Peter Abelard (1079-1142) was an intellecual star of the 12th century, a singular writer and logician who achieved early recognition for rendering the first medieval translation of Euclid's Elements from the surviving Arabic text. However, disputation & debate were his passions, as exemplified in his primary intellectual work Sic et Non, a list of 158 thorny philosophical and theological issues which divided the thinking elite of the day. This dialectic of argumentative synthesis became a hallmark of the medieval university and scholasticism in the West. Unfortunately, debate at the time was frequently interpreted as heresy. All Abelard's works were included in the later Index of Forbidden Books. The text here, The Historia Calamitatum, though essentially a letter, is closer to autobiography, in the mode of Augustine's Confessions : a self-portrait, an account of intellectual life in Paris before the University, of monasticism and, of course, a love story.
FOREWORD
OFTEN the hearts of men and women are stirred, as likewise they are soothed in their
sorrows more by example than by words. And therefore, because I too I have known some
consolation from speech had with one who was a witness thereof, am I now minded to write
of the sufferings which have sprung out of my misfortunes, for the eyes of one who, though
absent, is of himself ever a consoler. This I do so that, in comparing your sorrows with
mine, you may discover that yours are in truth nought, or at the most but of small
account, and so shall you come to bear them more easily.
CHAPTER I
OF THE BIRTHPLACE OF PIERRE ABELARD AND OF HIS PARENTS
KNOW, then, that I am come from a certain town which was built on the way into lesser
Brittany, distant some eight miles, as I think, eastward from the city of Nantes, and in
its own tongue called Palets. Such is the nature of that country, or, it may be, of them
who dwell there -- for in truth they are quick in fancy -- that my mind bent itself easily
to the study of letters. Yet more, I had a father who had won some smattering of letters
before he had girded on the soldier's belt. And so it came about that long afterwards his
love thereof was so strong that he saw to it that each son of his should be taught in
letters even earlier than in the management of arms. Thus indeed did it come to pass. And
because I was his first born, and for that reason the more dear to him, he sought with
double diligence to have me wisely taught. For my part, the more I went forward in the
study of letters, and ever more easily, the greater became the ardour of my devotion to
them, until in truth I was so enthralled by my passion for learning that, gladly leaving
to my brothers the pomp of glory in arms, the right of heritage and all the honours that
should have been mine as the eldest born, I fled utterly from the court of Mars that I
might win learning in the bosom of Minerva. And -- since I found the armoury of logical
reasoning more to my liking than the other forms of philosophy, I exchanged all other
weapons for these, and to the prizes of victory in war I preferred the battle of minds in
disputation. Thenceforth, journeying through many provinces, and debating as I went, going
whithersoever I heard that the study of my chosen art most flourished, I became such an
one as the Peripatetics.
CHAPTER II
OF THE PERSECUTION HE HAD FROM HIS MASTER WILLIAM OF CHAMPEAUX
OF HIS ADVENTURES AT MELUN, AT CORBEIL AND AT PARIS
HIS WITHDRAWAL FROM THE CITY OF THE PARISIANS TO MELUN, AND HIS RETURN TO MONT STE
GENEVIEVE
OF HIS JOURNEY TO HIS OLD HOME
I CAME at length to Paris, where above all in those days the art of dialectics was most
flourishing, and there did I meet William of Champeaux, my teacher, a man most
distinguished in his science both by his renown and by his true merit. With him I remained
for some time, at first indeed well liked of him; but later I brought him great grief,
because I undertook to refute certain of his opinions, not infrequently attacking him in
disputation, and now and then in these debates I was adjudged victor. Now this, to those
among my fellow students who were ranked foremost, seemed all the more insufferable
because of my youth and the brief duration of my studies.
Out of this sprang the beginning of my misfortunes, which have followed me even to the
present day; the more widely my fame was spread abroad, the more bitter was the envy that
was kindled against me. It was given out that I, presuming on my gifts far beyond the
warranty of my youth, was aspiring despite my tender years to the leadership of a school;
nay, more, that I was making ready the very place in which I would undertake this task,
the place being none other than the castle of Melun, at that time a royal seat. My teacher
himself had some foreknowledge of this, and tried to remove my school as far as possible
from his own. Working in secret, he sought in every way he could before I left his
following to bring to nought the school I had planned and the place I had chosen for It.
