and the days to study. I gave my lectures with indifference and detachment; I did not speak with inspiration any longer but only from memory, repeating my old lectures, and if I composed verses, they were only about love and not about philosophy. As you know, many of these poems are still popular in various places and are sung by those who are under the spell of the same feeling. It is difficult to recount the sadness, the deep regret and sadness of my students when they saw that my mind was so preoccupied and disturbed by such things....

Not long afterwards the girl noticed that she was pregnant and she wrote to me about it with great joy, asking what I thought should be done. One night, while her uncle was away, I secretly took her from his house, as we had arranged, and had her taken to my native country [Brittany]. She stayed there with my sister until she gave birth to a boy, whom she called Astrolabe.

When he returned, her uncle almost went mad, and no-one can understand, unless through experience, the anguish which consumed him, and the shame which he felt.... I went to see him, and, begging his forgiveness, promised to make amends in whatever way he would decide. I told him that my conduct would not surpise anyone who had experienced the sweetness of love and who knew to what depths even the greatest men had been brought down by women since the beginning of the world. And to further appease him, I made an offer which went further than his deepest hopes: I proposed to marry the one I had seduced, on the sole condition that the marriage be kept secret in order not to damage my reputation. He agreed, giving me his word and that of his supporters and we exchanged the kiss of peace as I requested. But he did this only to betray me more easily. I immediately returned to Brittany to bring back my love and make her my wife. However, she did not approve of the plan and attempted to change my mind for two reasons: the danger involved and the dishonour to which I would be exposing myself. She gave her word that her uncle would never be appeased by this action: later events proved that she was right. She asked me what glory she would derive from a marriage which would ruin my reputation and humiliate us both. And what punishment would the world demand of her if she were to extinguish such a brilliant light? What curses would she bring upon her head? What disfavour to the Church! What weeping among philosophers! How disgraceful and deplorable, to see a man whom nature had destined for the entire world, serving only one woman and submitting to an infamous yoke! She violently resisted a marriage which would prove a disgrace and a burden to me.

She pointed out the loss of my reputation and the difficulties of married life .... What could there be in common, she asked, between the scholarly life and domestic chores, between the lectern and the cradle, between the book or the writing tablet and the distaff, between the pen and the spindle? What man, devoted to works of literature and philosophy, could bear the cries of newborn child, the songs of the nurse to quiet the baby, the bustle of manservants and maids about the house? Who could endure the constant foul effusions of babies? You will say that the rich can manage it: yes, this is true, because their castles or large mansions have private areas, and because they are wealthy, they do not consider the expense and are not beset by daily cares. But the status of philosophers is not the same as those who are rich; and those who seek after riches and devote themselves to wordly concerns do not have time for sacred or philosophical studies....

Lastly, speaking on her own behalf, she pointed out how dangerous it would be for me to remain in Paris, how the title of lover seemed more honourable for me and more desirable for her, since she wished to bind me to her only by the power of affection and not by the chains of matrimony. She said that our separation would make our rare meetings all the more pleasurable. Seeing that all her efforts to persuade me failed to deter me from my mad scheme, she ended her appeal with sighs and tearshusn, saying "If we do this, we shall both be lost and we will endure sorrow as profound as our love". And, as the world knows, she foretold the future quite correctly.

We entrusted our young son to my sister and secretly returned to Paris. A few days later, having spent a night in vigil in a church, at dawn, in the presence of Heloise's uncle and several of his friends and our friends, we received the nuptial blessing. We separated immediately and left secretly. After that we only met rarely and covertly, hiding what we had done.

But Fulbert and his allies, seeking to avenge the insult he had suffered, began to make our marriage public, in violation of their sworn oath. Heloise vigourously denied the story and swore that it was a lie. Fulbert was angry and abused her. When I learned of this, I sent her to a convent in a town called Argenteuil, near Paris, where she had been brought up and taught as a young girl. I had her clothed in the habit of nun, wearing all except the veil. When her uncle and his allies heard this, they thought that I had tricked them and that I had put Heloise in the convent because I wanted to get rid of her. Filled with anger, they conspired against me. One night, while I was asleep in an inner room at my lodgings, having bribed one of my servants, they took their revenge, the most barbaric and shameful revenge and one which the world regarded with horror: they cut off the parts of my body with which I had committed the deed which they deplored. They immediately ran away but two of them were caught and had their eyes put out and were castrated. One of these was the servant who had been persuaded by greed to betray me....

In this state of remorse and confusion, rather than as the result of any devout conversion, I was driven to the shelter of the monastic cloister. Meanwhile Heloise, agreeing to follow my instructions, had taken the veil and had entered a convent. Both of us took the religious habit at the sametime, I at the abbey of St. Denis and she at the convent of Argenteuil of which I have spoken above. I remember that there were many who sympathized with her and tried to prevent her, young as she was, from submitting to the yoke of monastic rule, seeing it as an intolerable punishment. But it was in vain. Her only response, amid tears and sighs, was to break forth with the complaint of Cornelia (Lucan, Pharsalia VIII, 94ff): "O noble husband, too good for such a wife. Did Fortune have power over one so great? Guilty wretch that I am, why did I marry you and bring you such misery? Accept my penalty-- a price I willingly pay". And while uttering these words she hurried to the altar and took from it the veil which the bishop had blessed, binding herself to the religious life in the presence of everyone.