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THE CONSOLATION
OF PHILOSOPHY

The Consolation
of Philosophy

BOETHIUS

THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY

THOMAS A KEMPIS

THE IMITATION OF CHRIST

SIR THOMAS BROWNE
RELIGIO MEDICI

CARLTON HOUSE NEW YORK

THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY

BY BOETHIUS

TRANSLATED BY
W. V. COOPER

THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY

BOOK ONE

(Boethius bewails his changed circumstances.)

"To pleasant songs my work was erstwhile given, and bright
were all my labours then ; but now in tears to sad refrains am
I compelled to turn. Thus my maimed Muses guide my pen,
and gloomy songs make no feigned tears bedew my face. Then
could no fear so overcome to leave me companionless upon
my way. They were the pride of my earlier bright-lived days:
in my later gloomy days they are the comfort of my fate ; for
hastened by unhappiness has age come upon me without warn-
ing, and grief hath set within me the old age of her gloom.
White hairs are scattered untimely on my head, and the skin
hangs loosely from my worn-out limbs.

"Happy is that death which thrusts not itself upon men in
their pleasant years, yet comes to them at the oft-repeated cry
of their sorrow. Sad is it how death turns away from the un-
happy with so deaf an ear, and will not close, cruel, the eyes
that weep. Ill is it to trust to Fortune's fickle bounty, and
while yet she smiled upon me, the hour of gloom had well-
nigh overwhelmed my head. Now has the cloud put off its
alluring face, wherefore without scruple my life drags out its
wearying delays.

"Why, O my friends, did ye so often puff me up, telling me
that I was fortunate? For he that is fallen low did never firmly
stand."

(Philosophy approaches Boethius:
the form of her appearance is allegorical.)

While I was pondering thus in silence, and using my pen to
set down so tearful a complaint, there appeared standing over

3

4 Boethius

my head a woman's form, whose countenance was full of maj-
esty, whose eyes shown as with fire and in power of insight
surpassed the eyes of men, whose colour was full of life, whose
strength was yet intact though she was so full of years that
none would ever think that she was subject to such age as ours.
One could but doubt her varying stature, for at one moment
she repressed it to the common measure of a man, at another
she seemed to touch with her crown the very heavens: and
when she had raised higher her head, it pierced even the sky
and baffled the sight of those who would look upon it. Her
clothing was wrought of the finest thread by subtle workman-
ship brought to an indivisible piece. This had she woven with
her own hands, as I afterwards did learn by her own shewing.
Their beauty was somewhat dimmed by the dulness of long
neglect, as is seen in the smoke-grimed masks of our ancestors.
On the border below was inwoven the symbol n, on that above
was to be read a 6. 1 And between the two letters there could
be marked degrees, by which, as by the rungs of a ladder,
ascent might be made from the lower principle to the higher.
Yet the hands of rough men had torn this garment and
snatched such morsels as they could therefrom. In her right
hand she carried books, in her left was a sceptre brandished.
When she saw that the Muses of poetry \tere present by
my couch giving words to my lamenting, she was stirred a
while; her eyes flashed fiercely, and said she, "Who has suf-
fered these seducing mummers to approach this sick man?
Never do they support those in sorrow by any healing rem-
edies, but rather do ever foster the sorrow by poisonous sweets.
These are they who stifle the fruit-bearing harvest of reason
with the barren briars of the passions: they free not the minds
of men from disease, but accustom them thereto. I would think
it less grievous if your allurements drew away from me some
uninitiated man, as happens in the vulgar herd. In such an
one my labours would be naught harmed, but this man has
been nourished in the lore of Eleatics and Academics; and to

1 IE and 9 are the first letters of the Greek words denoting Practical
and Theoretical, the two divisions of philosophy.

The Consolation of Philosophy 5

him have ye reached? Away with you, Sirens, seductive unto
destruction! leave him to my Muses to be cared for and to be
healed."

Their band thus rated cast a saddened glance upon the
ground, confessing their shame in blushes, and passed forth
dismally over the threshold. For my part, my eyes were
dimmed with tears, and I could not discern who was this
woman of such commanding power. I was amazed, and turn-
ing my eyes to the ground I began in silence to await what
she should do. Then she approached nearer and sat down upon
the end of my couch: she looked into my face heavy with grief
and cast down by sorrow to the ground, and then she raised
her complaint over the trouble of my mind in these words.

"Ah me! how blunted grows the mind when sunk below the
overwhelming flood! Its own true light no longer burns within,
and it would break forth to outer darknesses. How often care,
when fanned by earthly winds, grows to a larger and un-
measured bane. This man has been free to the open heaven:
his habit has it been to wander into the paths of the sky: his
to watch the light of the bright sun, his to inquire into the
brightness of the chilly moon; he, like a conqueror, held fast
bound in its order every star that makes its wandering circle,
turning its peculiar course. Nay, more, deeply has he searched
into the springs of nature, whence came the roaring blasts
that ruffle the ocean's bosom calm: what is the spirit that
makes the firmament revolve; wherefore does the evening
star sink into the western wave but to rise from the radiant
East; what is the cause which so tempers the season of Spring
that it decks the earth with rose-blossoms; whence comes it
to pass that Autumn is prolific in the years of plenty and
overflows with teeming vines: deeply to search these causes
was his wont, and to bring forth secrets deep in Nature hid.

"Now he lies there; extinct his reason's light, his neck in
heavy chains thrust down, his countenance with grievous
weight downcast; ah! the brute earth is all he can behold.

6 Boethius

"But now," said she, "is the time for the physician's art,
rather than for complaining." Then fixing her eyes wholly on
me, she said, "Are you the man who was nourishecl upon the
milk of my learning, brought up with my food until you had
won your way to the power of a manly soul? Surely I had
given you such weapons as would keep you safe, and your
strength unconquered; if you had not thrown them away. Do
you know me? Why do you keep silence? Are you dumb from
shame or from dull amazement? I would it were from shame,
but I see that amazement has overwhelmed you."

When she saw that I was not only silent, but utterly tongue-
tied and dumb, she put her hand gently upon my breast, and
said, "There is no danger: he is suffering from drowsiness,
that disease which attacks so many minds which have been
deceived. He has forgotten himself for a moment and will
quickly remember, as soon as he recognises me. That he may
do so, let me brush away from his eyes the darkening cloud
of thoughts of matters perishable." So saying, she gathered
her robe into a fold and dried my swimming eyes.

Then was dark night dispelled, the shadows fled away, and
my eyes received returning power as before. 'Twas just as
when the heavenly bodies are enveloped by the west wind's
rush, and the sky stands thick with watery clouds; the sun is
hidden and the stars are not yet come into the sky, and night
descending from above o'erspreads the earth: but if the north
wind smites this scene, launched forth from the Thracian cave,
it unlocks the imprisoned daylight; the sun shines forth, and
thus sparkling Phoebus smites with his rays our wondering
eyes.

(Boethius gains power to address Philosophy.)

In such a manner were the clouds of grief scattered. Then
I drew breath again and engaged my mind in taking knowl-
edge of my physician's countenance. So when I turned my eyes
towards her and fixed my gaze upon her, I recognised my
nurse, Philosophy, in whose chambers I had spent my life from

The Consolation of Philosophy 7

earliest manhood. And I asked her, "Wherefore have you,
mistress of all virtues, come down from heaven above to visit
my lonely place of banishment? Is it that you, as well as I,
may be harried, the victim of false charges?" "Should I," said
she, "desert you, my nursling?

(Philosophy chides his lack of courage.)

Should I not share and bear my part of the burden which has
been laid upon you from spite against my name? Surely Philos-
ophy never allowed herself to let the innocent go upon their
journey unbefriended. Think you I would fear calumnies? That
I would be terrified as though they were a new misfortune?
Think you that this is the first time that wisdom has been har-
assed by dangers among men of shameless ways? In ancient
days before the time of my child, Plato, have we not as well as
nowadays fought many a mighty battle against the reckless-
ness of folly? And though Plato did survive, did not his master,
Socrates, win his victory of an unjust death, with me present at
his side? When after him the followers of Epicurus, and in turn
the Stoics, and then others did all try their utmost to seize his
legacy, they dragged me, for all my cries and struggles, as
though to share me as plunder; they tore my robe which I
had woven with mine own hands, and snatched away the frag-
ments thereof: and when they thought I had altogether yielded
myself to them, they departed. And since among them were
to be seen certain signs of my outward bearing, others ill-ad-
vised did think they wore my livery: thus were many of them
undone by the errors of the herd of uninitiated. But if you
have not heard of the exile of Anaxagoras, 1 nor the poison
drunk by Socrates, 8 nor the torture of Zeno, 8 which all were
of foreign lands, yet you may know of Camus,* Seneca, 5 and

1 Anaxagoras went into exile from Athens about 450 B.C.

9 Socrates was executed by the Athenian state, B.C. 309.

8 Zeno of Elea was tortured by Nearchus, tyrant of Elea, about 440 B.C.

4 Canius was put to death by Caligula, c. A.D. 40.

"Seneca was driven to commit suicide by Nero, A.D. 65.

8 Boethius

Soranus, 1 whose fame is neither small nor passing old. Naught
else brought them to ruin but that, being built up in my ways,
they appeared at variance with the desires of unscrupulous
men. So it is no matter for your wonder if^in this sea of life,
we are tossed about by storms from all sides; for to oppose
evil men is the chief aim we set before ourselves. Though the
band of such men is great in numbers, yet it is to be con-
temned: for it is guided by no leader, but is hurried along at
random only by error running riot everywhere. If this band
when warring against us presses too strongly upon us, our
leader, Reason, gathers her forces into her citadel, while the
enemy are busied in plundering useless baggage. As they seize
the most worthless things, we laugh at them from above, un-
troubled by the whole band of mad marauders, and we are
defended by that rampart to which riotous folly may not hope
to attain.

"He who has calmly reconciled his life to fate, and set
proud death beneath his feet, can look fortune in the face,
unbending both to good and bad: his countenance uncon-
quered he can shew. The rage and threatenings of the sea will
not move him though they stir from its depths the upheaving
swell: Vesuvius's furnaces may never so often burst forth, and
he may send rolling upwards smoke and fire; the lightning,
whose wont it is to smite down lofty towers, may flash upon
its way, but such men shall they never move. Why then stand
they wretched and aghast when fierce tyrants rage in im-
potence? Fear naught, and hope naught: thus shall you have
a weak man's rage disarmed. But whoso fears with trembling,
or desires aught from them, he stands not firmly rooted, but
dependent: thus has he thrown away his shield; he can be
rooted up, and he links for himself the very chain whereby he
may be dragged.

"Are such your experiences, and do they sink into your
soul?" she asked. "Do you listen only as 'the dull ass to the

1 Soranus was condemned to death by Nero, AD. 66.

The Consolation of Philosophy 9

lyre'? Why do you weep? Wherefore flow your tears? 'Speak,
nor keep secret in thine heart/ If you expect a physician to
help you, you must lay bare your wound."

(Boethius complains to Philosophy of his sufferings after his just

life.)

Then did I rally my spirit till it was strong again, and
answered, "Does the savage bitterness of my fortune still
need recounting? Does it not stand forth plainly enough of
itself? Does not the very aspect of this place strike you? Is
this the library which you had chosen for yourself as your
sure resting-place in my house? Is this the room in which you
would so often tarry with me expounding the philosophy of
things human and divine? Was my condition like this, or my
countenance, when I probed with your aid the secrets of na-
ture, when you marked out with a wand the courses of the
stars, when you shaped our habits and the rule of all our life
by the pattern of the universe? 1 Are these the rewards we reap
by yielding ourselves to you? Nay, you yourself have estab-
lished this saying by the mouth of Plato, that commonwealths
would be blessed if they were guided by those who made wis-
dom their study, or if those who guided them would make
wisdom their study. 8 By the mouth of that same great man did
you teach that this was the binding reason why a common-
wealth should be governed by philosophers, namely that the
helm of government should not be left to unscrupulous or crim-
inal citizens lest they should bring corruption and ruin upon
the good citizens. 8 Since, then, I had learned from you in quiet
and inaction of this view, I followed it further, for I desired to
practise it in public government. You and God Himself, who
has grafted you in the minds of philosophers, are my witnesses
that never have I applied myself to any office of state except
that I might work for the common welfare of all good men.

