About the Work
The Story of My Misfortunes — known in Latin as the Historia Calamitatum — is a first-person autobiographical letter written by Peter Abelard, the twelfth-century French philosopher, theologian, and logician. The work is cast as a letter of consolation addressed to an unnamed friend who is experiencing sorrow, with Abelard offering his own extensive catalogue of sufferings as a means of comparison and comfort. The text is presented in an English translation accompanied by a substantial editorial introduction and apparatus, which frames the work for modern readers and provides historical, philosophical, and biographical context.
The book is a medieval document of considerable historical and literary importance. It is one of the few extended autobiographical writings to survive from the Middle Ages, and it offers a rare, intimate view of the intellectual and personal life of a major figure of the twelfth-century Renaissance. The work covers Abelard’s rise to prominence as a master of dialectic, his celebrated and disastrous love affair with Heloise, his mutilation at the hands of her uncle’s agents, his subsequent entry into monastic life, his repeated conflicts with ecclesiastical authorities, the condemnation and burning of his theological book, and his final years as abbot of a lawless and hostile monastery in Brittany.
The edition includes an introduction that situates Abelard within his historical and intellectual milieu, an editorial summary of his later career and death, and a biographical appendix. The introduction draws comparisons between Abelard’s work and St. Augustine’s Confessions, arguing that both reveal the enduring nature of human personality across the centuries. The editorial material also offers critical judgments on Abelard’s character, his philosophical rank, and the moral standards of his age. The translation itself preserves the direct, personal, and at times querulous tone of Abelard’s original narrative, allowing the reader to encounter the voice of a man who was at once brilliant, proud, passionate, and, by his own account, relentlessly persecuted.
Context
The Historia Calamitatum emerges from the intellectual and social ferment of the twelfth century, a period the introduction describes as one of recovery from the barbarism that followed the fall of Rome. This era generated vital forces of unusual potency, with the “parabolic curve” of Mediaevalism rising from “chaos and old night.” Abelard’s life, from his birth in 1079 to his death in 1142, coincides with the birth, development, and perfecting of Gothic architecture, and his era witnessed the Crusades, the founding of schools and universities, the invention or recovery of arts, the growth of music, poetry, and romance, and a new philosophy refounded on Plato and Aristotle with new content, impulse, and method inspired by Christianity.
The social system of the time was feudalism, characterized by reciprocal duties, privileges, and obligations between man and man. The introduction quotes Dr. De Wulf’s Philosophy and Civilization in the Middle Ages to identify “the feudal sentiment par excellence” as the value and dignity of the individual man. The feudal man lived free, master in his own house, seeking his end in himself, existing propter seipsum existens, with obligations resting on respect for personality and the given word. This emphasis on individual dignity, combined with the universal acceptance of Catholicism, gave the age both consistency and vitality. Religion permeated every aspect of society: monasticism redeemed Europe from barbarism, and Cluny freed the Church from German imperialism.
The intellectual landscape was rich and diverse. Schools, colleges, and universities appeared across Europe, with almost every cathedral and many abbeys maintaining schools. In France alone, notable schools existed at Cluny, Citeaux, Bec, St. Martin of Tours, Laon, Chartres, Rheims, and Paris. Students poured in by thousands, rivalries were intense, and students chose their own masters, followed them, and disciplined them if they fell short. A universal language aided unity. At Abelard’s time, the schools of Chartres and Paris were at their height, with figures such as Fulbert, Bernard, and Thierry of Chartres fixing the former’s fame, and Hugh and Richard of St. Victor, William of Champeaux, Anselm of Laon, Adelard of Bath, Alan of Lille, John of Salisbury, and Peter Lombard associated with the latter.
The relationship between philosophy and theology was in transition. Earlier, the two had been identified under Neo-Platonic and Augustinian theory, with philosophy reduced to the “obedient handmaid” of theology. In the eleventh century, St. Anselm distinguished faith from reason, and thereafter they were allied but separate sciences. In the twelfth century, a party of “rigourists” led by Peter of Blois condemned philosophy as “the devil’s art,” but figures such as John of Salisbury, Alan of Lille, Gilbert de la Porree, and Hugh of St. Victor prevailed, calling philosophers humanae videlicet sapientiae amatores and theologians divinae scripturae doctores. The century strove for a rational synthesis conforming to revealed dogmatic theology, and Abelard was an enthusiastic, daring thinker in this enterprise, at issue with duller theologians and philosophical peers alike.
The introduction also notes the political and ecclesiastical context of Abelard’s later years. Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis was his defender, and he enjoyed the favor of the Pope and the King. In 1137 the King died, and conditions at Rome changed such that St. Bernard became “almost Pope and King in his own person.” Within a year, Bernard proceeded against Abelard, and his “Theology” was condemned at a council of Sens, with the Pope confirming the judgment and imposing the penalty of silence. Abelard started for Rome but stopped at the Abbey of Cluny with its Abbot, Peter the Venerable, “the most amiable figure of the twelfth century,” who had once written to St. Bernard, “You perform all the difficult religious duties; you fast, you watch, you suffer; but you will not endure the easy ones—you do not love.” Abelard found two years of peace there, dying in full communion of the Church on 21 April, 1142.
Structure of the Book
The book is organized as a continuous autobiographical narrative, framed by an editorial introduction and apparatus. The main body of the text is Abelard’s own letter, which proceeds chronologically through the major episodes of his life, each chapter focusing on a particular phase of his misfortunes.
