tive of the church may perhaps weigh lightly with you; support then the character of a philosopher: if you have no respect for holy things, let common decency check the intemperance of your designs. Socrates, my Abeillard, was a married man; and the example of his life has been set up as a beacon, to warn his followers from the fatal rock. The feats of Xantippe are upon faithful record. The hidden feelings of my soul shall be open to you. Abeillard, it is in you only that all my wishes centre. I look for no wealth, no alliances, no provision. I have no pleasures to gratify; no will to serve but yours. In the name of wife there may be something more holy, something more imposing: but I vow to heaven, should Augustus, master of the world, offer me his hand in marriage, and secure to me the uninterrupted control of the universe, I would deem it more honourable to be called the mistress of Abeillard, than the wife of Cæsar.'

But they were married, and therein does Mr. Pope most unfairly misrepresent Heloisa. She did become, however reluctantly, his lawful, wedded wife.'

She persisted in keeping the secret, notwithstanding her uncle's anxious wish to make it known-his friends complained and remonstrated, and Heloisa was removed by her husband to the convent of Argenteuil. Fulbert and his relations now planned their scheme of vengeance against Abeillard, and the mutilation of his person was performed by the hired instruments of their malice. A dreadful punishment was inflicted on such of the offenders as were arrested, and Fulbert was deprived of his benefice, and his effects were confiscated.

But the vengeance dealt upon his enemies, could not solace Abeillard for the ridicule and disgrace brought on him by this transaction.

'The philosophy, he had studied, was not of a nature to speak comfort to him; of religion he knew little more than its splendid theory; and his great talents, the display of which had given exaltation to his name, being once brought low, would only serve to add weight to his depression. His friends in vain consoled him: their pity could but hurt his pride; and their advice, he knew, was unsupported by truth and the opinions of the world. Like Prometheus, he felt the vulture at his breast. In this state of mind, he says, it was, that he looked to the cloister, as the only place, which, at once, could bury his shame, and hide him from the observation of mortals. He communicated his design to Heloisa, and proposed that she should imitate his example.'

Heloisa who had not reached her twentieth year, obeyed with reluctance. But she did obey.

'It was not religion, says she, which called me to the cloisters: I was then in the bloom of youth; but you ordered, and. I obeyed.' ―The sacrifice was not yet complete. She had, indeed, promised

to comply with his injunctions; but was he sure, should he first engage himself, and leave her at liberty, that she might not violate her promise, and return to the world. He was therefore cruel enough to signify his suspicions, and to insist, that she bound herself first. When you had resolved to quit the world, she says to him, I followed you; rather I ran before you. It seems, you had the image of the patriarch's wife before your eyes. You feared I might look back; and therefore before you could surrender your own liberty, I was to be devoted. In that one instance, I confess, your mistrust of me tore my heart. Abeillard, I blushed for you. Heaven knows, had I seen you hastening to perdition, at a single word, I should not have hesitated to have followed, or to have preceded you. My soul was no longer in my own possession.'

Abeillard soon became disgusted with the profligate manners of the abbot and monks of St. Denys, and his scholars being anxious for his return, he left the abbey, and resumed the occupation of a teacher of theology. He did not return to Paris but established his school in the country.

'The conflux of scholars was incessant: there were no habitations to receive them, nor could the country supply food for the multitude. Some authors speak of more than three thousand, who, at one time, attended his lessons.-How scarce must have been the means of instruction; or how ardent the thirst to acquire it, when the reputation of one man could excite such a ferment in Europe!'

He was soon induced to publish his theological system in three volumes, under the title of Introductio ad Theologiam, his enemies accused him of heresy, and a synod was assembled at Soissons, by the archbishop Rodolphus, and after the mockery of a trial he was sentenced to burn his book. He obeyed this order, and was then obliged to read aloud the 'symbol of Athanasius' as a test of his orthodoxy.

