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1、编号：时间：2021年x月x日书山有路勤为径，学海无涯苦作舟页码：第48页 共48页 Peter Abelard: Historia CalamitatumThe Story of My Misfortunestranslated by Henry Adams BellowsPeter Abelard (1079-1142) was one of the great intellectuals of the 12th century, with especial importance in the field of logic. His tendency to disputation is p

2、erhaps best demonstrated by his book Sic et Non, a list of 一五8 philosophical and theological questions about which there were divided opinions. This dialectical method of intellectual reflection - also seen in Gratians approach to canon law - was to become an important feature of western education a

3、nd distinguishes it sharply from other world cultures such as Islam and the Confucian world. Abelards mistake was to leave the questions open for discussion and so he was repeatedly charged with heresy. For a long period all his works were included in the later Iindex of Forbidden Books. The text he

4、re gives a good account of Abelards pugnaciousness. He is perhaps as famous today for his love affair with Heloise (1100/01-1163/4) and its disastrous consequences, which resulted in her giving birth to son (called Astrolabe), to Abelards castration by Heloises angry relatives, and to both their ret

5、reats to monastic life. Heloise was one of the most literate women of her time, and an able administrator: as a result her monastic career was notably successful. Abelard, a intellectual jouster throughout his life was notably less happy as a monk. He incurred the displeasure and enmity of abbots, b

6、ishops, his own monks, a number of Church councils and St. Bernard of Clairvaux . The last months of his life were spent under the protection of Peter the Venerable of Cluny, where he died. The tomb of Abelard and Heloise can now be visited in the Pre Lachaise cemetery in Paris. The Historia Calamit

7、atum, although in the literary form of a letter, is a sort of autobiography, with distinct echoes of Augustines Confessions. It is one of the most readable documents to survive from the period, and as well as presenting a remarkably frank self-portrait, is a valuable account of intellectual life in

8、Paris before the formalization of the University, of the intellectual excitement of the period, of monastic life and of a love story that in some respects deserves its long reputation.Historia CalamitatumFOREWORDOFTEN the hearts of men and women are stirred, as likewise they are soothed in their sor

9、rows more by example than by words. And therefore, because I too I have known some consolation from speech had with one who was a witness thereof, am I now minded to write of the sufferings which have sprung out of my misfortunes, for the eyes of one who, though absent, is of himself ever a consoler

10、. This I do so that, in comparing your sorrows with mine, you may discover that yours are in truth nought, or at the most but of small account, and so shall you come to bear them more easily. CHAPTER IOF THE BIRTHPLACE OF PIERRE ABELARD AND OF HIS PARENTSKNOW, then, that I am come from a certain tow

11、n which was built on the way into lesser Brittany, distant some eight miles, as I think, eastward from the city of Nantes, and in its own tongue called Palets. Such is the nature of that country, or, it may be, of them who dwell there - for in truth they are quick in fancy - that my mind bent itself

12、 easily to the study of letters. Yet more, I had a father who had won some smattering of letters before he had girded on the soldiers belt. And so it came about that long afterwards his love thereof was so strong that he saw to it that each son of his should be taught in letters even earlier than in

13、 the management of arms. Thus indeed did it come to pass. And because I was his first born, and for that reason the more dear to him, he sought with double diligence to have me wisely taught. For my part, the more I went forward in the study of letters, and ever more easily, the greater became the a

14、rdour of my devotion to them, until in truth I was so enthralled by my passion for learning that, gladly leaving to my brothers the pomp of glory in arms, the right of heritage and all the honours that should have been mine as the eldest born, I fled utterly from the court of Mars that I might win l

15、earning in the bosom of Minerva. And - since I found the armory of logical reasoning more to my liking than the other forms of philosophy, I exchanged all other weapons for these, and to the prizes of victory in war I preferred the battle of minds in disputation. Thenceforth, journeying through many

16、 provinces, and debating as I went, going whithersoever I heard that the study of my chosen art most flourished, I became such an one as the Peripatetics. CHAPTER IIOF THE PERSECUTION HE HAD FROM HIS MASTER WILLIAM OF CHAMPEAUXOF HIS ADVENTURES AT MELUN, AT CORBEIL AND AT PARISHIS WITHDRAWAL FROM TH