The opening chapter, “Of the Birthplace of Pierre Abelard and of His Parents,” establishes Abelard’s origins in the town of Palets, some eight miles eastward from Nantes in lesser Brittany. He describes his father, who had won a smattering of letters before girding on the soldier’s belt and who later loved letters so much that he had each son taught in letters even earlier than in arms. As first-born, Abelard was especially dear to his father, and the more he progressed in study, the greater his ardour became. He left to his brothers the pomp of glory in arms, heritage, and honours, fleeing the court of Mars to win learning in the bosom of Minerva.
The narrative then moves through Abelard’s early career as a dialectician, including his persecution at the hands of his master William of Champeaux, his challenge to the established order of philosophical teaching, and his eventual triumph. He describes his journey to Laon to seek Anselm as teacher, and the persecution he suffered from Anselm when his own lectures on Scripture proved more popular and more brilliant than his master’s. He returns to Paris, where he directs the school formerly destined for him and completes his glosses on Ezekiel.
The central and most famous portion of the work concerns his love for Heloise. Abelard describes his deliberate seduction of the young girl, the discovery of their affair, the birth of their son Astrolabe, and the secret marriage. He recounts Heloise’s objections to wedlock, her prophetic warning of the sorrow to come, and the brutal attack by her uncle’s emissaries that left him mutilated. He then describes his entry into monastic life at St. Denis, his teaching in the wilderness, and the persecution he suffered from his fellow monks.
The later chapters detail his theological controversies. He writes of his book on the unity and Trinity of God, the council at Soissons where the book was condemned and burned, and his imprisonment at the monastery of St. Medard. He recounts his conflict with the monks of St. Denis over the identity of their patron saint, his flight to a solitary place near Troyes where he built an oratory in the name of the Holy Trinity, and the scholars who flocked to him there. He describes his acceptance of the abbey of St. Gildas in Brittany, the barbarous and lawless condition of the region, the undisciplined and hostile monks, and the repeated attempts on his life, including an attempt to poison him in the chalice.
The work concludes with Abelard’s exhortation to his reader to endure persecutions steadfastly, since all things occur by divine ordering and God’s goodness permits nothing without reason. The text ends with the words “Farewell.” An appendix provides a biographical note on Abelard, confirming the dates of his birth and death, his parentage, and the external evidence for the events of his life.
Detailed Section-by-Section Summary
The Introduction: A Human Document from the Middle Ages
The introduction presents Abelard’s Historia Calamitatum as a rare “human document” from an era often obscured by unsympathetic commentators and poorly digested source-books. It is compared to St. Augustine’s Confessions, as both reveal a vivid personality, proving that while flora, fauna, and physical forms evolve, man himself remains unchangeable across the centuries. The author asserts that Abelard’s keen mentality and intellectual power are so striking that his story could have been written in the 1920s. The twelfth century is depicted as a period of vigorous recovery from barbarism, generating vital forces of unusual potency, with the “parabolic curve” of Mediaevalism emerging from chaos. Abelard and his great opponent, St. Bernard, both rode this mounting force.
Pierre du Pallet, called Abelard, was born in 1079 and died in 1142, his life spanning the birth and perfection of Gothic architecture. This era also included the Crusades, the founding of schools and universities, and a new philosophy refounded on Plato and Aristotle, inspired by Christianity. The social system was feudalism, which emphasized the value and dignity of the individual man, who lived free and master in his own house. Religion permeated everything; Catholicism was universally accepted, and monasticism redeemed Europe from barbarism. This unity of faith and feudal structure gave consistency to thought and action, preserving men from the dangers of immense individualism. When religion weakened, unified society dissolved, necessitating arbitrary force—absolutism, the Inquisition, and the Puritan Theocracy. In the twelfth century, however, a wide diversity of speculation and freedom of thought continued unhampered. Schools and universities appeared across Europe, with students pouring in by the thousands, choosing their own masters and disciplining them if they fell short. At Abelard’s time, the schools of Chartres and Paris were at their height, with notable figures like William of Champeaux and Hugh of St. Victor. Earlier, philosophy had been reduced to the “obedient handmaid” of theology, but in the twelfth century, thinkers like John of Salisbury and Hugh of St. Victor prevailed, calling philosophers lovers of wisdom and theologians doctors of divine scripture. Abelard was an enthusiastic, daring thinker, a master of dialectic, an egotist, and a man of strong passions, using logic to justify his desires. St. Bernard, his implacable opponent, foresaw the dangers of intellectualism and for a time was victorious, silencing Abelard.
The Editorial Summary: Abelard’s Later Career and Death
The editorial account of Abelard’s later career notes his prosperity, with Abbot Suger of Saint-Denis as his defender and the favor of the Pope and King. He was made an abbot, and his influence spread. However, in 1137 the King died, and conditions at Rome changed such that St. Bernard became “almost Pope and King in his own person.” Within a year, Bernard proceeded against Abelard; his “Theology” was condemned at a council of Sens, the Pope confirmed the judgment, and the penalty of silence was imposed on the author—likely the most severe punishment he could endure, and fatal to him. Abelard started for Rome but stopped at the Abbey of Cluny with its Abbot, Peter the Venerable, “the most amiable figure of the twelfth century,” who had once written to St. Bernard, “You perform all the difficult religious duties; you fast, you watch, you suffer; but you will not endure the easy ones—you do not love.” Abelard found two years of peace there, dying in full communion of the Church on 21 April, 1142.
