Also known as "Marriage is the Grave of Love" Zhang Baotong 2016.7.4

For Abelard, St. Kildas Monastery was a place that scared and annoyed him day and night. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info however, outside of this, he has nowhere else to go. Fear kept him from going out at will, but trouble kept him at peace, and he felt that he could hardly bear it any longer.

On one occasion, a friend named Philintes told Abelard about his troubles and troubles, but they were very different from his experiences. So, he wrote a long letter in autobiographical form to comfort his friend. In his letter, he wrote, "The last time we met, Philintes, you told me about your misfortune, and I was moved that since you are my dear friend, I should share your pain. In order to stop your tears, why don't I want to comfort you? The truth that philosophy can provide, I have stated to you, I want to alleviate the blow that fate has dealt to you. But all these efforts seem to be futile, and I know that grief has taken over your soul completely, and that your sanity is now out of order, and seems to have abandoned you. For this reason, I would like to devise a way to comfort you by my whimsy. Take a moment to hear me tell me what has happened to me, and then, Philintes, you will feel how insignificant your misfortune is compared to the beloved and miserable Abelard. I beseech you to pay attention to the price I have to pay for your comfort, and do not think that this is only a slight expression of my affection for you, for the old days, which I have told you below, inevitably pierces me deeply in the heart of incomparably great pain. ”

This long letter, which is nearly 100 pages long, is an autobiographical style, telling the whole process of his life from childhood to the present in a sad and sad tone, which is enough for you to read for a whole day. He wrote the letter in one fell swoop, day and night, almost a whole week. Then he sent for the letter to be delivered to the friend.

In the winter of 1132, the weather was freezing and the wind was blowing. It was as if snow was falling from the sky above the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. After the morning prayers, and after breakfast, Eloise returned to the rector's room. At this time, she saw a manuscript book on her desk. The title of the book is "The History of My Suffering" and it is written in Latin. On the title page of the book reads: Gift to the Library of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. The giver was a nearby church church. Eloise sat at her desk, picked up the book and flipped through it.

She turned to the first page, which reads: "Men and women are often disturbed by troubles, and there are many ways in which they find comfort in their pain. Therefore, I know that some comfort comes from talking to others, and these words are from his own experience. I would like to write down my unfortunate pains and experiences, which, while not believing, are comforting to you. I read your letter, and your pain and troubles are nothing compared to my pain and experience, so it is easier to bear. ”

When she saw that "I come from a small town in Brittany, eight miles east of Nantes...... she shuddered and thought: Isn't this Pierre Abelard's home? As she looked at it, she began to cry, and by the time she halfway through the book, she was already in tears.

She knew a little bit about what had happened when they were together, but she knew almost nothing about what had happened after he had entered the convent after their separation. She had spent some time with him after moving from the abbey of Argenteuil to the convent of the Holy Spirit, and had asked him about his life for more than ten years, but he always said that it was very good, so that she felt that he was really living a peaceful and peaceful life. However, in reality he has been living in the pain and danger of being banished, persecuted, and even framed. She felt very sorry and chagrined, and if she had known this truth at the time, she would not have let him leave the Convent of the Holy Spirit.

It had been three or four years since Abelard left the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, and he had never written to her, so she had no idea about his life and situation. Now that she knew his whereabouts, she should let him return to her, and not live the miserable days of wandering, floating, and even being in danger.

She read the whole book in one sitting, tears already soaking her clothes. At this time, it was already dark, and she sat next to the oil lamp, gently rubbing the book, covering her long thoughts, and her heart fluctuated, as if she felt that her beloved was back by her side. Wiping away tears, she picked up her pen and began to write to Abelard:

"To my teacher and father, my husband and brother, your handmaid and daughter, your wife and sister, and to Abelard and Eloise:

"Recently, my dear, by chance someone passed on to me that letter of condolence from you to a friend. As soon as I read the title and knew that it was written by you, I was very eager to read it, because the author is my dearest. In reality, I have completely lost him, but I still hope to be able to at least paint an image of him in my head from a few words. But the lines of this letter are soaked in sourness, and it tells the sad truth of how we began our religious life and the pain that my dear you have been suffering.

?“ I don't think anyone who reads this letter will not weep, and I am all the more bitter to learn that you are still in danger. All of us in the monastery know the despair of your life, and we live in fear that we will wait for your death. Who, in the name of God, can still give you some protection, we ask of you to write down your troubled situation, and ask him for help, so that we maidservants may be comforted.

"Dearest, you know that all men know - I have changed my habits and my mind by obeying your commands for what you have lost, in order to show that you are the sole possessor of my mind and body. What I am looking for is neither the security of marriage nor the abundance of dowry. If the name of wife seems more sacred and legitimate, then the word friend will be sweeter to me, and even, if you don't mind, the name of a concubine or prostitute will be sweeter to me. I would like to ask God to testify that even if Augustus Caesar, who reigns over the world, thinks that I am worthy of it, and that I am the queen, he will give the whole world to me forever, and be under my control forever, and that it is dear and honorable to me as your prostitute.

"Who among kings and wise men can be with you in great power?What kingdom or town is not anxious to see you?I ask, who is not eager to glance at you when you appear in public?What wives and maidens do not desire your presence when you are away, and not exuberant when you are?Can a queen or a lady not be jealous of my joy and my bed?"