Abelard: Heloysae Epistola ad Abeldarum

Missam ad amicum pro consolatione epistolam, dilectissime, vestram ad me forte quidam nuper attulit. Quam ex ipsa statim tituli fronte vestram esse considerans, tanto ardentius eam cepi legere quanto scriptorem ipsum karius amplector, ut cuius rem perdidi verbis saltem tanquam eius quadam imagine recreer. Erant, memini, huius epistole fere omnia felle et absintio plena, que scilicet nostre conversionis miserabilem hystoriam et tuas, unice, cruces assiduas referebant.

A letter sent to a friend for consolation, most beloved, someone recently by chance brought to me. Considering from the very face of the title itself that it was yours, I began to read it all the more ardently, inasmuch as I more dearly embrace the writer himself, so that, since I have lost the reality of him, I may at least be refreshed by words as by a certain image of him. There were, I remember, in this epistle almost all things filled with gall and wormwood, which, namely, recounted the miserable history of our conversion and your continual crosses, my only one.

Complesti revera in epistola illa quod in exordio eius amico promisisti, ut videlicet in comparatione tuarum suas molestias nullas vel parvas reputaret; ubi quidem expositis prius magistrorum tuorum in te persequutionibus, deinde in corpus tuum summe proditionis iniuria, ad condiscipulorum quoque tuorum Alberici videlicet Remensis et Lotulfi Lumbardi execrabilem invidiam et infestationem nimiam stilum contulisti. Quorum quidem suggestionibus quid de glorioso illo theologie tue opere, quid de te ipso quasi in carcere dampnato actum sit non pretermisisti. Inde ad abbatis tui fratrumque falsorum machinationem accessisti et detractiones illas tibi gravissimas duorum illorum pseudoapostolorum a predictis emulis in te commotas, atque ad scandalum plerisque subhortum de nomine Paracliti oratorio preter consuetudinem imposito.

You truly completed in that epistle what at its exordium you promised to the friend, namely that in comparison with your pains he should reckon his none or small; where, after first setting forth the persecutions of your masters against you, then the injury of supreme treachery upon your body, you directed your pen also to the execrable envy and excessive infestation of your fellow-disciples, namely Alberic of Reims and Lotulf the Lombard. Nor did you omit, on their insinuations, what was done concerning that glorious work of your theology, and concerning yourself as though condemned to prison. Thence you proceeded to the machination of your abbot and of false brethren, and those most grievous detractions against you by those two pseudo-apostles, stirred up by the aforesaid rivals, and to the scandal that sprang up for many from the name of the Paraclete imposed upon the oratory contrary to custom.

Denique ad intolerabiles illas et adhuc continuas in te persequutiones crudelissimi scilicet illius exacto | ris et pessimorum, quos filios nominas, monachorum profectus, miserabilem historiam comsummasti.

Finally, having advanced to those intolerable and still continuous persecutions against you, namely of that most cruel exactor | and of the worst monks, whom you call sons, you consummated the pitiable history.

Que cum siccis oculis neminem vel legere vel audire posse estimem, tanto dolores meos amplius renovarunt quanto diligentius singula expresserunt, et eo magis auxerunt quo in te adhuc pericula crescere retulisti; ut omnes pariter de vita tua desperare cogamur, et cotidie ultimos illos de nece tua rumores trepidantia nostra corda et palpitantia pectora expectent. Per ipsum itaque qui te sibi adhuc quoquo modo protegit Christum obsecramus, quatinus ancillulas ipsius et tuas crebris litteris de his in quibus adhuc auctuas naufragiis certificare digneris, ut nos saltem, que tibi sole remansimus, doloris vel gaudii participes habeas.

Which, since I suppose no one is able to read or to hear with dry eyes, have so much the more renewed my dolors the more diligently they expressed each particular, and they have increased them all the more because you reported that perils are still growing upon you; so that we are all alike compelled to despair of your life, and our trembling hearts and palpitating breasts daily await those last rumors about your slaying. By him himself, therefore, Christ, who still in whatever way protects you for himself, we beseech, that you would deign by frequent letters to certify his handmaidens and yours concerning the shipwrecks in which you still seethe, so that we at least, who alone have remained to you, you may have as participants of sorrow or of joy.

