Letters229 Letter CCXXIX. 1 Peter the venerable, to abbot Bernard

He courteously answers Bernard's letter, and at the same time explains the causes of the strife between the Cluniacs and Cistercians.

To him who is to be honoured with special veneration, to be embraced closely with the arms of entire affection, the inseparable guest of my heart, my Lord BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, his brother PETER, humble Abbot of the Cluniacs, wishes the eternal salvation which he longs for.

1. Since I am found to be long in replying to the sweet and pleasant letter of my friend, to which I ought to have sent an answer directly with equal good will, your Holiness will perhaps wonder why I have not done so, and will, I am afraid, put it down to indolence or contempt. But do not think that it is either, for both are absent; for I have hardly ever been so glad to receive anything in the way of a letter, or so careful in reading it. The cause of my long silence was partly the bearer of it, who, when he came to Cluny, and did not find me there, though I was not very far away, being at Marigny, neither brought it nor sent it on to me. but left it at Cluny. But I do not wish to accuse the good man; I believe that he was hindered from going to me by some business which he had to do, or by the severity of the winter, which was then upon us. I, too, was kept in that place for a month, partly by the snow, partly by business, and returned home with difficulty at the beginning of Lent. Then at length I received your letter from the Sub-Prior, to whom it had been given. My heart was drawn to you immediately; and though my affection for you was great before, it was kindled into a flame by the loving breath that came through your letter, and no room was then left for coldness or Jukewarmness. I was drawn, I say, and so drawn to you, that I did what I cannot recollect that I have before done, except to the Sacred Books, I kissed affectionately your letter as soon as I had read it. And then I read again to some of the brethren what I had before read to myself, and I exhorted them with all my heart to greater love for you. I would stir up those whom I can influence, and I wish I could influence all to imitate your charity; I always endeavour to do this. Then I laid it by, and placed it among the gold and silver which, after the custom handed down to me by my fathers, I am in the habit of carrying with me to distribute in alms. Nor was it unfitting. For your favour to me, your charity is precious to me above all gold and silver.

2. I wished to write to you on the next day all that was in my mind; but I was prevented by business which made other claims on me daily, nay, continuously, and I kept silence. My hard taskmaster, whom I had no power to resist, imposed silence on me, and the care of an infinite number of matters forced me to hold my peace not for one day, but for many. And so a fortnight passed by, then a whole month, then several months in succession, during which I was always making attempts to write but was not allowed by the said taskmaster. At length I broke the galling chain, and though with difficulty, I threw aside the yoke of my burden, and the sceptre of my tyrant, by writing stealthily. And lest I seem to labour too much in making excuse for my tardiness in replying I must say that you yourself have forced me to make my excuse when you said, "It is not long since I wrote to you, and saluted your Crown with fitting veneration, and you answered me not a word; and not long before I wrote to you from Rome, and not even then did I get a syllable. Do you now wonder that when you lately returned from Spain I did not presume to trouble you again with my chatter? But if it is a fault to have not written for some reason or other, to have been unwilling to write, not to say to have disdained to write, you will surely not be altogether without blame."

3. But what shall I say? Simply this: I would never make any excuse for the fault which you charge me with, if it had been from contempt that I had not answered your letter. For I admit that, if you had written first, I ought to have answered you; but as far as I can recollect, while you were at Rome I wrote first and you answered. It was not then my turn to write in answer, inasmuch I had been the first to write, but yours. Certainly I might have written in reply to your answer, but your answer was so full and completely satisfactory that it freed me from any necessity to write further. And if this is the state of the case, the fault that you speak of seems to be deserting me and looking towards you; for you have been endeavouring to lay blame on one that is blameless, and to lay on the shoulders of an unoffending brother other people's burdens, not to say your own. But to what you say about my having done the same thing on another occasion I have no answer, for I have no recollection of it. If by some chance it did happen I have no doubt that there was a reasonable cause, or if not I will make you my humble apologies. But you went on to say, "You see what I might urge with justice." I answer: At present, according to the reasons given above, justice rather makes for me, because no fault at all is found in me. Now, if I were not inclined to spare you, and if I were to apply to myself the name of an injured friend which you say you can claim, I should have good cause to exact a penalty for the wrong or injury that you have done me. But after my custom I spare you, and even though not asked, I freely forgive you everything. "I keep in 1" Your Greatness,'' p. 652.

mind," as you said, " no injuries." For this is but a fitting introduction to what I am going to say: I am about to endeavour to banish from the hearts of many their well-known feelings of resentment against each other, and I am going to do this not in jest, but in sober earnestness; and I intend to induce you to banish all such feelings. Let me be the first to extend forgiveness to everyone, and set the example of doing what I endeavour to press on others.

4. But perhaps you will say again, "I should wish to believe that you are pleased to joke?" Yes, I do please; but only with you. I do not jest like this with others. For with some, to pass the limits of dignified gravity is to run the risk of being thought frivolous; but I am not afraid of this from you; I seek after charity, lest haply I lose her. And, therefore, it is always pleasant for me to talk with you, and by friendly wrords to preserve the sweet honey of charity. I do my best to prevent myself being in the number of those brethren wrho hated Joseph in their hearts, and could speak no peaceful word to him (Gen. xxxvii. 4). Would that all your brethren and mine would do so (I do not speak boastfully), and would not deviate from the line of charity, by which alone after faith and the Sacrament of Baptism, they are entitled to the name of brethren, and by which they are united to each other in a close relationship; and that they would fear what the Apostle speaks of when he says, Peril amongst false brethren (2 Cor. xi. 26). Would that they would all do this, and would keep their heart from the deceitful thought, and their tongue from the bitter word, according to the Psalm which is so often in their mouth. What I have said seems to make large promises, and as if it were a preparation for great achievements. But lest the well-known verse, "What will this man, lavish in promises, produce worthy of so pretentious an opening?" (Horace, Ars Poetica v. 138) be applied to me, I must confess that I not only have no urgent cause for writing, but not even an important or moderately good one; still I am speaking of those things which worldly men think great and even most important, and from which the children of this world hope to become great and powerful. Yet my cause is a great one, and so far surpassing all others, that by the Apostle it is called more excellent than all. If you ask its name he calls it charity (1 Cor. xii. 31 and xiii.).

