[17] This detail is found in Abélard’s second letter to Heloise. It is characteristic of Mr. Cotter Morison’s ‘sketch’ of Abélard that he should have missed it, and thought fit to deny it. Deutsch reads him a severe lesson on the duty of accuracy in his _Peter Abälard_. Fulbert was by no means the quiet, passive recluse that one would imagine from his earlier action, or inaction. The discovery of Abélard’s treachery and the removal of his niece had enkindled thoughts of wild and dark revenge. He feared, however, to attack Abélard whilst Heloise remained at Pallet; it is a fearful commentary on the times that Abélard should coolly remark that a retaliation on the part of his own relatives was apprehended. Revenge was considered a legitimate daughter of justice in those days. A compromise was at length imagined by Abélard. He proposed to marry Heloise, if Fulbert and his friends would agree to keep the marriage secret. In this we have a still clearer revelation of the one serious flaw in Abélard’s character—weakness. No doubt, if we had had an autobiography from an unmaimed Abélard—an Abélard who identified himself with, and endeavoured proudly to excuse, the lover of Heloise—we should be reminded of many extenuating elements; the repugnance of Heloise, the stupid anti-matrimonialism of the hierarchy, the current estimate of an unconsecrated liaison, and so forth. Even as it is, Abélard perceives no selfishness, no want of resolution, in his action. ‘Out of compassion for his great anxiety,’ he says, he approached Fulbert on the question of a private marriage. The canon consented, though secretly retaining his intention of taking a bloody revenge, Abélard thinks; and the master hastened once more to Brittany for his bride. Abélard probably flattered himself that he had found an admirable outlet from his narrow circumstances. Fulbert’s conscience would be salved by the Church’s blessing on their love; the hierarchy would have no matrimonial impediment to oppose to his advancement; Paris would give an indulgent eye to what it would regard as an amiable frailty, if not a grace of character. Unfortunately for his peace, Heloise energetically repulsed the idea of marriage. The long passage in which Abélard gives us her objections is not the least interesting in the ‘Story.’ ‘She asked,’ he writes, ‘what glory she would win from me, when she had rendered me inglorious, and had humbled both me and her. How great a punishment the world would inflict on her if she deprived it of so resplendent a light: what curses, what loss to the Church, what philosophic tears, would follow such a marriage. How outrageous, how pitiful it was, that he whom nature had created for the common blessing should be devoted to one woman, and plunged in so deep a disgrace. Profoundly did she hate the thought of a marriage which would prove so humiliating and so burdensome to me in every respect.’