Solent etenim dolenti nonnullam afferre consolationem qui condolent, et quodlibet onus pluribus impositum levius sustinetur sive defertur. Quod si paululum hec tempestas quieverit, tanto amplius maturande sunt littere quanto sunt iocundiores future. De quibuscunque autem nobis scribas non parvum nobis remedium conferes, hoc saltem uno quod te nostri memorem esse monstrabis.

For indeed those who condole are accustomed to bring some consolation to the one in pain, and any burden imposed upon several is borne or carried more lightly. But if this storm should a little subside, so much the more ought letters to be expedited as they will be more jocund in the future. And whatever you may write to us will confer no small remedy upon us, at least by this one thing: that you will show yourself mindful of us.

Quam iocunde vero sint absentium littere amicorum, ipse nos exemplo proprio Seneca docet, | ad amicum Lucilium quodam loco sic scribens: "Quod frequenter mihi scribis, gratias ago: nam quo uno modo potes, te mihi ostendis. Numquam epistolam tuam accipio, quin protinus una simus. Si imagines nobis amicorum absentium iocunde sunt, que memoriam renovant et desiderium absentie falso atque inani solatio levant, quanto iocundiores sunt littere, que amici absentis veras notas afferunt?" Deo autem gratias, quod hoc saltem modo presentiam tuam nobis reddere nulla invidia prohiberis, nulla difficultate prepediris, nulla, obsecro, negligentia retarderis.

How pleasant indeed are the letters of absent friends, Seneca himself teaches us by his own example, | writing thus to his friend Lucilius in a certain place: "Because you write to me frequently, I give thanks: for in the one way you can, you show yourself to me. I never receive your letter without our straightway being together. If images of our absent friends are pleasant to us, which renew memory and lighten the longing of absence with a false and empty solace, how much more pleasant are letters, which bring the true marks of an absent friend?" But thanks be to God, that at least in this way you are prohibited by no envy from restoring your presence to us, hampered by no difficulty, delayed, I beseech, by no negligence.

Scripsisti ad amicum prolixe consolationem epistole, et pro adversitatibus quidem suis, sed de tuis; quas videlicet tuas diligenter commemorans, cum eius intenderes consolationi, nostre plurimum addidisti desolationi, et dum eius mederi vulneribus cuperes, nova quedam nobis vulnera doloris inflixlsti et priora auxisti.

You wrote to a friend a prolix consolatory epistle, and indeed on account of his adversities, yet about your own; and by diligently commemorating those yours, while you intended his consolation, you added very much to our desolation, and while you desired to heal his wounds, you inflicted on us certain new wounds of sorrow and increased the former.

Sana, obsecro, ipsa que fecisti, qui que alii fecerunt curare satagis. Morem quidem amico et socio gessisti et tam amicitie quam societatis debitum persolvisti, sed maiore te debito nobis astrinxisti, quas non tam amicas quam amicissimas, non tam socias quam filias convenit nominari, vel si quod dulcius et sanctius | vocabulum potest excogitari. Quanto autem debito te erga eas obligaveris, non argumentis, non testimoniis indiget, ut quasi dubium comprobetur: et si omnes taceant, res ipsa clamat.

Heal, I beseech, the very things which you yourself have done, you who also bustle to take care to cure what others have done. You have indeed obliged your friend and associate and have paid the debt both of friendship and of society; but you have bound yourself to us with a greater debt, whom it is fitting to name not so much friends as most friendly, not so much associates as daughters, or, if any sweeter and more sacred | word can be devised. And how great a debt you have obligated yourself toward them needs neither arguments nor testimonies, as though a doubt had to be proved: and if all were silent, the thing itself cries out.

Huius quippe loci tu post Deum solus es fundator, solus huius oratorii constructor, solus huius congregationis ediflicator. Nichil hic super alienum edificasti fundamentum. Totum quod hic est, tua creatio est.

For of this place you, after God, are its sole founder, the sole constructor of this oratory, the sole edifier of this congregation. You have built nothing here upon an alien foundation. The whole of what is here is your creation.

Solitudo hec feris tantum sive latronibus vacans nullam hominum habitationem noverat, nullam domum habuerat. In ipsis cubilibus ferarum, in ipsis latibulis latronum, ubi nec nominari Deus solet, divinum erexisti tabernaculum et Spiritus Sancti proprium dedicasti templum. Nichil ad hoc edificandum ex regum vel principum opibus intulisti, cum plurima posses et maxima, ut quicquid fieret tibi soli posset ascribi.