The Editorial Analysis: Abelard and Heloise
The editor states that medieval philosophical problems no longer interest us, but the problem of human love is always new, so interest centers on Abelard’s relationship with Heloise. The editor judges Abelard’s conduct unsavoury: he deliberately seduced a pupil, a beautiful girl entrusted to him by her uncle, a simple-minded old canon of the Cathedral of Paris, under whose roof he ensconced himself by false pretences. Abelard’s plot succeeded. Stricken by belated remorse, he married Heloise against her unselfish protests, partly to legitimatize his unborn child, and shortly after was surprised and overpowered by emissaries of Canon Fulbert and subjected to irreparable mutilation. Abelard tells the story with perfect frankness and hardly more than formal compunction. The editor praises Heloise as a curiously beautiful personality, unselfish, self-sacrificing, almost virginal in purity, deserving only sympathy, while Abelard is difficult to feel for.
The Editorial on Public Reaction and Moral Standards
The story was instantly known; Abelard’s assailants were punished in kind, and he resumed lecturing on philosophy and later theology. His reputation did not suffer, nor did hers; her piety became a by-word, his fame increased. The editor argues this does not imply a lack of moral sense but the prevalence of alien standards: only since Puritanism have sexual sins been placed at the head of the category. In the Middle Ages, the most deadly sins were pride, covetousness, slander, and anger; “illicit” love did not necessarily involve moral guilt. Christ was gentle with sins of the flesh but relentless with greater sins of the spirit. Puritanism overturned this balance. The Middle Ages believed earnestly in Divine forgiveness for real repentance; Abelard had been grievously punished and made reparation, so society should not condemn what God would forgive.
The Editorial on the Age and Abelard’s Character
The twelfth and thirteenth centuries were not an age of moral laxity but of enormous vitality, personal liberty, and few formal laws, governed by Custom and the moral law of the Church. Behind Abelard’s sin lay intolerable spiritual pride, selfishness, and egotism, unrecognized by society due to devotion to his personality and intellectual gifts. The editor notes the Historia Calamitatum gives a portrait out of focus: the early bold champion of dialectic contrasts with the self-portrait of a timid, suspicious man in abject terror of councils and hidden enemies, querulous and peevish, driven by desire for intellectual adventure yet shrinking from defense. The editor believes the mutilation broke down his personality, leaving him less than man, with suspicions becoming realities and terrors established facts. The editor doubts Abelard ranks high among medieval philosophers; he was more a dialectician than a creative force, caring primarily for excitement of debate. He influenced the abandonment of Plato in favour of Aristotle, and his dialectical method became a model. After the Calamity he turned to theology and ethics, insisting that subjective intention determines the moral value of human actions even if it does not change their essential character. The story is called a romance, an epitome of the earlier Middle Ages, achieving brilliant dramatic unity through the two factors of passion and philosophy.
The Foreword: Abelard’s Own Words
Abelard writes that hearts are stirred and soothed more by example than by words. He has known consolation from speech with one who was a witness, and so writes of his sufferings for the eyes of one who, though absent, is ever a consoler, so that comparing sorrows, the reader may find his own are nought or small and bear them more easily.
Chapter I: Of the Birthplace of Pierre Abelard and of His Parents
Abelard says he comes from a town built on the way into lesser Brittany, some eight miles eastward from Nantes, called Palets. His mind bent easily to study of letters. His father had won a smattering of letters before girding on the soldier’s belt, and later loved letters so much he had each son taught in letters even earlier than in arms. As first-born, Abelard was more dear to his father, who sought to have him wisely taught. The more Abelard progressed in study, the greater his ardour; he left to his brothers the pomp of glory in arms, heritage, and honours, fleeing the court of Mars to win learning in the bosom of Minerva.
The Lecture Challenge and Persecution by Anselm
Abelard accepts a challenge to lecture on Scripture the very next day. Advisors urge delay, citing his inexperience; he replies indignantly that he wins by ability, not routine, and threatens to abandon the test unless they attend immediately. Few attend initially, as it seems absurd for one so inexperienced in Scripture to proceed hastily. The lecture pleases all hearers, who praise it enthusiastically, compelling Abelard to continue interpreting the sacred text. Word spreads; absentees return for the second and third lectures, eager to copy the glosses he began on the first day. The “venerable man” Anselm, acutely envious and incited by insinuations, persecutes Abelard for lecturing on Scripture, just as William had persecuted him for philosophy. Two students excel in Anselm’s school: Alberic of Rheims and Lotulphe the Lombard; their self-regard fuels their anger against Abelard. At their suggestion, Anselm forbids Abelard from preparing glosses in his school, pretexting that any blunders would be imputed to him. Scholars are indignant at this unprecedented spite; the persecution only increases Abelard’s fame.
Return to Paris and Moral Decline
Abelard returns to Paris, directing the school formerly destined for him. He completes the glosses on Ezekiel begun at Laon, which satisfy readers, making him seem as adept in theology as in philosophy. His school grows in size, profit, and glory. Prosperity puffs up the foolish; Abelard, seeing himself as the only philosopher left, loosens the rein on his desires despite prior continence. He departs from philosophers’ practice and divines’ spirit in the uncleanness of his life, noting philosophers and sacred students are strong in chastity. Absorbed in pride and sensuality, divine grace is forced upon him. First punished for sensuality (losing what he practiced it with); then for pride, engendered by knowledge, he suffers the humiliation of seeing his most-gloried book burned.
