him lecture. What admiration
for genius, when three thousand young men could give up the delights of
Paris for a wilderness with Abelard! What marvellous powers of
fascination he must have had!

This renewed success, in the midst of disgrace, created immeasurable
envy. Moreover, the sarcasms, boldness, and new views of the philosopher
raised a storm of hatred. Galileo was not more offensive to the pedants
and priests of his generation than Abelard was to the Schoolmen and
monks of his day. They impeached both his piety and theology. He was
stigmatized as unsound and superficial. Yet he continued his attacks,
his ridicule, and his sarcasms. In proportion to the animosities of his
foes was the zeal of his followers, who admired his boldness and
arrogance. At last a great clamor was raised against the daring
theologian. Saint Bernard, the most influential and profound
ecclesiastic of the day, headed the opposition. He maintained that the
foundations of Christianity were assailed. Even Abelard could not stand
before the indignation and hostility of such a saint,--a man who kindled
crusades, who made popes, who controlled the opinions of the age.
Abelard was obliged to fly, and sought an asylum amid the rocks and
sands of Brittany. The Duke of this wild province gave him the abbey of
St. Gildas; but its inmates were ignorant and disorderly, and added
insubordination to dissoluteness. They ornamented their convent with the
trophies of the chase. They thought more of bears and wild boars and
stags than they did of hymns and meditations. The new abbot, now a grave
and religious man, in spite of his opposition to the leaders of the
orthodox party, endeavored to reform the monks,--a hopeless task,--and
they turned against him with more ferocity than the theologians. They
even poisoned, it is said, the sacramental wine. He was obliged to hide
among the rocks to save his life. Nothing but aid from the neighboring
barons saved him from assassination.

Thus fifteen years were passed in alternate study, glory, suffering, and
shame. In his misery Abelard called on God for help,--his first great
advance in that piety which detractors depreciated. He wrote also to a
friend a history of his misfortunes. By accident this history fell into
the hands of Heloise, then abbess of the Paraclete, which Abelard had
given her, and where she was greatly revered for all those virtues most
esteemed in her age. It opened her wound afresh, and she wrot