This solitude, vacant of all save wild beasts or brigands, knew no habitation of men, had possessed no house. In the very lairs of the beasts, in the very lurking-places of the robbers, where God is not even wont to be named, you raised a divine tabernacle and dedicated a proper temple of the Holy Spirit. You brought in nothing from the resources of kings or princes for the building of this—though you could have had very many and very great things—so that whatever was done might be ascribed to you alone.

Clerici sive scolares huc certatim ad disciplinam tuam confluentes omnia ministrabant necessaria; et qui de benefitiis vivebant ecclesiasticis nec oblationes facere no verant sed suscipere, et qui manus ad susci piendum non ad dandum habuerant, hic in oblationibus faciendis prodigi atque importuni fiebant.

Clerics or scholars, flocking hither in rivalry to your discipline, ministered all things necessary; and those who lived on ecclesiastical benefices and had been wont not to make oblations but to receive them, and those who had had hands for receiving, not for giving, here in the making of oblations became prodigal and importunate.

Tua itaque, vere tua hec est proprie in sancto proposito novella planta | tio, cuius adhuc teneris maxime plantis frequens ut profitiant neccessaria est irrigatio. Satis ex ipsa feminei sexus natura debilis est hec plantatio et infirma, etiamsi non esset nova. Unde diligentiorem culturam exigit et frequentiorem, iuxta illud apostoli: "Ego plantavi, Apollo rigavit, Deus autem incrementum dedit." Plantaverat apostolus atque fundaverat in fide per predicationis sue doctrinam Corinthios, quibus scribebat.

Therefore yours—truly yours—this is properly, in the holy purpose, a new plantation, whose plants, still very tender, require frequent irrigation, that they may make progress. By the very nature of the female sex this plantation is sufficiently weak and infirm, even if it were not new. Whence it demands a more diligent and more frequent cultivation, according to that of the Apostle: "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase." The Apostle had planted and had founded the Corinthians in the faith by the doctrine of his preaching, to whom he was writing.

Rigaverat postmodum eos ipsius apostoli discipulus Apollo sacris exhortationibus, et sic eis incrementum virtutum divina largita est gratia. Vitis aliene vineam, quam non plantasti, in amaritudinem tibi conversam admonitionibus sepe cassis et sacris frustra sermonibus excolis. Quid tue debeas attende, qui sic curam impendis aliene.

Afterwards the disciple of that apostle, Apollos, had watered them with sacred exhortations, and thus divine grace bestowed to them an increment of virtues. You cultivate with admonitions often abortive and with sacred sermons in vain the vineyard of another, which you did not plant, turned to bitterness for you. Consider what you owe to your own, you who thus expend care on another’s.

Doces et ammones rebelles, nec proficis; frustra ante porcos divini eloquii margaritas spargis. Qui obstinatis tanta impendis, quid obedientibus debeas considera; qui tanta hostibus largiris, quid filiabus debeas meditare; atque, ut ceteras omittam, quanto erga me te obligaveris debito pensa, ut quod devotis communiter debes feminis, unice tue devotius solvas.

You teach and admonish rebels, and you do not make progress; in vain you scatter the pearls of divine eloquence before swine. You who expend so much upon the obstinate, consider what you owe to the obedient; you who lavish so much upon enemies, meditate what you owe to daughters; and, to omit the rest, weigh how great a debt you have obligated yourself toward me, so that what you owe in common to devout women, you may more devotedly discharge to your only one.

Quot autem et quantos tractatus | in doctrina vel exhortatione seu etiam consolatione sanctarum feminarum sancti patres consummaverint, et quanta eas diligentia composuerint, tua melius excellentia quam nostra parvitas novit. Unde non mediocri ammiratione nostre tenera conversacionis initia tua iam dudum oblivio movit, quod nec reverentia Dei nec amore nostri nec sanctorum patrum exemplis ammonitus fluctuantem me et iam diutino merore confectam, vel sermone presentem, vel epistola absentem consolari temptaveris; cui quidem tanto te maiore debito noveris obligatum quanto te amplius nuptialis federe sacramenti constat esse astrictum et eo te magis mihi obnoxium quo te semper, ut omnibus patet, immoderato amore complexa sum.