'The ceremony, with all its circumstances, was too humiliating: the greatest man in the literary world was reduced to the puerile task of reading his profession of faith; any child, says he, might have done as much. He read, he sighed, he sobbed, he wept; whilst his enemies exulted, and the council, in secret triumph, looked down on the fallen man.'

After a short confinement at St. Medard, he was permitted to retire again to St. Denys. But he did not live long in tranquillity; a quarrel with the monks of that abbey, and the danger of further ecclesiastical censures, drove him to seek for safety in a hasty flight. He was threatened with excommunication if he did not return to St. Denys, but after much difficulty obtained permission to retire, on condition that he would seek a solitary abode, and never again subject himself to monastic rules, a condition imposed by the jealousy of the new abbot of St. Denys, who was unwilling that

any other monastic institution should appear to be preferred by Abeillard.

'As formerly he had wandered through the forests of Champagne, he had observed a spot, the recollection of which now returned upon his mind. It was a small sequestered vale, surrounded by a wood, not distant from Nogent sur Seine, and a rivulet ran near its side. It did not appear that the foot of any mortal had hitherto disturbed its solitude. To this place Abeillard hastened, and he spent his first night, as did the other tenants of the forest, protected only by the wide branches which spread over his head. Heloisa says, it was, at that time, the receptacle of wild beasts, and the retreat of robbers; that it had not seen the habitations of men, or known the charms of domestic life.-He had one companion, who was an ecclesiastic.

"Abeillard, delighted with the novelty of his situation, (for when the mind is warmed by a degree of enthusiasm, it can discover beauties in a wilderness,) waited on the owners of the land, and expressed to them his wishes of becoming an inhabitant of their woods. The undertaking was then no unusual thing; and they very freely gave their consent, and even made him a present of any extent of soil, he might choose to occupy.-The philosopher returned, and had soon measured out the district, which could bound his desires. His next step was to apply to the bishop of Troyes, in whose diocese his new possessions lay, for permission to build a small oratory. This likewise was granted.-Without loss of time, Abeillard then and his companion, planned the new building, and with the same hands began to erect it. The materials were not distant, nor was great skill required to put them together. They collected some boughs of trees; these they tied with twigs; and the structure rose visibly into form before their eyes.-Having completed what they called their oratory, and solemnly dedicated it to the holy Trinity, to express his disapprobation of the unitarian system, which his enemies had also imputed to him, they constructed a second building, which was to be their own dwelling. This, it may be presumed, was not more highly finished than the temple they had dedicated to their Maker.

When it was publicly known, that Abeillard was again an independent man, and had seceded entirely from the world, the lovers of science, and many who had before been his scholars, inquired anxiously for his abode, resolved, could the learned solitary be discovered, to put themselves under his tuition, and once more to draw science from his lips. Their search was soon crowned with success: they found him situated, as I have described, in the forest near Nogent; and they opened their wishes to him.-Abeillard in vain resisted; he saw every avenue to his hermitage filling with young men, and crowds were round him, before he had time to take the advice of his friends, or to consult the feelings of his own heart.