Heloise Introduced and the Seduction Plan
A young girl named Heloise dwells in Paris, niece of a canon called Fulbert. Her uncle’s love equals his desire for her education. Of no mean beauty, she excels in abundant knowledge of letters—a rare virtue among women, making her renowned in the kingdom. Considering qualities that attract lovers, Abelard determines to unite with Heloise in love, deeming it easy due to his fame, youth, and comeliness. He believes her love of letters will aid consent, enabling written intimacy. He persuades Fulbert, via friends, to take him into his household for a small sum, pretexting household expense and study hindrance. Fulbert, avaricious and desiring his niece’s education, agrees, entrusting her wholly to Abelard’s guidance, day or night, with stern punishment for negligence. Abelard marvels at Fulbert’s simplicity—entrusting a lamb to a ravenous wolf. Two things allay suspicion: Fulbert’s love for his niece and Abelard’s reputation for continence.
The Affair and Its Discovery
United first in dwelling, then in hearts, they spend hours in love under pretext of study; kisses outnumber words, hands seek bosoms, love draws eyes together. Blows are given by love, not anger, sweeter than balm. No degree of love’s progress is left untried; inexperience makes them more ardent. As passion absorbs him, Abelard devotes less time to philosophy; school becomes loathsome, nights are vigils of love, days of study. Lecturing is careless and lukewarm; he recites former discoveries, writes love poems, not philosophy. Students grieve at his mind’s chaos. Fulbert alone is deceived, unable to believe hints due to his love and Abelard’s past continence. After several months, the truth comes forth. Grief and sorrow follow; each lover grieves for the other, not himself. Sundering bodies links souls; shame passes, leaving them more shameless, like Mars and Venus caught together.
Pregnancy, Flight, and the Marriage Offer
Heloise finds she is pregnant, writing in exultation, asking what to do. On a night when Fulbert is absent, Abelard steals her away to his own country, where she stays with his sister until giving birth to a son named Astrolabe. Fulbert, nearly mad with grief, fears killing Abelard lest Heloise suffer among his kin; he cannot imprison him, as Abelard has guarded against it. Abelard, pitying Fulbert’s grief and blaming himself, seeks forgiveness, promising amends. He argues love’s power and women’s ruin of noble men since the human race began. He offers to marry Heloise, provided it be kept secret to avoid reputation loss. Fulbert gladly assents, pledging faith and sealing with kisses—to betray him more easily.
Heloise’s Objections to Marriage
Abelard brings Heloise to make her his wife. She violently objects. Her concluding argument against marriage was that returning her to Paris would be dangerous for Abelard, and that being called his mistress would be sweeter than being known as his wife—and more honorable for him as well. She argued that love alone would bind them without the constraint of the marriage chain, and that occasional partings would make their meetings sweeter by their rarity. When she could not convince him or dissuade him from “his folly,” she yielded with grievous sighs and tears, prophesying: “Then there is no more left but this, that in our doom the sorrow yet to come shall be no less than the love we two have already known.” The text notes she lacked not the spirit of prophecy, as the whole world now knows.
Marriage and Its Aftermath
After their son’s birth, they left him in Abelard’s sister’s care and secretly returned to Paris. Days later, in early morning, after a nocturnal vigil of prayer in a certain church, they were united in wedlock’s benediction, with Heloise’s uncle and a few friends present. They departed stealthily by separate ways, thereafter seeing each other rarely and in private. Her uncle and his household, seeking solace for their disgrace, divulged the marriage story, violating their pledge. Heloise denounced her kin as liars. Her uncle, enraged, punished her repeatedly. Abelard sent her to the convent of nuns at Argenteuil, where she had been educated, with nun’s garments prepared except the veil.
The Attack
Her uncle and kinsmen, convinced Abelard had rid himself of Heloise by forcing her into monastic life, plotted against him. One night, while he slept in a secret room, they broke in with help of a bribed servant and cut off the body parts with which he had committed the act causing their sorrow. Two attackers were captured and suffered loss of eyes and genital organs, including the betraying servant.
Aftermath and Monastic Vocation
The next morning the whole city assembled before his dwelling. Clerics and scholars tortured him with lamentations; he felt disgrace more than bodily hurt. He reflected on God’s justice in punishing the very part of his body whereby he sinned, and on his betrayal by one he had himself betrayed. He recalled Leviticus and Deuteronomy regarding the maimed. He confessed that shame, not religious ardor, drove him to monastic cloister. Heloise took the veil at Argenteuil, responding to friends’ objections with Cornelia’s words from Lucan’s Pharsalia. Abelard entered the abbey of St. Denis.
Teaching and Rivalry
Clerics urged Abelard to teach for love of God, not gain. The abbey was worldly and scandalous; the abbot’s reputation was foul. Abelard denounced this, making himself detested. He departed to a hut to teach; students flocked so greatly the neighborhood could not shelter them. He lectured chiefly on theology but used secular arts as a “hook,” likening himself to Origen. His rivals charged him with violating monastic profession by studying secular books and presuming to teach theology without training, stirring up bishops and archbishops.
The Council at Soissons and the Burning
Abelard wrote a tract on the unity and Trinity of God, seeking rational explanations. His rivals Alheric and Lotulphe, now that William and Anselm were dead, stirred up Archbishop Rodolphe and secured approval of Conon, Bishop of Praeneste, papal legate in France, to hold a council at Soissons. Before arrival, rivals slandered him so that people nearly stoned him. He submitted his book to the legate, who directed him to the archbishop and his rivals—his accusers became his judges. They found nothing to accuse him of publicly. Alberic confronted him about denying God begat Himself; Abelard cited Augustine, “On the Trinity, Book I.” Geoffroi, Bishop of Chartres, defended Abelard, quoting Jerome and Nicodemus, but rivals persuaded the legate to condemn and burn the book and confine Abelard to a monastery for a year. At the council, Abelard was compelled to cast his book into flames. One muttered that it said God the Father alone was omnipotent; the legate replied the Three are alike omnipotent. Tirric, a schoolmaster, added the Athanasian phrase about one omnipotent Person. Tirric’s bishop censured him; Tirric quoted Daniel about judging without examination. The archbishop affirmed the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are each omnipotent, and suggested Abelard publicly state his faith.