How many and how great treatises | in doctrine or exhortation or even consolation of holy women the holy Fathers have consummated, and with how great diligence they have composed them, your Excellence knows better than our smallness. Whence no small admiration has been stirred in the tender beginnings of our conversion by your long-standing oblivion, that neither by reverence of God nor by love of us nor, admonished by the examples of the holy Fathers, have you attempted to console me—wavering and now worn out by long-enduring sorrow—either by a discourse when present or by a letter when absent; and you should know yourself bound to me by so much the greater debt, by how much more it is established that you are constrained by the nuptial covenant of the sacrament, and the more you are liable to me in that I have always, as is evident to all, embraced you with immoderate love.

Nosti, karissime, noverunt omnes quanta in te amiserim et quam miserabili casu summa et ubique nota proditio me ipsam quoque mihi tecum abstulerit, ut incomparabiliter maior sit dolor ex amissionis modo quam ex dampno. Quo vero maior est dolendi causa, maiora sunt consolationis adhibenda remedia; non utique ab alio, sed a te ipso, ut, qui solus es in causa dolendi, solus sis in gratia consolandi. Solus quippe es qui me contristare, qui me letificare seu consolari valeas, et solus es qui plurimum id mihi debeas | et nunc maxime cum universa que iusseris in tantum impleverim ut cum te in aliquo offendere non possem, me ipsam pro iussu tuo perdere sustinerem.

You know, dearest, all know, how much I have lost in you and by what pitiable chance the supreme and everywhere-known betrayal has taken from me even myself along with you, so that the pain is incomparably greater from the manner of the loss than from the damage. And the greater indeed the cause for grieving, the greater remedies of consolation must be applied; assuredly not by another, but by yourself, so that you who alone are the cause of grieving may be alone in the grace of consoling. For you alone are able to sadden me, to gladden or to console me, and you alone are the one who most of all owes this to me | and now especially, since I have fulfilled all the things that you have ordered to such an extent that, when I could not offend you in anything, I would endure to lose myself at your command.

Et quod maius est dictuque mirabile, in tantam versus est amor insaniam ut quod solum appetebat, hoc ipse sibi sine spe recuperationis auferret, cum ad tuam statim iussionem tam habitum ipsa quam animum immutarem, ut te tam corporis mei quam animi unicum possessorem ostenderem. Nichil umquam (Deus scit) in te nisi te requisivi: te pure, non tua concupiscens. Non matrimonii federa, non dotes aliquas expectavi, non denique meas voluptates aut voluntates, sed tuas, sicut ipse nosti, adimplere studui.

And what is greater and marvelous to say, love was turned into such madness that what alone it was seeking, this he himself took away from himself without hope of recuperation, when at your injunction I straightway changed both my habit and my mind, so that I might show you the sole possessor of both my body and my soul. Nothing ever (God knows) did I seek in you save you: you purely, not concupiscing your things. I did not expect the bonds of marriage, nor any dowry, nor, finally, my own pleasures or wishes, but strove to fulfill yours, as you yourself know.

Et si uxoris nomen sanctius ac validius videretur, dulcius mihi semper extitit amice vocabulum aut, si non indigneris, concubine vel scorti; ut, quo me videlicet pro te amplius humiliarem, ampliorem apud te consequerer gratiam, et sic etiam excellentie tue gloriam minus lederem. Quod et tu ipse tui gratia oblitus penitus non fuisti in ea quam supra memini ad amicum epistola pro consolatione directa, ubi et rationes nonnullas quibus te a coniugio nostro et infaustis thalamis revocare conabar exponere non es dedig | natus, sed plerisque tacitis quibus amorem coniugio, libertatem vinculo preferebam. Deum testem invoco, si me Augustus universo presidens mundo matrimonii honore dignaretur, totumque mihi orbem confirmaret in perpetuo possidendum, karius mihi et dignius videretur tua dici meretrix quam illius imperatrix.

And even if the name of wife seemed more sacred and more potent, the appellation “friend” was always sweeter to me, or, if you do not take offense, “concubine” or “harlot”; so that, inasmuch as I humbled myself the more for you, I might obtain ampler favor with you, and thus also wound less the glory of your Excellency. And you yourself, for your own sake, were by no means forgetful of this in that letter to a friend for consolation which I mentioned above, where you did not disdain to set forth certain reasons also by which I was trying to call you back from our marriage and our ill-omened bridal-bed, though with many things left unsaid, in which I preferred love to wedlock, freedom to a bond. I call God as witness: if the Augustus presiding over the whole world should deem me worthy of the honor of marriage, and should confirm to me the whole orb to possess in perpetuity, it would seem dearer and more worthy to me to be called your prostitute than his empress.