1 Boethius means that his chief "philosophical" studies had been
physics, astronomy, and ethics.
Plato, Repub. v. 473.
Plato, Repub. vi. 488, 489.

io Boethius

Thence followed bitter quarrels with evil men which could not
be appeased, and, for the sake of preserving justice, contempt
of the enmity of those in power, for this is the result of a free
and fearless conscience. How often have I withstood Coni-
gastus 1 to his face, whenever he has attacked a weak man's
fortune! How often have I turned by force Trigulla, 1 the over-
seer of the Emperor's household, from an unjust act that he
had begun or even carried out! How many times have I put
my own authority in danger by protecting those wretched
people who were harried with unending false charges by the
greed of barbarian Goths which ever went unpunished ! Never,
I say, has any man depraved me from justice to injustice. My
heart has ached as bitterly as those of the sufferers when I have
seen the fortunes of our subjects ruined both by the rapacity
of persons and the taxes of the state. Again, in a time of
severe famine, a grievous, intolerable sale by compulsion was
decreed in Campania, and devastation threatened that
province. Then I undertook for the sake of the common wel-
fare a struggle against the commander of the Imperial guard ;
though the king was aware of it, I fought against the enforce-
ment of the sale, and fought successfully. Paulinus was a man
who had been consul: the jackals of the court had in their
own hopes and desires already swallowed up his possessions,
but I snatched him from their very gaping jaws. I exposed
myself to the hatred of the treacherous informer Cyprian, that
I might prevent Albinus, also a former consul, being over-
whelmed by the penalty of a trumped-up charge. Think you
that I have raised up against myself bitter and great quarrels
enough? But I ought to have been safer among those whom
I helped; for, from my love of justice, I laid up for myself
among the courtiers no resource to which I might turn for
safety. Who, further, were the informers upon whose evidence
I was banished? One was Basilius: he was formerly expelled
from the royal service, and was driven by debt to inform

1 Conigastus and Trigulla were favourite officers of the Emperor,
Theodoric, the Goth: they used their influence with him for the oppres-
sion of the weak.

The Consolation oj Philosophy 1 1

against me. Again, Opilio and Gaudentius had been con-
demned to exile by the king for many unjust acts and crimes:
this decree they would not obey, and they sought sanctuary in
sacred buildings, but when the king was aware of it, he de-
clared that if they departed not from Ravenna before a certain
day, they should be driven forth branded upon their fore-
heads. What could be more stringent than this? Yet upon that
very day information against me was laid by these same men
and accepted. Why so? Did my character deserve this treat-
ment? Or did my prearranged condemnation give credit and
justification to my accusers? Did Fortune feel no shame for
this? If not for innocence calumniated, at any rate for the
baseness of the calumniators?

"Would you learn the sum of the charges against me? It
was said that 'I had desired the safety of the Senate.' You
would learn in what way. I was charged with 'having hindered
an informer from producing papers by which the Senate could
be accused of treason.' What think you, my mistress? Shall I
deny it lest it shame you? Nay, I did desire the safety of the
Senate, nor shall ever cease to desire it. Shall I confess it?
Then there would have been no need to hinder an informer.
Shall I call it a crime to have wished for the safety of that
order? By its own decrees concerning myself it has established
that this is a crime. Though want of foresight often deceives
itself, it cannot alter the merits of facts, and, in obedience to
the Senate's command, I cannot think it right to hide the
truth or to assent to falsehood.

"However, I leave it to your judgment and that of philoso-
phers to decide how the justice of this may be; but I have
committed to writing for history the true course of events,
that posterity may not be ignorant thereof. I think it unneces-
sary to speak of the forged letters through which I am accused
of 'hoping for the freedom of Rome. 7 Their falsity would have
been apparent if I had been free to question the evidence of
the informers themselves, for their confessions have much
force in all such business.

"But what avails it? No liberty is left to hope for. Would

12 Boethius

there were any! I would answer in the words of Canius, who
was accused by Gaius Caesar, 1 Germanicus's son, of being
cognisant of a plot against himself: 'If I had known of it, you
would not have.'

"And in this matter grief has not so blunted my powers that
I should complain of wicked men making impious attacks
upon virtue: but at this I do wonder, that they should hope
to succeed. Evil desires are, it may be, due to our natural fail-
ings, but that the conceptions of any wicked mind should pre-
vail against innocence while God watches over us, seems to me
unnatural. Wherefore not without cause has one of your own
followers asked, 'If God is, whence come evil things? If He
is not, whence come good?'

"Again, let impious men, who thirst for the blood of the
whole Senate and of all good citizens, be allowed to wish for
the ruin of us too whom they recognise as champions of the
Senate and all good citizens: but surely such as I have not
deserved the same hatred from the members of the Senate too?

"Since you were always present to guide me in my words
and my deeds, I think you remember what happened at
Verona. When King Theodoric, desiring the common ruin of
the Senate, was for extending to the whole order the charge
of treason laid against Albinus, you remember how I laboured
to defend the innocence of the order without any care for my
own danger? You know that I declare this truthfully and with
no boasting praise of self. For the secret value of a conscience,
that approves its own action, is lessened somewhat each time
that it receives the reward of fame by displaying its deeds. But
you see what end has fallen upon my innocency. In the place of
the rewards of honest virtue, I am suffering the punishments
of an ill deed that was not mine. And did ever any direct con-
fession of a crime find its judges so well agreed upon exercising
harshness, that neither the liability of the human heart to err,
nor the changeableness of the fortune of all mankind, could
yield one dissentient voice? If it had been said that I had
wished to burn down temples, to murder with sacrilegious

1 The Emperor Caligula.

The Consolation of Philosophy 13

sword their priests, that I had planned the massacre of all
good citizens, even so I should have been present to plead
guilty or to be convicted, before the sentence was executed.
But here am I, nearly five hundred miles away, without the
opportunity of defending myself, condemned to death and the
confiscation of my property because of my too great zeal for
the Senate. Ah! well have they deserved that none should ever
be liable to be convicted on such a charge! Even those who laid
information have seen the honour of this accusation, for, that
they might blacken it with some criminal ingredient, they
had need to lie, saying that I had violated my conscience by
using unholy means to obtain offices corruptly. But you, by
being planted within me, dispelled from the chamber of my
soul all craving for that which perishes, and where your eyes
were looking there could be no place for any such sacrilege.
For you instilled into my ears, and thus into my daily
thoughts, that saying of Pythagoras, ' Follow after God.' Nor
was it seemly that I, whom you had built up to such excel-
lence that you made me as a god, should seek the support of
the basest wills of men. Yet, further, the innocent life within
my home, my gathering of most honourable friends, my father-
in-law Symmachus, 1 a man esteemed no less in his public life
than for his private conscientiousness, these all put far from
me all suspicion of this crime. But the shame of it! it is
from you that they think they derive the warrant for such a
charge, and we seem to them to be allied to ill-doing from this
very fact that we are steeped in the principles of your teaching,
and trained in your manners of life. Thus it is not enough
that my deep respect for you has profited me nothing, but you
yourself have received wanton contumely from the hatred
that had rather fallen on me. Yet besides this, is another load
added to my heap of woes: the judgment of the world looks
not to the deserts of the case, but to the evolution of chance,
and holds that only this has been intended which good for-
tune may chance to foster: whence it comes that the good
opinion of the world is the first to desert the unfortunate. It

1 Symmachus was executed by Theodoric at the same time as Boethius.

14 Boethius

is wearisome to recall what were the tales by people told,
or how little their many various opinions agreed. This alone
I would fain say: it is the last burden laid upon us by unkind
fortune, that when any charge is invented to be fastened upon
unhappy men, they are believed to have deserved all they have
to bear. For kindness I have received persecutions; I have
been driven from all my possessions, stripped of my honours,
and stained for ever in my reputation. I think I see the intoxi-
cation of joy in the sin-steeped dens of criminals: I see the
most abandoned of men intent upon new and evil schemes of
spying: I see honest men lying crushed with the fear which
smites them after the result of my perilous case: wicked men
one and all encouraged to dare every crime without fear of
punishment, nay, with hope of rewards for the accomplish-
ment thereof: the innocent I see robbed not merely of their
peace and safety, but even of all chance of defending them-
selves. So then I may cry aloud:

"Founder of the star-studded universe, resting on Thine
eternal throne whence Thou turnest the swiftly rolling sky,
and bindest the stars to keep Thy law; at Thy word the moon
now shines brightly with full face, ever turned to her brother's
light, and so she dims the lesser lights; or now she is herself
obscured, for nearer to the sun her beams shew her pale horns
alone. Cool rises the evening star at night's first drawing nigh:
the same is the morning star who casts off the harness that she
bore before, and paling meets the rising sun. When winter's
cold doth strip the trees, Thou settest a shorter span to day.
And Thou, when summer comes to warm, dost change the
short divisions of the night. Thy power doth order the seasons
of the year, so that the western breeze of spring brings back
the leaves which winter's north wind tore away; so that the
dog-star's heat makes ripe the ears of corn whose seed Arc-
turus watched. Naught breaks that ancient law: naught leaves
undone the work appointed to its place. Thus all things Thou
dost rule with limits fixed: the lives of men alone dost Thou
-scorn to restrain, as a guardian, within bounds. For why does

The Consolation of Philosophy 15

Fortune with her fickle hand deal out such changing lots? The
hurtful penalty is due to crime, but falls upon the sinless head:
depraved men rest at ease on thrones aloft, and by their unjust
lot can spurn beneath their hurtful heel the necks of virtuous
men. Beneath obscuring shadows lies bright virtue hid: the
just man bears the unjust's infamy. They suffer not for for-
sworn oaths, they suffer not for crimes glozed over with their
lies. But when their will is to put forth their strength, with
triumph they subdue the mightiest kings whom peoples in
their thousands fear. O Thou who dost weave the bonds of
Nature's self, look down upon this pitiable earth! Mankind
is no base part of this great work, and we are tossed on For-
tune's wave. Restrain, our Guardian, the engulfing surge, and
as Thou dost the unbounded heaven rule, with a like bond
make true and firm these lands."

(Philosophy reassures him.)

While I grieved thus in long-drawn pratings, Philosophy
looked on with a calm countenance, not one whit moved by
my complaints. Then said she, "When I saw you in grief and
in tears I knew thereby that you were unhappy and in exile,
but I knew not how distant was your exile until your speech
declared it. But you have not been driven so far from your
home; you have wandered thence yourself: or if you would
rather hold that you have been driven, you have been driven
by yourself rather than by any other. No other could have
done so to you. For if you recall your true native country,
you know that it is not under the rule of the many-headed
people, as was Athens of old, but there is one Lord, one King,
who rejoices in the greater number of his subjects, not in their
banishment. To be guided by his reins, to bow to his justice,
is the highest liberty. Know you not that sacred and ancient
law of your own state by which it is enacted that no man,
who would establish a dwelling-place for himself therein, may
lawfully be put forth? For there is no fear that any man
should merit exile, if he be kept safe therein by its protecting
walls. But any man that may no longer wish to dwell there,

1 6 Boethius

does equally no longer deserve to be there. Wherefore it is your
looks rather than the aspect of this place which disturb me. 1
It is not the walls of your library, decked with ivory and glass,
that I need, but rather the resting-place in your heart, wherein
I have not stored books, but I have of old put that which
gives value to books, a store of thoughts from books of mine.
As to your services to the common weal, you have spoken
truly, though but scantily, if you consider your manifold
exertions. Of all wherewith you have been charged either
truthfully or falsely, you have but recorded what is well
known. As for the crimes and wicked lies of the informers, you
have rightly thought fit to touch but shortly thereon, for they
are better and more fruitfully made common in the mouth
of the crowd that discusses all matters. You have loudly and
strongly upbraided the unjust ingratitude of the Senate: you
have grieved over the charges made against myself, and shed
tears over the insult to my fair fame: your last outburst of
wrath was against Fortune, when you complained that she
paid no fair rewards according to deserts: finally, you have
prayed with passionate Muse that the same peace and order,
that are seen in the heavens, might also rule the earth. But you
are overwhelmed by this variety of mutinous passions: grief,
rage, and gloom tear your mind asunder, and so in this present
mood stronger measures cannot yet come nigh to heal you.
Let us therefore use gentler means, and since, just as matter
in the body hardens into a swelling, so have these disquieting
influences, let these means soften by kindly handling the
unhealthy spot, until it will bear a sharper remedy.

"When the sign of the crab doth scorch the field, fraught
with the sun's most grievous rays, the husbandman that has
freely intrusted his seed to the fruitless furrow, is cheated by
the faithless harvest-goddess; and he must turn him to the
oak tree's fruit.

"When the field is scarred by the bleak north winds,
wouldst thou seek the wood's dark carpet to gather violets?

*Cp., p. 9.

The Consolation of Philosophy 17

If thou wilt enjoy the grapes, wouldst them seek with clutch-
ing hand to prune the vines in spring? 'Tis in autumn Bacchus
brings his gifts. Thus God marks out the times and fits to
them peculiar works: He has set out a course of change, and
lets no confusion come. If aught betake itself to headlong
ways, and leaves its sure design, ill will the outcome be thereto.

"First then," she continued, "will you let me find out and
make trial of the state of your mind by a few small questions,
so that I may understand what should be the method of your
treatment?"

"Ask," said I, "what your judgment would have you ask,
and I will answer you."

Then said she, "Think you that this universe is guided only
at random and by mere chance? Or think you there is any
rule of reason constituted in it?"

"No, never would I think it could be so, nor believe that
such sure motions could be made at random or by chance. I
know that God, the founder of the universe, does overlook
His work ; nor ever may that day come which shall drive me
to abandon this belief as untrue."

"So is it," she said, "and even so you cried just now, and
only mourned that mankind alone has no part in this divine
guardianship: you were fixed in your belief that all other
things are ruled by reason. Yet, how strange! how much I
wonder how it is that you can be so sick though you are set
in such a health-giving state of mind! But let us look deeper
into it: I cannot but think there is something lacking. Since
you are not in doubt that the universe is ruled by God, tell me
by what method you think that government is guided?"

"I scarcely know the meaning of your question; much less
can I answer it."

