ABSTRACT
The saintliness of S. Bernard stands out in all the clearer light because in some respects it was buttressed by but little earthly vision. He forced a half unwilling continent to rush into the disastrous Second Crusade against the best judgment of very many whose opinions were entitled to respect. In S. Bernard's own lifetime, at the General Chapter of the Cistercians in 1152, there are hints that monks were beginning to eat flesh and that some houses were already engaging in gainful trade. But perhaps for that reason S. Bernard stands rather apart from the world. He handed down no great tradition. Great and marvellous indeed as S. Bernard's triumphs were, they had been strangely personal, curiously unconnected. S. Bernard had added another to his many triumphs. Although the matter in dispute was relatively not very important, S. Bernard enjoyed no more striking personal triumph than he won over William, the Duke of Aquitaine.