Non enim quo quisque ditior sive potentior, ideo et melior: fortune illud est, hoc virtutis. Nec se minime venalem estimet esse que libentius ditiori quam pauperi nubit et plus in marito sua quam ipsum concupiscit. Certe quamcunque ad nuptias hec concupiscentia ducit, merces ei potius quam gratia debetur.

For it is not that, the richer or the more potent someone is, therefore he is also better: that belongs to fortune, this to virtue. Nor should she in any way reckon herself un-venal who more willingly weds a richer man than a poor one, and desires in a husband her own things more than himself. Surely, whomever this concupiscence leads to nuptials, payment rather than favor is owed to her.

Certum quippe est eam res ipsas non hominem sequi, et se si posset velle prostituere ditiori, sicut inductio illa Aspasie philosophe apud Socraticum Eschinem cum Xenofonte et uxore eius habita manifeste convincit; quam quidem induction em cum predict a philosopha ad reconciliandos invicem illos proposuisset, tali fine ipsam conclusit: "Quare nisi hoc peregeritis, ut neque vir melior, neque femina in terris lectior sit, profecto semper id quod optimum putabitis esse multo maxime requiretis, ut et tu maritus sis quam optime, et hec quam optimo viro nupta | sit."

For it is certain indeed that she follows the things themselves, not the man, and that she would, if she could, wish to prostitute herself to the richer man, just as that induction of Aspasia the philosopher, held with Aeschines the Socratic in company with Xenophon and his wife, manifestly convinces; which very induction, when the aforesaid philosopher had proposed it to reconcile them to one another, she concluded with such an end: "Wherefore, unless you shall have accomplished this, that neither a better man nor a more choice woman exists on earth, assuredly you will always most greatly seek that which you will deem to be best: that both you be as excellent a husband as possible, and that she to the best possible man married | be."

Sancta profecto hec et plusquam philosophica est sententia ipsius potius sophie quam philosophie dicenda; sanctus hic error, et be at a fallatia in coniugatis, ut perfect a dilectio illesa custodiat matrimonii federa non tam corporum continentia quam animorum pudicitia. At quod error ceteris, veritas mihi manifesta contulerat, cum quod ille videlicet de suis estimarent maritis, hoc ego de te, hoc mundus universus non tam crederet quam scirct, ut tanto verior in te, meus amor existeret quanto ab errore longius absisteret.

This indeed is a holy and more-than-philosophical sentence, to be called that of wisdom itself rather than of philosophy; holy is this error, and a blessed fallacy among the married, such that perfect love, unharmed, may guard the covenants of marriage not so much by the continence of bodies as by the chastity of souls. But what for others was an error, manifest truth had bestowed on me, since what they, namely, esteemed concerning their own husbands, this I concerning you—this the whole world did not so much believe as know—so that my love might exist the truer in you, the farther it stood away from error.

Quis etenim regum aut philosophorum tuam exequare famam poterat ? Que te regio aut civitas seu villa videre non estuabat? Quis te, rogo, in publicum procedentem conspicere non festinabat ac discedentem collo erecto, oculis directis non insectabatur ? Que coniugata, que virgo non concupiscebat absentem et non exardebat in presentem ? Que regina vel prepotens femina gaudiis meis non invidebat vel thalamis?

For who among kings or philosophers could equal your fame? What region or city or village was not burning to see you? Who, I ask, did not hasten to behold you as you advanced into the public, and, as you departed, did not dog you with neck upraised and eyes fixed? What married woman, what maiden did not desire you when absent and did not blaze for you when present? What queen or prepotent woman did not envy my joys or my marriage-bed?

Duo autem, fateor, tibi specialiter inerant quibus feminarum quarumlibet animos statim allicere poteras, dictandi videlicet et cantandi gratia, que ceteros minime philosophos assequutos esse novimus. Quibus quidem, quasi ludo quodam laborem exercitii recreans | philosophici, pleraque amatorio metro vel rithmo composita reliquisti carmina, que pre nimia suavitate tam dictaminis quam cantus sepius frequentata tuum in ore omnium nomen incessanter tenebant, ut illiteratos etiam melodie dulcedo tui non sineret immemores esse; atque hinc maxime in amorem tui femine suspirabant. Et cum horum pars maxima carminum nostros decantaret amores, multis me regionibus brevi tempore nunciavit et multarum in me feminarum accendit invidiam.