"Was I wrong," said she, "to think that something was
lacking, that there was some opening in your armour, some
way by which this distracting disease has crept into your
soul? But tell me, do you remember what is the aim and end
of all things? What the object to which all nature tends?"

1 8 Boethius

"I have heard indeed, but grief has blunted my memory."

"But do you not somehow know whence all things have
their source?"

"Yes," I said; "that source is God."

"Is it possible that you, who know the beginning of all
things, should not know their end? But such are the ways
of these distractions, such is their power, that though they
can move a man's position, they cannot pluck him from him-
self or wrench him from his roots. But this question would I
have you answer: do you remember that you are a man?"

"How can I but remember that?"

"Can you then say what is a man?"

"Need you ask? I know that he is an animal, reasoning
and mortal; that I know, and that I confess myself to be."

"Know you naught else that you are?" asked Philosophy.

"Naught," said I.

"Now," said she, "I know the cause, or the chief cause, of
your sickness. You have forgotten what you are. Now there-
fore I have found out to the full the manner of your sickness,
and how to attempt the restoring of your health. You are over-
whelmed by this forgetfulness of yourself: hence you have
been thus sorrowing that you are exiled and robbed of all your
possessions. You do not know the aim and end of all things;
hence you think that if men are worthless and wicked, they
are powerful and fortunate. You have forgotten by what
methods the universe is guided; hence you think that the
chances of good and bad fortune are tossed about with no
ruling hand. These things may lead not to disease only, but
even to death as well. But let us thank the Giver of all health,
that your nature has not altogether left you. We have yet the
chief spark for your health's fire, for you have a true knowl-
edge of the hand that guides the universe: you do believe that
its government is not subject to random chance, but to divine
reason. Therefore have no fear. From this tiny spark the fire
of life shall forthwith shine upon you. But it is not time to use
severer remedies, and since we know that it is the way of all
minds to clothe themselves ever in false opinions as they throw

The Consolation of Philosophy 19

off the true, and these false ones breed a dark distraction which
confuses the true insight, therefore will I try to lessen this
darkness for a while with gentle applications of easy remedies,
that so the shadows of deceiving passions may be dissipated,
and you may have power to perceive the brightness of true
light."

"When the stars are hidden by black clouds, no light can
they afford. When the boisterous south wind rolls along the
sea and stirs the surge, the water, but now as clear as glass,
bright as the fair sun's light, is dark, impenetrable to sight,
with stirred and scattered sand. The stream, that wanders
down the mountain's side, must often find a stumbling-block,
a stone within its path torn from the hill's own rock. So too
shalt thou: if thou wouldst see the truth in undimmed light,
choose the straight road, the beaten path ; away with passing
joys! away with fear! put vain hopes to flight! and grant no
place to grief! Where these distractions reign, the mind is
clouded o'er, the soul is bound in chains."

BOOK TWO

(Philosophy would prove that his opinions and his griefs are not
justified in one of her followers.)

THEN for a while she held her peace. But when her silence,
so discreet, made my thoughts to cease from straying, she
thus began to speak: "If I have thoroughly learned the causes
and the manner of your sickness, your former good fortune
has so affected you that you are being consumed by longing
for it. The change of this alone has overturned your peace of
mind through your own imagination. I understand the varied
disguises of that unnatural state. I know how Fortune is ever
most friendly and alluring to those whom she strives to de-
ceive, until she overwhelms them with grief beyond bearing,
by deserting them when least expected. If you recall her
nature, her ways, or her deserts, you will see that you never
had in her, nor have lost with her, aught that was lovely. Yet,
I think, I shall not need great labour to recall this to your
memory. For then too, when she was at your side with all her
flattery, you were wont to reproach her in strong and manly
terms; and to revile her with the opinions that you had
gathered in worship of me with my favoured ones. But no
sudden change of outward affairs can ever come without some
upheaval in the mind. Thus has it followed that you, like
others, have fallen somewhat away from your calm peace of
mind. But it is time now for you to make trial of some gentle
and pleasant draught, which by reaching your inmost parts
shall prepare the way for yet stronger healing draughts. Try
therefore the assuring influence of gentle argument which
keeps its straight path only when it holds fast to my instruc-
tions. And with this art of orators let my handmaid, the art

20

The Consolation of Philosophy 2 1

of song, lend her aid in chanting light or weighty harmonies
as we desire.

"What is it, mortal man, that has cast you down into grief
and mourning? You have seen something unwonted, it would
seem, something strange to you. But if you think that Fortune
has changed towards you, you are wrong. These are ever her
ways: this is her very nature. She has with you preserved her
own constancy by her very change. She was ever changeable
at the time when she smiled upon you, when she was mocking
you with the allurements of false good fortune. You have
discovered both the different faces of the blind goddess. To
the eyes of others she is veiled in part: to you she has made
herself wholly known. If you find her welcome, make use of
her ways, and so make no complaining. If she fills you with
horror by her treachery, treat her with despite; thrust her
away from you, for she tempts you to your ruin. For though
she is the cause of this great trouble for you, she ought to have
been the subject of calmness and peace. For no man can ever
make himself sure that she will never desert him, and thus
has she deserted you. Do you reckon such happiness to be
prized, which is sure to pass away? Is good fortune dear to
you, which is with you for a time and is not sure to stay, and
which is sure to bring you unhappiness when it is gone? But
seeing that it cannot be stayed at will, and that when it flees
away it leaves misery behind, what is such a fleeting thing
but a sign of coming misery? Nor should it ever satisfy any
man to look only at that which is placed before his eyes.
Prudence takes measure of the results to come from all things.
The very changeableness of good and bad makes Fortune's
threats no more fearful, nor her smiles to be desired. And
lastly, when you have once put your neck beneath the yoke
of Fortune, you must with steadfast heart bear whatever
comes to pass within her realm. But if you would dictate the
law by which she whom you have freely chosen to be your
mistress must stay or go, surely you will be acting without
justification; and your very impatience will make more bitter

22 Boethius

a lot which you cannot change. If you set your sails before
the wind, will you not move forward whither the wind drives
you, not whither your will may choose to go? If you intrust
your seed to the furrow, will you not weigh the rich years
and the barren against each other? You have given yourself
over to Fortune's rule, and you must bow yourself to your
mistress's ways. Are you trying to stay the force of her turning
wheel? Ah! dull-witted mortal, if Fortune begin to stay still,
she is no longer Fortune.

"As thus she turns her wheel of chance with haughty hand,
and presses on like the surge of Euripus's tides, fortune now
tramples fiercely on a fearsome king, and now deceives no
less a conquered man by raising from the ground his humbled
face. She hears no wretch's cry, she heeds no tears, but wan-
tonly she mocks the sorrow which her cruelty has made. This
is her sport: thus she proves her power; if in the selfsame
hour one man is raised to happiness, and cast down in despair,
'tis thus she shews her might.

(Philosophy shews how Fortune may plead her justification.)
"Now would I argue with you by these few words which
Fortune herself might use: and do you consider whether her
demands are fair. 'Why, O man/ she might say, 'do you daily
accuse me with your complainings? What injustice have I
wrought upon you? Of what good things have I robbed you?
Choose your judge whom you will, and before him strive
with me for the right to hold your wealth and honours. If you
can prove that any one of these does truly belong to any
mortal man, readily will I grant that these you seek to regain
were yours. When nature brought you forth from your
mother's womb, I received you in my arms naked and bare
of all things; I cherished you with my gifts, and I brought
you up all too kindly with my favouring care, wherefore now
you cannot bear with me, and I surrounded you with glory
and all the abundance that was mine to give. Now it pleases
me to withdraw my hand: be thankful, as though you had

The Consolation of Philosophy 23

lived upon my loans. You have no just cause of complaint, as
though you had really lost what was once your own. Why
do you rail against me? I have wrought no violence towards
you. Wealth, honours, and all such are within my rights. They
are my handmaids; they know their mistress; they come with
me and go when I depart. Boldly will I say that if these, of
whose loss you complain, were ever yours, you would never
have lost them at all. Am I alone to be stayed from using my
rightful power? The heavens may grant bright sunlit days,
and hide the same beneath the shade of night. The year may
deck the earth's countenance with flowers and fruits, and
again wrap it with chilling clouds. The sea may charm with
its smoothed surface, but no less justly it may soon bristle
in storms with rough waves. Is the insatiate discontent of man
to bind me to a constancy which belongs not to my ways?
Herein lies my very strength; this is my unchanging sport. I
turn my wheel that spins its circle fairly; I delight to make
the lowest turn to the top, the highest to the bottom. Come
you to the top if you will, but on this condition, that you think
it no unfairness to sink when the rule of my game demands
it. Do you not know my ways? Have you not heard how
Croesus, 1 king of Lydia, who filled even Cyrus with fear but
a little earlier, was miserably put upon a pyre of burning
faggots, but was saved by rain sent down from heaven? Have
you forgotten how Paulus shed tears of respect for the miseries
of his captive, King Perses? 2 For what else is the crying and
the weeping in tragedies but for the happiness of kings over-
turned by the random blow of fortune? Have you never learnt
in your youth the ancient allegory that in the threshold of
Jove's hall there stand two vessels, one full of evil, and one
of good? What if you have received more richly of the good?
What if I have not ever withheld myself from you? What if
my changing nature is itself a reason that you should hope

1 The proverbially rich and happy king; defeated and condemned to
death by Cyrus, king of Media, in 546 B.C., but spared by him.

'The last king of Macedonia, defeated at Pydna, 168 B.C., by L.
^Emilius Paulus.

24 Boethius

for better things? In any way, let not your spirit eat itself
away: you are set in the sphere that is common to all, let
your desire therefore be to live with your own lot in life, a
subject of the kingdom of the world.

" 'If Plenty with overflowing horn scatter her wealth abroad,
abundantly, as in the storm-tossed sea the sand is cast around,
or so beyond all measure as the stars shine forth upon the
studded sky in cloudless nights; though she never stay her
hand, yet will the race of men still weep and wail. Though
God accept their prayers freely and give gold with ungrudging
hand, and deck with honours those who deserve them, yet
when they are gotten, these gifts seem naught. Wild greed
swallows what it has sought, and still gapes wide for more.
What bit or bridle will hold within its course this headlong
lust, when, whetted by abundance of rich gifts, the thirst for
possession burns? Never call we that man rich who is ever
trembling in haste and groaning for that he thinks he lacks.'

(Philosophy proceeds to justify Fortune in the balance of accounts
with Boethius.)

"If Fortune should thus defend herself to you," said Phi-
losophy, "you would have naught, I think, to utter on the
other part. But if you have any just defence for your com-
plaining, you must put it forward. We will grant you the
opportunity of speaking."

Then I answered, "Those arguments have a fair form and
are clothed with all the sweetness of speech and of song. When
a man listens to them, they delight him; but only so long.
The wretched have a deeper feeling of their misfortunes.
Wherefore when these pleasing sounds fall no longer upon
the ear, this deep-rooted misery again weighs down the spirit."

"It is so," she said. "For these are not the remedies for
your sickness, but in some sort are the applications for your
grief which chafes against its cure. When the time comes, I
will apply those which are to penetrate deeply. But that you
may not be content to think yourself wretched, remember

The Consolation of Philosophy 25

how many and how great have been the occasions of your good
fortune. I will not describe how, when you lost your father,
men of the highest rank received you into their care: how
you were chosen by the chief men in the state to be allied
to them by marriage; * and you were dear to them before you
were ever closely related; which is the most valuable of all
relationships. Who hesitated to pronounce you most fortunate
for the greatness of your wives' families, for their virtues,
and for your blessings in your sons too? I need not speak of
those things that are familiar, so I pass over the honours
which are denied to most old men, but were granted to you
when yet young. I choose to come to the unrivalled crown of
your good fortune. If the enjoyment of anything mortal can
weigh at all in the balance of good fortune, can your memory
of one great day ever be extinguished by any mass of accumu-
lated ills? I mean that day when you saw your two sons pro-
ceed forth from your house as consuls together, amid the
crowding senators, the eager and applauding populace: when
they sat down in the seats of honour and you delivered the
speech of congratulation to the king, gaining thereby glory
for your talent and your eloquence: when in the circus you
sat in the place of honour between the consuls, and by a dis-
play of lavishness worthy of a triumphing general, you pleased
to the full the multitude who were crowded around in ex-
pectation.

"While Fortune then favoured you, it seems you flaunted
her, though she cherished you as her own darling. You carried
off a bounty which she had never granted to any citizen be-
fore. Will you then balance accounts with Fortune? This is
the first time that she has looked upon you with a grudging
eye. If you think of your happy and unhappy circumstances
both in number and in kind, you will not be able to say that
you have not been fortunate until now. And if you think that
you were not fortunate because these things have passed away

1 Boelhius's first wife was Elpis, daughter of Festus : his second was
Rusticiana, daughter of Symmachus, a senator and consul, A.D. 485. His
second wife was the mother of the two sons mentioned below.

26 Boethius

which then seemed to bring happiness, these things too are
passing away, which you now hold to be miserable, wherefore
you cannot think that you are wretched now. Is this your first
entrance upon the stage of life? Are you come here unprepared
and a stranger to the scene? Think you that there is any
certainty in the affairs of mankind, when you know that often
one swift hour can utterly destroy a man? For though the
chances of life may seldom be depended upon, yet the last day
of a lifetime seems to be the end of Fortune's power, though
it perhaps would stay. What, think you, should we therefore
say; that you desert her by dying, or that she deserts you by
leaving you?"

