Letters265 Letter CCLXV. To Peter, abbot of Cluny (reply to the above). (A.D. 1149)
Letter CCLXV. To Peter, abbot of Cluny (reply to the above). (A.D. 1149)
He disclaims praises as being unworthy.
What are you doing, my dear friend? You are praising a sinner, you are beatifying a wretched man. You must now pray that I may not be led into error. I shall certainly be led into it, if I begin to be ignorant of myself from the delight I might take in your praises. That did well-nigh happen to me when I saw the letters of your Beatitude which beatified me. How happy should I now be if words could effect it! Still let me call myself happy, not, however, because of my own merit, but your good-will. I am happy in being loved by you, and in loving you. However, I do not think that this sweet morsel which you offer me ought to be swallowed whole, nor, as they say, even admitted even into the mouth. You wonder why, perhaps. Because I cannot see anything in myself which makes me worthy of love, especially such as yours. I know, too, that a righteous man will never wish to be loved more than is right. Would that I could as easily imitate as admire so great an example of humility! Would that I might enjoy what I so greatly long for, your holy conversation—I do not say always, I do not say often, but even once in a yearl I think that I should never return from it empty. It would not be in vain that I beheld a model of virtue, a perfection of discipline, a mirror of sanctity. Nor would it be fruitless for one to see with the eye of faith how well you have learnt from Christ what I have not yet learnt—his meekness and lowliness of heart. But if I go on to do to you what I complain that you have done to me, though I speak the truth, yet I shall not agree with the law of truth, which says, What you do not wish done to yourself do not to another (Tob. iv. 15). And in answer to the little request with which you ended your letter I have to say that the brother whom you asked me to send you is not just now with me, but with the Bishop of Auxerre, and he is so ill that I am told that he cannot yet come to us without the greatest risk.
Quid facis, o bone vir? Laudas peccatorem, miserum beatificas! Restat ut ores, ne inducar in errorem. Inducor autem, si tantis delectatus praeconiis, ignorare me coepero. Propemodum id mihi contigerat visis litteris Beatitudinis tuae et beatificationis meae. Quam beatus nunc essem, si verbis beari possem! Beatum tamen me dixerim, sed favore tuo, non meis laudibus. Beatum, quod diligor a te, quod diligo te. Quanquam et hanc mihi, dulcem licet, buccellam liquandam arbitror, nec omnino plenis, ut aiunt, buccis admittendam. Miraris cur hoc? Nempe non video in me unde tantum diligi meruerim, praesertim a tanto. Scio autem quia plus justo velle diligi, minus est a justo. Quis mihi det tantae humilitatis insigne tam imitari posse, quam admirari? Quis mihi tribuat sancta et desiderata praesentia tua, non dico semper, non dico saepe, sed vel semel in anno frui? Puto quia nulla vice reverterer vacuus. Non, inquam, frustra conspicerem virtutis exemplar, disciplinae summam, speculum sanctitatis: quodque minus usque adhuc a Christo didicisse me fateor, non incassum fide oculata perciperem, quam sis et tu mitis, et humilis corde. Verum si tibi pergo facere, quod a te mihi factum queror; etsi veritatem dicam, veritatis tamen legi non concordabo, in qua legitur: Quod tibi non vis fieri, alii ne feceris. Itaque jam respondeamus petitiunculae vestrae, qua epistolam conclusistis. Is quem mitti vobis jubetis, modo mecum non est, sed cum domino Autissiodorensi; et ita infirmus, ut sine nimio incommodo nec ad nos usque posse adhuc venire dicatur.