126. The Letter of Robert, a learned man and Master of Physic

To the venerable brother and most beloved colleague Peter, brother Robert, send what follows.

At twilight vespers of a Sunday recently passed, I rejoiced when, after those who were held worthy to see first what things were sent, to hear first what things were said in the ear, it came to pass for me to read your letters which I had not heard beforehand. For within them there was, just as they had noted from us the very thing itself by a more lofty considering of the mind, which not only caressed the ears of the listening but it also stirred mouths [to speak] and lightened the souls of us all. And what was it or what was this able to be? It was, I say, that about which the audience(?) shouts and applauds at the theatre. I speak about the end of your little letter, which you sent to the lord abbot, of which, while the beginning and middle was filled with great praise, nonetheless you end your final words with pleasant skill and an agreeable maturity. For you say to our lord, “May all your co-hermits and all your companions be well, who dwell with you in the woods.” And so you insinuate that the lord abbot is a hermit, but also you designate his companions to be co-hermits. Instead of the dry residence of the desert, you do not neglect to suggest that master with his disciples find amusement in the wet and chilling woods. And where do you get this idea, O venerable old man, from where, O helper of Christ, O angel of God (unless an angel doesn’t know how to grow old, to become hoary nor to be lame)! And I ask, O “X”, where do you get this idea, so that from so puffed a breast or perhaps by a new spirit of prophecy, you pre-designate what is not yet known and you pre-celebrate what is not yet begun, which without you to be made or to be loved, it is paid attention to be none of them whom you gave to the desert.Therefore, when you come to us, you will not find the desert or the hermit. For our three-headed Mt. Parnassus is not quite the double-headed one that the poets formerly described – having there double-horned fauns, jumping satyrs and indeed all around the din of wild beasts and the sweet chattering of birds. Consider how greatly the hooded poets on high seek this [and how much] the Monks darkened by their blackness revere the brothers as lovers of reading, of prayer, of religion. Indeed, you could think nothing dark belonging to them, you could fear nothing coloured by vice. For on our mountain, the guardian, with magisterial charity, allows nothing to waver in the justice of virtues. And this, about them, who dwell on the middle peak. Those, who indeed occupy the remain two summits of Parnassus, are judged to belong to this family, which, in perpetual silence, condemn the beginnings of a distinct voice, and which –so religious– waits for him ceaselessly what he responds never, unless voiced or summoned.But if you are religious, allow the likeness. If you are given over to prayer, allow the isolation. If you are a grammarian and lover of reading, … These things, my beloved brother, are considered belonging to us.