Before the end of the first year, the number of Abeillard's scholars exceeded six hundred, situated in a forest, such as I have described, exposed to the inclement seasons, without a single convenience to smooth the rugged life, or without one amusement, excepting what literary pursuits, scientific conversation, and their own society could supply. The subjects they discussed were either philosophical or religious, to which Abeillard added dissertations on the moral and social duties, which he could enliven by the brilliancy of his imagination, and by anecdotes drawn from sacred and profane history. But it matters little, as I have elsewhere observed, what, our pursuits be, provided they excite attention, and we place our interest in them.-The compositions indeed of Abeillard I can read with little pleasure; they are jejune, intricate, and inelegant; and to me such would have been his lectures. I could not have inhabited the Champagne forests, nor have travelled in quest of such literary lore; and my European contempories will not dissent from me: but this only shows that, with circumstances, our dispositions vary, and that nothing can be more irrational, than to measure by the same standard, the notions and characters of two ages so remote, as this and the twelfth century.' Their place of worship being enlarged by his scholars, he dedicated it to the Paraclet, or Holy-Ghost-a step at which great offence was taken; and Abeillard was again in fear of a second synod of Soissons. He, therefore, accepted the abbey of St. Gildas, a monastery in Little Britanny, to which he was elected by the unanimous voice of the monks, on the death of their abbot. About this time, a claim was successfully advanced by the abbot of St. Denys, to the nunnery of Argenteuil, where Heloisa had resided seven years, and had been elected prioress, the next station in dignity to that of abbess. She and the nuns were of course ejected and thrown upon the world, without succour and without friends. Abeillard, who had appeared previously to have forgotten her, now exerted himself in her behalf, and leaving St. Gildas, he made a visit to Heloisa, and proposed to her to establish herself with her nuns at Paraclet. A new establishment was accordingly formed there, under his auspices, and Heloisa was chosen abbess.

'Great were the distresses to which Heloisa and her sisters were at first exposed: they were poor, and the Paraclet could not supply them with the common necessaries of life. Cheerfully, however, they submitted to their fate, and they practised, as they could, the duties of their profession, looking up to him for support, who nourishes the brood of the raven, which calls to him for food. Heloisa also, in the same submission of mind, drew additional consolation from every object, with which was joined the dear recollection of Abeillard. But soon their wants were relieved. The neighbouring people, whom the pious behaviour of the holy sisterhood edified, and whom their distresses moved to compassion, came in to their assistance. Nor were they satisfied to ad

minister a mere temporary relief: Milo, lord of Nogent, gave them three farms, and a considerable portion of land, which lay near to their inclosure; he also allowed them to cut down in his forest, such wood as they might want for firing or for building. Soon after his niece professed herself a nun at the Paraclet, when Milo increased his benefactions, and granted them a right of fishery in the river, which ran near their convent. To these donations, others were added by the nobility of the country. Matilda, countess of Champagne, was particularly liberal; and even Louis, king of France, would be numbered amongst their benefactors. The Paraclet was not then subject to his laws; but he granted the nuns permission to buy and sell in his dominions, without paying any duties to himself or successors for ever. Such liberal and unsolicited contributions show the character of the times.

"In a single year," says Abeillard, "they acquired greater possessions, than would have fallen into my hands, had I laboured a hundred on the spot." This good fortune he particularly ascribes to the powerful efficacy of female distress. As nature has formed women weak, and little able to provide for their own wants, their petitions, he thinks, are more apt to move us; and their virtue, if suffering, is an object which challenges the regard of God and men. "But so many were the attractions," continues he, "which, in the eyes of every beholder, divine providence gave to Heloisa, that bishops viewed her as a daughter, abbots as a sister, and the laity loved her as a mother. Her piety, her prudence, her patience, her gentleness of character, commanded universal admiration. Seldom she appeared in public; the retirement of her cell was better adapted to holy meditation and to prayer: but her society was ardently sought for, and strangers wished to be improved by her edifying conversation.'

Abeillard now made frequent visits to Heloisa, so much so, that scandal imputed a motive to him very different from that of giving spiritual advice to her and the nuns, and he resolved to preserve his reputation for sanctity, by turning his back for ever on the Paraclet.

His own monks at St. Gildas, soon began to give him trouble; their lives had been dissolute and irregular, and irritated now by the strict discipline which he endeavoured to introduce, they made two or three attempts upon his life, and obliged him again to seek his safety by a precipitate departure.

He found refuge in the house of a neighbouring gentleman, and in this retreat, wrote a history of his life, and a letter of consolation to a friend.

This letter was exhibited to Heloisa, and drew from her the epistle which Pope has so beautifully, though so unfaithfully versified. His answer was cold and discouraging, but she continued to write, and many letters were interchanged.

Abeillard was again arraigned before an ecclesiastical court, at Sens the decision of the court or council, was unfavourable; he