The tragedy of the love between Abelard and Heloise seems unusual among other legendary love stories of the Middle Ages. Unlike Petrach and Laura, there was no restrained, courtly passion conducted from afar, unlike Guinevere and Lancelot there were no adulterous intrigues. The love between these two brilliant people was--though ultimately furtive--physically, emotionally, and intellectually passionate, and combined with the heretical philosophical endeavours of Abelard, have thus been a source of intrigue for later historians, such as Betty Radice, who compiled her translations of their letters in 1973. Radice found that, outside of the merely romantic value of their tragic life story, Abelard and Heloise played an important part in what she called the "Twelfth Century Renaissance", expressing their intellect applied to problems of faith and morality in ways that would not occur in a widespread manner until many years afterward.

Peter Abelard, a French logician born near Nantes in the year 1079, renounced his inheritance and all military obligations as a young man so that he might study dialectic beneath some of the renowned logicians of his time, including Roscelin, who was formerly condemened for heresy. Eventually, after a year or two studying beneath another teacher, Wiliam of Champeaux, Abelard refuted many of his master's ideas, and having developed his own personal philosophical views and methods, established his own popular school in Paris. It was there that, a few years later, he met Heloise, the niece of a canon named Fulbert. Heloise had been well educated in both Christian theology and classical literature by the convent she had lived at as a girl, and so at Fulbert's urging, Abelard began to tutor the girl in logic while continuing to teach at his school.

There was immediate attraction between the master and pupil, however, on every level, and soon the times set apart for tutoring became convenient times and locations for the lovers' trysts. Abelard, arrogant and somewhat conceited (as he had been previously about his philosophical views), irresponsibly let word of the affair get out by clever Latin jokes and songs which he shared with his students. Eventually, Fulbert found out about the affair, not long before all involved learned that Heloise was pregnant with Abelard's son, who would be named Astrolabe. This was the climax of the affair between the two; after which everything quickly Fulbert, horrified, forced Abelard to marry Heloise as a point of honor, though Heloise protested violently, knowing that such a formalized union would limit Abelard's rising career. Nonetheless, the two complied, though they tried to keep the marriage and their subsequent meetings secret. However, Fulbert publicized the fact of their union, and, anrgy at his treachery, Heloise and Abelard agreed that she should take refuge in the convent of her girlhood at Argentuil, where, still married to a mortal, she would not take the veil. Thinking that Abelard meant to put his wife away, Fulbert angrily got together a group of men who attacked the philosopher at night, castrating him.

After these events, obviously, Abelard could not fulfill the duties of a husband, nor as a church official, as he had someday hoped. So, he became a monk at the monastary of Saint Denis, while Heloise, still at Argentuil, took the veil at his jealous admonishing. As the years passed, Abelard established a hermitage, where he was joined by some of students, and he gifted a new convent, the Paraclete, to Heloise, for which he aided her in both spiritual and practical instruction of her nuns until his death in 1142 or 1144.

All of the preceding story can be found, arguably straight from the pens of Abelard and Heloise themselves, in a collection of their letters edited, introduced, and annotated by Betty Radice and Michael Clanchy. The Letters of Abelard and Heloise is not so much a book about two historical persons as it is a primary source document written by their own hands. However, the collection of their letters, which were written between the years of 1132 and 1138 (when Abelard was suffering through accusations of heresy, and Heloise was working dilligently to establish rules and a general sense of purpose for her nuns), are also preceded by a length introduction, which further illuminates some of the themes and controversies surrounding the two lovers in both medieval and modern scholarship.

One of the more tragic themes found in the letters, is that of Heloise burying her longing for Abelard after being gently, but thoroughly, reprimanded by him to think of not him, but Christ, as her spiritual husband and lover. This painful fortitude, accompanied by a sense of loss, is that which the lovers are probably best remembered for, as it was the emotion most related to by later writers and artists, such as Alexander Pope, who wrote a romantic poem about Heloise's plight. Such an idea is not found with difficulty when reading the letters--in the first two letters published in this collection, Heloise addresses Abelard in such a way to remind him of her relation to him, that she is his wife, and references her continued grief at their sorry plight, and the loss of the joy of their physical union. By her sixth letter to him, however, she gives up hope in the face of his reprimands and writes, "I would not want to give you cause for finding me disobedient in anything, so I have set the bridle of your injunction on the words which issue from my unbounded grief..."(93). Though it seems undeniable after reading Abelard's letters that he did give up his earthly bride for Christ, it is arguable if Heloise ever really renounced her passion for Abelard, or whether she merely managed to flawlessly conceal it through her work as an abbess. In reading her words, I was torn between her emotions as a woman, which I could easily identify with, and the spiritual calling constantly brought to her attention by Abelard. Heloise seems to illustrate the plight of every struggling Christian on a far more dramatic level than most of us are thankfully faced with, but still, the essential conflict between flesh and spirit, the earthly and eternal, is sympathetic to every Christian.