5. This is my whole and sole cause of writing; I fully trust that I have it entirely as far as you are concerned, and I do not despair of seeing your brethren and mine preserve it towards each other, better than they have been wont to do, especially if you give your assistance to effect this. For as far as that charity goes which for many a year I have had stored up for you in the secret recesses of my heart, it seems to me that, as it is written, many waters cannot quench it, nor the floods drown it (Cant. viii. 7). This I think has often been proved in different cases. For when will my sincere love for you be ever quenched, or the warm affection of my heart be drowned by any rivulets of evil report, when neither the many waters of the tithe question could quench it, nor the floods of the troubles at Langres drown it. You know what I mean, and I only say this in order that your wisdom may be sure, when it recollects the proofs of my constant love for you in the past, that I am likely to be equally constant in the future. I feel sure of the same in you, and I trust that no power will ever banish me from the innermost depths of your heart. But since each of us is called a pastor; since our folds are filled with no small number of Christ's sheep; since to both the precept applies, Be thou diligent to know well the countenance of the flock (Prov. xxvii. 23), we have to see if our flock is known to us, if it is well, if it languishes, if it is feeble, if it is robust, if it is living or dead. For since the beloved disciple says, He that loveth not abideth in death (i S. John iii. 14), why am I anxious about the weakness of my flock, when I see that it is already dead? For if he who loveth not abideth in death, in what death does he abide who hates? if he who loveth not abideth in death, in what death is he who is given to detraction? For what purpose do I say this?

6. I see that certain persons, as well from my folds as yours, have engaged in deadly warfare against each other; and that those who ought to live in the house of the Lord as friends, have fallen from mutual charity. I see that they are of the family of the same Lord, soldiers of the same King, that they bear the same name of Christians, and are alike called monks. I perceive that they are bound to till their Master's field, not only by the yoke of a common faith, but beyond that by the yoke of the same monastic rule, and this under many different forms of toil. Yet, though, as I said, they are joined by a common name, united by the monastic profession, some hidden and accursed difference separates them, and splits up that sincere unity of hearts, to which they seem to have been called. And, O lamentable event not to be worthily atoned for by any founts of tears, the haughty archangel, who was once cast down from heaven, has again seized heavenly places, and he, who could not establish his seat in the north, has strengthened it in the south, that is, in the more splendid part of the sky. Truly it is so, he may boast that he has done so, when, after driving out Him who dwells in the heavens, whose abiding place was made, not for mutual hatred, but for brotherly concord, he lords it, after the fashion of a tyrant, over the minds of men whose profession is heavenly, whose example is conspicuous. And since the Stronger Man has come and overcome the strong man who had been long guarding his palace in peace; since the prince of this world was cast out; since his throne, who is the King of the children of pride, has been overturned even amongst Christian laymen; with what lamentations must we mourn, I pray you, if Satan, after having the throne of his wickedness overturned in others, should again erect it in the hearts of monks? God forbid that he, who is said to have been rendered so helpless by the Saviour as to suffer himself to be bound by His handmaidens, and to be a laughing stock to His servants, should mock at His servants and handmaidens, and bring them once more under vile bondage to him.

7. But why do they oppose each other? why do they rail at each other? why are they consumed the one by the other? Let them bring forward the ground of their strife, and if they can bring any just cause of complaint against each other let it be ended by being entrusted to the decision of just arbitrators. What do you demand, I ask, my brother, from your brother? and to comprehend in two words all who are at variance, What do you demand, O Cluniac brother, from your Cistercian brother, and vice versa? If it is cities, camps, farmhouses, farms, if the possession of any land whether small or great; if, in short, it is gold, silver, or any quantity or quality of money that the quarrel is about, come, I say, bring forward the claim. There are judges not of iniquity, but of equity ready to put an end at once to all strifes of this kind. Peace will easily be restored, and the wounds of charity healed, as soon as we know that such a separation of hearts has been brought about by these things or others like them. But I recollect that both of you have cast off all such things, that you have kept for yourselves no earthly goods, that, enriched with a blessed poverty, you have determined to follow the poverty of Christ. This, then, cannot be the ground of your quarrel. But I will not give over, I will not weary, I will not rest until I come to the bottom of the truth that I am in search of.