The Council’s Verdict and Imprisonment at St. Médard
When Abelard attempted to profess his faith in his own words before the council, his enemies refused to hear him, insisting that he need only recite the Athanasian Symbol—a formula any boy could repeat. A copy was set before him, and he read it aloud amid groans, sighs, and tears, feeling himself already treated as a convicted criminal. He was handed over to the Abbot of St. Médard, who was present at the council, and led to that monastery as to a prison. The council was immediately dissolved, and the abbot and monks of St. Médard, expecting a long stay, received him with exultation and tried to console him, but their efforts were in vain.
In his madness, Abelard blamed even God, repeating St. Anthony’s lament: “Kindly Jesus, where wert Thou?” He compared his new soul-sufferings to his former bodily ones, deeming himself the most miserable of men. The earlier betrayal by Fulbert seemed small beside this later evil; he lamented the hurt to his fair name more than to his body, since the latter had come from his own wrongdoing, but the former arose solely from his honesty and love of faith. The cruelty of his punishment made even his hearers censure it, and those involved disclaimed responsibility, shifting blame. Even his rivals denied involvement, and the papal legate publicly denounced the malice of the French. Repentant, the legate freed Abelard from the monastery and sent him back to his own abbey of St. Denis, where he found nearly as many enemies as before, due to their shameless living and their fear of his censure.
The Dispute Over Dionysius the Areopagite
Months later, while reading Bede’s commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, Abelard found Bede asserting that Dionysius the Areopagite was bishop of Corinth, not Athens—a claim that contradicted the monks’ boast that their Denis was the Areopagite and Bishop of Athens. He showed this jestingly to the monks, who declared Bede a liar, citing Hilduin, a former abbot who had traveled in Greece to investigate the matter, as more trustworthy. A monk asked which authority was better, and Abelard replied that Bede, esteemed by the whole Latin Church, was the superior. The monks raged, accusing him of hating the monastery and robbing it of its glory by denying the Areopagite as patron. Abelard answered that he never denied the fact and cared not whether the patron was the Areopagite or another, provided he received his crown from God. They reported him to the abbot.
The abbot, delighted at a chance to crush him—fearing him more due to his own vileness—summoned a council, threatened to send Abelard to the king for sullying the crown’s glory, and ordered him closely guarded. Abelard offered to submit to customary discipline if guilty, but, horrified by the prospect, he fled secretly by night, helped by pitying monks and some scholars. He went to a region near Count Theobald of Champagne, who knew him slightly and pitied him. Abelard found a home at Provins, in a priory of the monks of Troyes, whose prior loved him. The abbot of St. Denis later came to Provins on business, and Abelard, with the prior, asked the count to intercede, requesting only absolution and permission to live the monastic life elsewhere. The abbot and his party deliberated, suspecting Abelard wanted another abbey—a disgrace to them, since his conversion had honored them. They refused, threatened excommunication unless he returned, and forbade the prior to keep him under pain of sharing excommunication. Both were stricken with fear. The abbot departed obdurate and died a few days later.
Appeal to the King and the Founding of the Oratory
Abelard approached the abbot’s successor with the Bishop of Meaux. Initially refused, he secured through friends the right to appeal to the king and council. The royal seneschal, Stephen, summoned the abbot and his subordinates, asking why they kept Abelard against his will, noting their incompatible lives. Abelard knew the royal council saw the abbey’s irregularities as making it more controllable and profitable to the king, so he hoped for support. Permission was granted: Abelard might go to any solitary place, provided he did not submit to another abbey’s rule, confirmed before the king and councillors.
He found a lonely spot in the region of Troyes and built with reeds and stalks his first oratory in the name of the Holy Trinity, with one cleric comrade, singing Psalm iv, 7: “Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness.” Scholars flocked from all sides, building huts, living on herbs and coarse bread, straw beds, and turf tables—like the philosophers of old, per Jerome’s second book against Jovinianus. Jerome’s quoted passage warned that vices enter the soul through the senses as windows; the mind’s citadel is captured through gates; delight in games, athletes, actors, women’s beauty, gems, and raiment enslaves the soul; death comes up through windows. Philosophers forsook cities and pleasant gardens, fearing luxury; Pythagoreans dwelt in solitary places; Plato, though rich, let Diogenes trample his couch, establishing his academy in a remote, unhealthy place to break lust’s onslaughts. The sons of the prophets, followers of Eliseus, built huts by the Jordan, living on pottage and herbs. Abelard’s followers built huts above the waters of the Arduzon, seeming hermits rather than scholars. Their numbers and hardships reflected glory on Abelard, shaming rivals, who complained secretly that the whole world ran after him, that persecution had increased his glory, and that scholars spurned city pleasures for desert wretchedness. Abelard undertook the school.
The Paraclete and the Monks of St. Gildas
Abelard described the region of his new abbey as barbarous, with unknown speech; the monks’ vile, untameable way of life was notorious; the people were uncivilized and lawless. He knowingly sought this new danger to escape the former, like one who dashes over a precipice to shun a sword. Amid the sea’s roar at land’s end, he prayed Psalm lxi, 2: “From the end of the earth will I cry unto Thee.” The undisciplined monks tortured his heart day and night; he was certain that forcing them to live by their professed principles would mean his death, yet not doing so assured his damnation. A powerful local lord had brought the abbey under his control, seizing adjacent lands and grinding the monks with taxes heavier than those extorted from Jews. The monks held no common property; each supported himself, his concubines, sons, and daughters. They stole whatever they could to make him fail. Outside, the lord and his henchmen hounded him; within, the brethren plotted—fulfilling ii Cor. vii, 5: “Without were fightings, within were fears.”
