The Letters of Abelard and Heloise (c.1132 – 1138)
by Peter Abelard and Heloise with an Introduction by Betty Radice and M. T. Clanchy
trans. Betty Radice and Revised by M. T. Clanchy
Penguin Classics, 296pp.
From the middle of the High Middle Ages comes one of the great correspondences of all time, that of Peter Abelard, a French philosopher and one of the greatest logicians of the twelfth century, and his gifted pupil Heloise. Through these impassioned letters unfolds the story of their romance and all its turbulence, as well as a fascinating debate that reveals much about the mind of religious life in the early part of the twelfth century.
Penguin Classics and M. T. Clanchy have lovingly updated Betty Radice’s famous translation of the 1970s, including with the letters of Abelard and Heloise (including his autobiographical piece, Historia Calamitatum) various addenda, such as letters between Peter the Venerable and Heloise, two hymns by Abelard and extracts from the Lost Love Letters of Heloise and Abelard[1].
The Lives of Abelard and Heloise
Peter Abelard was born c.1092 at Le Pallet, near Nantes, the eldest son of a minor noble Breton family. His father desired his son to have a military career, as he himself had done, but Abelard pursued life as an academic. Abelard excelled at the art of dialectic, and during this early part of his life he “began to travel about in several provinces disputing, like a true peripatetic philosopher, wherever I had heard there was a keen interest in the art of dialectic.”
These travels eventually bought him to Paris (which is where he formally adopted Abelard as his name, having previously been known as Pierre Le Pallet), and in Paris, at the cathedral school of Notre-Dame de Paris he was taught by William of Champeaux, the disciple of Anselm of Laon, a leading figure in Realism. Very quickly Abelard was able to better his master in argument, and the resulting fallout destroyed Realism, and was replaced by Abelard’s Conceptualism. This bright young figure, still only twenty-two, set up his own school at Melun and then another nearer Paris at Corbeil.
Here comes the first mystery of Abelard’s life. At the height of his powers, Abelard disappeared from public life. On his return in 1108 he again met with his former teacher, William, and the two became rivals, but Abelard swiftly won. From here Abelard turned his concerns towards theology, and attended the lectures of Anselm of Laon, soon becoming a fellow teacher, and then surpassing even him. In c.1115 Abelard took the chair at Notre-Dame and was nominated canon.
Supposedly surrounded by thousands of students, from various countries, drawn by his teachings, and at the height of fame, Abelard first met Heloise.
Said to have been beautiful, and remarkable for her knowledge of classical letters, from Latin and Greek to Hebrew, Heloise was under the care of her uncle, Fulbert, in the precinct of Notre-Dame, where Abelard went to tutor her, and from where he used his powers to seduce her. Their relationship soon became public knowledge, and when Fulbert found out the lovers were separated. Continuing to meet in secret, Heloise soon became pregnant, and was sent by Abelard to Brittany, where she gave birth to a son, Astrolabe. To appease her furious uncle, Abelard proposed a secret marriage, in order that his prospects of advancing in the church should not be hindered, but Heloise opposed these plans. This independent, strong woman appealed to Abelard not to sacrifice his own life for her, but she soon acquiesced. Pressure mounted on the lovers to reveal their marriage, so at Abelard’s behest, Heloise took refuge in the convent of Argenteuil. Fulbert, thinking that Abelard was getting rid of her, plotted revenge. He and some others broke into Abelard’s chamber by night and castrated him.
As a consequence of this, and because of Canonical law, the upper ecclesiastical offices were closed to him, as was the priesthood. Heloise agreed to become a nun, for Abelard would never be able to function as a husband again. Abelard retreated into his work, studying deeply and reopened his school at a now unknown location. He wrote a book, the Theologia ‘Summi Boni’ but his adversaries picked up on the rationalistic interpretation of the Trinitarian dogma, and so Abelard was made to burn his book. He remained an antagonistic figure in religious life, until finally he became a hermit and built himself a cabin of stubble and reeds near Nogent-sur-Seine. When the location of this retreat became known, however, students again swarmed to him, to hear him teach. In gratitude he consecrated the new Oratory of the Paraclete.
Abelard still feared persecution and so deserted the Paraclete and spent some time presiding over the Abbey of Saint-Gildas-de-Rhuys, on the far-off shore of Lower Brittany, a lawless land, prey to outlaws. The misery of these years was intensified by the breaking up of Heloise’s convent at Argenteuil. In favour to her, he established her as head of the new religious house at the deserted Paraclete. Very soon afterward he wrote his Historia Calamitatum, and so began the correspondence of Abelard and Heloise.
Though his life still remained troubled, and a significant conflict with Bernard of Clairvaux saw Abelard formally arraigned upon a number of heretical charges. Abelard, as the investigation continued, collapsed at the abbey of Cluny. Removed to the priory of St. Marcel, near Chalon-sur-Saone, he died. He was buried at St. Marcel, but soon afterward his remains were secretly exhumed and given over to the care of Heloise at the Paraclete. Heloise in time came to rest beside him.
Modern Interpretations
The Letters of Abelard and Heloise have not proved to be as straight forward as they might first appear. As M. T. Clanchy discusses in his introductory essay The Letters of Abelard and Heloise in Today’s Scholarship, “the greatest threat to the reputations… has come from allegations of forgery.”[2] This threat has been heightened in the last thirty years, where it has received more attention, but it is not a new threat. Charlotte Charrier in 1933 has questioned the authenticity of the letters, particularly Heloise’s, for “how could any medieval woman, let alone a nun, have said such things?”[3] J. T. Muckle also concluded that Heloise’s letters were forged, or at least reworked. However both these early challenges to the letters comes because the challengers could not see how such religious figures could be so irreligious, a claim easy to counter for Abelard’s stance towards religious authority had always been questionable at best. The claim that the letters maybe a thirteenth century fiction is also questionable as the details included in the works seems too great and too detailed for it to be anything other than a twelfth century composition.
When reading the letters one is struck by the recurrence of certain phrases and motifs, and exactly quotations repeating in each other’s letters. It appears that there might possibly be some common editor of the works – perhaps Heloise after Abelard’s death? Or Abelard rewriting Heloise’s? – who has made the works into an accessible form. As Clanchy explains, “the author is more likely to have been Heloise than Abelard. At the convent of the Paraclete she had the writing facilities, the stability, the time, the knowledge and the motif to write, whereas Abelard was repeatedly on the move.”[4]
The difficulty in authenticating the author of these letters is hindered by the fact that there are no actual letters signed by either Abelard and Heloise, and that there are just copies made up into a book form that first appears in 1280, more than 150 years after the correspondence took place. This does not immediately hint at forgery as some claim, for it was not uncommon then (as it is now) for original letters to become lost and for copies to have been made.
Concluding Thoughts
Whatever the authenticity of these letters, it is clear that they display a level of emotional and intellectual attraction uncommon in mediaeval letters. The names Abelard and Heloise are as entwined as lovers as Romeo and Juliet or Dante and Beatrice (as Betty Radice famously eulogised). Their love lives on, inspired artists, poets, filmmakers and novelists into the present day. The debates on religious affairs retain relevance to those of faith, and provide such a fascinating insight into a very different way of life. It has been a delight reading them in Radice and Clanchy’s superlative translation, and the supplementary material provided accentuates the thoughts and emotions of these lovers well. There maybe more tests of their authenticity, just as they had tests in life. The last word goes to Abelard, from his Confession of Faith: “The storm may rage but I am unshaken, though the winds may blow they leave me unmoved; for the rock of my foundations stands firm.”
The Letters of Abelard and Heloise are available here in an anonymous translation from 1901, though without the supplementary material.
