SAINT BERNARD, AND CISTERCIAN INFLUENCE IN GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE[310]
What is genius? It is a mind in which imagination, intelligence, and feeling exist in an elevated proportion and in an exact equation. It is a mind which has a penetrating view of ideas, which incarnates them powerfully in marble, in brass, in language, and in that dust which we call writing, which also communicates to ideas an impulse from the heart to precipitate them, living, into the hearts of others. Genius is, with conscience, the most beautiful endowment of humanity.... Genius is the greatest power created by God for grasping truth. It is a sudden and vast intuition of the connections which bind beings together.... It is the faculty of rendering ideas visible to those who would not have discovered them by themselves, of incarnating them in speaking images, of casting them into the soul, enlightening it, subjecting it, thrilling it.—Lacordaire (1802-61; born in Burgundy).
Although modern Dijon may momentarily blot out much in its past history by renaming the square before Notre Dame Place Ernest Renan, auteur de “La vie de Jésus” (which work depicts the Saviour as an unconscious charlatan), and christening the square before the cathedral Place Blanqui, grand Révolutionnaire (Blanqui being the Communist who founded the journal Ni Dieu ni Maître), although it may mark one street sign Rue Babeuf, écrivain politique, démocrate très ardente (the socialist, Babeuf, was executed under the Directory), and another with an equal pedantry that is most un-French, Rue Diderot, auteur principale de l’Encyclopédie (the encyclopedia which railed at the Christian religion), none the less will the greatest honor of the ancient capital of Burgundy be the monk in whom western monasticism culminated, Bernard of Clairvaux, who led Dante to the Supreme Vision in Paradise, “who spoke to kings as a prophet, to the people as their leader, and transported Christendom by his eloquence,” the greatest of Cistercians, the greatest of Burgundians, and the last great Doctor of the Church.
As the XI century drew to a close, certain pious Benedictines, who regretted the laxity of rule in their own convent, retired to the marshy woods near Beaune, to Cîteaux, some twelve miles south of Dijon. There was started a new Order which languished during fifteen years, fever decimating the postulants, till the third abbot, St. Stephen Harding, stormed heaven with petitions to spare his dwindling flock. And efficacious prayers they appeared to be, for one spring day in 1113 there came to the abbey gates (Cîteaux’ name signifies Sistite hic, Halt here!) a group of thirty young nobles, whose conversion was to set all Burgundy talking.
Their leader was Bernard of Fontaine-lès-Dijon,[311] then in his twenty-fourth year. When he experienced the call to a monastic life, he drew after him brothers, cousins, uncle, and friends. His mother, the Blessed Aleth, had impressed ineffaceably on his soul her own ardent love of God. As Peter the Venerable said in that same generation: “With us the virgin, the wife, the mother, expand the soul of the country by the breath of their piety.”
When the small band of enthusiasts were quitting the château of Bernard’s father, the elder brother and heir, Guy, told Nivard, the youngest of the six sons of Aleth, that now he alone remained to inherit the estate. “Ah,” cried the lad, “you would leave me the earthly reward while you gain the eternal? The exchange is not fair.” And in time he, too, sought his brothers in the cloister as did his father, who died in a Cistercian robe.
All the nations of Europe were meeting then in the internationalism of monastic institutions. St. Stephen Harding, who was practically the founder of the Cistercian Order, who drew up its charter and began its centralized system of chapters-general, was an Englishman, educated in Sherborne abbey in Dorset, and later at Paris University. Feeling the desire to visit Rome in pilgrimage, he went there afoot, reciting each day, as he walked, the entire Psaltery. It is said that benignant joy shone in his face. To-day a Bible he translated is treasured in Dijon; he used to consult the learned rabbis of his acquaintance whenever in doubt concerning the Hebraic text. It was an hour of internationalism. A frequenter of St. Bernard’s own Clairvaux was St. Malachy O’Morgair, archbishop of Armagh, who died in Bernard’s arms in 1147. The Burgundian saint loved Malachy for his gentleness, his holiness, his delicacy of soul, and his noble majestic presence, and for him trained young Irish monks to serve in the reform needed then in the Celtic church, thus paying back to Ireland the debt incurred by the mission of Columbanus.
With such souls as Bernard and his kinsmen, the new Order governed by Abbot Stephen Harding took on fresh vigor. Pontigny was founded a year later, and in 1115 Bernard and twelve companions were sent to establish Clairvaux[312] in a former robber haunt given by the Count of Champagne, a valley of wormwood which they turned into a valley of light. By the middle of the XIII century there were five hundred Cistercian houses in Europe. In England, from 1125 to 1200, rose a hundred monasteries of the white monks, Fountains, Furness, Tintern, Kirkstall, “God’s castles,” wrote a contemporary, “where the servants of the true anointed King do keep watch, and the young soldiers are exercised in warfare against spiritual evil.” Many a Cistercian house was in Scotland and Ireland—Melrose, Mellifont, Boyle; in Germany and the north—Maulbronn, Arnsberg, Warnhem, and Sorö; in Spain—Poblet and Santa-Creus; in Portugal—Alcobaça. St. Bernard himself founded Chiaravalle near Milan, and on the spot of the Roman Campagna where St. Paul was beheaded flourished the Cistercian house of Tre Fontane, whose first abbot, trained under Bernard at Clairvaux, mounted Peter’s Chair as Eugene III.
Wherever the Cistercians went they promulgated the new Gothic building lore of France. Their churches with square east end, square chapels opening on transept arms, and neither tower, triforium nor clearstory, were built exactly alike whether it was in the far north as at Alvastra in Sweden, or in the far south as at Girgenti in Sicily. Burgundy’s abbatial at Fontenay is the type at its purest.
M. Camille Enlart was first to draw attention to the active rôle played by Cistercian monks in the dissemination of Gothic architecture in Europe.[313] All Cistercian churches were dedicated to the Mother of God, and the use of the gracious term Notre Dame spread from their abbatials to the cathedrals. Dante opens the final canto of the Paradiso by a eulogy of the Queen of Heaven, put into the mouth of St. Bernard, who never flagged in her praise, culling from Scripture every mystic and lovely name for her. Io sono il suo fedel Bernardo, the Burgundian proudly boasts in Paradise. Though Bernard’s devotion to his Dame souveraine was poles apart from Puritanism, his rules for ecclesiastic plainness were as rigid as those of the Puritans. His severe ideas concerning art restrained the earlier Cistercian churches, though his apostolate quickened the spiritual forces that soon were to rear the cathedrals.