Two things, however, I confess, were specially inherent in you, by which you could at once allure the minds of any women whatsoever: namely, the grace of dictating and of singing, which we know the rest—least of all the philosophers—to have by no means attained. By these indeed, as by a kind of play refreshing the labor of philosophical exercise, you left behind many songs composed in amatory meter or rhythm, which, because of the excessive sweetness as much of the dictation as of the song, being more frequently frequented, kept your name incessantly on everyone’s lips, so that the sweetness of the melody would not allow even the illiterate to be unmindful of you; and from this especially women were sighing into love of you. And since the greatest part of these songs was singing out our loves, it announced me in many regions in a short time and kindled the envy of many women against me.

Quod enim bonum animi vel corporis tuam non exornabat adholescentiam ? Quam tunc mihi invidentem nunc tantis private deliciis compati calamitas mea non compellat ? Quem vel quam, licet hostem primitus, debita compassio mihi nunc non emolliat ? Que plurimum nocens, plurimum, ut nosti, sum innocens: non enim rei effectus, sed efficientis affectus in crimine est, nec que fiunt, sed quo animo fiunt, equitas pensat. Quem autem animum in te semper habuerim, solus qui expertus es iudicare potes: tuo examini cuncta committo, tuo per omnia cedo testimonio.

What good of mind or of body did not adorn your adolescence ? Which woman then, who was envious of me at that time, does not my calamity now, so greatly deprived of delights, compel to sympathize ? Whom, whether man or woman, though at first an enemy, does not due compassion now soften toward me ? I who am most nocent am most, as you know, innocent: for in a crime it is not the effect of the thing, but the intention (affect) of the efficient agent that counts, and equity weighs not the things that are done, but with what mind they are done. But what disposition I have always had toward you, you alone who have experienced it can judge: to your examination I commit all things, to your testimony in all things I yield.

Dic unum, si vales, cur post conversionem nostram, quam tu solus facere decrevisti, in tantam tibi negligentiam atque oblivionem venerim ut nec colloquio presentis recreer nec | absentis epistola consoler; dic, inquam, si vales, aut ego quod sentio immo quod omnes suspicantur dicam. Concupiscentia te mihi potius quam amicitia sociavit, libidinis ardor potius quam amor. Ubi igitur quod desiderabas cessavit, quicquid propter hoc exibebas pariter evanuit.

Say one thing, if you are able, why after our conversion, which you alone resolved to make, I have come for you into such negligence and oblivion that I am neither refreshed by the colloquy of one present nor | consoled by the epistle of one absent; say, I say, if you are able, or I will say what I feel—nay, what all suspect. Concupiscence rather than friendship joined you to me, the ardor of libido rather than love. Where, therefore, what you desired ceased, whatever you were exhibiting on account of this likewise vanished.

Hec, dilectissime, non tam mea est quam omnium coniectura, non tam specialis quam communis, non tam privata quam publica. Utinam mihi soli sic videretur, atque aliquos in excusasionem sui amor tuus inveniret per quos dolor meus paululum resideret; utinam occasiones fingere possem, qui bus te excusando mei quoquo modo tegerem vilitatem. Attende, obsecro, que requiro, et parva hec videris et tibi facillima.

These things, dearest, are not so much my conjecture as everyone’s, not so much particular as common, not so much private as public. Would that it seemed thus to me alone, and that your love might find some to serve for its excuse, through whom my grief might subside a little; would that I were able to devise occasions, by which, by excusing you, I might somehow cover the vileness of myself. Attend, I beseech, to what I require, and you will see these are small and very easy for you.

Dum tui presentia fraudor, verborum saltem votis, quorum tibi copia est, tue mihi imaginis presenta dulcedinem. Frustra te in rebus daxilem expecto, si in verbis avarum sustineo. Nunc vero plurimum a te me promereri credideram, cum omnia propter te compleverim, nunc in tuo maxime perseverans obsequio; quam quidem iuvenculam ad monastice conversationis asperitatem non religionis devotio, sed tua tantum pertraxit iussio; ubi si nicbil a te promerear, quam frustra laborem | diiudica.