After the initial lamenting of Historia Calamitatum (the first included letter of Abelard's, written not to Heloise but to an anonymous friend--possibly a mere literary device), Abelard's tone, though occasionally delving into woe (resulting from the combination of his castration and his constant persecution for heresy), nonetheless is much more resigned than Heloise's. While he is perfectly happy with the thought of providing her spiritual comfort and religious instruction, he is not blind to her veiled pleadings for affection--some reminder of the past, and he admonishes, "...sister, to accept patiently what mercifully befell us. This is a father's rod, not a persecutor's sword...for this I give thanks to the Lord, who both spared you punishment then and reserved you for a crown to come...though you may weary of hearting this and forbid it to be said, the truth of it is clear" (87). His voice is that of a true penitent, removed both physically and emotionally from earthly cares, and also from Heloise whom he now loves only through Christ. However assured Abelard seems though, there are hints of his conversion being difficult in a different way. Though he was no longer willing to, or capable of, sinning in the flesh, his arrogant intelligence made it difficult to spiritually surrender to Christ. From personal experience, and reading the stories of other Church intellectuals, such as Saint Augustine, it is obvious that this is another common spiritual battle among Christians--for a mind as brilliant as Abelard's, it must have been difficult to have stopped thinking about Christ long enough to start serving Him.

As there are no original letters of the lovers' left, there is some debate of authenticity for various versions. Betty Radice defends the versions included in this collection (along with some of less certain authenticity, also included as possible 'lost love letters') by saying that certain details of events, particularly in Historia Calamitatum, match in their chronology and accuracy to other sources of the time, such as the chronicle of Tours. However, she does denounce some other versions, most sensationalized, of the letters that came about in earlier centuries, such as those first published by John Hughes in 1714. Other scholars mentioned have also criticized the iconoclastic tone of some of the letters, particularly those of Heloise, as the work of Catholic scholars seeking to discredit their views in light of their essential impiety. Another issue dealt with (and rejected by Radice) is Heloise's intellectual dependency on Abelard. As is evident in the letters themselves, though perhaps not quite the logician that Abelard was, Heloise was much more learned in classical teachings (scholars such as Michael Clanchy have proposed that perhaps she in fact influenced Abelard to take a closer look at the ties between Christian and pagan morality than he would have otherwise), and even Abelard admitted that she was better learned in Greek, and in Hebrew, of which he was mostly ignorant.

Though I originally became interested in the story of Heloise and Abelard because of their more romanticised versions, particularly that of Alexander Pope's poem of "Eloisa to Her Abelard", I found this more accurate depiction of their lives (I was convinced by Radice and Clanchy's defenses), to be even more fascinating. Radice's English translation was exceptionally readable, and with an inherent interest in theology, I found the discussions of religious matters, both as logical abstracts and as daily struggles, to be intriguing. The last few letters, with their detailed instruction for the running of a convent, were a bit less interesting and relevant, but the other works included were much better. The Hymns of Abelard were lovely, and an interesting testament to his art and spirituality, much unlike the logical works of his which I've perused. The 'lost love letters', whether or not authentic, were nonetheless a comforting glimpse into the happiness of new love, whether or not it was actually theirs (not as mature as Heloise's barely-veiled anguish in the 'official letters', obviously, but a good antidote to her later dark distress).

Though these letters are probably at least somewhat different from the originals, they would form a fascinating, at times inspirational, fiction on their own. In comparison to reading analyses of the letters, as provided in the introduction, I would much rather read the letter themselves, as in this (apparantly most accurate) translation, the meaning of every word between Abelard and Heloise speaks well enough for itself. Even as their love was, in many ways, timeless, their spiritual anguish and struggles are still echoed in the souls of Christians nearly a thousand years later.

Radice, Betty. The Letters of Abelard and Heloise. Penguin Books: New York, 2003.