Who was Bernard of Clairvaux?

St. Bernard, Abbot Of Clairvaux

The most celebrated of these men is the famous St. Bernard. He is considered the brightest representative of the Roman Catholic religion which the church had seen since the days of Jerome, Ambrose, Augustine, and Gregory. For half a century he appears before us the leading and governing head of Christendom — the oracle of all Europe. The popes are lost sight of in the brighter light of the abbot. "He is the centre," says one of his biographers, "around whom gather the great events of christian history, from whose mind flow forth the impulses which animate and guide Latin Christendom, towards whom converge the religious thoughts of men. He rules alike the monastic world, the councils of temporal sovereigns, and the intellectual developments of the age. He is believed by an admiring age to have confuted Abelard himself, and to have repressed the more dangerous doctrines of Arnold of Brescia." To those who have read his life this picture will not appear overdrawn. But as throwing light on those times we would first notice his training.

Bernard was born of noble parentage in Burgundy. His father, Tesselin, was a knight of great bravery and piety, according to the ideas of religion prevalent at that time. His mother, Alith, was likewise of high birth, and a model of devotion and charity. Bernard, their third son, was born at Fontaines, near Dijon, in 1091. From his infancy he was thoughtful and devoted to religion and study. His pious mother died while he was yet a youth, leaving six sons and one daughter. He was then left free to choose his occupation for life. What shall it be? He had no great choice; it must either be a fighting knight or a fasting and praying monk. He resolved at length to retire from the world and devote himself to the monastic state. At the age of twenty-three he entered the monastery of Citeaux.

Of these we may name four — Bernard of Clairvaux, Abelard, Arnold of Brescia, and Thomas a Becket; though they were not all so orthodox as the more staunch adherents of Rome might have wished. Bernard of Clairvaux we have already mentioned, and in no favourable terms; but in spite of his zeal against the followers of Henry and Peter de Bruys, he seems to have been a man of some godliness, and lashed fearlessly at the abuses and sins of the clergy. The luxurious living of the bishops; their drunkenness and gluttony; their gorgeous equipages; their costly cups and dishes; their gilded spurs — all fall beneath the censure of his pen: nor does he scruple to speak of the priests as servants of Antichrist; and of the abbots as lords of castles, rather than fathers of monasteries, as princes of provinces rather than directors of souls. His influence, indeed, was enormous, and, perhaps, second to none.

Abelard was a Frenchman, and is noticeable as being the first public teacher of theology who was not an ordained priest. The romantic side of his history, upon which we do not propose to touch, must be familiar to most readers: yet is there much in it to move our sympathy, as well as to excite an admiration for the man, though poets have had more good things to say of him than theologians. As the learned scholastic, however, we may consider him, and in that character he takes the palm of all his contemporaries. People came from immense distances to hear him lecture; crossing seas and mountains, and submitting to almost any inconvenience to obtain that privilege. But human reason had far too wide a field in his preaching, and led him sadly astray, even with regard to some of the fundamentals of Christianity. At last his great popularity aroused the animosity of Rome, and Bernard was tempted from his cloister to oppose him. The occasion was remarkable, and when the disputants met at Sens, in France, the scene in the council-chamber was worthy [of] the occasion. The king was there, attended by his court; bishops, also, and other ecclesiastics; abbots and learned doctors. But if the occasion which brought them together was remarkable, the circumstances of the debate were yet more so. Bernard having stated that he was not there to accuse Abelard, since his own writings would testify against him, the reading of the incriminated passages commenced. The recital was still proceeding when Abelard abruptly rose to his feet, and turning to his judges said, "I refuse to hear more, or to answer any questions: I appeal to Rome." All were taken by astonishment, and Bernard asked him, did he fear for his person, assuring him at the same time that he was perfectly safe, and would have a patient hearing. Abelard simply replied, "I have appealed to the court of Rome;" and left the assembly. The great schoolman afterwards retired to the monastery of Clugny, where he was kindly received by the abbot; and having taken the cowl, died there in the year 1142.

The arrival of Bernard, of his kindred, and his followers, at Citeaux, proved a turning-point in its history. The popularity of the small monastery was raised, and its dormitories were crowded. It soon became necessary to look out for the means of founding another. Bernard was selected by Stephen, the general of the Cistercian communities of France, as the head of the community. Twelve monks and their young abbot — representing the Lord and His apostles — were assembled in the church. Stephen placed a cross in Bernard's hands, who solemnly at the head of his small band, walked forth from Citeaux. After travelling northward for nearly ninety miles, they came to a valley in Champagne, called the Valley of Wormwood, but which now exchanged its name for that of Clairvaux — the Bright Valley. It was a barren solitude, for a time the hardships which the little community had to bear were excessive. A rude fabric to shelter them from wind, rain, heat, and cold, was raised with their own hands: — they were obliged to live on beech-leaves, nuts, roots, intermixed with coarse grain, until the Lord in mercy supplied their need from the compassion of the neighbouring peasants. Of course the supplies of money and corn were attributed to the miraculous intervention of St. Bernard, his piety, his prayers, and his prophetic visions. But the good Lord had pity and saved these poor deluded men from actual death by starvation.

William of Champeaux, bishop of Chalons, hearing that the life of Bernard was in danger from the extreme rigour of his mortifications succeeded in getting him away from Clairvaux for twelve months; and, compelling him to take proper food and rest, he saved him from a slow but certain suicide. In later years Bernard expressed disapprobation of such excess in mortification as that by which he had weakened his own body and impaired his own strength.

