His adversaries, ever watchful for the slightest error, cavilled at this appellation, pretending it was monstrous to dedicate a church to the Holy Ghost alone!

In the year 1128, Abelard, apprehending some fresh attack, accepted the abbey of St. Gildas in Bretagne, and bestowed the church of Paraclete and its dependencies, upon Elöise, an appointment subsequently confirmed by the diocesan bishop.

William of Thierry, an intimate friend of St. Bernard, was the first to realise these fears; for that abbot appears to have become suddenly awakened to the iniquity of allowing the heterodox tenets of the new theologian to remain unrefuted. Stung with this conviction, but conscious that he himself was inadequate to the task, he addressed an animated appeal to St. Bernard, conjuring him to exert himself in the cause of the "faith of our common hope, now grievously corrupted," and subjoining thirteen articles deduced from Abelard's divinity, which he considered to be inimical to true religion. At the close of his expostulatory letter, he complains of the extraordinary titles of some of that philosopher's opuscula, such as "The Yea and the No," "Know Thyself," &c.; the doctrines of which he was grievously afraid were as monstrous as the titles were singular.

Bernard, who to do him justice appears in this instance to have entered the lists with all imaginable reluctance, and an honestlyconfessed dread of his rival's superior logic, thought himself obliged upon this appeal, and on Abelard's indignant rejection of his expostulations privately tendered, to accuse him publicly of having fallen into the heresies of Arius, Pelagius, and the Nestorians; while Abelard, on his part, disdainfully appealed to Henry, archbishop of Sens, and challenged his accuser to make good his charges at the council about to be held at that place.

Thither, accordingly, a large assembly convened to listen to the disputation of two such celebrated men. The young French king, Louis VII, together with his principal prelates, presided upon the occasion; and all Europe waited with impatience the issue of this spiritual tourney. The speculations as to the result were tolerably divided; for though Abelard was justly considered the ablest reasoner and most learned man of the day, on the other hand the opinions of St. Bernard had already, in the eyes of a very large party, obtained such sanctity, as to render any attempt to gainsay them little short of sacrilege itself. The expectations of the curious multitude were, however, destined to be disappointed. Both appear to have secretly feared the power or the influence of his antagonist; and while St. Bernard declared he would not suffer truths which were fixed and immutable to be put upon the doubtful issue of a scholastic dispute, Abelard, struck by a sudden panic, or probably foresceing the issue of his trial in the countenances of his judges, suddenly appealed to

Rome, where, however, at the instigation of the all-powerful abbot, his sentence was confirmed.

The venerable abbot of Cluni afforded him a retreat in the decline of life; and by his efforts a reconciliation was produced between him and Bernard. Here for two years he remained in quiet and unnoticed tranquillity; and upon becoming extremely infirm, retired for the benefit of his health to the monastery at Chalons on the Seine, where he died in 1142, aged 63. Peter, his kind patron, with that amiability which formed such an attractive feature in his character, acquainted Elöisa with his pious and resigned end, and in the same letter, strongly eulogizes the character of her unfortunate husband.

In forming our estimate of this celebrated man, it is impossible to refuse him the merit of genius, or (throughout the latter portion of his life) of true piety. That some of his notions on abstruse theological points were mistaken, and others couched in language extremely liable to be misunderstood, is certain; but, nevertheless, it is most true (to echo the words of the learned translator of Mosheim) that he "was undoubtedly worthy of a better fate than that which fell to his lot, and of a more enlightened age than that in which he lived."

It is difficult to avoid remarking upon the extreme prejudice and want of candour which Milner has displayed in his discussion of Abelard's opinions. He appears to imagine that the slightest praise bestowed upon one to whom Bernard opposed himself, would be a species of treason against that favourite divine; and he accordingly not merely wrests the tenets of Abelard into tortuous and unwarrantable positions, but with a want of charity worthy of the chronicler of the death of Anacletus, denies him the merit of penitence and piety in his old age.