He lamented his uselessness, quoting Luke xiv, 30 (“This man began to build, and was not able to finish”). He groaned that he had deserted the Paraclete (the Consoler) for sure desolation. His greatest torment was that he could not provide for the divine office at his oratory. But the true Paraclete consoled him—his abbot of St. Denis got possession of the abbey of Argenteuil, expelling the nuns, including Heloise (now his sister in Christ, its prioress). Abelard returned, bade her and others come to his oratory, made over the oratory with everything pertaining to it, and Pope Innocent II confirmed the gift in perpetuity. The place proved a true Paraclete; the sisters prospered through gifts. Heloise won bishops’ love as a daughter, abbots as a sister, and laity as a mother; her zeal, judgment, and patience were marveled at.
Of the Evil Report of His Iniquity
Neighbors censured Abelard for not preaching to them; he returned frequently to serve the nuns. Detractors declared he still lusted after Heloise. He cited St. Jerome’s letter to Asella (“I am charged with nothing save the fact of my sex… Paula is setting forth to Jerusalem”) and Jerome’s words on good and evil report. Abelard reasoned that his castration removed all suspicion—eunuchs guard women, as with Esther and King Ahasuerus and the eunuch of Queen Candace. He compared himself to Origen, who inflicted similar injury on himself; Abelard’s was done by another’s crime, with less pain. Yet he suffered more from loss of reputation than of body, citing Prov. xxii, 1 and St. Augustine on conscience versus reputation. He argued that enemies would accuse even Christ and the apostles, who associated with women—citing Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susanna, Leo the Ninth on leading about a sister-wife, the Pharisee in Luke, Malchus the monk with his wife, and the seven deacons. He marveled at abbesses having authority over clergy, quoting Juvenal: “There is nothing more intolerable than a rich woman.”
Of the Perils of His Abbey
Abelard determined to care for the sisters in person, fleeing his sons’ persecution as to a haven. Satan beset him; he was driven like Cain. His sons (the monks) tried to poison him like the monks sought to slay St. Benedict; they put poison in the chalice. At Nantes, visiting the sick count, they poisoned food via an attendant; a monk ate it and fell dead, and the attendant fled. Abelard left the abbey for little cells; monks bribed bandits to kill him. He fell from his horse, breaking a neck bone. He excommunicated certain monks, forcing oaths; they violated them, but were compelled by the count, bishops, and Pope Innocent’s legate. The remaining brethren planned to cut his throat; a nobleman aided his escape. He compared himself to Damocles under Dionysius’s sword, noting his wretchedness increased with wealth. He addresses his “most dear brother in Christ,” saying this story should comfort his sorrows, citing John xv, 18-20, ii Tim. iii, 12, Galat. i, 10, the Psalmist, and St. Jerome’s letters to Nepotanius, Asella, and Heliodorus.
Concluding Exhortation
The text urges readers to endure persecutions more steadfastly the more bitterly they harm us, inspired by records and examples. Such afflictions, even if not deserved, serve to purify the soul. Since all things occur by divine ordering, the faithful should be consoled that God’s goodness permits nothing without reason and brings wrongs to a good end, hence “Thy will be done.” The Apostle’s words (Rom. viii, 28)—“all things work together for good to them that love God”—and Proverbs (xii, 21)—“There shall no evil happen to the just”—support this. Whoever grows wrathful against his sufferings departs from the way of the just, for he resists the divine purpose, placing his own will ahead of God’s. The passage ends “Farewell.”
Main Arguments
The Historia Calamitatum advances several interrelated arguments, both explicit and implicit, about the nature of suffering, the conduct of life, and the relationship between human action and divine justice.
The most explicit argument, stated in the foreword and reiterated in the concluding exhortation, is that the recounting of personal misfortunes serves a consolatory purpose. Abelard writes that hearts are stirred and soothed more by example than by words, and that he has himself known consolation from speech with one who was a witness to his sufferings. He therefore writes of his misfortunes for the eyes of one who, though absent, is ever a consoler, so that by comparing sorrows, the reader may find his own are nought or small and bear them more easily. This argument frames the entire work as a therapeutic exercise, transforming private suffering into public example.
A second argument concerns the relationship between divine justice and human sin. Abelard repeatedly interprets his misfortunes as punishments for his sins, particularly his pride and his sensuality. He notes that he was first punished for sensuality, losing the very body parts with which he committed the sin, and then for pride, engendered by knowledge, suffering the humiliation of seeing his most-gloried book burned. He cites the scriptural text “Knowledge puffeth itself up” (i Cor. viii, 1) to explain the connection between intellectual pride and divine retribution. This argument is not merely personal; it reflects a broader theological conviction that God’s justice operates directly in human affairs, punishing sin in kind and using suffering to purify the soul.
A third argument concerns the moral evaluation of human actions. The editorial material notes that after the Calamity, Abelard turned to theology and ethics, insisting that subjective intention determines the moral value of human actions even if it does not change their essential character. This argument, which anticipates later scholastic debates on casuistry and moral responsibility, is implicit in Abelard’s own narrative. He presents himself as a man whose intentions were often good—his marriage to Heloise was meant to make amends, his teaching was meant to serve God—even when his actions were blameworthy. The work thus argues for a nuanced moral psychology that takes account of inner disposition rather than merely outward act.
