Towards the end of 1139, the heresies of Peter Abelard, brought to his notice by William of St. Thierry, called the Abbot of Clairvaux again into public controversy.  He implored Pope and cardinals to stay the progress of a second Arius.  Abelard was at this time sixty-one years old, Bernard’s senior by twelve years, and was without a rival in the schools.  The two men were such that they could not but oppose one another; they looked at the shield from opposite sides; reconciliation, however desirable, could be only superficial.  Bernard met Abelard, and “admonished him secretly.”  He well knew to what epoch this subtle mind, with its “human and philosophic reasons,” was about to lead; his quick ear caught the distant thunder-roll of free inquiry.  The heresies of Peter de Bruis and the rebellion of Arnold of Brescia had already marked the beginning of the great change.  At last Bernard unwillingly yielded to Abelard’s challenge to a public dispute at Sens; but his speech had hardly begun when Abelard rose in his place, refused to hear more, and appealed to Rome.  He never reached Rome, but remained a penitent monk at Cluny, reconciled to his great antagonist.

Bernard was fifty-five years of age, and old for his years, when the Pope delegated to him the office of preaching the Second Crusade.  Pale and attenuated to a degree which seemed almost supernatural, his contemporaries discovered something in the mere glance of his eyes which filled them with wonder and awe.  When his words of love, aspiration and sublime self-sacrifice reached their ears, they were no longer masters of themselves or of their feelings.  A great meeting had been convened by Pope and king at Vezelay, on Easter, 1146.  Bernard, attended by the king, spoke from a platform erected on a hill; there was a shout of “Crosses!  Crosses!” and the preacher scattered a sheaf of these badges among the people.  The spiritual mind of Europe had spoken through Bernard, and now the military mind spoke through Louis VII.  He called upon France to destroy the enemies of God.  Then Bernard preached the Crusade through France and Germany, welcomed everywhere by almost unparalleled enthusiasm and attended by miraculous signs.

Bernard was shortly to die; but he had first to bear the trial of being reviled as the author of the calamities which had overtaken the Crusade.  Why had he preached it and prophesied success if this was to be the event?  A murmur of wrath against him was heard from the broad population of Europe.  It was during this dark time that he began his largest literary work, the five books “De Consideratione,” addressed to his disciple, Eugenius III., a powerful and elaborate plea against the excessive centralization of all administration and decisions into the hands of the Papal Court.  Bernard called this period “the season of calamities.”  He discovered that his secretary had been forging his name and used his authority to recommend men and causes most unworthy of his patronage.  His health was such that he could take no solid food; sleep had left him; his debility was extreme.  Pope Eugenius died in July, 1153; and Bernard had no wish to stay behind.  “I am no longer of this world,” he said; and on August 20 he passed away.