A letter from Gilbert Foliot (1163-68)

Translated letter:

G[ilbert] by the grace of God minister of the church of London to A[mice] venerable countess of Leicester, to receive what she asks, to reach where she is going when the pious course is finally complete. I send to your love, most beloved, the requested letters, which I indeed ought to have sent unasked. Which if I have failed to do for a somewhat long time, the reason is that I thought from day to day I myself would precede and anticipate my messenger. And since hope always draws us with a doubtful face to tomorrow, and what I did not do “tomorrow” says “I will do,” I hoped to put an end to the affairs and with the cases at length put to sleep and the cares forgotten, I would come to you with leisure and be restored by the desired comfort of your conversation with me. But the more I desire the opportunity, the less I find it, and after certain heads are cut off and I think I have extinguished the beast of the world, I am altogether horrified by the multiply reborn heads.(1) Indeed there is no end of cares and the world gives birth in days, whence it afflicts miserable souls and turns them from the purpose of pious intent. O alas do I remember the holy soliloquies that my soul once elevated in spirit had with her spouse while the silences of the cloister covered and held her? While she was ignorant of secular things, she in a certain way ascended the mountain with Moses, left below the cloud and the fog(2) and neglecting the world moved into that fire which God inhabits, completely desiring nothing but him. Whence when her weakness called her back, not departing far, not going out, she resided more attentively in mind at the feet of the Lord, and thinking over past years in bitterness, washed away the former excesses with the flowing of her tears. Now the care of habitual things distracts me from that, the weight of secular cares overwhelms me. Now fear oppresses, now hope draws me, now prosperity raises me, now adversity throws me down, that as many heaps of miseries as miserable humanity is subjected to, I experience almost the same. What therefore could my spirit dictate to you, most beloved, who inhabit purity of mind and desire and long for nothing to feed your delicate spirit but spiritual delights? That dove made its nest in you which flying over Christ in the Jordan inhabits him always with all the fullness of graces. And from this fullness, indeed, as much as he gave, you accepted, and as much as you taste his gifts you desire with a mind zealous for spiritual things that it be served to you more and more fully. I seem to see your soul in the fervor of its spirit, declaring and singing this: “Sustain me with flowers, stuff me with apples, for I languish in love.”(3) Whence, dearest to me, the flowers which I serve to your spirit, that, ardent, it may be more enflamed and stretching towards the heights be more eagerly carried off there. These are flowers of paradise, which they share with you holy one, those who ignorant of and rejecting the world, inhabit in a certain way the paradise of the consecrated mind. Which I desire by your prayer you obtain for me, that you may raise and sustain me sighing under the weight of those cares, by the intervention of the Lord. For that little I have, I did not stop nor neglect to communicate to you from the beginnings of our friendship in the Lord. I wish you farewell in Christ, dearest one.

Original letter:

G[ilbertus] Dei gratia Londoniensis ecclesie minister A[micie] venerabili comitisse Legrec[estrie], quod petit accipere, quo tendit pie tandem completo cursu pertingere. Dilectioni tue dilectissima rogatus litteras mitto, quas quidem misisse debueram non rogatus. Quod si omisi iam aliquamdiu, hec causa exstitit quod de die in diem meum ad te nuntium ipse preire et prevenire existimabam. Et quia spes dubio vultu nos semper protrahit in cras, et quod non feci 'cras' ait 'efficiam', sperabam me finem dare negotiis et sopitis aliquamdiu causis et curis omissis, ocius transmeare ad te et optate michi allocutionis tue iocunde solacio recreari. Sed opportunitatem quo plus appeto, minus invenio, et quibusdam amputatis capitibus cum mundi bestiam extinxisse me reputo, ad capita multipliciter renascentia(1) toto ilico perhorresco. Curarum siquidem nullus est finis, et mundus in dies parturit, unde miseras affligat animas et a pie proposito intentionis avertat. O michi quid memorem soliloquia sancta que cum sponso suo anima quondam mea dum eam claustri silentia tegerent et tenerent, in spiritum elevata permiscebat? Dum secularium nescia in montem quodammodo cum Moyse concendebat, subtus se nubem relinquebat et nebulam(2), et mundo posthabito in ignem illum quem Deus inhabitat nil nisi illum appetens tota tendebat. Unde cum ipsam sua revocasset infirmitas, non abscedens longe, non foras exiens, ad ipsos pedes Domini mente residebat attentius, et annos suos preteritos in amaritudine recogitans, excessus pristinos ipsis suarum lacrimarum fluentis abluebat. Nunc me rei familiaris hinc cura distrahit, hinc causarum secularium pondus involuit. Nunc timor opprimit, nunc protrahit spes, nunc levant prospera, nunc adversa deiciunt, ut quantis miseriarum cumulis misera subiciatur humanitas, ipsis pene rerum argumentis experiar. Quid tibi ergo dilectissima meus poterit dictare iam spiritus, que puritatem mentis inhabitas et spiritui tuo delicato nichil in refectionem nisi delicias spirituales appetis et exoptas? Nidificavit in te columba illa que super Christum in Iordane volitans ipsum cum omni gratiarum plenitudine semper inhabitat. Et de hac quidem plenitudine quantum ipse tribuit accepisti, et eius dona quanto gustas uberius tanto et uberius ministrari tibi avida spiritualium mente desideras. Intueri michi videor tuam illam animam in sui fervore spiritus, hoc declamantem et cantantem: "Fulcite me floribus, stipate me malis, quia amore langueo."(3) Unde michi flores karissima quos tuo subministrem spiritui, ut ardens plus accendatur et tendens in superna avidius illuc rapiatur. Hii flores paradisi sunt, quos tibi sancte communicant, qui nescientes et respuentes que mundi sunt sacrate quodammodo paradisum mentis inhabitant. Quos tua queso prece michi concilies, ut sub curarum gementem pondere ipsorum me apud Dominum interventu subleves et sustentes. Id enim modicum quod habeo tibi ab amicitiarum nostrarum exordiis in Domino communicare, nec destiti nec omitto. Valere te in Christo opto karissima.

Historical context:

Now bishop of London, Gilbert regrets that the demands of his life prevent him from communicating with God in solitude as he did in the cloister and from visiting the countess, whose spirituality he has great confidence in.

Scholarly notes:

(1) Like the Hydra. (2) See Ex.24:15-18. (3) See Cant.2:5.

Printed source:

The Letters and Charters of Gilbert Foliot, ed. Z.N. Brooke, Dom Adrian Morey, C.N.L. Brooke (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), ep.195, pp.266-67.

Date:

1163-68