Chapter 9

It so happened that at the outset I devoted myself to analyzing the basis of our faith through illustrations based on human understanding, and I wrote for my students a certain tract on the unity and trinity of God. This I did because they were always seeking for rational and philosophical explanations, asking rather for reasons they could understand than for mere words, saying that it was futile to utter words which the intellect could not possibly follow, that nothing could be believed unless it could first be understood, and that it was absurd for any one to preach to others a thing which neither he himself nor those whom he sought to teach could comprehend. Our Lord Himself maintained this same thing when He said: "They are blind leaders of the blind" (Matthew, xv, 14).

At first, I set out to examine the foundations of our faith using examples people could understand. I wrote a treatise for my students on the unity and trinity of God. I did so because they were always asking for rational and philosophical explanations. They wanted reasons they could understand, not just words. They said it was pointless to say words that the mind could not understand. They also said that nothing could be believed unless it was first understood. And they said it was absurd to preach something that neither the preacher nor the audience could understand. Our Lord himself affirmed the same thing when he said: "They are blind leaders of the blind" (Matthew, xv, 14).

Now, a great many people saw and read this tract, and it became exceedingly popular, its clearness appealing particularly to all who sought information on this subject. And since the questions involved are generally considered the most difficult of all, their complexity is taken as the measure of the subtlety of him who succeeds in answering them. As a result, my rivals became furiously angry, and summoned a council to take action against me, the chief instigators therein being my two intriguing enemies of former days, Alberic and Lotulphe. These two, now that both William and Anselm, our erstwhile teachers, were dead, were greedy to reign in their stead, and, so to speak, to succeed them as heirs. While they were directing the school at Rheims, they managed by repeated hints to stir up their archbishop, Rodolphe, against me, for the purpose of holding a meeting, or rather an ecclesiastical council, at Soissons, provided they could secure the approval of Conon, Bishop of Praeneste, at that time papal legate in France. Their plan was to summon me to be present at this council, bringing with me the famous book I had written regarding the Trinity. In all this, indeed, they were successful, and the thing happened according to their wishes.

Many people saw and read this tract, and it became extremely popular. Its clarity especially appealed to everyone seeking information on the subject. The questions it addressed are generally considered the most difficult of all. So their complexity is taken as a measure of the subtlety of anyone who succeeds in answering them. As a result, my rivals became furious and called a council to take action against me. The chief instigators were my two scheming enemies from earlier days, Alberic and Lotulphe. Both William and Anselm, our former teachers, were now dead. Alberic and Lotulphe were eager to rule in their place and, so to speak, succeed them as heirs. While directing the school at Rheims, they repeatedly hinted to their archbishop, Rodolphe, until they stirred him up against me. They wanted him to hold a meeting, or rather an ecclesiastical council, at Soissons. But first they had to secure the approval of Conon, Bishop of Praeneste, then the papal legate in France. They planned to summon me to the council and have me bring my famous book on the Trinity. They succeeded in all this, and everything happened as they wished.

Before I reached Soissons, however, these two rivals of mine so foully slandered me with both the clergy and the public that on the day of my arrival the people came near to stoning me and the few students of mine who had accompanied me thither. The cause of their anger was that they had been led to believe that I had preached and written to prove the existence of three gods. No sooner had I reached the city, therefore, than I went forthwith to the legate; to him I submitted my book for examination and judgment, declaring that if I had written anything repugnant to the Catholic faith, I was quite ready to correct it or otherwise to make satisfactory amends. The legate directed me to refer my book to the archbishop and to those same two rivals of mine, to the end that my accusers might also be my judges. So in my case was fulfilled the saying: "Even our enemies are our judges" (Deut. Xxxii, 31).

Before I reached Soissons, however, these two rivals of mine had viciously slandered me among the clergy and the public. On the day I arrived, the people nearly stoned me and the few students who had accompanied me. They were angry because they had been led to believe that I had preached and written to prove that three gods existed. As soon as I reached the city, I went to the legate. I gave him my book to examine and judge. I told him that if I had written anything contrary to the Catholic faith, I was ready to correct it or otherwise make satisfactory amends. The legate told me to submit my book to the archbishop and those same two rivals of mine, so that my accusers might also be my judges. In my case, the saying came true: "Even our enemies are our judges" (Deut. Xxxii, 31).