"When o'er the heaven Phoebus from his rose-red car be-
gins to shed his light abroad, his flames oppress the paling
stars and blunt their whitened rays. When the grove grows
bright in spring with roses 'neath the west wind's warming
breath, let but the cloudy gale once wildly blow, and their
beauty is gone, the thorns alone remain. Often the sea is calmly
glistening bright with all untroubled waves, but as often does
the north wind stir them up, making the troubling tempest
boil. If then the earth's own covering so seldom constant stays,
if its changes are so great, shalt thou trust the brittle fortunes
of mankind, have faith in fleeting good? For this is sure, and
this is fixed by everlasting law, that naught which is brought
to birth shall constant here abide."

{Boethius pleads that "sorrow's crown of sorrows is remembering
happier things," and Philosophy answers him.)

Then I answered her, "Cherisher of all the virtues, you tell
me but the truth: I cannot deny my rapid successes and my
prosperity. But it is such remembrances that torment me more
than others. For of all suffering from Fortune, the unhappiest
misfortune is to have known a happy fortune."

"But," said Philosophy, "you are paying the penalty for
your mistaken expectations, and with this you cannot justly
charge your life's circumstances. If you are affected by this
empty name of Fortune's gift of happiness, you must listen

The Consolation of Philosophy 27

while I recall how many and how great are your sources of
happiness: and thus, if you have possessed that which is the
most precious among all Fortune's gifts, and if that is still
safe and unharmed in your possession, you will never, while
you keep these better gifts, be able to justly charge Fortune
with unkindness. Firstly, your wife's father, Symmachus, is
still living and hale; and what more precious glory has the
human race than him? And he, because your worth is un-
diminished and your life still so valuable, is mourning for
the injustice you suffer, this man who is wholly made up of
wisdom and virtue. Again, your wife lives, a woman whose
character is full of virtue, whose modesty excels its kind ; a
woman who (to put in a word the gifts she brought you) is
like her father. She lives, and, hating this life, for your sake
alone she clings to it. Herein only will I yield to allow you
unhappiness; she pines with tears and grief through her long-
ing for you. Need I speak of your sons who have both been
consuls, and whose lives, as when they were boys, are yet
bright with the character of their grandfather and their father?
Wherefore, since mortals desire exceedingly to keep a hold
on life, how happy you should be, knew you but your bless-
ings, since you have still what none doubts to be dearer than
life itself? Wherefore now dry your tears. Fortune's hatred
has not yet been so great as to destroy all your holds upon
happiness: the tempest that is fallen upon you is not too great
for you: your anchors hold yet firm, and they should keep
ever nigh to you confidence in the present and hope for future
time."

"And may they continue to hold fast," said I, "that is my
prayer: while they are firm, we will reach the end of our
voyage, however things may be. But you see how much my
glory has departed."

And she answered, "We have made some progress, if you
are not now weary entirely of your present lot. But I cannot
bear this dallying so softly, so long as you complain that your
happiness lacks aught, so long as you are full of sorrow and
care. Whose happiness is so firmly established that he has no

28 Boethius

quarrel from any side with his estate of life? For the condi-
tion of our welfare is a matter fraught with care: either its
completeness never appears, or it never remains. One man's
wealth is abundant, but his birth and breeding put him to
shame. Another is famous for his noble birth, but would rather
be unknown because he is hampered by his narrow means. A
third is blessed with wealth and breeding, but bewails his
life because he has no wife. Another is happy in his marriage,
but has no children, and saves his wealth only for an heir that
is no son of his. Another is blessed with children, but weeps
tears of sorrow for the misdeeds of son or daughter. So none
is readily at peace with the lot his fortune sends him. For in
each case there is that which is unknown to him who has not
experienced it, and which brings horror to him who has ex-
perienced it. Consider further, that the feelings of the most
fortunate men are the most easily affected, wherefore, unless
all their desires are supplied, such men, being unused to all
adversity, are cast down by every little care: so small are the
troubles which can rob them of complete happiness.

"How many are they, think you, who would think them-
selves raised to heaven if the smallest part of the remnants
of your good fortune fell to them? This very place, which you
call a place of exile, is home to those who live herein. Thus
there is nothing wretched unless you think it to be so: and in
like manner he who bears all with a calm mind finds his lot
wholly blessed. Who is so happy but would wish to change
his estate, if he yields to impatience of his lot? With how
much bitterness is the sweetness of man's life mingled! For
even though its enjoyment seem pleasant, yet it may not be
surely kept from departing when it will. It is plain then how
wretched is the happiness of mortal life which neither endures
for ever with men of calm mind, nor ever wholly delights the
care-ridden. Wherefore, then, O mortal men, seek ye that
happiness without, which lies within yourselves? Ye are con-
founded by error and ignorance. I will shew you as shortly as
I may, the pole on which turns the highest happiness. Is there
aught that you value more highly than your own self? You

The Consolation of Philosophy 29

will answer that there is nothing. If then you are master of
yourself, you will be in possession of that which you will never
wish to lose, and which Fortune will never be able to take
from you. Yet consider this further, that you may be assured
that happiness cannot be fixed in matters of chance: if happi-
ness is the highest good of a man who lives his life by reason,
and if that which can by any means be snatched away, is not
the highest good (since that which is best cannot be snatched
away), it is plain that Fortune by its own uncertainty can
never come near to reaching happiness. Further, the man who
is borne along by a happiness which may stumble, either
knows that it may change, or knows it not: if he knows it
not, what happiness can there be in the blindness of ignorance?
If he knows it, he must needs live in fear of losing that which
he cannot doubt that he may lose; wherefore an ever-present
fear allows not such an one to be happy. Or at any rate, if he
lose it without unhappiness, does he not think it worthless?
For that, whose loss can be calmly borne, is indeed a small
good. You, I know well, are firmly persuaded that men's un-
derstandings can never die; this truth is planted deep in you
by many proofs: since then it is plain that the happiness of
fortune is bounded by the death of the body, you cannot doubt
that, if death can carry away happiness, the whole race of
mortals is sinking into wretchedness to be found upon the
border of death. But we know that many have sought the
enjoyment of happiness not only by death, but even by sor-
row and sufferings: how then can the presence of this life
make us happy, when its end cannot make us unhappy?

"He that would build on a lasting resting-place; who would
be firm to resist the blasts of the storming wind; who seeks,
too, safety where he may contemn the surge and threatening
of the sea; must leave the lofty mountain's top, and leave
the thirsting sands. The hill is swept by all the might of the
headstrong gale: the sands dissolve, and will not bear the load
upon them. Let him fly the danger in a lot which is pleasant
rest unto the eye: let him be mindful to set his house surely
upon the lowly rock. Then let the wind bellow, confounding

3O Boethius

wreckage in the sea, and them wilt still be founded upon un-
moving peace, wilt be blessed in the strength of thy defence:
thy life will be spent in calmness, and thou mayest mock the
raging passions of the air.

(Philosophy examines more carefully the value of things highly
prized by men.)

"But now," she continued, "the first remedies of reasoning
are reaching you more deeply, and I think I should now use
those that are somewhat stronger. If the gifts of Fortune fade
not nor pass quickly away, even so, what is there in them
which could ever be truly yours, or which would not lose its
value when examined or thought upon?

"Are riches valuable for their own nature, or on account
of your and other men's natures? Which is the more valuable,
the gold itself or the power of the stored up-money? Surely
wealth shines more brightly when spent than when put away
in masses. Avarice ever brings hatred, while generous spending
brings honour. But that cannot remain with one person which
is handed over to another: therefore money becomes valuable
to its possessor when, by being scattered, it is transferred to
others, and ceases to be possessed. And if all that is heaped
together among mankind comes to one man, it makes the others
all poor. A voice indeed fills equally the ears of all that hear:
but your riches cannot pass to others without being lessened:
and when they pass, they make poor those whom they leave.
How strait then and poor are those riches, which most men
may not have, and which can only come to one by making
others poor!

"Think again of precious stones: does their gleam attract
your eyes? But any excellence they have is their own bril-
liance, and belongs not to men: wherefore I am amazed that
men so strongly admire them. What manner of thing can that
be which has no mind to influence, which has no structure of
parts, and yet can justly seem to a living, reasoning mind to
be beautiful? Though they be works of their creator, and by
their own beauty and adornment have a certain low beauty,

The Consolation of Philosophy 31

yet are they in rank lower than your own excellence, and have
in no wise deserved your admiration.

"Does the beauty of landscape delight you?"

"Surely, for it is a beautiful part of a beautiful creation:
and in like manner we rejoice at times in the appearance of
a calm sea, and we admire the sky, the stars, the sun, and the
moon."

"Does any one of these," said she, "concern you? Dare
you boast yourself of the splendid beauty of any one of such
things? Are you yourself adorned by the flowers of spring?
Is it your richness that swells the fruits of autumn? Why are
you carried away by empty rejoicing? Why do you embrace
as your own the good things which are outside yourself? For-
tune will never make yours what Nature has made to belong
to other things. The fruits of the earth should doubtless serve
as nourishment for living beings, but if you would satisfy
your need as fully as Nature needs, you need not the abun-
dance of Fortune. Nature is content with very little, and if
you seek to thrust upon her more than is enough, then what
you cast in will become either unpleasing or even harmful.

"Again, you think that you appear beautiful in many kinds
of clothing. But if their form is pleasant to the eyes, I would
admire the nature of the material or the skill of the maker.
Or are you made happy by a long line of attendants? Surely
if they are vicious, they are but a burden to the house, and
full of injury to their master himself; while if they are honest,
how can the honesty of others be counted among your pos-
sessions?

"Out of all these possessions, then, which you reckon as
your wealth, not one can really be shown to be your own. For
if they have no beauty for you to acquire, what have they for
which you should grieve if you lose them, or in keeping which
you should rejoice? And if they are beautiful by their own
nature, how are you the richer thereby? For these would have
been pleasing of themselves, though cut out from your pos-
sessions. They do not become valuable by reason that they
have come into your wealth; but you have desired to count

32 Bocthius

them among your wealth, because they seemed valuable. Why
then do you long for them with such railing against Fortune?
You seek, I believe, to put want to flight by means of plenty.
But you find that the opposite results. The more various is
the beauty of furniture, the more helps are needed to keep
it beautiful, and it is ever true that they who have much,
need much; and on the other hand, they need least who meas-
ure their wealth by the needs of nature, not by excess of
display.

"Is there then no good which belongs to you and is im-
planted within you, that you seek your good things elsewhere,
in things without you and separate from you? Have things
taken such a turn that the animal, whose reason gives it a
claim to divinity, cannot seem beautiful to itself except by
the possession of lifeless trappings? Other classes of things
are satisfied by their intrinsic possessions; but men, though
made like God in understanding, seek to find among the lowest
things adornment for their higher nature: and you do not
understand that you do a great wrong thereby to your Creator.
He intended that the human race should be above all other
earthly beings; yet you thrust down your honourable place
below the lowest. For if every good thing is allowed to be
more valuable than that to which it belongs, surely you are
putting yourselves lower than them in your estimation, since
you think precious the most worthless of things; and this is
indeed a just result. Since, then, this is the condition of hu-
man nature, that it surpasses other classes only when it realises
what is in itself; as soon as it ceases to know itself, it must
be reduced to a lower rank than the beasts. To other animals
ignorance of themselves is natural; in men it is a fault. How
plainly and how widely do you err by thinking that anything
can be adorned by ornaments that belong to others! Surely
that cannot be. For if anything becomes brilliant by additions
thereto, the praise for the brilliance belongs to the additions.
But the subject remains in its own vileness, though hidden and
covered by these externals.

"Again, I say that naught can be a good thing which does

The Consolation of Philosophy 33

harm to its possessor. Am I wrong? 'No/ you will say. Yet
many a time do riches harm their possessors, since all base
men, who are therefore the most covetous, think that they
themselves alone are worthy to possess all gold and precious
stones. You therefore, who now go in fear of the cudgel and
sword of the robber, could laugh in his face if you had entered
upon this path with empty pockets. 1 How wonderful is the sur-
passing blessing of mortal wealth! As soon as you have ac-
quired it, your cares begin!

"O happy was that early age of men, contented with their
trusted and unfailing fields, nor ruined by the wealth that
enervates. Easily was the acorn got that used to satisfy their
longwhile fast. They knew not Bacchus' gifts, nor honey
mixed therewith. They knew not how to tinge with Tyre's
purple dyes the sheen of China's silks. Their sleep kept health
on rush and grass; the stream gave them to drink as it flowed
by: the lofty pine to them gave shade. Not one of them yet
clave the ocean's depths, nor, carrying stores of merchandise,
had visited new shores. Then was not heard the battle's
trump, nor had blood made red with bitter hate the bristling
swords of war. For why should any madness urge to take up
first their arms upon an enemy such ones as knew no sight
of cruel wounds nor knew rewards that could be reaped in
blood? Would that our times could but return to those old
ways! But love of gain and greed of holding burn more fiercely
far than ^Etna's fires. Ah! who was the wretch who first un-
earthed the mass of hidden gold, the gems that only longed
to lie unfound? For full of danger was the prize he found.