Neander, in his account of his hero's controversy with Abelard and Arnold of Brescia, displays that talent and deep knowledge of theology, which from any production of that master-hand the world would naturally expect. There are, however, interspersed passages of mystic obscurity and Kantism; which at least, through the medium of his translation, are, to the casual reader, totally unintelligible. It would answer no useful end to expiscate these knotty paragraphs; and a very brief and general account of the controverted points, drawn indiscriminately from the works of Neander and from other sources, is all that has been attempted.

As a specimen, however, of the obscurity and mysticism alluded to, the following passage is extracted. After stating that the leading principle in Augustine's theology was, that the truths of religion were not to be attained merely by the application of the understanding, without moral preparation, but must be first received by faith, Neander, or rather his translator, thus continues:

And here two opposite paths present themselves, in either of which the human mind is liable to lose itself. In the first, by bringing down the Im

mutable and Divine, and placing it on a level with the Subjective and Unearthly. In the second (for the individual conception of the Divine, and the reflections arising from this conception, which would result from the peculiarities of mental cultivation) by confounding the immutable and to man incomprehensible sublime with that which is subjected to the mutations of human form.

It is but common justice however to state that the work, taken as a whole, appears to be very ably translated, and does not offend the reader by those bald expressions and foreign idioms, which are too often observable in books (especially German) done into English.

But it is time to resume the more immediate history of St. Bernard, from whom the reader has been for awhile diverted in favour of the rival luminary of the twelfth century. The controversy that has been briefly related, was by no means the only affair of a public nature which engaged the attention of the busy abbot, upon the secure establishment of Innocent II. upon the papal throne.

Theobald, Count of Blois, and elder brother of Stephen, King of England, was at this time engaged in a fierce contest with Louis VII. Theobald, an old and decrepid prince, and by himself quite unequal to so mighty an antagonist, had, however, gained by his virtues and pious donations, a friend in the powerful abbot of Clairval; who resisted the arms of Louis with the still more potent weapons of spiritual censure. The account of this transaction, as given by M. Sismondi in his "Histoire de Français," differs in some respects from that of Neander; and particularly in his remarks upon St. Bernard's share in the subsequent negotiations. Sismondi accuses the monk of being by no means superior to the duplicity and dissimulation then so common among clerical politicians, while Neander does not appear to take such a sinister a view of his hero's diplomacy.

Upon the death of Innocent II., speedily followed by that of his two immediate successors, Celestine and Lucius, the cardinals, instead of electing one of their own body, fixed upon a namesake and pupil of the abbot of Clairval, who assumed the name of Eugenius III. Eugenius appears to have been a truly pious and excellent Christian; and, on a visit which he paid to Clairval after his elevation, he gave every mark of a mind uncorrupted by the splendour of pontifical greatness.

The lowly habit of a monk, made still more irksome by a coarse woollen shirt next his person, was concealed from the eyes of the multitude by the richest purple robe. His bed, though covered with the most costly trappings, in reality consisted of the commonest straw and flock; and the humblest monk at Clairval found in his exalted brother a sympathising friend, instead of a haughty master. To this holy man, St. Bernard, as a tribute of just respect, dedicated his work De Consideratione, one of the most laboured and important productions of his active mind.

In the year 1145, the news of the taking of Edessa, and the massacre of the Christians in the Holy Land, filled all France with horror; and Louis VII., anxious to regain that favour with the church which he had forfeited by his persecution of Theobald, and perhaps actuated also by motives of chivalry, embraced with ardour the idea of a second crusade. Bernard lent his enthusiastic energy to the cause, and at an assembly convened at Vezelay, where he represented the pope himself, addressed the multitude in that peculiar strain of impassioned eloquence, which never failed in exciting the sympathy of his audience; and accordingly his voice was soon drowned in cries of "The cross! the cross!" while noble after noble, prelate after prelate, thronged in emulous succession, to receive the badges which were tendered by the ardent monk.