8. Perhaps the cause of your strife is the difference in your customs, in the observance of the monastic rule. But if this, dearly beloved, is the cause of so great an evil, it is, let me say it with the permission of both of you, very unreasonable, very childish and foolish. For does not that which is destitute of all reason, and whose soundness every wise man denies, seem to you unreasonable, childish, and foolish? For if a difference in customs, if manifold variety in an infinite number of things ought to rob the servants of Christ of mutual charity, what peace, or concord, or unity, or how much of the law of Christ will be left, not only to monks, but to any Christians, about which a great Apostle says, Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ? If, I say, the law of Christ, that is charity, is to be abandoned by all who follow different uses, it will simply be found nowhere any more. For when it shall have been rejected by all who follow a different custom it will be nowhere to be found. Has not, dearly beloved, the whole earth long since been filled with the Churches of Christ? And since the Churches which serve God in the same faith and the same charity are almost numberless, almost as great a variety of uses is found amongst them as there are churches. You will find this in the canticles, in the lections, in all the Church offices, in the different vestments; you will find it, too, in different fasts which are observed in addition to the authorized ones which cannot be changed; you will find it in all similar things, which according to differences of times, places, nations, and countries, have been instituted by the prelates of the Church, to whom, according to the Apostle, it belongs to give orders in such things as they may see fit (Rom. xiv. 5). Have all those churches abandoned charity because they have changed their custom? Will they cease to be Christians because they seem to differ in their uses? Will the great gift of peace be lost by all because each one works what is good in a way different from the rest? Not so thought Ambrose, a Doctor of the Church, in word and in life, who, speaking of the Saturday fast which he had seen kept at Rome, and which he had found was not observed at Milan when he was made Bishop, says: "When I am at Rome I observe the fast kept by the Church at Rome; when at Milan I follow the custom of its Church and do not fast" (Apud Aug. ep. 54). Hence, also, our father Augustine, in describing the devotion of his good mother, relates that she, according Jto the custom which she had seen observed in the African Churches, wished to offer her oblations at Milan contrary to the custom of the Churches of Italy, but was forbidden by Ambrose (S. Aug. Confess, lib. vi. c. 2).

9. But why labour this point? To no purpose is it to.

surround what is so evident with manifold testimonies and examples, especially since neither in ancient times a difference in the time of observing Easter, nor in modern a well-known variation between Greek and Latin in the way of offering the Christian sacrifice, had any power to wound charity, or to produce any breach of unity. The Holy Fathers are witnesses to this, and their received writings which they left to the Church, that the East in former times kept Easter at one time, the West at another, the Angles in Britain at another, and the Scots at another. We, too, witness the same thing in our own time, for we see the Roman Church and the whole Latin race offer to God the life-giving sacrifice with un leavened bread; while the Greek Church and the greatest part of the East and barbarian nations who are Christians are said to sacrifice with leavened bread. But in spite of this neither ancients nor moderns have departed from mutual charity because of these well-known varieties of customs, for they found nothing in all this to wound faith or charity. But why do I say this? In order that, if your minds, brethren, have been alienated because of the variety in your uses, if they have grown weak in their love of peace and unity because of this or that custom handed down by the founders of the Churches, that by so venerable examples of such holy Fathers they may become one again, and after the way of the saints, who out of weakness were made strong, and became brave in the battle, may become too strong for any disease by shrinking from all weakening of charity.

10. But you will say: "Variety of uses must be understood in a different sense in the case of different Churches than in men of the same Order. If the customs of many Churches vary without any damage to faith or charity, it is nothing wonderful; but it is wonderful if men of the same purpose and profession do not preserve the same kind of rules." Is this all, dearly beloved, that divides you from each other? Is this the only blow to charity amongst yourselves? Is this the only thing which prevents the children of peace from being at peace with each other? If even a layman made for peace with those who hated peace (Ps. cxx. 7), shall monk strive with monk in an accursed war? The child of the light loves the children of darkness to prevent the gift of peace being disturbed, and shall the child of the light light against the child of the light? I refer this to the purpose, not to the monk. If, indeed, it is only this that is troubling your minds, if this is the sole cause of the wound of charity, it will be soon healed, if only there be no obstinacy. See, then, that love of your own opinion do not darken the light of your understanding, for no one deserves to attain to unity who does not seek her for herself, but rather seeks to have his own way. I therefore ask you to consider whether the cause of your disunion is a just one, without any desire to defend your own side or your own opinions, and when you find it to be an unjust one I ask you to become once more of one heart and of one soul. For each of you is fighting under the same rule, and under that particular rule each hopes to be able to attain to everlasting salvation. But if neither is to be disappointed of his hope I know not what place can now be left for discord, division, or reproaches.

ii. For you said that it is a wonderful thing if men of the same purpose and profession do not observe the same kind of rules. My answer is: What does it matter if men of the same purpose and profession do not observe the same rules, if by their different observances they alike attain to the same salvation and everlasting life? What does it matter, what is the objection, if they come to the same Jerusalem which is above, which is the mother of us all, by a different path, if a different road leads to the same land, if the same life is attained by manifold ways? For if thou, O Cluniac, knewest that the Cistercian, or thou, O Cistercian, knewest that the Cluniac was making" a mistake in the object that he had put before him, or if, according to the Scripture, you saw that he was proceeding to his ruin along a road which seemed to men to be right, you would be justified, I admit, in correcting or calling back your brother, and even, if he refused to listen to you, in reproaching him and invoking God against him. Then, indeed, if you were to reproach him, to withstand him, to hate him, I would admit that you were judging justly, that you were acting rightly, especially when I hear a great prophet saying of such even to God, Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee? Yea, I hate them right sore, even as though they were mine enemies (Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22.) I should do more, I should rejoice that you were not a deaf hearer of the Scripture, which says: Go, hasten thyself, rouse thy friend, give not sleep to thine eyes, nor slumber to thine eyelids (Prov. vi. 3, 4.) And of another: Cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood (Jer. xlviii. 10). Then I would readily admit that you had just causes for hatred, and I myself, girt with the sword of zeal, would accompany you in your outgoings to subdue the enemies of God, and those who, according to the Apostle, work a lie in hypocrisy (1 Tim. iv. 2). But, as it is, I see that both of you are striving to rise from earth to heaven under the same rule, under different but yet holy observances, and so running by different courses for the same prize in order that you may obtain it; and so, it seems to me, you have no cause of anger, hatred, or reproach left you.

12. But you further ask me to prove what I have said, and to show how, under the same Rule, or profession of the same Rule, a monk can safely travel by diverse paths. I have an answer ready enough for this, and there is not wanting either authority or reason. Thou, O Cluniac, in thy way, thou, O Cistercian, in thine, canst alike travel happily along the road of God's commandments, and still more happily attain to the due end of thy course. And because I have already appealed to the authority which in such things is to be first consulted, in what follows I will show that reason is not absent, though she follow at a moderate distance.

