Stephen Harding, an Englishman, originally from Sher-borne in Dorsetshire, was the abbot of the Cistercian monastery at Citeaux. He followed St. Benedict's rule, with additional severities. They had but one common meal a day, and had been twelve hours at work before they received it. They never tasted meat, fish, or eggs, and milk only rarely.
It was usual when anyone wished to become a monk at Citeaux, says Bernard's biographer, to make him wait for four days before he was taken to the chapter in presence of the assembled convent. After this he prostrated himself before the lectern, and was asked by the abbot what he wanted. He replied, "God's mercy and yours." The abbot bade him rise, and expounded to him the severity of the rule, and inquired of his intentions again; and, if he answered he wished to keep it all, the abbot said, "May God who hath begun a good work in thee Himself accomplish it." This ceremony was repeated three days, and after the third he passed from the guesthouse to the cells of the novices, and then at once began the year of probation.
The following was the ordinary routine in the monastery during Bernard's year. At two in the morning the great bell was rung, and the monks immediately arose from their hard couches, and hastened along the dark cloisters in solemn silence to the church. A single small lamp, suspended from the roof, gave a glimmering light, just sufficient to show them their way through the building. After prayer, or divine service, they retired, and after a brief repose rose again for matins, which took them about two hours; then other services, partly regulated by the season of the year—summer or winter; but they were employed in various religious exercises till nine, when they went forth to work in the fields. At two they dined; at night-fall they assembled to vespers; at six or eight, according to the season, they finished the day with compline, and passed at once to the dormitory.
But however severe we may think these practices and austerities to have been, they were far from satisfying the zeal and spirit of self-mortification of Bernard. He spent his time in solitude and study. Time given to sleep he regarded as lost, and was wont to compare sleep and death, holding that sleepers may be regarded as dead among men, even as the dead are asleep before God. He diligently read the scriptures; he strove to work out his own conception of perfect and angelic religion. He had so absolutely withdrawn his senses from communion with the outer world that they seemed dead to all outward impressions: his eyes could not tell him whether his chamber was ceiled or not, whether it had one window or three. Of the scanty food which he took, his unconscious taste had lost all perception whether it was nauseous or wholesome. He drank oil but could not tell it from water. And yet this deluded man, though we doubt not he was already saved through grace, was doing all this for salvation; and still, as a matter of course, he was not satisfied. He spoke of himself as but in his noviciate; others might have attained, he had but begun his sanctification.