Since, however, in that very place he had many rivals, and some of them men of influence
among the great ones of the land, relying on their aid I won to the fulfilment of my
wish; the support of many was secured for me by reason of his own unconcealed envy. From
this small inception of my school, my fame in the art of dialectics began to spread
abroad, so that little by little the renown, not alone of those who had been my fellow
students, but of our very teacher himself, grew dim and was like to die out altogether.
Thus it came about that, still more confident in myself, I moved my school as soon as I
well might to the castle of Corbeil, which is hard by the city of Paris, for there I knew
there would be given more frequent chance for my assaults in our battle of disputation.
No long time thereafter I was smitten with a grievous illness, brought upon me by my
immoderate zeal for study. This illness forced me to turn homeward to my native province,
and thus for some years I was as if cut off from France. And yet, for that very reason, I
was sought out all the more eagerly by those whose hearts were troubled by the lore of
dialectics. But after a few years had passed, and I was whole again from my sickness, I
learned that my teacher, that same William Archdeacon of Paris, had changed his former
garb and joined an order of the regular clergy. This he had done, or so men said, in order
that he might be deemed more deeply religious, and so might be elevated to a loftier rank
in the prelacy, a thing which, in truth, very soon came to pass, for he was made bishop of
Chalons. Nevertheless, the garb he had donned by reason of his conversion did nought to
keep him away either from the city of Paris or from his wonted study of philosophy; and in
the very monastery wherein he had shut himself up for the sake of religion he straightway
set to teaching again after the same fashion as before.
To him did I return for I was eager to learn more of rhetoric from his lips; and in the
course of our many arguments on various matters, I compelled him by most potent reasoning
first to alter his former opinion on the subject of the universals, and finally to abandon
it altogether. Now, the basis of this old concept of his regarding the reality of
universal ideas was that the same quality formed the essence alike of the abstract whole
and of the individuals which were its parts: in other words, that there could be no
essential differences among these individuals, all being alike save for such variety as
might grow out of the many accidents of existence. Thereafter, however, he corrected this
opinion, no longer maintaining that the same quality was the essence of all things, but
that, rather, it manifested itself in them through diverse ways. This problem of
universals is ever the most vexed one among logicians, to such a degree, indeed, that even
Porphyry, writing in his "Isagoge" regarding universals, dared not attempt a
final pronouncement thereon, saying rather: "This is the deepest of all problems of
its kind." Wherefore it followed that when William had first revised and then finally
abandoned altogether his views on this one subject, his lecturing sank into such a state
of negligent reasoning that it could scarce be called lecturing on the science of
dialectics at all; it was as if all his science had been bound up in this one question of
the nature of universals.
Thus it came about that my teaching won such strength and authority that even those who
before had clung most vehemently to my former master, and most bitterly attacked my
doctrines, now flocked to my school. The very man who had succeeded to my master's chair
in the Paris school offered me his post, in order that he might put himself under my
tutelage along with all the rest, and this in the very place where of old his master and
mine had reigned. And when, in so short a time, my master saw me directing the study of
dialectics there, it is not easy to find words to tell with what envy he was consumed or
with what pain he was tormented. He could not long, in truth, bear the anguish of what he
felt to be his wrongs, and shrewdly he attacked me that he might drive me forth. And
because there was nought in my conduct whereby he could come at me openly, he tried to
steal away the school by launching the vilest calumnies against him who had yielded his
post to me, and by putting in his place a certain rival of mine. So then I returned to
Melun, and set up my school there as before; and the more openly his envy pursued me, the
greater was the authority it conferred upon me. Even so held the poet:
"Jealousy aims
at the peaks; the winds storm the loftiest summits." (Ovid:"Remedy for
Love," I,369.)
Not long thereafter, when William became aware of the fact that almost all his students
were holding grave doubts as to his religion, and were whispering earnestly among
themselves about his conversion, deeming that he had by no means abandoned this world, he
withdrew himself and his brotherhood, together with his students, to a certain estate far
distant from the city. Forthwith I returned from Melun to Paris, hoping for peace from him
in the future. But since, as I have said, he had caused my place to be occupied by a rival
of mine, I pitched the camp, as it were, of my school outside the city on Mont Ste.
Genevieve. Thus I was as one laying siege to him who had taken possession of my post. No
sooner had my master heard of this than he brazenly returned post haste to the city,
bringing back with him such students as he could, and reinstating his brotherhood in their
former monastery, much as if he would free his soldiery, whom he had deserted, from my
blockade. In truth, though, if it was his purpose to bring them succour, he did nought but
hurt them. Before that time my rival had indeed had a certain number of students, of one
sort and another, chiefly by reason of his lectures on Priscian, in which he was
considered of great authority. After our master had returned, however, he lost nearly all
of these followers, and thus was compelled to give up the direction of the school. Not
long thereafter, apparently despairing further of worldly fame, he was converted to the
monastic life.