13. But what is your objection, my brother? "I say that those who have professed the same rule do not observe alike the commands of that rule." What you say is true, that in some chapters the commands of the same Rule are differently observed by the professed. But do not suppose that, therefore, monks of this class are to be blamed; do not for this dare to accuse them of unfaithfulness. Listen to a heavenly authority, that of the King of the heavens: If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light (S. Luke xi. 34.) Hear, too, the Apostle: Let all your things be done with charity (1 Cor. xvi. 14.) Hear, too, S. Augustine: "Have charity and do what you will." Hear, too, him who drew up your rule, or rather the Holy Spirit who inspired it: "Let the Abbot order and arrange everything so that souls may be saved; and whatever the brethren do, let them do it without murmuring" (Reg. S. Bened. c. 41.) What can be more clear, more open, more lucid? Does not the very flow of the words themselves show that they are altogether without cloud, and show to mortals the clear light of truth, without any intervening veil of clouds? Behold, the Heavenly Teacher says that all your body, my brother, depends for its light on the singleness of your eye; that is, that all your works must have purity of intention. Alter Him, the greatest doctor of the Church bids all your works to be done in charity; lo, the greatest instructor of the Church, after the Apostles, says that you may do what you will so long as charity remains; lo, your father Benedict himself, on whom you rely, orders the Abbot to direct all things so that souls may be saved, and that there maybe no murmuring; and are you afraid for the salvation of those who follow different paths under the same Rule? Do you not see that those are safest from every danger whose precepts find their defence, according to the Rule itself, against every shade of variety or blame because of difference, in the intention of saving souls?

14. But now, that you may see that reason also is entirely c,n the side of the authorities above given, and clings to them inseparably, I must mention some points bearing on the question before us, in which some things are shown to have been changed because of the single eye, through love unfeigned, and from the intention of saving souls. For when I have shown these I shall leave nothing, I think, for you to ask further, so far as this matter goes. For you use a single eye in not opening the gate of the cloister to a novice till after a year's probation; because, according to the words of the Apostle (i S. John iv. i) and of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 58), you test for the space of a year the spirit of the new-comer, whether it be of God. You use, too, the single eye when you admit a novice within the year from the fear that through so long delay he may return to his mire again, and to the detestable evil of his former life. You use, too, the single eye when you content yourself with two tunics, or two cowls, or with the addition of one or two garments of this sort, because you prefer to follow, if not the precept (Reg. S. Ben. c. 55), at all events the mind and intention of the founder of the Rule, than to add or assume other garments. You use, too, the single eye when you allow the use of a few skins, because you make provision for the sickly, the infirm, the delicate, for all who live in colder climates, so as to prevent their murmuring, or growing remiss, or having reasonable cause to retire from their purpose. You use, too, the single eye when you receive back all fugitives who have not fled three times, because you wish both to obey the words of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 29), and to deter foolish or unstable monks from repeated desertion, by fixing a limit beyond which there is no return. You use, too, the single eye when you receive back a monk who returns after deserting more than three times, from a fear lest by refusing forgiveness he be exposed to the enemy and perish, and so the wolf kill the wandering sheep, just as he is wont to carry off and scatter those within the fold.

15. You use, too, the single eye when you observe, without making any exception, all the usual fasts both in the summer and winter, from your wish to observe the rules imposed, and to bring forth more fruit from a longer abstinence. But, and I say it out of pure charity, I do not altogether recommend that fasts should be observed by everyone during the octaves of Christmas, Epiphany, and the Purification, which in all respects are Lord's Days. You use, too, the single eye when you except from the ordinary observance of fasting days the days which I have just named, and every authorized feast day of twelve lections, from a desire to imitate the custom of nearly all Religious who so observe them, and thus you endeavour to honour the Lord Himself, the Apostles, and other saints. You use, too, the single eye in engaging in manual labour, according to the precept of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 48), from your wish both to obey the Rule and, by such holy exercises enjoined by monastic and apostolic commands, to avoid sloth, the enemy of the soul, as the same Rule says; and moreover, as far as you have opportunity, it is your wish to provide yourself with the necessaries of life, after the manner of the fathers of old. You use, too, the single eye in partly giving up this manual labour, for you may be placed, not in woods or in desert places, but in the midst of cities and camps, and be surrounded by people, and be unable, without more or less danger, to go backwards and forwards so often to your work through a promiscuous crowd of both sexes, and besides you often have not suitable places where you can engage in such works. But lest leisure, the foe of religious, find opportunity to harm you when you have nothing to do, either you do manual work when and where you can, or when you cannot, you make up for it by giving up the extra time to the Divine Offices, and so the evil spirit can claim for himself no empty corner in your heart, seeing that you fill up all your time with what holy pursuits are in your power.

16. You use, too, the single eye in reverencing Christ in every guest who comes or goes, with bowed head or with body prostrate on the ground, and in washing the feet of all, and so you do, as is fitting, all that you can to carry out carefully the good precept of hospitality, enjoined alike by the Gospel and the decrees of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 53), and you strive to win for yourself the reward due to such a proof of holy brotherly love. You use, too, the single eye in not prostrating yourself before all guests, in not washing the feet of all, because it would be simply impossible for you to be always prostrating yourself before so great crowds of guests as are constantly coming and going, or to be always washing their feet, so much so that, even if you wished to be always engaged in such duties and were to leave out all the other offices of your Order, you would not have enough time. And because you see it is out of your power to do it, you omit it. What is necessary for the reception of guests you give them to the best of your power, and you show them all the honour in your power, but you excuse yourself from the above duties, which it is physically impossible for you to fulfil; but yet you do this in all singleness of eye. You use, too, the single eye in your wish that the Abbot's table should be always filled with guests and pilgrims, because you at once obey the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 56) and show yourself hospitable to guests. You use, too, the single eye when you determine that the Abbot's table should not be always with the guests, but that he should have his meals always with the brethren, and by recalling him to the common table you thus apply a remedy to the profusion (to use a mild term) of many an Abbot who, when he has guests, is generous to himself but heedless of his brethren.