"What am I to say of power and of the honours of office,
which you raise to heaven because you know not true hon-
oured power? What fires belched forth from ^Etna's flames,
what overwhelming flood could deal such ruin as these when

1 This is an application of Juvenal's lines (Sat. x. 19) which contrast
the terror of the money-laden traveller with the careless happiness of tht
man who meets a highwayman with no purse and empty pockets.

34 Boethius

they fall into the hands of evil men? I am sure you remember
how your forefathers wished to do away with the consular
power, which had been the very foundation of liberty, because
of the overbearing pride of the consuls, just as your ancestors
had too in earlier times expunged from the state the name of
king on account of the same pride. But if, as rarely happens,
places of honour are granted to honest men, what else is de-
lightful in them but the honesty they practise thereby? Where-
fore honour comes not to virtue from holding office, but comes
to office from virtues there practised.

"But what is the power which you seek and esteem so
highly? O creatures of the earth, can you not think over whom
you are set? If you saw in a community of mice, one mouse
asserting his rights and his power over the others, with what
mirth you would greet the sight! Yet if you consider the body,
what can you find weaker than humanity? Cannot a tiny gnat
by its bite, or by creeping into the inmost parts, kill that body?
How can any exercise right upon any other except upon the
body alone, or that which is below the body, whereby I mean
the fortunes? Can you ever impose any law upon a free spirit?
Can you ever disturb the peculiar restfulness which is the
property of a mind that hangs together upon the firm basis
of its reason? When a certain tyrant thought that by tortures
he would compel a free man 1 to betray the conspirators in a
plot against his life, the philosopher bit through his tongue
and spat it out in the tyrant's face. Thus were the tortures,
which the tyrant intended to have cruel results, turned by
the philosopher into subjects of high courage. Is there aught
that one man can do to another, which he may not suffer from
another in his turn? We have heard how Busiris, who used to
kill strangers, was killed by Hercules when he came to Egypt.
Regulus,* who had cast into chains many a Carthaginian cap-
tive, soon yielded himself a prisoner to their chains. Do you

1 This story is told of Anaxagoras and Nicocreon, king of Cyprus, c.
B.C. 323-

1 Regulus was the Roman general in Sicily in the first Punic War, taken
prisoner in 255 B.C., and put to death in 250.

The Consolation of Philosophy 35

think that power to be any power, whose possessor cannot
ensure his own escape from suffering at another's hands what
he inflicts upon some other?

"Further, if there were any intrinsic good in the nature of
honours and powers themselves, they could never crowd upon
the basest men. For opposites will not be bound together.
Nature refuses to allow contraries to be linked to each other.
Wherefore, while it is undoubted that for the most part offices
of honour are enjoyed by bad men, it is also manifest that
those things are not by nature good, which allow themselves
to cling to evil men. And this indeed may worthily be held
of all the gifts of fortune which come with the greatest success
to the most unscrupulous. And in this matter we must also
think on this fact, that no one doubts a man to be brave in
whom he has found by examination that bravery is implanted:
and whoever has the quality of swiftness is plainly swift. So
also music makes men musical, medicine makes men phy-
sicians, oratory makes men orators. The nature of each quality
acts as is peculiar to itself: it is not confused with the results
of contrary qualities, but goes so far as to drive out those
qualities which are opposed to it. Wealth cannot quench the
insatiable thirst of avarice: nor can power ever make master
of himself the man whom vicious passions hold fast in un-
breakable chains. Honours, when joined to dishonest men, so
far from making them honourable, betray them rather, and
show them to be dishonourable. Why is this so? It is because
you rejoice to call things by false names which belong not to
them; their names are refuted by the reality of their qualities:
wherefore neither riches, nor that kind of power, nor these
honours, can justly so be called. Lastly, we may come to the
same conclusion concerning all the aspects of Fortune: noth-
ing is to be sought in her, and it is plain she has no innate
good, for she is not always joined with good men, nor does
she make good those with whom she is joined."

f{ We have heard what ruin Nero wrought when Rome was
burnt and senators were slain. We know how savagely he did

36 Boethius

to death his brother, 1 how he was stained by the spilling of
his own mother's blood, and how he looked upon her cold
body and yet no tear fell upon his cheek: yet could this man
be judge of the morals that were dead? Nay, he was ruler of
the peoples whom the sun looks upon from the time he rises
in the east until he hides his rays beneath the waves, and those
whom the chilling northern Wain o'errules, and those whom
the southern gale burns with its dry blast, as it heats the
burning sands. Say, could great power chasten Nero's mad-
dened rage? Ah! heavy fate, how often is the sword of high
injustice given where is already most poisonous cruelty! "

Then I said, "You know that the vain-glory of this world
has had but little influence over me; but I have desired the
means of so managing affairs that virtue might not grow aged
in silence."

(Philosophy discusses Fame, "that last infirmity of noble minds.")

"Yes," said she, "but there is one thing which can attract
minds, which, though by nature excelling, yet are not led by
perfection to the furthest bounds of virtue; and that thing is
the love of fame and reputation for deserving well of one's
country. Think then thus upon it, and see that it is but a slight
thing of no weight. As you have learnt from astronomers'
shewing, the whole circumference of the earth is but as a point
compared with the size of the heavens. That is, if you compare
the earth with the circle of the universe, it must be reckoned
as of no size at all. And of this tiny portion of the universe
there is but a fourth part, as you have learnt from the demon-
stration of Ptolemseus, 8 which is inhabited by living beings
known to us. If from this fourth part you imagine subtracted
all that is covered by sea and marsh, and all the vast regions
of thirsty desert, you will find but the narrowest space left for

1 Britannicus, son of Nero's father, the Emperor Claudius, put to death
A.D. 55-

* A mathematician, astronomer, and geographer of Alexandria. Fl.
140-160 AJX Boethius translated one of his works.

The Consolation of Philosophy 37

human habitation. And do you think of setting forth your
fame and publishing your name in this space, which is but
as a point within another point so closely circumscribed? And
what size or magnificence can fame have which is shut in by
such close and narrow bounds? Further, this narrow enclosure
of habitation is peopled by many races of men which differ
in language, in customs, and in their whole scheme of living;
and owing to difficulty of travelling, differences of speech, and
rareness of any intercourse, the fame of cities cannot reach
them, much less the fame of men. Has not Cicero written
somewhere that in his time the fame of Rome had not reached
the mountains of the Caucasus, though the Republic was al-
ready well grown and striking awe among the Parthians and
other nations in those parts? Do you see then how narrow
and closely bounded must be that fame which you wish to
extend more widely? Can the fame of a Roman ever reach
parts to which the name of Rome cannot come?

"Further, the manners and customs of different races are so
little in agreement, that what is considered praiseworthy
among one people may be punished by another. Wherefore
it may not be to a man's advantage in many lands to make
his name known, because he takes pleasure in a glorious fame.
So each man shall be content if his fame travels throughout
his own countrymen, and the immortality of his name shall be
bounded by the limits of one nation. But how many men, the
most famous of their times, are wiped out by oblivion because
no man has written of them I * And yet what advantage is there
in much that is written? For with their authors these writings
are overwhelmed in the length and dimness of age. Yet when
you think upon your fame in future ages, you seem to think

1 Boethius is thinking of Horace, Odes iv. 9.

Ere Agamemnon saw the light,
There lived brave men : but tearless all

Enfolded in eternal night,
For lack of sacred minstrels, fall.

(Mr. Gladstone's translation.)

38 Bocthius

that you are prolonging it to immortality. But if you think
upon the unending length of eternity, what enjoyment do you
find in the long endurance of your name? For though one
moment bears but the least proportion to ten thousand years,
yet there is a definite ratio, because both are limited spaces
of time. But even ten thousand years, or the greatest number
you will, cannot even be compared with eternity. For there
will always be ratio between finite things, but between the
finite and the infinite there can never be any comparison.
Wherefore, however long drawn out may be the life of your
fame, it is not even small, but it is absolutely nothing when
compared with eternity. You know not how to act rightly
except for the breezes of popular opinion and for the sake of
empty rumours; thus the excellence of conscience and of virtue
is left behind, and you seek rewards from the tattle of other
men. Listen to the witty manner in which one played once
upon the shallowness of this pride. A certain man once bit-
terly attacked another who had taken to himself falsely the
name of philosopher, not for the purpose of true virtue, but
for pride of fame; he added to his attack that he would know
soon whether he was a philosopher, when he saw whether the
other bore with meekness and patience the insults he heaped
upon him. The other shewed patience for a while and took
the insults as though he scoffed at them, until he said, 'Do
you now see that I am a philosopher?' 'I should have, had you
kept silence/ said the other stingingly. But we are speaking
of great men: and I ask, what do they gain from fame, though
they seek glory by virtue? What have they after the body is
dissolved at death? For if men die utterly, as our reason for-
bids us to believe, there is no glory left to them at all, since
they whose it is said to be, do not exist. If, on the other hand,
the mind is still conscious and working when it is freed from
its earthly prison, it seeks heaven in its freedom and surely
spurns all earthly traffic: it enjoys heaven and rejoices in its
release from the things of this world.

The Consolation of Philosophy 39

"The mind that rushes headlong in its search for fame,
thinking that is its highest good, should look upon the spread-
ing regions of the air, and then upon the bounded tracts that
are this world: then will shame enter it; that, though fame
grow, yet can it never fill so small a circle. Proud men! Why
will ye try in vain to free your necks from the yoke mortality
has set thereon? Though fame may be wide scattered and find
its way through distant lands, and set the tongues there talk-
ing; though a splendid house may draw brilliance from famous
names and tales ; yet death regards not any glory, howsoever
great. Alike he overwhelms the lowly and the lofty head, and
levels high with low.

"Where are Fabricius's * bones, that honourable man? What
now is Brutus? 2 or unbending Cato? 3 Their fame survives in
this: it has no more than a few slight letters shewing forth an
empty name. We see their noble names engraved, and only
know thereby that they are brought to naught. Ye lie then all
unknown, and fame can give no knowledge of you. But if you
think that life can be prolonged by the breath of mortal fame,
yet when the slow time robs you of this too, then there awaits
you but a second death.

"But," she said, "do not think that I would urge implacable
war upon Fortune. There are times when her deception of men
has certain merits: I mean when she discovers herself, unveils
her face, and proclaims her ways. Perhaps you do not yet
understand what I would say. It is a strange thing that I am
trying to say, and for that reason I can scarcely explain myself
in words. I think that ill fortune is of greater advantage to

1 Fabricius was the Roman general whom Pyrrhus could neither bribe
nor intimidate, B.C. 280.

a L. Junius Brutus, who led the Romans to expel the last of the kings,
and was elected the first consul, B.C. 509.

'Probably Cato Major, the great censor, B.C. 184, the rigid champion
of the stern old Roman morals ; or possibly Cato Minor, who committed
suicide at Utica after the battle of Thapsus, B.C. 46, because he considered
that Caesar's victory was fatal to the Republic and the liberty of Rome.

4O Boethius

men than good fortune. Good fortune is ever lying when she
seems to favour by an appearance of happiness. Ill fortune
is ever true when by her changes she shews herself inconstant.
The one deceives; the other edifies. The one by a deceitful ap-
pearance of good things enchains the minds of those who enjoy
them: the other frees them by a knowledge that happiness is
so fragile. You see, then, that the one is blown about by
winds, is ever moving and ever ignorant of its own self; the
other is sober, ever prepared and ever made provident by the
undergoing of its very adversities. Lastly, good fortune draws
men from the straight path of true good by her fawning: ill
fortune draws most men to the true good, and holds them back
by her curved staff.

"And do you think that this should be reckoned among the
least benefits of this rough, unkind, and terrible ill fortune,
that she has discovered to you the minds of your faithful
friends? Fortune has distinguished for you your sure and your
doubtful friends; her departure has taken away her friends
and left you yours. At what price could you have bought this
benefit if you had been untouched and, as you thought, for-
tunate? Cease then to seek the wealth you have lost. You have
found your friends, and they are the most precious of all riches.

"Through Love 1 the universe with constancy makes changes
all without discord: earth's elements, though contrary, abide
in treaty bound: Phoebus in his golden car leads up the glow>
ing day; his sister rules the night that Hesperus brought: the
greedy sea confines its waves in bounds, lest the earth's borders
be changed by its beating on them: all these are firmly bound
by Love, which rules both earth and sea, and has its empire
in the heavens too. If Love should slacken this its hold, all
mutual love would change to war; and these would strive
to undo the scheme which now their glorious movements carry

1 Boethius in this passage is probably thinking of Empcdocles's doc-
trine of Love which unites, and Strife which divides, the two primal
forces in the universe.

The Consolation of Philosophy 41

out with trust and with accord. By Love are peoples too kept
bound together by a treaty which they may not break. Love
binds with pure affection the sacred tie of wedlock, and speaks
its bidding to all trusty friends. O happy race of mortals, if
your hearts are ruled as is the universe, by Lovel " *

1 Cp. Bk. i. Prose iv. p. 10.

BOOK THREE

WHEN she finished her lay, its soothing tones left me spell-
bound with my ears alert in my eagerness to listen. So a while
afterwards I said, "Greatest comforter of weary minds, how
have you cheered me with your deep thoughts and sweet sing-
ing too! No more shall I doubt my power to meet the blows
of Fortune. So far am I from terror at the remedies which
you did lately tell me were sharper, that I am longing to hear
them, and eagerly I beg you for them."