These three, then, took my book and pawed it over and examined it minutely, but could find nothing therein which they dared to use as the basis for a public accusation against me. Accordingly they put off the condemnation of the book until the close of the council, despite their eagerness to bring it about. For my part, everyday before the council convened I publicly discussed the Catholic faith in the light of what I had written, and all who heard me were enthusiastic in their approval alike of the frankness and the logic of my words. When the public and the clergy had thus learned something of the real character of my teaching, they began to say to one another: "Behold, now he speaks openly, and no one brings any charge against him. And this council, summoned, as we have heard, chiefly to take action upon his case, is drawing toward its end. Did the judges realize that the error might be theirs rather than his?"

The three men took my book and picked through it, examining it closely. But they could find nothing in it that they dared use as the basis for a public accusation against me. So, despite their eagerness to have the book condemned, they put off its condemnation until the end of the council. For my part, every day before the council met, I publicly discussed the Catholic faith in light of what I had written. All who heard me enthusiastically approved of both my frankness and my reasoning. Once the public and the clergy had learned something about what I really taught, they began to say to one another: "Look, he is speaking openly now, and no one is bringing any charge against him. We have heard that this council was called mainly to deal with his case, and it is drawing to a close. Did the judges realize that they might be wrong rather than him?"

As a result of all this, my rivals grew more angry day by day. On one occasion Alberic, accompanied by some of his students, came to me for the purpose of intimidating me, and, after a few bland words, said that he was amazed at something he had found in my book, to the effect that, although God had begotten God, I denied that God had begotten Himself, since there was only one God. I answered unhesitatingly: "I can give you an explanation of this if you wish it." "Nay," he replied, "I care nothing for human explanation or reasoning in such matters, but only for the words of authority." "Very well." I said; "turn the pages of my book and you will find the authority likewise." The book was at hand, for he had brought it with him. I turned to the passage I had in mind, which he had either not discovered or else passed over as containing nothing injurious to me. And it was God's will that I quickly found what I sought. This was the following sentence, under the heading "Augustine, On the Trinity, Book I": "Whosoever believes that it is within the power of God to beget Himself is sorely in error; this power is not in God, neither is it in any created thing, spiritual or corporeal. For there is nothing that can give birth to itself."

As a result of all this, my rivals grew angrier every day. Once, Alberic came with some of his students to intimidate me. After a few polite words, he said he was amazed by something he had found in my book. I had written that although God had begotten God, God had not begotten himself, since there was only one God. I answered without hesitation: "I can explain this if you wish." "No," he replied, "I care nothing for human explanations or reasoning in such matters. I care only for the words of authorities." "Very well," I said. "Turn the pages of my book, and you will find an authority there too." The book was at hand, since he had brought it with him. I turned to the passage I had in mind. He had either missed it or passed over it because he saw nothing in it that could harm me. And it was God's will that I quickly found what I was looking for. Under the heading "Augustine, On the Trinity, Book I," I found this sentence: "Anyone who believes that God has the power to beget himself is seriously mistaken. God has no such power, nor does any created thing, spiritual or physical. For nothing can give birth to itself."

When those of his followers who were present heard this, they were amazed and much embarrassed. He himself, in order to keep his countenance, said: "Certainly, I understand all that." Then I added: "What I have to say further on this subject is by no means new, but apparently it has nothing to do with the case at issue, since you have asked for the word of authority only, and not for explanations. If, however, you care to consider logical explanations, I am prepared to demonstrate that, according to Augustine's statement, you have yourself fallen into a heresy in believing that a father can possibly be his own son." When Alberic heard this he was almost beside himself with rage, and straightway resorted to threats, asserting that neither my explanations nor my citations of authority would avail me aught in this case. With this he left me.