Bright were the predictions prophecied by St. Bernard concerning this crusade; and it was one of the bitterest mortifications of his concluding years, to be reproached upon its unfortunate termination, as a false and misleading prophet! He used to endeavour to console himself by reflecting upon the vices and misconduct of the crusading soldiers, and to assert that these were the sole obstacles to the success of the expedition in which they were engaged.

The closing act of St. Bernard's public career was to effect a reconciliation between the burghers of Metz and some of the neighbouring barons. It was from the bed of sickness that he roused himself to perform this work of charity; and though the haughty knights refused at the time to listen, or accept him as a mediator, he had the satisfaction of hearing upon his return to Clairval, with his malady increased in violence from the powerful effort he had made temporarily to subdue it, that the nobles had consented to an equitable peace.

From this time he never rallied; and it is painful to contemplate the last scene of his life, as one of bodily anguish, so acute as to make him pray for his departure as the only means of relief. He died in the year 1153, aged sixty-three.

The works of St. Bernard which have been handed down to us, consist of letters, sermons, and a few longer treatises. His style is lively and concise, and his diction pleasant and curious; but his knowledge is rather that of wholesome doctrine than of abstruse learning. He is not deficient in wit and elegance, and in his "Apologia ad Guilielmum," gives a very lively and amusing description of the excesses he vituperates.

And while they spin out their immoderate feasts, says their indignant censor, is there any one who offers to regulate the debauch? No, certainly: dish dances after dish; and for the abstinence which they profess, two rows of fat fish appear swimming upon the table. Are you cloyed with these? The cook has art sufficient to prick you up others of no less charms. He'll

provide sauces as different as your dishes. Thus plate is devoured after plate, and such natural transitions are made from one to the other, that they fill their bellies, but seldom blunt their appetites; for the palate is always so agreeably entertained with so many novelties, that it has not leisure to be satisfied.

In the same work he reproves very severely "a pleasant custom of some monks; who, being young, healthy, and strong, would retreat at sacrament time into the infirmary, to eat and drink more at their leisure."

It is in these writings, and especially in those upon important subjects, that the explanation of the wonderful influence and authority St. Bernard enjoyed is to be found; for they possess the peculiar and all-powerful charm of earnestness,-of an intense conviction of the doctrines and tenets they inculcate. It is this quality,-this faculty of deceiving (if deceiving) yourself as well as others,-this power of thoroughly merging the actor in the part he assumes, which invariably commands attention, and generally success. It carries with it the sympathy of all within its influence; and without it, the most honied charms of eloquence fall coldly upon the uninterested

ear.

And it was just this magic faculty which St. Bernard undoubtedly possessed. That he often deceived himself is more than probable, that he was often mistaken is certain; but still, whether persuading his relations to a monastic life-advocating the cause of his Popereprobating the crimes of the clergy-persecuting the unfortunate Abelard-preaching up the Crusades, or persuading himself that he could perform miracles, he was sincere. A belief in his genuineness is absolutely necessary to account for the power which a private individual-of no extraordinary genius-of an obscure monastery in Burgundy, exercised over the destinies of Europe. No impostor could have come unscathed out of a life of such varied responsibility. It was his truthfulness of character alone, which has secured him from detection by the Argus-eyes of an envious posterity!

That his character was a perfect one, or even the most perfect vouchsafed to human frailty, no one, except perhaps the Rev. Joseph Milner, would assert.

It is difficult to reconcile the epithet columbini which is continually bestowed by his biographers upon his eyes, with some of the stories related of his unbending sternness. But be this as it may, it seems certain that an over-indulgence to the errors of human nature cannot be numbered as one of St. Bernard's imperfections.

Neither if the influence he exerted upon passing events be considered, is there any room for unmixed gratitude. If his opposition to Abelard is open to some question, his persecutions of the pureminded Arnold of Brescia, of Peter de Bruys, whose only fault was to be in advance of the age he lived in, of the ardent Henri, of the Ca