Then said she, "I knew it when you laid hold upon my
words in silent attention, and I was waiting for that frame
of mind in you, or more truly, I brought it about in you. They
that remain are indeed bitter to the tongue, but sweet to the
inner man. But as you say you are eager to hear, how ardently
you would be burning, if you knew whither I am attempting
to lead you!"

"Whither is that?" I asked.

"To the true happiness, of which your soul too dreams; but
your sight is taken up in imaginary views thereof, so that you
cannot look upon itself."

Then said I, "I pray you shew me what that truly is, and
quickly."

"I will do so," she said, "for your sake willingly. But first
I will try to picture in words and give you the form of the
cause, which is already better known to you, so that, when
that picture is perfect and you turn your eyes to the other
side, you may recognise the form of true happiness.

"When a man would sow in virgin soil, first he clears away
the bushes, cuts the brambles and the ferns, that the corn-

The Consolation of Philosophy 43

goddess may go forth laden with her new fruit. The honey,
that the bee has toiled to give us, is sweeter when the mouth
has tasted bitter things. The stars shine with more pleasing
grace when a storm has ceased to roar and pour down rain.
After the morning star has dispersed the shades of night, the
day in all its beauty drives its rosy chariot forth. So thou hast
looked upon false happiness first; now draw thy neck from
under her yoke: so shall true happiness now come into thy
soul."

(Philosophy discusses "the highest good")
She lowered her eyes for a little while as though searching
the innermost recesses of her mind; and then she continued:
"The trouble of the many and various aims of mortal men
bring them much care, and herein they go forward by different
paths but strive to reach one end, which is happiness. And
that good is that, to which if any man attain, he can desire
nothing further. It is that highest of all good things, and it
embraces in itself all good things: if any good is lacking, it
cannot be the highest good, since then there is left outside
it something which can be desired. Wherefore happiness is a
state which is made perfect by the union of all good things.
This end all men seek to reach, as I said, though by different
paths. For there is implanted by nature in the minds of men
a desire for the true good; but error leads them astray towards
false goods by wrong paths.

"Some men believe that the highest good is to lack nothing,
and so they are at pains to possess abundant riches. Others
consider the true good to be that which is most worthy of ad-
miration, and so they strive to attain to places of honour, and
to be held by their fellow-citizens in honour thereby. Some
determine that the highest good lies in the highest power;
and so they either desire to reign themselves, or try to cleave
to those who do reign. Others think that renown is the greatest
good, and they therefore hasten to make a famous name by
the arts of peace or of war. But more than all measure the

44 Boethius

fruit of good by pleasure and enjoyment, and these think that
the happiest man is abandoned to pleasure.

"Further, there are those who confuse the aims and the
causes of these good things: as those who desire riches for
the sake of power or of pleasure, or those who seek power for
the sake of money or celebrity. In these, then, and other things
like to them, lies the aim of men's actions and prayers, such
as renown and popularity, which seem to afford some fame,
or wife and children, which are sought for the pleasure they
give. On the other hand, the good of friends, which is the most
honourable and holy of all, lies not in Fortune's but in Virtue's
realm. All others are adopted for the sake of power or enjoy-
ment.

"Again, it is plain that the good things of the body must
be accounted to those false causes which we have mentioned;
for bodily strength and stature seem to make men more able
and strong; beauty and swiftness seem to give renown; health
seems to give pleasure. By all these happiness alone is plainly
desired. For each man holds that to be the highest good, which
he seeks before all others. But we have defined the highest
good to be happiness. Wherefore what each man desires above
all others, he holds to be a state of happiness.

"Wherefore you have each of these placed before you as
the form of human happiness: wealth, honours, power, glory,
and pleasure. Epicurus 1 considered these forms alone, and
accordingly determined upon pleasure as the highest good,
because all the others seemed but to join with it in bringing
enjoyment to the mind.

"But to return to the aims of men: their minds seem to
seek to regain the highest good, and their memories seem to
dull their powers. It is as though a drunken man were seeking
his home, but could not remember the way thither. Can those

1 Epicurus (B.C. 342-270) was the famous founder of the Epicurean
school of philosophy. His school had a large following of Romans
under the Empire. His own teaching was of a higher nature than might
be supposed from this bare statement that he thought "pleasure was
the highrat good."

The Consolation of Philosophy 45

people be altogether wrong whose aim it is to lack nothing?
No, there is nothing which can make happiness so perfect as
an abundant possession of good things, needing naught that
belongs to others, but in all ways sufficing for itself. Surely
those others too are not mistaken who think that what is best
is also most worthy of reverence and respect. It cannot be
any cheap or base thing, to attain which almost all men aim
and strive. And is power not to be accounted a good thing?
Surely it is: can that be a weak thing or forceless, which is
allowed in all cases to excel? Is renown of no value? We can-
not surrender this; that whatever is most excellent, has also
great renown. It is hardly worth saying that happiness has no
torturing cares or gloom, and is not subject to grief and trou-
ble; for even in small things, the aim is to find that which it is
a delight to have and to enjoy. These, then, are the desires
of men: they long for riches, places of honour, kingdoms,
glory, and pleasure; and they long for them because they
think that thereby they will find satisfaction, veneration,
power, renown, and happiness. It is the good then which men
seek by their different desires; and it is easy to shew how
great a force nature has put therein, since in spite of such
varying and discordant opinions, they are all agreed in the
goal they seek, that of the highest good.

"I would to pliant strings set forth a song of how almighty
Nature turns her guiding reins, telling with what laws her
providence keeps safe this boundless universe, binding and
tying each and all with cords that never shall be loosed. The
lions of Carthage, though they bear the gorgeous bonds and
trappings of captivity, and eat the food that is given them
by hand, and though they fear their harsh master with his
lash they know so well; yet if once blood has touched their
bristling jaws, their old, their latent wills return; with deep
roaring they remember their old selves; they loose their bands
and free their necks, and their tamer is the first torn by their
cruel teeth, and his blood is poured out by their rage and
wrath.

46 Bocthius

"If the bird who sings so lustily upon the high tree-top, be
caught and caged, men may minister to him with dainty care,
may give him cups of liquid honey and feed him with all gen-
tleness on plenteous food; yet if he fly to the roof of his cage
and see the shady trees he loves, he spurns with his foot the
food they have put before him; the woods are all his sorrow
calls for, for the woods he sings with his sweet tones.

"The bough which has been downward thrust by force of
strength to bend its top to earth, so soon as the pressing hand
is gone, looks up again straight to the sky above.

"Phoebus sinks into the western waves, but by his unknown
track he turns his car once more to his rising in the east.

"All things must find their own peculiar course again, and
each rejoices in his own return. Not one can keep the order
handed down to it, unless in some way it unites its rising to
its end, and so makes firm, immutable, its own encircling
course.

(Philosophy shews the vanity of riches.)
"And you too, creatures of the earth, do dream of your
first state, though with a dim idea. With whatsoever thinking
it may be, you look to that goal of happiness, though never
so obscure your thoughts: thither, to true happiness, your
natural course does guide you, and from the same your various
errors lead you. For I would have you consider whether men
can reach the end they have resolved upon, namely happiness,
by these ways by which they think to attain thereto. If money
and places of honour and such-like do bring anything of that
sort to a man who seems to lack no good thing, then let us
acknowledge with them that men do become happy by the
possession of these things. But if they cannot perform their
promises, and there is still lack of further good things, surely
it is plain that a false appearance of happiness is there dis-
covered. You, therefore, who had lately abundant riches, shall
first answer me. With all that great wealth, was your mind
never perturbed by torturing care arising from some sense of
injustice?"

The Consolation of Philosophy 47

"Yes," I said; "I cannot remember that my mind was ever
free from some such care."

"Was it not because something was lacking, which you
missed, or because something was present to you which you
did not like to have?"

"Yes," I answered.

"You desired, then, the presence of the one, and the ab-
sence of the other?"

"I acknowledge it."

"Then," said she, "such a man lacks what he desires."

"He does."

"But while a man lacks anything, can he possibly satisfy
himself?"

"No," said I.

"Then, while you were bountifully supplied with wealth,
you felt that you did not satisfy yourself?"

"I did indeed."

"Then," said she, "wealth cannot prevent a man from lack-
ing or make him satisfied. And this is what it apparently
professed to do. And this point too I feel is most important:
money has in itself, by its own nature, nothing which can
prevent its being carried off from those, who possess it, against
their will."

"It has not," I said.

"No, you cannot deny that any stronger man may any day
snatch it from them. For how come about the quarrels of the
law-courts? Is it not because people try to regain money that
has been by force or by fraud taken from them?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Then," said she, "a man will need to seek from the out-
side help to guard his own money."

"That cannot be denied," I said.

"And a man will not need that unless he possesses money
which he can lose."

"Undoubtedly he will not."

"Then the argument turns round the other way," she said.
"The riches which were thought to make a man all-sufficient

48 Boethius

for himself, do really put him in need of other people's help.
Then how can need be separated from wealth? Do the rich
never feel hunger nor thirst? Do the limbs of moneyed men
never feel the cold of winter? You will say, 'Yes, but the rich
have the wherewithal to satisfy hunger and thirst, and drive
away cold/ But though riches may thus console wants, they
cannot entirely take them away. For, though these ever crying
wants, these continual requests, are satisfied, yet there must
exist that which is to be satisfied. I need not say that nature
is satisfied with little, greed is never satisfied. Wherefore, I
ask you, if wealth cannot remove want, and even creates its
own wants, what reason is there that you should think it
affords satisfaction to a man?

"Though the rich man with greed heap up from ever-
flowing streams the wealth that cannot satisfy, though he
deck himself with pearls from the Red Sea's shore, and plough
his fertile field with oxen by the score, yet gnawing care will
never in his lifetime leave him, and at his death his wealth
will not go with him, but leave him faithlessly."

(The vanity of high places.)

"But," I urged, "places of honour make the man, to whom
they fall, honoured and venerated."

"Ah! " she answered, "have those offices their force in truth
that they may instil virtues into the minds of those that hold
them, and drive out vices therefrom? And yet we are too well
accustomed to see them making wickedness conspicuous rather
than avoiding it. Wherefore we are displeased to see such
places often falling to the most wicked of men, so that Catullus
called Nonius 'a diseased growth,' * though he sat in the high-
est chair of office. Do you see how great a disgrace high
honours can add to evil men? Their unworthiness is less con-

1 Probably Boethius makes a mistake in his interpretation of Catullus
(Carm. 52), as Nonius's surname was very likely "Struma" (which
also means a wen) ; in which case Catullus cannot at most have in-
tended more to be understood than a play upon the man's true name.

The Consolation of Philosophy 49

spicuous if they are not made famous by honours. Could you
yourself have been induced by any dangers to think of being
a colleague with Decoratus, 1 when you saw that he had the
mind of an unscrupulous buffoon, and a base informer? We
cannot consider men worthy of veneration on account of their
high places, when we hold them to be unworthy of those high
places. But if you see a man endowed with wisdom, you cannot
but consider him worthy of veneration, or at least of the wis-
dom with which he is endowed. For such a man has the worth
peculiar to virtue, which it transmits directly to those in whom
it is found. But since honours from the vulgar crowd cannot
create merit, it is plain that they have not the peculiar beauty
of this worth. And here is a particular point to be noticed:
if men are the more worthless as they are despised by more
people, high position makes them all the worse because it
cannot make venerable those whom it shews to so many people
to be contemptible. And this brings its penalty with it: wicked
people bring a like quality into their positions, and stain them
with their infection.

"Now I would have you consider the matter thus, that you
may recognise that true veneration cannot be won through
these shadowy honours. If a man who had filled the office of
consul many times in Rome, came by chance into a country
of barbarians, would his high position make him venerated
by the barbarians? Yet if this were a natural quality in such
dignities, they would never lose their effective function in any
land, just as fire is never aught but hot in all countries. But
since they do not receive this quality of veneration from any
force peculiar to themselves, but only from a connexion in the
untrustworthy opinions of men, they become as nothing as
soon as they are among those who do not consider these dig-
nities as such.

"But that is only in the case of foreign peoples. Among the
very peoples where they had their beginnings, do these digni-
ties last for ever? Consider how great was the power in Rome

1 Decoratus was a minion of Theodoric.

5O Boethius

of old of the office of Prefect: now it is an empty name and a
heavy burden upon the income of any man of Senator's rank.
The prefect then, who was commissioner of the corn-market,
was held to be a great man. Now there is no office more de-
spised. For, as I said before, that which has no intrinsic beauty,
sometimes receives a certain glory, sometimes loses it, ac-
cording to the opinion of those who are concerned with it.
If then high offices cannot make men venerated, if further-
more they grow vile by the infection of bad men, if changes
of time can end their glory, and, lastly, if they are held cheaply
in the estimation of whole peoples, I ask you, so far from
affording true beauty to men, what beauty have they in them-
selves which men can desire?

"Though Nero decked himself proudly with purple of Tyre
and snow-white gems, none the less that man of rage and
luxury lived ever hated of all. Yet would that evil man at
times give his dishonoured offices to men who were revered.
Who then could count men blessed, who to such a villain
owed their high estate?

(The vanity of kingdoms.)

