it. So do the saints. So do the philosophers of ancient times. Think a
while. What a ridiculous association,--the philosopher and the
chambermaids, writing-desks and cradles, books and distaffs, pens and
spindles! Intent on speculation when the truths of nature and revelation
are breaking on your eye, will you hear the sudden cry of children, the
lullaby of nurses, the turbulent bustling of disorderly servants? In the
serious pursuits of wisdom there is no time to be lost. Believe me, as
well withdraw totally from literature as attempt to proceed in the midst
of worldly avocations. Science admits no participation in the cares of
life. Remember the feats of Xanthippe. Take counsel from the example of
Socrates, who has been set up as a beacon for all coming time to warn
philosophers from the fatal rock of matrimony."

Such was the blended truth, irony, and wit with which Héloïse dissuaded
Abélard from open marriage. He compromised the affair, and contented
himself with a secret marriage. "After a night spent in prayer," said
he, "in one of the churches of Paris, on the following morning we
received the nuptial blessing in the presence of the uncle of Héloïse
and of a few mutual friends. We then retired without observation, that
this union, known only to God and a few intimates, should bring neither
shame nor prejudice to my renown." A cold and selfish act, such as we
might expect in Louis XIV. and Madame de Maintenon,--yet, nevertheless,
the feeble concession which pride and policy make to virtue, the
triumph of expediency over all heroic and manly qualities. Like
Maintenon, Héloïse was willing to seem what she was not,--only to be
explained on the ground that concubinage was a less evil, in the eyes of
the Church, than marriage in a priest.

But even a secret marriage was attended with great embarrassment. The
news of it leaks out through the servants. The envious detractors of