tand). We must not
suppose, however, that Abelard, with his rationalism, dreamed of
undermining Christian dogma. Very far from it! He believed it to be
rational, and thought he could prove it so. No wonder that the book gave
offense, in an age when faith and ecstasy were placed above reason.
Indeed, his rivals could have wished for nothing better than this book,
which gave them a weapon to use against him. Led on by two old enemies,
Alberich and Lotulf, they caused an ecclesiastical council to be called
at Soissons, to pass judgment upon the book (1121). This judgment was a
foregone conclusion, the trial being the merest farce, in which the
pursuers were the judges, the Papal legate allowing his better reason to
be overruled by their passion. Abelard was condemned to burn his book in
public, and to read the Athanasian Creed as his confession of faith
(which he did in tears), and then to be confined permanently in the
monastery of St. Medard as a dangerous heretic.

His enemies seemed to have triumphed and to have silenced him forever.
Soon after, however, the Papal legate, ashamed of the part he had taken
in the transaction, restored him to liberty and allowed him to return to
his own monastery at St. Denis. Here once more his rationalistic,
critical spirit brought him into trouble with the bigoted, licentious
monks. Having maintained, on the authority of Beda, that Dionysius, the
patron saint of the monastery, was bishop of Corinth and not of Athens,
he raised such a storm that he was forced to flee, and took refuge on a
neighboring estate, whose proprietor, Count Thibauld, was friendly to
him. Here he was cordially received by the monks of Troyes, and allowed
to occupy a retreat belonging to them.

After some time, and with great difficulty, he obtained leave from the
abbot of St. Denis to live where he chose, on condition of not joining
any other order. Being now practically a free man, he retired to a
lonely spot near Nogent-sur-Seine, on the banks of the Ardusson. There,
having received a gift of a piece of land, he established himself along
with a friendly cleric, building a small oratory of clay and reeds to
the Holy Trinity. No sooner, however, was his place of retreat known
than he was followed into the wilderness by hosts of students of all
ranks, who lived in tents, slept on the ground, and underwent every kind
of hardship, in order to listen to him (1123). These supplied his wants,
and built a chapel, which