17、E CITY OF THE PARISIANS TO MELUN, AND HIS RETURN TO MONT STE GENEVIEVEOF HIS JOURNEY TO HIS OLD HOMEI CAME at length to Paris, where above all in those days the art of dialectics was most flourishing, and there did I meet William of Champeaux, my teacher, a man most distinguished in his science both

18、 by his renown and by his true merit. With him I remained for some time, at first indeed well liked of him; but later I brought him great grief, because I undertook to refute certain of his opinions, not infrequently attacking him in disputation, and now and then in these debates I was adjudged vict

19、or. Now this, to those among my fellow students who were ranked foremost, seemed all the more insufferable because of my youth and the brief duration of my studies. Out of this sprang the beginning of my misfortunes, which have followed me even to the present day; the more widely my fame was spread

20、abroad, the more bitter was the envy that was kindled against me. It was given out that I, presuming on my gifts far beyond the warranty of my youth, was aspiring despite my tender years to the leadership of a school; nay, more, that I was making ready the very place in which I would undertake this

21、task, the place being none other than the castle of Melun, at that time a royal seat. My teacher himself had some foreknowledge of this, and tried to remove my school as far as possible from his own. Working in secret, he sought in every way he could before I left his following to bring to nought th

22、e school I had planned and the place I had chosen for It. Since, however, in that very place he had many rivals, and some of them men of influence among the great ones of the land, relying on their aid I won to the fulfillment of my wish; the support of many was secured for me by reason of his own u

23、nconcealed envy. From this small inception of my school, my fame in the art of dialectics began to spread abroad, so that little by little the renown, not alone of those who had been my fellow students, but of our very teacher himself, grew dim and was like to die out altogether. Thus it came about

24、that, still more confident in myself, I moved my school as soon as I well might to the castle of Corbeil, which is hard by the city of Paris, for there I knew there would be given more frequent chance for my assaults in our battle of disputation. No long time thereafter I was smitten with a grievous

25、 illness, brought upon me by my immoderate zeal for study. This illness forced me to turn homeward to my native province, and thus for some years I was as if cut off from France. And yet, for that very reason, I was sought out all the more eagerly by those whose hearts were troubled by the lore of d

26、ialectics. But after a few years had passed, and I was whole again from my sickness, I learned that my teacher, that same William Archdeacon of Paris, had changed his former garb and joined an order of the regular clergy. This he had done, or so men said, in order that he might be deemed more deeply

27、 religious, and so might be elevated to a loftier rank in the prelacy, a thing which, in truth, very soon came to pass, for he was made bishop of Chalons. Nevertheless, the garb he had donned by reason of his conversion did nought to keep him away either from the city of Paris or from his wonted stu

28、dy of philosophy; and in the very monastery wherein he had shut himself up for the sake of religion he straightway set to teaching again after the same fashion as before. To him did I return for I was eager to learn more of rhetoric from his lips; and in the course of our many arguments on various m

29、atters, I compelled him by most potent reasoning first to alter his former opinion on the subject of the universals, and finally to abandon it altogether. Now, the basis of this old concept of his regarding the reality of universal ideas was that the same quality formed the essence alike of the abst

30、ract whole and of the individuals which were its parts: in other words, that there could be no essential differences among these individuals, all being alike save for such variety as might grow out of the many accidents of existence. Thereafter, however, he corrected this opinion, no longer maintain

31、ing that the same quality was the essence of all things, but that, rather, it manifested itself in them through diverse ways. This problem of universals is ever the most vexed one among logicians, to such a degree, indeed, that even Porphyry, writing in his Isagoge regarding universals, dared not at

32、tempt a final pronouncement thereon, saying rather: This is the deepest of all problems of its kind. Wherefore it followed that when William had first revised and then finally abandoned altogether his views on this one subject, his lecturing sank into such a state of negligent reasoning that it coul

33、d scarce be called lecturing on the science of dialectics at all; it was as if all his science had been bound up in this one question of the nature of universals. Thus it came about that my teaching won such strength and authority that even those who before had clung most vehemently to my former mas