A fourth argument concerns the value of intellectual freedom and the dangers of ecclesiastical persecution. Abelard presents himself as a daring and original thinker whose speculations on the Trinity and other theological matters were condemned not because they were erroneous but because his enemies were envious and his methods were novel. He describes how his accusers became his judges at the council of Soissons, how they found nothing to accuse him of publicly, and how they nevertheless persuaded the papal legate to condemn and burn his book. The work implicitly argues that theological inquiry should be free from the constraints of jealous rivals and that truth should be examined rather than suppressed.
A fifth argument, advanced in the editorial introduction, concerns the historical significance of Abelard’s life and work. The introduction argues that Abelard’s story reveals the enduring nature of human personality across the centuries, that his vivid personality, intellectual power, and keen mentality are such that his story could have been written in the 1920s. It also argues that the twelfth century achieved a balance between faith and reason, individual liberty and social order, that was later lost. The introduction presents Abelard as a figure who embodies both the vitality and the dangers of his age, and whose conflicts with St. Bernard prefigure the later severance of mysticism and intellectualism.
Key Concepts
Several specific concepts and motifs recur throughout the Historia Calamitatum and its editorial apparatus, giving the work its distinctive character.
The first is the concept of the “human document.” The introduction presents Abelard’s work as precisely this—a text that reveals personality in a way that more formal historical sources do not. The term suggests that the value of the work lies not in its factual accuracy or its theological arguments but in its revelation of a human being in all his complexity, with his pride, his passions, his fears, and his rationalizations. This concept frames the reading of the entire text, inviting the reader to approach Abelard not as a saint or a villain but as a fellow human being.
A second concept is the “parabolic curve” of Mediaevalism. The introduction uses this geometric metaphor to describe the rise of medieval civilization from the chaos that followed the fall of Rome. Abelard and St. Bernard are presented as riding the mounting force of this curve, each embodying a different aspect of the age’s vitality. The concept suggests that history moves in discernible patterns and that individuals both shape and are shaped by these larger movements.
A third concept is the “feudal sentiment par excellence”—the value and dignity of the individual man. The introduction, drawing on Dr. De Wulf, argues that feudalism was not merely a system of land tenure and military obligation but a social order based on reciprocal duties and respect for personality. The feudal man lived free, master in his own house, seeking his end in himself. This concept provides a framework for understanding Abelard’s own fierce independence and his insistence on his rights and reputation.
A fourth concept is the distinction between philosophy as the “obedient handmaid” of theology and philosophy as an independent science. The introduction traces the evolution of this relationship from the early identification of theology and philosophy, through the eleventh-century distinction of faith from reason by St. Anselm, to the twelfth-century alliance of the two as separate but related disciplines. The concept is central to understanding Abelard’s own project of providing rational explanations for theological doctrines such as the unity and Trinity of God.
A fifth concept is the “rigourist” condemnation of philosophy as “the devil’s art.” The introduction identifies Peter of Blois as a leader of this party, which saw secular learning as a threat to faith. This concept stands in opposition to the more positive evaluation of philosophy advanced by John of Salisbury, Alan of Lille, Gilbert de la Porree, and Hugh of St. Victor, and it provides the background for the ecclesiastical persecutions that Abelard suffered.
A sixth concept is the “Paraclete,” the name Abelard gave to his oratory in the wilderness near Troyes. The term, meaning “Consoler,” is drawn from the Gospel of John and refers to the Holy Spirit. Abelard’s choice of this name is significant: it reflects his sense of desolation and his hope for divine consolation, and it becomes the name of the community he established, which was later given to Heloise and her nuns. The concept of the Paraclete thus ties together Abelard’s personal suffering, his theological reflection, and his relationship with Heloise.
A seventh concept is the distinction between conscience and reputation. Abelard cites St. Augustine on this distinction, arguing that he suffered more from the loss of reputation than of body. The concept is central to his self-presentation: he insists that his conscience is clear even when his reputation is attacked, and he argues that enemies would accuse even Christ and the apostles. This distinction between inner moral state and outer social standing is a recurring motif in the work.
Themes
The Historia Calamitatum explores a number of deeper themes that give the work its enduring power and relevance.
The most prominent theme is the relationship between love and suffering. Abelard’s account of his love for Heloise is inseparable from his account of his misfortunes: the love leads to the mutilation, the mutilation leads to the monastic life, and the monastic life leads to a new series of persecutions. The work presents love as a force of overwhelming power that disrupts the rational order of life and leads to catastrophe. Yet it also presents love as a source of consolation and meaning, particularly in the relationship between Abelard and Heloise after their separation. The editorial material emphasizes this theme, noting that medieval philosophical problems no longer interest us but the problem of human love is always new, so interest centers on Abelard’s relationship with Heloise.
A second theme is the nature of pride and its punishment. Abelard repeatedly identifies pride as the root of his misfortunes, from his intellectual arrogance in challenging his teachers to his spiritual pride in his own achievements. He cites the scriptural text “Knowledge puffeth itself up” to explain the connection between learning and pride, and he interprets the burning of his book as a punishment for the pride engendered by knowledge. The work thus presents a moral psychology in which intellectual achievement is inherently dangerous, tending toward pride and inviting divine retribution.
A third theme is the tension between individual freedom and social constraint. The introduction argues that the twelfth century preserved a balance between the immense individualism fostered by feudalism and Catholicism and the dangers of anarchy and egotism. Abelard’s own life exemplifies this tension: he is a free individual who follows his own desires and intellect, but he is constantly constrained by the expectations of others—his teachers, his ecclesiastical superiors, his monks, and the broader society. His story is one of repeated conflict between his own will and the demands of the institutions and authorities around him.