Following the return of our master to the city, the combats in disputation which my
scholars waged both with him himself and with his pupils, and the successes which fortune
gave to us, and above all to me, in these wars, you have long since learned of through
your own experience. The boast of Ajax, though I speak it more temperately, I still am
bold enough to make:
"if fain you would learn now
How victory crowned the battle, by him was
I never vanquished."
(Ovid , "Metamorphoses," XIII, 89.)
But even were I to be silent, the fact proclaims itself, and its outcome reveals the
truth regarding it. While these things were happening, it became needful for me again to repair to my old
home, by reason of my dear mother, Lucia, for after the conversion of my father,
Berengarius, to the monastic life, she so ordered her affairs as to do likewise. When all
this had been completed, I returned to France, above all in order that I might study
theology, since now my oft-mentioned teacher, William, was active in the episcopate of
Chalons. In this field of learning Anselm of Laon, who was his teacher therein, had for
long years enjoyed the greatest renown.
CHAPTER III
OF HOW HE CAME TO LAON TO SEEK ANSELM AS TEACHER
I SOUGHT out, therefore, this same venerable man, whose fame, in truth, was more the
result of long established custom than of the potency of his own talent or intellect. If
any one came to him impelled by doubt on any subject, he went away more doubtful still. He
was wonderful, indeed, in the eyes of these who only listened to him, but those who asked
him questions perforce held him as nought. He had a miraculous flow of words, but they
were contemptible in meaning and quite void of reason. When he kindled a fire, he filled
his house with smoke and illumined it not at all. He was a tree which seemed noble to
those who gazed upon its leaves from afar, but to those who came nearer and examined it
more closely was revealed its barrenness. When, therefore, I had come to this tree that I
might pluck the fruit thereof, I discovered that it was indeed the fig tree which Our Lord
cursed (Matthew xxi. 19; Mark xi. 13), or that ancient oak to which Lucan likened Pompey,
saying:
"he stands, the shade of a name once mighty,
Like to the towering oak in the midst of the fruitful field."
(Lucan, "Pharsalia," IV, 135-)
It was not long before I made this discovery, and stretched myself lazily in the shade
of that same tree. I went to his lectures less and less often, a thing which some among
his eminent followers took sorely to heart, because they interpreted it as a mark of
contempt for so illustrious a teacher. Thenceforth they secretly sought !to influence him
against me, and by their vile insinuations made me hated of him. It chanced, moreover,
that one day, after the exposition of certain texts, we scholars were jesting among
ourselves, and one of them, seeking to draw me out, asked me what I thought of the
lectures on the Books of Scripture. I, who had as yet studied only the sciences, replied
that following such lectures seemed to me most useful in so far as the salvation of the
soul was concerned, but that it appeared quite extraordinary to me that educated persons
should not be able to understand the sacred books simply by studying them themselves,
together with the glosses thereon, and without the aid of any teacher. Most of those who
were present mocked at me, and asked whether I myself could do as I had said, or whether I
would dare to undertake it. I answered that if they wished, I was ready to try it.
Forthwith they cried out and jeered all the more. "Well and good," said they;
"we agree to the test. Pick out and give us an exposition of some doubtful passage in
the Scriptures, I so that we can put this boast of yours to the proof." And they all
chose that most obscure prophecy of Ezekiel.
I accepted the challenge, and invited them to attend a lecture on the very next day.
Whereupon they undertook to give me good advice, saying that I should by no means make
undue haste in so important a matter, but that I ought to devote a much longer space to
working out my exposition and offsetting my inexperience by diligent toil. To this I
replied indignantly that it was my wont to win success, not by routine, but by ability. I
added that I would abandon the test altogether unless they would agree not to put off
their attendance at my lecture. In truth at this first lecture of mine only a few were
present, for it seemed quite absurd to all of them that I. hitherto so inexperienced in
discussing the Scriptures, should attempt the thing so hastily. However, this lecture gave
such satisfaction to all those who heard it that they spread its praises abroad with
notable enthusiasm, and thus compelled me to continue my interpretation of the sacred
text. When word of this was bruited about, those who had stayed away from the first
lecture came eagerly, some to the second and more to the third, and all of them were eager
to write down the glosses which I had begun on the first day, so as to have them from the
very beginning.