17. You use the single eye when, like Ezra, who restored the Law, or like the Maccabees, who raised up the temple of God which was in ruins, you labour to make good the great losses of the Monastic Order, and to repair the many rents in many monasteries and in their customs, and, while rejecting what is more of luxury than of necessity, you endeavour, after the manner of the old and original fervour, to banish the lukewarmness of our times. And you use the single eye when you so modify the commands both of the Order and of the Rule, that, according to the words of the same Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 64), what the strong want is not distasteful to the weak, as, e.g., when he who cannot live on bread is allowed to have at least milk, so as to preserve life, and when he who has not breath enough to obtain the prize set before him by running at great speed, is taught to win it at least by the slower walking pace, because he who returns to his country after a year is called as much an inhabitant of it as he who returns after a month. And I say this without meaning to prejudice the different kinds of toil of the wayfarers, because, according to the Apostle, Every man shall receive his own reward according to his own labour (1 Cor. iii. 8). You have S. Benedict himself as your authority in this, although, as he himself says, you are not bound to follow his written precepts when charity bids otherwise. Still you find pleasure in showing your devotion to so great a man by following his directions merely because they are his. You have him, too, as the authority for your bye-laws, inasmuch as he directs all his precepts to be carried out according to the rule of charity, and to be made subservient in some way or other to the salvation of souls. You have S. Maur also, his principal disciple, who was sent by him into Gaul, and is said to have altered many points in his rule, following the single eye of which I have said so much. You have, besides, very many fathers of monasteries after him, whose holy life and numerous miracles worked by them through the power of God show more clearly than daylight that they have been moved by the Spirit of God to modify the written words of the above-named Rule to suit times, places, and persons.

18. And what can I say more? If you go in a similar way through all the points on which there seems to be difference, you will find everywhere the single eye, which one will call charity, another the desire of saving souls; and you will see that in this way there is no difference, no discord, because all those points which seem to be differently treated become one through charity. To this I add what is yet evident to all, that there is no precept about such matters in the Rule, which has not conditions attached, and which is not left to the discretion of the Abbot. But even if it had been given imperatively, it could not in any way prejudice the single eye, i.e., evangelical charity. For such precepts, as you know, belong to the class of things changeable, and when charity bids, they are to be changed without any fear of transgressing. Nor in this respect ought those who profess the rule to be suspected of unfaithfulness to it; because this rule of the holy father depends on that sublime and general rule, from which and on which, according to the words of the Truth, hang all the Law and the Prophets (S. Matt. xxii. 40). But if the whole Law so hangs, then so does the monastic Rule. Therefore, a monk professing the rule of S. Benedict keeps it aright when he everywhere observes the law of charity, whether in obeying or in changing any of its articles.

signify their amazement in words or by some gesture of the body. On tin- other hand, I have seen white monks, who before, had been talking loudly, and discussing with each other current events, suddenly become dumb on the advent of some black monk, and lay on themselves the necessity of silence, lest they should disclose their secrets to their enemies. I have seen, too, the tongues of both orders silent, but their eyes, hands, and feet eloquent, and I have seen them proclaiming very clearly by their gestures what they were unwilling to make known by words. I have seen the voice silent, the members talkative, and, by a perversion of the order of nature, men, who were taciturn before their fellow men, communicative to stones. On seeing such things I have often been reminded of the words of Solomon, who says of such men: He winketh with his eyes, he striketh with his feet, he teacheth with his fingers; frowardness is in /iis lie art, he deviseth mischief continually, he soweth discord (Prov. vi. 13, 14). O wicked and stubborn device of the evil angel cast out by God! who, unwilling to lose eternal peace alone, gathers to him from wheresoever he can companions of his fall, and, that he may rejoice in a more glorious triumph, he endeavours by the violence of his wickedness to uproot the cedars and firs of the Paradise of God, where he once lived a happy citizen. He is grieved that the crown of heresies has fallen from his head, under which he was wont in early times to divide the Church of God; and seeing no way left to him to damage the faith, now that the Holy Spirit fills the whole earth with belief in it, he turns all his efforts to inflict a wound on mutual charity. For since he cannot now persuade Christians to become infidels, he tries with all his might to prevent them from loving each other. The sect of Arius, of Sabellius, of Novatian, of Donatus, of Pelagius, of the accursed Manes, older than them all, has now perished. Now the clouds of innumerable heresies which darkened the light of the faith have disappeared under the breath of the Spirit of God, and, every mist having been dispersed, have left us the clear light of day.

But a hurricane from the south has succeeded these, and is suddenly endeavouring to throw everything into confusion; and, because the enemy knows that the faith has prevailed, he is trying to make good his earlier losses by injuring charity.