While I am defrauded of your presence, at least by the vows of words, of which you have abundance, present to me the sweetness of your image. In vain do I expect you to be lavish in things, if I must endure you avaricious in words. Now indeed I had believed that I should be greatly merited by you, since I have completed all things on your account, now most persevering in your service; as for that young woman, indeed, to the asperity of monastic way of life not the devotion of religion, but your command alone dragged her; where, if I should obtain nothing from you, judge how vainly I labor | decide.

Nulla mihi super hoc merces expectanda est a Deo, cuius adhuc amore nichul me constat egisse. Properantem te ad Deum sequuta sum habitu, immo precessi; quasi enim memor uxoris Loth retro converse, prius me sacris vestibus et professione monastica quam te ipsum Deo mancipasti: in quo, fateor, uno minus te de me confidere vehementer dolui atque erubui. Eque autem (Deus scit) ad Vulcania loca te properantem precedere vel sequi pro iussu tuo minime dubitarem.

No reward on this account is to be expected for me from God, in whose love up to now it is evident that I have done nothing. I followed you hastening toward God in the habit—nay, I even went before; for, as if mindful of Lot’s wife turned back, I first committed myself with sacred garments and with monastic profession before you yourself made yourself over to God: in which one thing, I confess, that you had less confidence in me I greatly grieved and blushed. Likewise (God knows), to the Vulcanian places, you hurrying thither, to go before or to follow at your command I would by no means have hesitated.

Non enim mecum animus meus, sed tecum erat; sed et nunc maxime, si tecum non est, nusquam est: esse vero sine te nequaquam potest. Sed ut tecum bene sit, age, obsecro. Bene autem tecum fuerit, si te propitium invenerit, si gratiam referas pro gratia, modica pro magnis, verba pro rebus.

For my spirit was not with me, but was with you; and even now especially, if it is not with you, it is nowhere: indeed it can by no means exist without you. But that it may fare well with you, come, I beseech you. And it will fare well with you, if it finds you propitious, if you render grace for grace, small things for great things, words for deeds.

Utinam, dilecte, tua de me dilectio minus confideret, ut sollicitior esset ! Sed quo te amplius nunc securum reddidi, negligentiorem sustineo.

Would that, beloved, your love of me trusted less, so that it might be more solicitous ! But the more I have now made you secure, the more negligent I endure you.

Memento, obsecro, que fecerim et quanta debeas attende. Dum tecum carnali fruerer voluptate, utrum id amore vel libidine agerem incertum pluribus habebatur; nunc autem finis indicat quo id inchoaverim principio. Omnes mihi denique voluptates interdixi ut tue parerem | voluntati; nichil mihi reservavi, nisi sic tuam nunc precipue fieri.

Remember, I beseech, what I have done, and attend to how much you owe. While I was enjoying carnal pleasure with you, whether I was doing that from love or from libido was held uncertain by many; now, however, the end indicates with what principle I commenced it. Finally, I interdicted all pleasures to myself so that I might obey your | will; I reserved nothing for myself, except that thus your will now especially be done.

Que vero tua sit iniquitas perpende, si merenti amplius persolvis minus, immo nihil penitus, presertim cum parvum sit quod exigeris et tibi facillimum. Per ipsum itaque cui te obtulisti Deum te obsecro ut quo modo potes tuam mihi presentiam reddas, consolationem videlicet mihi aliquam rescribendo, hoc saltem pacto ut sic recreata divino alacrior vacem obsequio Cum me ad turpes olim voluptates expeteres, crebris me epistolis visitabas, frequenti carmine tuam in ore omnium Heloysam ponebas; me platee omnes, me domus singule resonabant. Quanto autem rectius me nunc in Deum, quam tunc in libidinem excitares?

But consider what your iniquity is, if to one deserving more you pay less, nay, utterly nothing, especially since what is exacted is small and most easy for you. Therefore by the very God to whom you offered yourself I beseech you that in whatever way you can you render your presence to me, namely by writing back some consolation to me, at least in this manner, that thus refreshed I may with greater alacrity be free for divine service, When once you sought me for base pleasures, you used to visit me with frequent letters, with frequent song you placed your Heloise upon the lips of all; all the streets, each single house resounded with me. How much more rightly would you now incite me unto God, than then into libido?

Perpende, obsecro, que debes, attende que postulo; et longam epistolam brevi fine concludo: vale, unice.

Perpend, I beseech, what you owe; attend to what I ask; and I conclude a long epistle with a brief end: farewell, only one.