"Can kingdoms and intimacies with kings make people
powerful? 'Certainly,' some may answer, 'in so far as their
happiness is lasting.' But antiquity and our times too are full
of examples of the contrary; examples of men whose happi-
ness as kings has been exchanged for disaster. What wonder-
ful power, which is found to be powerless even for its own
preservation! But if this kingly power is really a source of
happiness, surely then, if it fail in any way, it lessens the
happiness it brings, and equally causes unhappiness. How-
ever widely human empires may extend, there must be still
more nations left, over whom each king does not reign. And
so, in whatever direction this power ceases to make happy,
thereby comes in power lessncss, which makes men unhappy;
thus therefore there must be a greater part of unhappiness

The Consolation of Philosophy 51

in every king's estate. That tyrant 1 had learnt well the dan-
gers of his lot, who likened the fear which goes with kingship
to the terror inspired by a sword ever hanging overhead. What
then is such a power, which cannot drive away the bite of cares,
nor escape the stings of fear?

"Yet these all would willingly live without fear, but they
cannot, and yet they boast of their power. Think you a man
is powerful when you see that he longs for that which he
cannot bring to pass? Do you reckon a man powerful who
walks abroad with dignity and attended by servants? A man
who strikes fear into his subjects, yet fears them more himself?
A man who must be at the mercy of those that serve him, in
order that he may seem to have power?

"Need I speak of intimacies with kings when kingship itself
is shewn to be full of weakness? Not only when kings' powers
fall are their friends laid low, but often even when their
powers are intact. Nero compelled his friend and tutor,
Seneca,* to choose how he would die. Papinianus, 8 for a long
while a powerful courtier, was handed over to the soldiers'
swords by the Emperor Antoninus. Yet each of these was
willing to surrender all his power. Seneca even tried to give
up all his wealth to Nero, and to seek retirement. But the
very weight of their wealth and power dragged them down to
ruin, and neither could do what he wished.

"What then is that power, whose possessors fear it? In de-
siring to possess which, you are not safe, and from which
you cannot escape, even though you try to lay it down? What
help are friends, made not by virtue but by fortune? The
friend gained by good fortune becomes an enemy in ill-fortune.

1 Dionysius, tyrant of Syracuse, shewed his flattering courtier Da-
mocles, what it was to be a tyrant, by setting him in his own seat at a
sumptuous banquet, but hung a sword above him by a hair.

9 Seneca, the philosopher and wise counsellor of Nero, was by him
compelled to commit suicide, A.D. 65.

* Papinianus, the greatest lawyer of his time, was put to death by the
Emperor Antoninus Caracalla, A.D. 212.

52 Boethius

And what plague can more effectually injure than an intimate
enemy?

"The man who would true power gain, must needs subdue
his own wild thoughts: never must he let his passions triumph
and yoke his neck by their foul bonds. For though the earth,
as far as India's shore, tremble before the laws you give,
though Thule bow to your service on earth's farthest bounds,
yet if thou canst not drive away black cares, if thou canst not
put to flight complaints, then is no true power thine.

(The vanity of earthly glory, fame.)

"How deceitful is fame often, and how base a thing it is!
Justly did the tragic poet cry out, 1 'O Fame, Fame, how many
lives of men of naught hast thou puffed up!' For many men
have got a great name from the false opinions of the crowd.
And what could be baser than such a thing? For those who
are falsely praised, must blush to hear their praises. And if
they are justly won by merits, what can they add to the pleas-
ure of a wise man's conscience? For he measures his happiness
not by popular talk, but by the truth of his conscience. If it
attracts a man to make his name widely known, he must equal-
ly think it a shame if it be not made known. But I have already
said that there must be yet more lands into which the renown
of a single man can never come; wherefore it follows that the
man, whom you think famous, will seem to have no such fame
in the next quarter of the earth.

"Popular favour seems to me to be unworthy even of men-
tion under this head, for it comes not by any judgment, and is
never constant.

(The vanity of noble birth.)

"Again, who can but see how empty a name, and how futile,
is noble birth? For if its glory is due to renown, it belongs not

1 Euripides, Andromache, 1. 319-320.

The Consolation of Philosophy 53

to the man. For the glory of noble birth seems to be praise for
the merits of a man's forefathers. But if praise creates the
renown, it is the renowned who are praised. Wherefore, if you
have no renown of your own, that of others cannot glorify you.
But if there is any good in noble birth, I conceive it to be this,
and this alone, that the highborn seem to be bound in honour
not to show any degeneracy from their fathers' virtue.

"From like beginning rise all men on earth, for there is one
Father of all things; one is the guide of everything. Tis
He who gave the sun his rays, and horns unto the moon. 'Tis
He who set mankind on earth, and in the heavens the stars. He
put within our bodies spirits which were born in heaven. And
thus a highborn race has He set forth in man. Why do ye men
rail on your forefathers? If ye look to your beginning and your
author, which is God, is any man degenerate or base but he
who by his own vices cherishes base things and leaves that
beginning which was his?

(The vanity of the lusts oj the flesh.)

"And now what am I to say of the pleasures of the body?
The desires of the flesh are full of cares, their fulfilment is full
of remorse. What terrible diseases, what unbearable griefs,
truly the fruits of sin, do they bring upon the bodies of those
who enjoy them! I know not what pleasure their impulse
affords, but any who cares to recall his indulgences of his pas-
sions, will know that the results of such pleasures are indeed
gloomy. If any can shew that those results are blest with hap*
pincss, then may the beasts of the field be justly called blessed,
for all their aims are urged toward the satisfying of theit
bodies' wants. The pleasures of wife and children may be
most honourable; but nature makes it all too plain that some
have found torment in their children. How bitter is any such
kind of suffering, I need not tell you now, for you have never
known it, nor have any such anxiety now. Yet in this matter

54 Boethius

I would hold with my philosopher Euripides, 1 that he who has
no children is happy in his misfortune.

"All pleasures have this way: those who enjoy them they
drive on with stings. Pleasure, like the winged bee, scatters its
honey sweet, then flies away, and with a clinging sting it strikes
the hearts it touches.

(All these vanities are actually harmful.)

"There is then no doubt that these roads to happiness are
no roads, and they cannot lead any man to any end whither
they profess to take him. I would shew you shortly with what
great evils they are bound up. Would you heap up money?
You will need to tear it from its owner. Would you seem
brilliant by the glory of great honours? You must kneel before
their dispenser, and in your desire to surpass other men in
honour, you must debase yourself by setting aside all pride.
Do you long for power? You will be subject to the wiles of all
over whom you have power, you will be at the mercy of many
dangers. You seek fame? You will be drawn to and fro among
rough paths, and lose all freedom from care. Would you spend
a life of pleasure? Who would not despise and cast off such
servitude to so vile and brittle a thing as your body? How
petty are all the aims of those who put before themselves the
pleasures of the body, how uncertain is the possession of such?
In bodily size will you ever surpass the elephant? In strength
will you ever lead the bull, or in speed the tiger? Look upon
the expanse of heaven, the strength with which it stands, the
rapidity with which it moves, and cease for a while to wonder
at base things. This heaven is not more wonderful for those
things than for the design which guides it. How sweeping is
the brightness of outward form, how swift its movement, yet
more fleeting than the passing of the flowers of spring. But if,
as Aristotle says, many could use the eyes of lynxes to see
through that which meets the eye, then if they saw into the

1 Referring to lines in the Andromache (419-420), where Euripides
says: 'The man who complains that he has no children suffers less
than he who has them, and is blest in his misfortune."

The Consolation of Philosophy 55

organs within, would not that body, though it had the most
fair outside of Alcibiades, 1 seem most vile within? Wherefore
it is not your own nature, but the weakness of the eyes of
them that see you, which makes you seem beautiful. But con-
sider how in excess you desire the pleasures of the body, when
you know that howsoever you admire it, it can be reduced to
nothing by a three-days' fever. To put all these points then
in a word: these things cannot grant the good which they
promise; they are not made perfect by the union of all good
things in them ; they do not lead to happiness as a path thither ;
they do not make men blessed. 2

"Ah! how wretched are they whom ignorance leads astray
by her crooked path! Ye seek not gold upon green trees, nor
gather precious stones from vines, nor set your nets on moun-
tain tops to catch the fishes for your feast, nor hunt the Um-
brian sea in search of goats. Man knows the depths of the sea
themselves, hidden though they be beneath its waves; he
knows which water best yields him pearls, and which the
scarlet dye. But in their blindness men are content, and know
not where lies hid the good which they desire. They sink in
earthly things, and there they seek that which has soared above
the star-lit heavens. What can I call down upon them worthy
of their stubborn folly? They go about in search of wealth
and honours; and only when they have by labours vast stored
up deception for themselves, do they at last know what is their
true good.

"So far," she continued, "we have been content to set forth
the form of false happiness. If you clearly understand that, my
next duty is to shew what is true happiness."

"I do see," said I, "that wealth cannot satisfy, that power
comes not to kingdoms, nor veneration to high offices; that
true renown cannot accompany ambition, nor true enjoyment
wait upon the pleasures of the body."

1 Alcibiades was the most handsome and brilliantly fascinating of all
the public men of Athens in her most brilliant period.

8 Compare Philosophy's first words about the highest good, p. 43.

5 6 Boethius

"Have you grasped the reasons why it is so?" she asked.
"I seem to look at them as through a narrow chink, but I
would learn more clearly from you."

(Philosophy begins to examine true happiness.)

"The reason is to hand," said she; "human error takes that
which is simple and by nature impossible to divide, tries to
divide it, and turns its truth and perfection into falsity and
imperfection. Tell me, do you think that anything which lacks
nothing, can be without power?"

"Of course not."

"You are right; for if anything has any weakness in any
part, it must lack the help of something else."

"That is so," I said.

"Then perfect satisfaction and power have the same
nature?"

"Yes, it seems so."

"And do you think such a thing contemptible, or the oppo-
site, worthy of all veneration?"

"There can be no doubt that it is worthy."

"Then let us add veneration to that satisfaction and power,
and so consider these three as one."

"Yes, we must add it if we wish to proclaim the truth."

"Do you then think that this whole is dull and of no reputa-
tion, or renowned with all glory? For consider it thus: we have
granted that it lacks nothing, that it has all power and is
worthy of all veneration; it must not therefore lack the glory
which it cannot supply for itself, and thereby seem to be in
any direction contemptible."

"No," I said, "I must allow that it has glory too."

"Therefore we must rank this glory equally with the other
three."

"Yes, we must."

"Then that which lacks nothing from outside itself, which
is all-powerful by its own might, which has renown and venera-
tion, rriust surely be allowed to be most happy too?"

The Consolation of Philosophy 57

"I cannot imagine from what quarter unhappiness would
creep into such a thing, wherefore we must grant that it is full
of happiness if the other qualities remain existent."

"Then it follows further, that though perfect satisfaction,
power, glory, veneration, and happiness differ in name, they
cannot differ at all in essence?"

"They cannot."

"This then," said she, "is a simple, single thing by nature,
only divided by the mistakes of base humanity; and while
men try to gain a part of that which has no parts, they fail
both to obtain a fraction, which cannot exist, and the whole
too after which they do not strive."

"Tell me how they fail thus," I said.

"One seeks riches by fleeing from poverty, and takes no
thought of power," she answered, "and so he prefers to be
base and unknown, and even deprives himself of natural pleas-
ures lest he should part with the riches which he has gathered.
Thus not even that satisfaction reaches the man who loses all
power, who is stabbed by sorrow, lowered by his meanness,
hidden by his lack of fame. Another seeks power only: he scak
ters his wealth, he despises pleasures and honours which have
no power, and sets no value upon glory. You see how many
things such an one lacks. Sometimes he goes without neces-
saries even, sometimes he feels the bite and torture of care;
and as he cannot rid himself of these, he loses the power too
which he sought above all things. The same argument may be
applied to offices, glory, and pleasure. For since each one of
these is the same as each other, any man who seeks one with *
out the others, gains not even that one which he desires."

"What then? "I asked.

"If any man desires to obtain all together, he will be seek-
ing the sum of happiness. But will he ever find that in these
things which we have shewn cannot supply what they
promise?"

"No."

"Then happiness is not to be sought for among these things

58 Boethius

which are separately believed to supply each thing so sought"

"Nothing could be more plainly true," I said.

"Then you have before you the form of false happiness, and
its causes; now turn your attention in the opposite direction,
and you will quickly see the true happiness which I have
promised to shew you."

"But surely this is clear even to the blindest, and you
shewed it before when you were trying to make clear the causes
of false happiness. For if I mistake not, true and perfect hap-
piness is that which makes a man truly satisfied, powerful,
venerated, renowned, and happy. And (for I would have you
see that I have looked deeply into the matter) I realize with-
out doubt that that which can truly yield any one of these,
since they are all one, is perfect happiness."

"Ah! my son," said she, "I do see that you are blessed in
this opinion, but I would have you add one thing."

"What is that? "I asked.

"Do you think that there is anything among mortals, and
in our perishable lives, which could yield such a state?"

"I do not think that there is, and I think that you have
shewn this beyond the need of further proof."

"These then seem to yield to mortals certain appearances
of the true good, or some such imperfections; but they cannot
give true and perfect good."

"No."

"Since, then, you have seen what is true happiness, and
what are the false imitations thereof, it now remains that you
should learn whence this true happiness may be sought."