21. But, putting aside lamentation, I will bring back my pen to the matters that I began on. Why, O white monk, does the black colour of your brother's habit, not of his soul, seem hateful to you? Why, O black monk, does the white colour of your brother's habit, not of his soul, seem marvellous to you? Are not you both sheep of the Shepherd who says, My sheep hear My voice, and I know them and they follow Me; and I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand (S. John x. 27, 28)? And what shepherd, to say nothing of God, but what man ever quarrelled about the different colours of his sheep's wool? Who ever thought about it? Who ever thought that the black were more his sheep than the white, or the white than the black? Who ever cares whether they are black or white, so long as they are of the same flock? But see the wickedness of men, the innocence of the sheep. See the constancy of the brute creation to the nature first given them. See the perversity of nature in the rational creature? Did ever any white ram scorn a black one? Did ever any black ewe loathe a white one? Do they not fill the shepherd's folds in common, peacefully, without any disturbance, without any quarrel about the difference of their colour, without giving him any anxiety? Sometimes, indeed, one ram butts another with his horns, one ewe will thrust at another, but it is not any difference of colour that provokes them to right, but the kindling of the hasty resentment which is natural to all animals. But now I see that man, being in honour, hath no understanding, but is more foolish than the beast; and, what is more pitiful still, a monk cuts himself off from the unity of charity because of some variation of colour. Do not, my brother, do not, if you wish to be a sheep of Christ, quarrel about a difference of clothing, for the Good Shepherd casts out of His fold none except him whom, not difference of colour, but a rupture of faith or charity separates from the flock of His sheep. He does not, I say, cut oft anyone from His flock because of his colour. From widely-separated countries, from diverse religions, He has gathered together Jew and Gentile alike in the one fold of the Christian faith.

22. This, perhaps, has been taught you by the patience of the holy patriarch Jacob, who, without repining, allowed Laban to change his wages ten times. He has shown us how to make no difference between black and white or different kinds of cattle by showing the good disposition and care which a good shepherd shows for all parts of his many-coloured flock (Gen. xxx.). And the Apostle says, In Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creature (Gal. vi. 15). And in another place, Where there is neither Jew nor Gentile, circumcision noruncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free, but Christ is all and in all (Col. iii. n). Who, then, can have so childish a mind as to think that it matters anything to salvation what the colour of different dresses is, or what diversity of customs there may be, as long as there is a new creature in Christ? But if it matters nothing to salvation, why does a difference of habit divide monks? Why does it breed schisms? Why separate their hearts? Why wound charity? There is no cause or reason for taking notice of it, much less for dividing, and still less for complaining of such things. You have, O white monk, a powerful defender enough of your habit in the single eye of your conscience. It has caused you to don a white cowl and tunic, to prevent the black monk supposing, through a long-existing custom, that no one can be a monk who is not dressed in black. Moreover, you have noticed, too, that an innumerable number of monks of this Order have become lukewarm, and, therefore, with praiseworthy intention you have endeavoured to stir them up to a fresh and greater fervour of monastic life by adopting an unusual colour for your habit. You too, [O black monk], in the same way have good authority for the black colour of your habit in the long-standing custom handed down by your fathers. You feel yourselves more safe in following the old than in introducing what is new. Both of you can appeal to the words of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 55) as an unimpeachable authority for both colours. It enjoins monks not to quarrel about the colour or the thickness of their habits, but to use garments of that colour and quality which are most easily obtainable in the country where they are living. Let, then, the reason I have given be sufficient defence for your white garments, or perhaps some still stronger reason than I have found. Let, on the other hand, the authority of your fathers be the defender of your black habit. That authority is of equal force with any reason, and should not be reckoned as inferior by anyone who thinks aright.

23. And what farther shall I be able to adduce as setting an example in this matter? Can I bring anyone greater than S. Martin? The great Martin, monk and bishop, chose black as the colour of his garments, as we read in his life. " And when the beasts close to his side saw him enveloped in a black and flowing cloak, they retired terror-stricken to another place." That he was a monk is shown by his founding a monastery not far from Poictiers, another at Milan, and another for himself at Tours. You see that Martin was a monk, and that he wore black. But what does S. Jerome say about this in the letter that he wrote to Nepotian? He says, " Avoid alike black and white garments." This was meant to warn him to beware of pride and ostentation, not only in white garments, which men of the world then wore, but also in black, which professors of religion at that time were accustomed to use. About this, too, Paulinus, the famous Bishop of Nola, contemporary and intimate friend of the same Martin before mentioned, of Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, and often named with praise by them and by Pope Gregory, in describing the journey of a noble lady who had lately been converted to the monastic life, speaks as follows in a letter addressed to Sulpicius Severus:—" We saw the glory of the Lord in that journey of the mother and her sons; the same journey, indeed, but of very different degree of luxury. We saw her sitting upon a miserable hackney, beside which an ass would be thought valuable, with senators all around her, and following her, with all the pomp of this world that men of position and wealth could display, with horses in rich trappings, nodding plumes, gilded cars, and with many chariots filling and making resplendent the Appian Way. But the grace of Christian humility outshone these empty splendours. The rich were rilled with wonder at our holy poverty, but our poverty laughed them to scorn. We saw the confusion worthy of the deity of this world, its purple, its silk, and golden furniture doing obeisance to worn-out and black garments. We blessed the Lord, Who exalteth the humble, filleth the hungry with good things, and sendeth the rich empty away/' You see from this that not only in old times did men, but also women, in taking upon them the religious life wear black garments.

24. For if I may say what I think, it seems to me that those great fathers thought that black was more suitable to humility, repentance, and mourning, and since the whole monastic life ought especially to be given up to these things, they determined that the outward and inward should be united as closely as possible, the colour to the character, the dress to the virtues, for white garments have from of old represented glory rather than shame, joy more than sorrow. And this was shown more clearly to the Church, as is well known to all, by the Angel of the Resurrection, and by the Angels who acted as heralds of the ascending Lord, and by the Saviour Himself in the glory of His Transfiguration, when He showed Himself bright in white garments. Thence it was that that good and learned man Sidonius, Bishop of Clermont Ferrand, when ridiculing in bitter condemnation the faults of certain men, said, "They go in white to funerals, in black to weddings," declaring them to be so confused in their ideas as to pervert the usual order of things, and to go in wedding garb to funerals, and in funeral to weddings. For those who observed the common custom of that age did not go in white to funerals, in black to weddings, but in white to weddings, in black to funerals, that white garments might agree with nuptial joy, black with funeral grief. When I was lately in Spain I saw and wondered at this old custom being still observed by all the Spaniards. For when a wife, husband, children, parent, any relation, or a friend dies, then the husband, wife, parents, children, relations, or friends at once lay aside their arms, their silk garments, their furs, their manycolcured and costly dresses, and wear nothing but sordid and black clothes. They also cut off their own hair and the tails of their horses, and stain themselves and their animals with black. With such marks of mourning and grief they bewail the dead that they have lost, and spend a year, at least, by the rule of society, in such public mourning.