When the followers present heard this, they were amazed and deeply embarrassed. To save face, he said, "Of course, I understand all that." Then I added: "What I have to say on this subject is not new. But it apparently has nothing to do with the case at hand. You asked only for an authoritative statement, not explanations. If, however, you are willing to consider logical explanations, I am prepared to demonstrate something. According to Augustine's statement, you have yourself fallen into heresy by believing that a father can be his own son." When Alberic heard this, he was nearly beside himself with rage. He immediately turned to threats, saying that neither my explanations nor my citations of authority would help me in this case. With that, he left me.

On the last day of the council, before the session convened, the legate and the archbishop deliberated with my rivals and sundry others as to what should be done about me and my book, this being the chief reason for their having come together. And since they had discovered nothing either in my speech or in what I had hitherto written which would give them a case against me, they were all reduced to silence, or at the most to maligning me in whispers. Then Geoffroi, Bishop of Chartres, who excelled the other bishops alike in the sincerity of his religion and in the importance of his see, spoke thus:

On the last day of the council, the legate and the archbishop met with my rivals and various others before the session began. They discussed what to do about me and my book, the main reason they had gathered. They had found nothing in my speech or in anything I had written so far that they could use against me. So they were all reduced to silence or, at most, to speaking ill of me in whispers. Then Geoffroi, Bishop of Chartres, spoke. He surpassed the other bishops both in the sincerity of his faith and in the importance of his see. He said:

"You know, my lords, all who are gathered here, the doctrine of this man, what it is, and his ability, which has brought him many followers in every field to which he has devoted himself. You know how greatly he has lessened the renown of other teachers, both his masters and our own, and how he has spread as it were the offshoots of his vine from sea to sea. Now, if you impose a lightly considered judgment on him, as I cannot believe you will, you well know that even if mayhap you are in the right there are many who will be angered thereby, and that he will have no lack of defenders. Remember above all that we have found nothing in this book of his that lies before us whereon any open accusation can be based. Indeed it is true, as Jerome says: 'Fortitude openly displayed always creates rivals, and the lightning strikes the highest peaks.' Have a care, then, lest by violent action you only increase his fame, and lest we do more hurt to ourselves through envy than to him through justice. A false report, as that same wise man reminds us, is easily crushed, and a man's later life gives testimony as to his earlier deeds. If, then, you are disposed to take canonical action against him, his doctrine or his writings must be brought forward as evidence, and he must have free opportunity to answer his questioners. In that case, if he is found guilty or if he confesses his error, his lips can be wholly sealed. Consider the words of the blessed Nicodemus, who, desiring to free Our Lord Himself, said: 'Doth our law judge any man before it hear him and know what he doeth? '" (John, vii, 51).

"You know this man's teaching, my lords, all of you gathered here. You also know his ability, which has won him many followers in every field he has pursued. You know how greatly he has diminished the reputation of other teachers, both his masters and our own. You know how he has spread the branches of his vine, as it were, from sea to sea. I cannot believe you would pass judgment on him without careful thought. But if you did, you know that many would be angered, even if you were perhaps right. And he would have no lack of defenders. "Above all, remember that we have found nothing in the book before us that can support any open accusation. Indeed, as Jerome says: 'Courage openly displayed always creates rivals, and lightning strikes the highest peaks.' So take care that forceful action does not only increase his fame. Take care, too, that our envy does not hurt us more than our justice hurts him. As that same wise man reminds us, a false report is easily crushed. A man's later life bears witness to his earlier deeds. "If, then, you intend to take action against him under canon law, you must present his teaching or writings as evidence. He must also have a free chance to answer those who question him. In that case, if he is found guilty or admits his error, his lips can be completely sealed. Consider the words of the blessed Nicodemus, who wanted to free Our Lord himself. He said: 'Does our law judge anyone before hearing him and finding out what he is doing?'" (John, vii, 51).