A fourth theme is the relationship between faith and reason. Abelard was an enthusiastic, daring thinker who sought rational explanations for theological doctrines, and his conflicts with authorities such as Anselm of Laon and St. Bernard were in part conflicts over the proper relationship between these two faculties. The introduction argues that the twelfth century achieved a perfect balance between mind and spirit, exemplified by Hugh of St. Victor, and that after this balance was lost, the severance led to unwholesome hyper-spiritualization on one side and false intellectualism on the other. Abelard’s story is thus presented as a case study in the dangers and possibilities of intellectual inquiry within a religious framework.
A fifth theme is the nature of reputation and the social construction of identity. Abelard is intensely concerned with his reputation throughout the work, from his early desire to be recognized as the only philosopher left to his later anguish over the loss of reputation that accompanied his mutilation and his condemnations. He distinguishes between conscience and reputation, insisting that the former is more important, yet his narrative reveals how deeply he is affected by the judgments of others. The work thus explores the tension between inner self and outer social identity, a tension that is particularly acute for a public figure like Abelard.
A sixth theme is the meaning of suffering and the problem of evil. The work is structured as a catalogue of misfortunes, and Abelard repeatedly asks why he, who has tried to serve God, should suffer so much. He quotes St. Anthony’s lament, “Kindly Jesus, where wert Thou?” and he compares his soul-sufferings to his former bodily ones. The concluding exhortation offers an answer: all things occur by divine ordering, God’s goodness permits nothing without reason, and afflictions serve to purify the soul. The work thus engages with one of the most fundamental theological questions—why the innocent suffer—and offers a theodicy based on divine providence and the purifying power of affliction.
A seventh theme, emphasized in the editorial material, is the historical distance between the Middle Ages and the modern world. The introduction argues that the twelfth century was not an age of moral laxity but of enormous vitality, personal liberty, and few formal laws, governed by Custom and the moral law of the Church. It argues that only since Puritanism have sexual sins been placed at the head of the category of sins, and that in the Middle Ages the most deadly sins were pride, covetousness, slander, and anger. This theme invites the reader to recognize the alien moral standards of the medieval world and to understand Abelard’s actions and their reception in their historical context rather than judging them by modern standards.
The Author’s Conclusions
The Historia Calamitatum concludes with an exhortation that draws together the lessons Abelard has drawn from his own misfortunes. He urges his reader to endure persecutions more steadfastly the more bitterly they harm us, inspired by the records and examples he has provided. He argues that such afflictions, even if not deserved, serve to purify the soul, and that since all things occur by divine ordering, the faithful should be consoled that God’s goodness permits nothing without reason and brings wrongs to a good end. He cites the Apostle’s words that “all things work together for good to them that love God” and the proverb that “There shall no evil happen to the just.” He warns that whoever grows wrathful against his sufferings departs from the way of the just, for he resists the divine purpose, placing his own will ahead of God’s. The text ends with the words “Farewell.”
This conclusion is consistent with the framing of the work as a letter of consolation. Abelard has told his story not merely to recount his grievances but to provide an example of patient endurance under affliction. His conclusion is essentially theological: suffering is meaningful because it is ordained by God, and the proper response to suffering is submission to the divine will rather than resistance or despair.
The editorial material that follows the text provides a different kind of conclusion, one that assesses Abelard’s life and character from a historical perspective. The editor notes that Abelard’s story gives a portrait out of focus: the early bold champion of dialectic contrasts with the self-portrait of a timid, suspicious man in abject terror of councils and hidden enemies, querulous and peevish, driven by desire for intellectual adventure yet shrinking from defense. The editor believes that the mutilation broke down his personality, leaving him less than man, with suspicions becoming realities and terrors established facts. This psychological interpretation suggests that Abelard’s later misfortunes were not merely external but internal, as his character was transformed by his suffering.
The editor also offers a judgment on Abelard’s philosophical rank, doubting that he ranks high among medieval philosophers. He was more a dialectician than a creative force, caring primarily for the excitement of debate. He influenced the abandonment of Plato in favour of Aristotle, and his dialectical method became a model. After the Calamity he turned to theology and ethics, insisting that subjective intention determines the moral value of human actions even if it does not change their essential character. The story is called a romance, an epitome of the earlier Middle Ages, achieving brilliant dramatic unity through the two factors of passion and philosophy.
The biographical appendix confirms the external facts of Abelard’s life: his birth in 1079 at Palets, near Nantes; his parentage (Berengarius and Lucia, both noble); his career as a master of dialectics and brilliant teacher; his arraignment for heresy at the Council of Sens in 1140 by Bernard of Clairvaux; his appeal to the Pope; his collapse en route; his removal to the priory of St. Marcel near Chalons-sur-Saone; and his death on April 21, 1142. The appendix notes that his own writings are the best authority for his life, checked against external evidence, and that the Historia Calamitatum covers events to about 1132–33.
Significance
The Historia Calamitatum holds a unique place in medieval literature and in the history of autobiography. It is one of the few extended first-person narratives to survive from the Middle Ages, and it offers an intimate and unsparing portrait of a major intellectual figure. The introduction compares it to St. Augustine’s Confessions, asserting that both reveal personality and show that man is unchangeable across centuries; evolution alters flora, fauna, and physical forms but not man himself. This claim to universality is central to the work’s significance: it speaks to the enduring nature of human experience across the vast historical distance that separates the twelfth century from the present.