25. By such authority and reason as this I defend you and your colour, black monk, but still I do not condemn the white monk for his colour. I praise you for not wishing to depart from the holy custom of your fathers; I praise him, too, for stirring up by this uncommon colour in dress his mind to more and more fervour of devotion. He to some degree separates himself, not from charity, which would be impious, but from the well-known lukewarmness of many of this Order. Since, then, you are under one Shepherd, Jesus Christ, since you dwell in one sheepfold of the Church, since you live by the same faith and hope in eternity, you, white monk, as well as you, black monk, why, to speak a little more severely, O foolish sheep, do you quarrel about the difference in your wool? Why do you proceed against each other for no reason, or for so foolish a one? Why for so childish a thing do you rend that first robe of charity? Why do you separate between your very dwellings? Why do you devour one another with the teeth of wolves rather than of sheep? Why do you rob each other and tear each other? See, take care, that this name of innocence by which you get your name of sheep do not prevent you from being of those whom the great Shepherd will place on His right hand, and of whom He says Himself, My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me, and I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish (S. John x. 27, 28). But beware, lest it place you amongst those of whom it is said and sung, Like sheep they are laid in the grave; death shall feed on them (Ps. xlix. 14). Do you now see how foolish it is to dispute about a colour? How damnable to hate a brother for a colour? How wicked to calumniate a brother for a colour? If this were the sole cause of your discord, if this the sole ground for such a division, if, I say, this was the whole and sole cause of the monastic schism, now that its folly has been shown, shall not this old severance of hearts be repaired?—shall not the wounds of love be healed?—shall not evangelic peace return to the children of peace? Make agreement with peace, therefore, ye sons of peace, and enter into a perpetual covenant with her; if not, perchance at some time there may be directed against you that saying of the Prophet, There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked (Isa. xlviii. 22). And now, thanks to God, I think that I have penetrated into the ancient causes and lurking-places of the hatreds of some men of our Order, and I do not suppose that I need now seek any farther for any remaining cause. And if I am right, you, O white monk, will no longer attack the black, nor you, black monk, the white, if you wish to obey the precepts of your Order, nor will you be moved from the state of a most exalted charity, in hostility to your brother, because of some difference in your customs or some variation in the colour of your habit. 26. But what have I said? How have I lost myself? Where is my understanding? How has the keenness of my sight become clouded over? I thought that I had found the whole ground of offence. I supposed "that I had disclosed all the lurking-places of hatred. I was under the impression, as I said, that diversity of customs alone, that only variety of colours, the quality or quantity of clothes or of food had wounded charity among monks, and that this alone was the cause of so great an evil. I saw the mote in my brother's eye, but I could not see the huge beam, a very oak, in my own eye. But now my eye has been purged, the sky is clear, and the sun in the meridian suffers nothing to lie hid, and I see what it is given me to say, with the leave of everyone, at all events of every good man. For whoever shall feel aggrieved will thereby confess that it has been said of him, as Jerome says. The sound part of the body does not shrink from the physician's hand, but that which quivers and withdraws itself from the ringer that would touch it shows, without doubt, that disease is lurking within. What is it, then, that had escaped me?

27. Come, tell me (I will first address the man of my own Order), tell me, black monk; give glory to God, and lay bare whatever lies hid in the depths of your heart against your brother. Who, you say, can endure to have new men preferred to old, to have their intentions set before our actions, to have them regarded as more dear, our brethren as inferior? Who can see unmoved the world for the most part turn away from our older Order, and run after this new foundation, and look upon the wrell-trodden paths now abandoned, and crowds hurrying on the paths which till now were unknown? Who can bear to see the new preferred to the old, the younger to the older, white monks to black? This, black monk, is what you say. But you, white monk, what do you put forward? Wre, you say, are happy, because we are recommended by a system far more approved, because the world declares that we are more blessed than other monks, because our fame overshadows the reputation of others, our daylight their lantern, our sun their star. We are they who have restored religion which was lost, the Order which was dead; we are most justly they who condemn all half-hearted, lukewarm, and worldly monks; we prove the fresh fervour of our members to excel all others by our characters, our actions, our customs, our habit, all of which are different to others; and we have exposed to the world the tepidity of the older Orders..Now—now, we have the real secret cause, one far more hostile to charity than the rest, which has destroyed tin; unity of your hearts, separated your houses from each other, and often, as the Prophet says, sharpened your tongues like a sword (Ps. cxl. 3) to calumnious or cursing words.

