Chapter VI.—Peter’s Simplicity of Life.

Then Peter, laughing, said:  “And do you not think, Clement, that very necessity must make you my servant?  For who else can spread my sheets, and arrange my beautiful coverlets?  Who will be at hand to keep my rings, and prepare my robes, which I must be constantly changing?  Who shall superintend my cooks, and provide various and choice meats to be prepared by most recondite and various art; and all those things which are procured at enormous expense, and are brought together for men of delicate up-bringing, yea rather, for their appetite, as for some enormous beast?  But perhaps, although you live with me, you do not know my manner of life.  I live on bread alone, with olives, and seldom even with pot-herbs; and my dress is what you see, a tunic with a pallium:  and having these, I require nothing more.  This is sufficient for me, because my mind does not regard things present, but things eternal, and therefore no present and visible thing delights me.  Whence I embrace and admire indeed your good mind towards me; and I commend you the more, because, though you have been accustomed to so great abundance, you have been able so soon to abandon it, and to accommodate yourself to this life of ours, which makes use of necessary things alone.  For we—that is, I and my brother Andrew—have grown up from our childhood not only orphans, but also extremely poor, and through necessity have become used to labour, whence now also we easily bear the fatigues of our journeyings.  But rather, if you would consent and allow it, I, who am a working man, could more easily discharge the duty of a servant to you.”