It happened in the early morning hours when the scholar lay sleeping, unawares. Two of his servants accepted bribes to let attackers into his home. The punishment they visited upon their enemy was as horrifying and shameful as it was excruciating:
... for they cut off those parts of my body with which I had done that which was the cause of their sorrow.
By morning, it seemed all of Paris had congregated to hear the news. Two of Abelard's attackers were apprehended and made to suffer a similar fate, but no reparation could restore to the scholar what he had lost. The brilliant philosopher, poet, and teacher who had begun to be renowned for his talents now had fame of an altogether different sort thrust upon him.
How could I ever again hold up my head among men, when every finger should be pointed at me in scorn, every tongue speak my blistering shame, and when I should be a monstrous spectacle to all eyes?
Though he had never considered becoming a monk, Abelard turned to the cloister now. A life of seclusion, devoted to God, was the only alternative his pride would allow him. He turned to the Dominican order and entered the abbey of St. Denis.
But before he did so, he convinced his wife to take the veil. Her friends entreated her to consider ending her marriage and returning to the outside world: after all, he could no longer be her husband in the physical sense, and an annulment would have been relatively easy to obtain. She was still quite young, still beautiful, and as brilliant as ever; the secular world offered a future the convent could never match.
But Heloise did as Abelard bid her -- not for any love of convent life, or even for love of God, but for love of Abelard.
Love Endures
It would be difficult to imagine that their love for one another could survive separation and Abelard's tragic injury. In fact, having seen to his wife's entry into the convent, the philosopher appears to have placed the entire affair behind him and devoted himself to writing and teaching. For Abelard, and indeed for all who studied philosophy in his time, the love story was but a sideline to his career, the impetus that triggered a change in his focus from logic to theology.
But for Heloise, the affair was a seminal event in her life, and Pierre Abelard was forever in her thoughts.
The philosopher did continue to care for his wife and see to her security. When Argenteuil was overtaken by one of his many rivals and Heloise, now the prioress, was turned out with the other nuns, Abelard arranged for the displaced women to occupy the abbey of the Paraclete, which he had established. And after some time had passed, and wounds both physical and emotional had begun to heal, they resumed a relationship, albeit far different than the one they had known in the secular world.
For her part, Heloise would not let herself or her feelings for Abelard be overlooked. She was ever open and honest about her enduring love for the man who could no longer be her husband. She pestered him for hymns, sermons, guidance, and a rule for her order, and in so doing kept him active in the work of the abbey -- and kept her own presence constant in his mind.
As for Abelard, he had the support and encouragement of one of the most brilliant women of his times to help him navigate the treacherous course of 12th-century theological politics. His talents for logic, his continued interest in secular philosophy, and his absolute confidence in his own interpretation of Scripture had not won him friends in the Church, and his entire career was marked by controversy with other theologians. It was Heloise, one might argue, who helped him come to terms with his own spiritual outlook; and it was Heloise to whom he addressed his significant profession of faith, which begins:
Heloise, my sister, once so dear to me in the world, today even dearer to me in Jesus Christ...3
Though their bodies could no longer be united, their souls continued to share an intellectual, emotional, and spiritual journey.
Upon his death Heloise had Abelard's body brought to the Paraclete, where she was later buried beside him. They lie together still, in what could only be the end of a medieval love story.
Next: The Letters > Page 1, 2, 3, 4
Note
3 From Abelard's Apologia.