34、ter, and most bitterly attacked my doctrines, now flocked to my school. The very man who had succeeded to my masters chair in the Paris school offered me his post, in order that he might put himself under my tutelage along with all the rest, and this in the very place where of old his master and min

35、e had reigned. And when, in so short a time, my master saw me directing the study of dialectics there, it is not easy to find words to tell with what envy he was consumed or with what pain he was tormented. He could not long, in truth, bear the anguish of what he felt to be his wrongs, and shrewdly

36、he attacked me that he might drive me forth. And because there was nought in my conduct whereby he could come at me openly, he tried to steal away the school by launching the vilest calumnies against him who had yielded his post to me, and by putting in his place a certain rival of mine. So then I r

37、eturned to Melun, and set up my school there as before; and the more openly his envy pursued me, the greater was the authority it conferred upon me. Even so held the poet: Jealousy aims at the peaks; the winds storm the loftiest summits. (Ovid:Remedy for Love, I,369.) Not long thereafter, when Willi

38、am became aware of the fact that almost all his students were holding grave doubts as to his religion, and were whispering earnestly among themselves about his conversion, deeming that he had by no means abandoned this world, he withdrew himself and his brotherhood, together with his students, to a

39、certain estate far distant from the city. Forthwith I returned from Melun to Paris, hoping for peace from him in the future. But since, as I have said, he had caused my place to be occupied by a rival of mine, I pitched the camp, as it were, of my school outside the city on Mont Ste. Genevieve. Thus

40、 I was as one laying siege to him who had taken possession of my post. No sooner had my master heard of this than he brazenly returned post haste to the city, bringing back with him such students as he could, and reinstating his brotherhood in their former monastery, much as if he would free his sol

41、diery, whom he had deserted, from my blockade. In truth, though, if it was his purpose to bring them succour, he did nought but hurt them. Before that time my rival had indeed had a certain number of students, of one sort and another, chiefly by reason of his lectures on Priscian, in which he was co

42、nsidered of great authority. After our master had returned, however, he lost nearly all of these followers, and thus was compelled to give up the direction of the school. Not long thereafter, apparently despairing further of worldly fame, he was converted to the monastic life. Following the return o

43、f our master to the city, the combats in disputation which my scholars waged both with him himself and with his pupils, and the successes which fortune gave to us, and above all to me, in these wars, you have long since learned of through your own experience. The boast of Ajax, though I speak it mor

44、e temperately, I still am bold enough to make: if fain you would learn now How victory crowned the battle, by him was I never vanquished. (Ovid , Metamorphoses, XIII, 89.)But even were I to be silent, the fact proclaims itself, and its outcome reveals the truth regarding it. While these things were

45、happening, it became needful for me again to repair to my old home, by reason of my dear mother, Lucia, for after the conversion of my father, Berengarius, to the monastic life, she so ordered her affairs as to do likewise. When all this had been completed, I returned to France, above all in order t

46、hat I might study theology, since now my oft-mentioned teacher, William, was active in the episcopate of Chalons. In this field of learning Anselm of Laon, who was his teacher therein, had for long years enjoyed the greatest renown. CHAPTER IIIOF HOW HE CAME TO LAON TO SEEK ANSELM AS TEACHERI SOUGHT

47、 out, therefore, this same venerable man, whose fame, in truth, was more the result of long established custom than of the potency of his own talent or intellect. If any one came to him impelled by doubt on any subject, he went away more doubtful still. He was wonderful, indeed, in the eyes of these

48、 who only listened to him, but those who asked him questions perforce held him as nought. He had a miraculous flow of words, but they were contemptible in meaning and quite void of reason. When he kindled a fire, he filled his house with smoke and illumined it not at all. He was a tree which seemed

49、noble to those who gazed upon its leaves from afar, but to those who came nearer and examined it more closely was revealed its barrenness. When, therefore, I had come to this tree that I might pluck the fruit thereof, I discovered that it was indeed the fig tree which Our Lord cursed (Matthew xxi. 19; Mark xi. 一三), or that ancient oak to which Lucan likened Pompey, saying: he stands, the shade of a name once mighty, Like to the towering oak in the midst of the fruitful field. (L