When my rivals heard this they cried out in protest, saying: "This is wise counsel, forsooth, that we should strive against the wordiness of this man, whose arguments, or rather, sophistries, the whole world cannot resist!" And yet, methinks, it was far more difficult to strive against Christ Himself, for Whom, nevertheless, Nicodemus demanded a hearing in accordance with the dictates of the law. When the bishop could not win their assent to his proposals, he tried in another way to curb their hatred, saying that for the discussion of such an important case the few who were present were not enough, and that this matter required a more thorough examination. His further suggestion was that my abbot, who was there present, should take me back with him to our abbey, in other words to the monastery of St. Denis, and that there a large convocation of learned men should determine, on the basis of a careful investigation, what ought to be done. To this last proposal the legate consented, as did all the others.

When my rivals heard this, they cried out in protest: "What wise advice, indeed, to argue against this man's wordiness! The whole world cannot resist his arguments, or rather, his sophistries!" And yet, I think it was far harder to argue against Christ himself. Nevertheless, Nicodemus demanded that Christ be given a hearing, as the law required. When the bishop could not persuade them to agree to his proposals, he tried another way to restrain their hatred. He said that too few people were present to discuss such an important case. The matter, he said, required a more thorough examination. He also suggested that my abbot, who was there, should take me back to our abbey, the monastery of St. Denis. There, a large assembly of learned men would carefully investigate the matter and decide what should be done. The legate agreed to this last proposal, as did everyone else.

Then the legate arose to celebrate mass before entering the council, and through the bishop sent me the permission which had been determined on, authorizing me to return to my monastery and there await such action as might be finally taken. But my rivals, perceiving that they would accomplish nothing if the trial were to be held outside of their own diocese, and in a place where they could have little influence on the verdict, and in truth having small wish that justice should be done, persuaded the archbishop that it would be a grave insult to him to transfer this case to another court, and that it would be dangerous for him if by chance I should thus be acquitted. They likewise went to the legate, and succeeded in so changing his opinion that finally they induced him to frame a new sentence, whereby he agreed to condemn my book without any further inquiry, to burn it forthwith in the sight of all, and to confine me for a year in another monastery. The argument they used was that it sufficed for the condemnation of my book that I had presumed to read it in public without the approval either of the Roman pontiff or of the Church, and that, furthermore, I had given it to many to be transcribed. Methinks it would be a notable blessing to the Christian faith if there were more who displayed a like presumption. The legate, however, being less skilled in law than he should have been, relied chiefly on the advice of the archbishop, and he, in turn, on that of my rivals. When the Bishop of Chartres got wind of this, he reported the whole conspiracy to me, and strongly urged me to endure meekly the manifest violence of their enmity. He bade me not to doubt that this violence would in the end react upon them and prove a blessing to me, and counseled me to have no fear of the confinement in a monastery, knowing that within a few days the legate himself, who was now acting under compulsion, would after his departure set me free. And thus he consoled me as best he might, mingling his tears with mine.

Then the legate rose to celebrate mass before entering the council. Through the bishop, he sent me the permission they had decided to grant. I could return to my monastery and wait there for a final decision. But my rivals realized they would accomplish nothing if the trial were held outside their own diocese. They would have little influence on the verdict there. In truth, they had little wish to see justice done. They persuaded the archbishop that moving the case to another court would be a grave insult to him. They also warned him that it would be dangerous for him if I happened to be acquitted there. They also went to the legate and managed to change his mind. Finally, they persuaded him to issue a new sentence. He agreed to condemn my book without further inquiry, burn it at once in front of everyone, and confine me in another monastery for a year. They argued that I had presumed to read my book in public without approval from the pope or the Church. They said that alone was enough to condemn it. They also pointed out that I had given it to many people to copy. I think it would be a great blessing to the Christian faith if more people showed the same presumption. The legate, however, knew less about the law than he should have. He relied mainly on the archbishop's advice, and the archbishop in turn relied on my rivals. When the Bishop of Chartres heard of this, he told me about the whole conspiracy. He strongly urged me to bear their obvious and violent hostility meekly. He told me not to doubt that their violence would eventually turn against them and prove a blessing to me. He advised me not to fear confinement in a monastery. He knew that within a few days, after the legate left, the legate himself would set me free. For the legate was now acting under pressure. And so the bishop consoled me as best he could, mingling his tears with mine.