28. But let this deadly sword be met by the sword of the Divine Word, and if you are wise you will do ill that you can to prevent the fruits that have been stored up with so much labour from being scattered by an empty breath of vain glory. O, loss accursed, and never to be lamented enough! If one hiss of the wicked serpent is to undo the pure continence of your long life, your unconquerable obedience, your unbroken fasts, your constant vigils, your heavy yoke of discipline, so many palms won by your patience, and, to sum up all, your great and numerous toils, both of the earthly and the heavenly life, stored up for so long against your reward in eternity, performed through the grace of God in you; if he is to empty you of everything at one breath, if the old dragon is to cause you to go empty before the sight of the Great Judge, then where is that which the Saviour said to his disciples when labouring under this disease, saw Satan as lightning fall from heaven? (S. Luke x. 18). Where is that which he said in another place when a contention like this rose among them which of them should be the greater, But ye shall not be so; but he that is greatest among you let him be as the younger, and he that is chief as lie that doth serve? (S. Luke xxii. 26). Where does that verse lie hidden from the eyes of our memory which the High and Lofty One, of whose greatness, the Psalmist says, there is no end (Ps. cxlv. 3), and Who, according to the Apostle, is above all, God blessed for ever (Rom. ix. 5), and Who, not preferring Himself to, or even equalizing Himself with, but submitting Himself to His servants, uttered, When He said, But I am among you as lie that serveth? (S. Luke xxii. 27). The Apostle is rebuked for putting himself before his brother Apostle, and shall not the monk for preferring himself to his brother monk? Christ, the Master, puts the greater under the lesser disciple, the superior under the inferior, and shall I, a Cluniac, endeavour to elevate myself above the Cistercian? Christ submits Himself to His disciples, and shall a Christian and a monk raise his neck, swollen with pride, above his brother, who is, perhaps, far better than he? Is majesty to abase itself, and infirmity to exalt itself? Is loftiness to humble itself, and the worm to be raised aloft? Is God to serve, and earth try to rule? And, my brother, how have you fallen from the height of your Rule, from whence you used to boast that you stooped! It bids "that the monk not only say in word that he is lower and viler than all, but that he believe it also inwardly in his heart" (Reg. S. Ben. c. 7). But why labour further? There is no need to say more to pious, wise, and learned men, and, as the proverb goes, to teach Minerva, or to bring trees to the wood, water to the rivers or the sea. The wisdom of you both sees and knows that it is impossible to please God without faith, and also without charity, and that no one, if he throw away humility, can by any efforts keep that charity. For pride of necessity steps into any place vacated by humility; where pride comes there immediately comes envy; where envy arises charity at once dies. For the envious man cannot love him whom he envies, nor can charity in any way remain in one who does not love.

29. Therefore, where there is no charity there is no humility, and where there is no humility there is no charity. This the Apostle declares most plainly when he says, Charity envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. And because she is not greedy of other's goods he goes on to say: Seeketh not her own (1 Cor. xiii. 45). Therefore, charity excludes all vain-glory, all ambition, all greediness, all avarice, nay, by charity, according to the Apostle, all iniquity is at once driven out. Now, if you wish to preserve this charity, which the Apostle says is the same as the law of Christ (Gal. vi. 2), my brother of Cluny, my brother of Citeaux, if you wish to lay up for yourself by it great treasures in heaven, and to keep them when you have laid them up, do your utmost to drive from you all the causes, not only of the departure of charity, not only of her destruction, but even of any injury, no matter how small. If they wish to return after you have driven them out, close the door of your heart against them, and hold fast charity and keep her as an ever present guest. Charity, if she be firmly held, will lift you to the Kingdom in the heavens, for by her sweetly irresistible force she brought down to earth the King of Heaven. The Apostle is a faithful witness of this when he says that because of His great love God sent His Son in the likeness of sinful flesh (Rom. viii. 3). You will rejoice evermore in charity before God, and your joy, as He Himself has promised, no one shall take from you, when God shall be all in all, when your long thirst shall be satisfied, when His glory shall be made manifest; when He shall appear and you will be like Him, and being united to Him for ever by this charity, you will see Him as He is.

30. Now at length let my pen come back to you, my dearest friend, to whom I send this letter. It began with you, and with you let it at last end. I call to witness my conscience that, as I said before, the sole cause of my writing is charity. My endeavour has been to fan it into a flame by the breath of our conference, and to force it to burst out into its wonted flames, if not into greater ones. It now remains for you, whom Divine Providence has given us to be the milk-white and strong column on which the edifice of the Monastic Order is supported, and to be, as it were a bright star, not only to the monks, but also to the whole Latin Church of our day, it now remains for you to throw your whole strength into this Divine work, and to prevent such great companies of one Name and one Order from quarrelling any further. I have always been zealous to commend to my brethren the holy monks of your congregation, and I would, if I could, unite them to each other in the bond of a perfect charity. I have never neglected to do this in public, in private, and in the great assemblies of our Order; and I have laboured to rub off the rust of passion and of quarrelsome zeal which is wont secretly to gnaw at our vitals.

31. Do you, too, labour hard, in proportion to the grace given you by God, in our common field; for no one since you in our time, it has been shown, has planted so usefully; and so with praiseworthy zeal and industry everything that is opposed to what is useful will be rooted up. Banish from their hearts by that eloquence which is from above, and which is set on fire by the Spirit of God, that childish rivalry, that back-biting, and instead of them, whether the brethren like it or not, sow the seeds of brotherly love. Let no diversity of custom, no difference of colours, any longer divide your flocks from ours; but let universal charity unite what is derived from the Divine Unity, repair what is decayed, join again what has been sundered, give life to what has been cut off. So is it fitting that there should be one heart and one soul (Acts iv. 32) in those who have one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, who are contained in one Church, and who look for the same everlasting life of bliss. I have sent a morsel of crystallized salt to my friend who has no need of jewels, but to whom, as I have heard, its material use was once advantageous, and I thought that a special understanding of it was necessary as an introduction to what I have said above. For whatever the number and the value of the array of virtues on the table of the Eternal King, if they lack the salt of brotherly love they will be rejected as tasteless. But if they are seasoned with this salt the dainties are now acceptable, and will be received with them that offer them. For He Who in His law accepts no sacrifice without salt, shows that He is pleased with no gift of virtue which lacks this condiment.