The Power Of Bernard's Preaching

After this period, according to his biographers, the fame and influence of Bernard spread rapidly and widely. His health had suffered so much from ascetic practices that he could no longer labour in the field with his brethren for their daily subsistence; but he laboured with his pen, and his preaching retained all its impressive solemnity and persuasive eloquence. His pale face, macerated form, and bodily weakness contrasted strangely with his powerful voice, his gushing flow of language, and the burning fervour of his pathetic appeals. When it was known that he was to preach in any given place, wives hurried away their husbands, mothers withdrew their sons, friends their friends, from the resistless power of the saintly abbot, lest they should renounce the world for the cloister. His reputation as a preacher and a writer soon spread over the whole of Christendom, and all the world began to ascribe the impression he produced to a divine power, and to endow him with the gift of working miracles.

The "Bright Valley" was soon beset by candidates for admission; the number of its inmates rapidly rose to seven hundred; and the number of monasteries founded by Bernard himself amounted to one hundred and sixty. These were scattered over France, Italy, Germany, England, Spain indeed over every country in the West. And, as might be expected, all looked back with superstitious reverence and affection to their founder. Clairvaux thus became a free and open court to which all might appeal without cost, and from which, it is said, all retired without dissatisfaction, whether justified or condemned. He knew how to address himself to persons of every class in a style most suited to their understanding, and thus exercised an immense influence over all kinds of men. His wondering disciples vied with each other in publishing abroad the wonders wrought by his hand or his prayers, until his every act became a miracle and his every word a prophecy. The Gospels contain not such countless miracles as the life of Bernard. He healed diseases by his touch, the bread which he blessed produced supernatural effects, and a blind man received his sight by standing on the same spot where the holy man had stood!

The Roman Pontiff, Eugene III., favoured these petitions, and resolved to stir up a new crusade. The kings, princes, and people of Europe were summoned by the pope's letters to the holy war, but the preaching of the crusade over these countries he wisely delegated to the celebrated St. Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux. He was a man of immense influence, of saintly character, and of great reputation for working miracles. In the most glowing eloquence he pictured the sufferings of the Eastern Christians, the profanation of the holy places by the infidels, and the certain success of the armies of the Lord. Louis VII. of France, his queen, and a vast number of his nobles, took the vow, and devoted themselves to the holy war. Conrad III., Emperor of Germany, after resisting for a time the appeals of St. Bernard, at length declared himself ready to obey the call to God's service. Many of the chiefs of Germany followed the Emperor's example in taking up the cross — as the phrase then was — but it was a cross without either truth or grace, the fearful delusion of Satan, and the wicked prostitution of that sacred symbol to the blinding and ruin of millions.

A new order, a new institution, grew up under the hand of Bernard. Clairvaux was the commencement of a new era in the history of monasticism. Men of all ranks were attracted to the Cistercian order, notwithstanding the noted strictness of its discipline; and numbers of monasteries sprang up in the deserts after the pattern of Clairvaux. But all the power of Bernard could not prevent the most bitter jealousies and unseemly dissensions arising between the monks of the new and of the old orders, especially with the once celebrated monastery of Cluny, which had trained Hildebrand for the papal throne.

Bernard Leaves Clairvaux

Bernard zealously espoused the cause of Innocent. His zeal drew him from his den. He travelled from sovereign to sovereign, from count to count, from monastery to monastery, until he could boast that Innocent was acknowledged by the Kings of France, England, Spain, the Emperor Lothaire, the more powerful clergy, and the religious communities throughout these countries. The powerful Duke Roger of Sicily alone adhered to Anacletus, which prevented Innocent returning to Rome. But death came to the relief of all parties. Anacletus died in his impregnable fortress of St. Angelo, in January 1138, having defied all his enemies for eight years. Innocent returned to Rome in May with Bernard by his side, and was duly acknowledged as supreme pontiff.

The following was the ordinary routine in the monastery during Bernard's year. At two in the morning the great bell was rung, and the monks immediately arose from their hard couches, and hastened along the dark cloisters in solemn silence to the church. A single small lamp, suspended from the roof, gave a glimmering light, just sufficient to show them their way through the building. After prayer, or divine service they retired, and after a brief repose rose again for matins which took them about two hours; then other services, partly regulated by the season of the year — summer or winter; but they were employed in various religious exercises till nine, when they went forth to work in the fields. At two they dined, at night-fall they assembled to vespers; at six or eight, according to the season, they finished the day with compline, and passed at once to the dormitory.

But however severe we may think these practices and austerities to have been, they were far from satisfying the zeal and spirit of self-mortification of Bernard. He spent his time in solitude and study. Time given to sleep he regarded as lost, and was wont to compare sleep and death, holding that sleepers may be regarded as dead among men, even as the dead are asleep before God. He diligently read the scriptures; he strove to work out his own conception of perfect and angelic religion. He had so absolutely withdrawn his senses from communion with the outer world that they seemed dead to all outward impressions: his eyes could not tell him whether his chamber was ceiled or not whether it had one window or three. Of the scanty food which he took his unconscious taste had lost all perception whether it was nauseous or wholesome. He drank oil but could not tell it from water. And yet this deluded man, though we doubt not he was already saved through grace, was doing all this for salvation; and still, as a matter of course, he was not satisfied. He spoke of himself as but in his noviciate, others might have attained, he had but begun his sanctification.