"For that," said I, "I have been impatiently waiting."

"But divine help must be sought in small things as well as
great (as my pupil Plato says in his Timseus *) ; so what, think
you, must we do to deserve to find the place of that highest
good?"

1 Plato, Timccus, 27 C. (ch. v.) "All those who have even the least
share of moderation, on undertaking any enterprise, small or great,
always call upon God at the beginning."

The Consolation of Philosophy 59

"'Call," I said, "upon the Father of all, for if we do not do
so, no undertaking would be rightly or duly begun."
"You are right," said she; and thus she cried aloud *:

(Philosophy invokes God's guidance.)

"Thou who dost rule the universe with everlasting law,
founder of earth and heaven alike, who hast bidden time stand
forth from our Eternity, for ever firm Thyself, yet giving
movement unto all. No causes were without Thee which could
thence impel Thee to create this mass of changing matter, but
within Thyself exists the very idea of perfect good, which
grudges naught, for of what can it have envy? Thou makest
all things follow that high pattern. In perfect beauty Thou
movest in Thy mind a world of beauty, making all in a like
image, and bidding the perfect whole to complete its perfect
functions. All the first principles of nature Thou dost bind
together by perfect orders as of numbers, so that they may be
balanced each with its opposite: cold with heat, and dry with
moist together; thus fire may not fly upward too swiftly be-
cause too purely, nor may the weight of the solid earth drag
it down and overwhelm it. Thou dost make the soul as a third
between mind and material bodies: to these the soul gives life
and movement, for Thou dost spread it abroad among the
members of the universe, now working in accord. Thus is the
soul divided as it takes its course, making two circles, as though
a binding thread around the world. Thereafter it returns unto
itself and passes around the lower earthly mind; and in like
manner it gives motion to the heavens to turn their course.
Thou it is who dost carry forward with like inspiration these
souls and lower lives. Thou dost fill these weak vessels with
lofty souls, and send them abroad throughout the heavens and
earth, and by Thy kindly law dost turn them again to Thyself
and bring them to seek, as fire doth, to rise to Thee again.

1 This hymn is replete with the highest development of Plato's theory
of ideas, as expressed in the Timceus, and his theory of the ideal good
being the moving spirit of the material world. Compare also the specula-
tive portion of Virgil, Mneid, vi.

60 Boethius

"Grant them, O Father, that this mind of ours may rise to
Thy throne of majesty; grant us to reach that fount of good.
Grant that we may so find light that we may set on Thee un-
blinded eyes; cast Thou therefrom the heavy clouds of this
material world. Shine forth upon us in Thine own true glory.
Thou art the bright and peaceful rest of all Thy children that
worship Thee. To see Thee clearly is the limit of our aim.
Thou art our beginning, our progress, our guide, our way,
our end.

(Philosophy discourses on the union of the highest good with God.)

"Since then you have seen the form both of the imperfect
and the perfect good, I think I should now shew you where
lies this perfection of happiness. In this I think our first inquiry
must be whether any good of this kind can exist in the very
nature of a subject; for we must not let any vain form of
thought make us miss the truth of this matter. But there can
be no denial of its existence, that it is as the very source of all
good. For if anything is said to be imperfect, it is held to be
so by some loss of its perfection. Wherefore if in any kind of
thing a particular seems imperfect, there must also be a perfect
specimen in the same kind. For if you take away the perfec-
tion, it is impossible even to imagine whence could come the
so-called imperfect specimen. For nature does not start from
degenerate or imperfect specimens, but starting from the per-
fect and ideal, it degenerates to these lower and weaker forms.
If then, as we have shewn above, there is an uncertain and
imperfect happiness to be found in the good, then there must
doubtless be also a sure and perfect happiness therein." 1
"Yes," said I, "that is quite surely proved to be true."
"Now consider," she continued, "where it lies. The uni-
versally accepted notion of men proves that God, the fountain-
head of all things, is good. For nothing can be thought of better
than God, and surely He, than whom there is nothing better,
must without doubt be good. Now reason shews us that God

1 Tbis reasoning hangs upon Plato's theory of ideas, and so is the
opposite of the theory of evolution.

The Consolation of Philosophy 61

is so good, that we are convinced that in Him lies also the
perfect good. For if it is not so, He cannot be the fountain-
head; for there must then be something more excellent, pos-
sessing that perfect good, which appears to be of older origin
than God: for it has been proved that all perfections are of
earlier origin than the imperfect specimens of the same: where-
fore, unless we are to prolong the series to infinity, we must
allow that the highest Deity must be full of the highest, the
perfect good. But as we have laid down that true happiness is
perfect good, it must be that true happiness is situated in His
Divinity."

"Yes, I accept that; it cannot be in any way contradicted."

"But," she said, "I beg you, be sure that you accept with a
sure conscience and determination this fact, that we have said
that the highest Deity is filled with the highest good."

"How should I think of it?" I asked.

"You must not think of God, the Father of all, whom we
hold to be filled with the highest good, as having received this
good into Himself from without, nor that He has it by nature
in such a manner that you might consider Him, its possessor,
and the happiness possessed, as having different essential
existence. For if you think that good has been received from
without, that which gave it must be more excellent than that
which received it; but we have most rightly stated that He is
the most excellent of all things. And if you think that it is in
Him by His nature, but different in kind, then, while we speak
of God as the fountain-head of all things, who could imagine
by whom these different kinds can have been united? Lastly,
that which is different from anything cannot be the thing from
which it differs. So anything which is by its nature different
from the highest good, cannot be the highest good. And this
we must not think of God, than whom there is nothing more
excellent, as we have agreed. Nothing in this world can have
a nature which is better than its origin, wherefore I would
conclude that that which is the origin of all things, according
to the truest reasoning, is by its essence the highest good."

"Most truly," I said.

62 Boethius

"You agree that the highest good is happiness?"

"Yes."

"Then you must allow that God is absolute happiness?"

"I cannot deny what you put forward before, and I see that
this follows necessarily from those propositions."

"Look then," she said, "whether it is proved more strongly
by this too: there cannot be two highest goods which are
different. For where two good things are different, the one
cannot be the other; wherefore neither can be the perfect good,
while each is lacking to the other. And that which is not perfect
cannot be the highest, plainly. Therefore if two things are
highest good, they cannot be different. Further, we have
proved to ourselves that both happiness and God are each the
highest good. Therefore the highest Deity must be identical
with the highest happiness."

"No conclusion," I said, "could be truer in fact, or more
surely proved by reason, or more worthy of our God."

"Besides this let me give you corollary, as geometricians do,
when they wish to add a point drawn from the propositions
they have proved. Since men become happy by acquiring hap-
piness, and happiness is identical with divinity, it is plain that
they become happy by acquiring divinity. But just as men
become just by acquiring the quality of justice, and wise by
wisdom, so by the same reasoning, by acquiring divinity they
become divine. Every happy man then is divine. But while
nothing prevents as many men as possible from being divine,
God is so by His nature, men become so by participation."

"This corollary," I said, "or whatever you call it, is indeed
beautiful and very precious."

"Yes, but nothing can be more beautiful than this too which
reason would have us add to what we have agreed upon."

"What is that? "I asked.

"Happiness seems to include many things: do all these join
it together as into a whole which is happiness, as though each
thing were a different part thereof, or is any one of them
a good which fulfils the essence of happiness, and do the others
merely bear relations to this one?"

The Consolation of Philosophy 63

"I would have you make this plain by the enunciation of
these particulars."

"Do we not," she asked, "hold that happiness is a good
thing?"

"Yes," I answered, "the highest good."

"But you may apply this quality of happiness to them all.
For the perfect satisfaction is the same, and the highest power,
and veneration, and renown, and pleasure; these are all held
to be happiness."

"What then? "I asked.

"Are all these things, satisfaction, power, and the others, as
it were, members of the body, happiness, or do they all bear
their relation to the good, as members to a head?"

"I understand what you propose to examine, but I am wait-
ing eagerly to hear what you will lay down."

"I would have you take the following explanation," she said.
"If these were all members of the one body, happiness, they
would differ individually. For this is the nature of particulars,
to make up one body of different parts. But all these have been
shewn to be one and the same. Therefore they are not as mem-
bers; and further, this happiness will then appear to be joined
together into a whole body out of one member, which is
impossible."

"That is quite certain," said I, "but I would hear what is to
come."

"It is plain that the others have some relation to the good. It
is for that reason, namely because it is held to be good, that
this satisfaction is sought, and power likewise, and the others
too; we may suppose the same of veneration, renown, and
pleasure. The good then is the cause of the desire for all of
these, and their consummation also. Such a thing as has in
itself no real or even pretended good, cannot ever be sought.
On the other hand, such things as are not by nature good, but
seem to be so, are sought as though they were truly good.
Wherefore we may justly believe that their good quality is the
cause of the desire for them, the very hinge on which they
turn, and their consummation. The really important object

64 Boethius

of a desire, is that for the sake of which anything is sought, as
a means. For instance, if a man wishes to ride for the sake of
his health, he does not so much desire the motion of riding, as
the effect, namely health. As, therefore, each of these things
is desired for the sake of the good, the absolute good is the
aim, rather than themselves. But we have agreed that the other
things are desired for the sake of happiness, wherefore in this
case too, it is happiness alone which is the object of the desire.
Wherefore it is plain that the essence of the good and of hap-
piness is one and the same."

"I cannot see how any one can think otherwise."

"But we have shewn that God and true happiness are one
and the same."

"Yes."

"Therefore," said she, "we may safely conclude that the
essence of God also lies in the absolute good and nowhere else.

"Come hither all who are the prey of passions, bound by
their ruthless chains; those deceiving passions which blunt the
minds of men. Here shall you find rest from your labours; here
a haven lying in tranquil peace; this shall be a resting-place
open to receive within itself all the miserable on earth. Not all
the wealth of Tagus's golden sands, nor Hermus's gleaming
strand, 1 nor Indus, nigh earth's hottest zone, mingling its
emeralds and pearls, can bring light to the eyes of any soul,
but rather plunge the soul more blindly in their shade. In her
deepest caverns does earth rear all that pleases the eye and
excites the mind. The glory by which the heavens move and
have their being, has nought to do with the darknesses which
bring ruin to the soul. Whosoever can look on this true light
will scarce allow the sun's rays to be clear."

"I cannot but agree with that," I said, "for it all stands
woven together by the strongest proofs."

1 The modern Sarabat, in Asia Minor, formerly auriferous.

The Consolation of Philosophy 65

Then she said*, "At what would you value this, namely if
you could find out what is the absolute good?"

"I would reckon it," I said, "at an infinite value, if I could
find out God too, who is the good."

"And that too I will make plain by most true reasoning, if
you will allow to stand the conclusions we have just now
arrived at."

"They shall stand good."

(Philosophy discourses upon the unity which is the highest good.}

"Have I not shewn," she asked, "that those things which
most men seek are for this reason not perfect goods, because
they differ between themselves; they are lacking to one an-
other, and so cannot afford full, absolute good? But when they
are gathered together, as it were, into one form and one opera-
tion, so that complete satisfaction, power, veneration, renown,
and pleasure are all the same, then they become the true good.
Unless they are all one and the same, they have no claim to be
reckoned among the true objects of men's desires."

"That has been proved beyond all doubt."

"Then such things as differ among themselves are not goods,
but they become so when they begin to be a single unity. Is it
not then the case these become goods by the attainment of
unity?"

"Yes," I said, "it seems so."

"But I think you allow that every good is good by partici-
pation in good?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then by reason of this likeness both unity and good must
be allowed to be the same thing; for such things as have by
nature the same operation, have the same essence."

"Undeniably."

"Do you realise that everything remains existent so long as
it keeps its unity, but perishes in dissolution as soon as it loses
its unity?"

"How so?" I asked.

"In the case of animals/' she said, "so long as mind and

66 Boethius

body remain united, you have what you call an animal. But as
soon as this unity is dissolved by the separation of the two,
the animal perishes and can plainly be no longer called an
animal. In the case of the body, too, so long as it remains in a
single form by the union of its members, the human figure is
presented. But if the division or separation of the body's parts
drags that union asunder, it at once ceases to be what it was.
In this way one may go through every subject, and it will be
quite evident that each thing exists individually, so long as it
is one, but perishes so soon as it ceases to be one."

"Yes, I see the same when I think of other cases."

"Is there anything," she then asked, "which, in so far as it
acts by nature, ever loses its desire for self-preservation, and
would voluntarily seek to come to death and corruption?"

"No," I said; "while I think of animals which have volition
in their nature, I can find in them no desire to throw away
their determination to remain as they are, or to hasten to perish
of their own accord, so long as there are no external forces
compelling them thereto. Every animal labours for its preser-
vation, shunning death and extinction. But about trees and
plants, I have great doubts as to what I should agree to in
their case, and in all inanimate objects."

"But in this case too," she said, "you have no reason to be
in doubt, when you see how trees and plants grow in places
which suit them, and where, so far as nature is able to prevent
it, they cannot quickly wither and perish. For some grow in
plains, others on mountains; some are nourished by marshes,
others cling to rocks; some are fertilised by otherwise barren
sands, and would wither away if one tried to transplant them
to better soil. Nature grants to each what suits it, and works
against their perishing while they can possibly remain alive.
I need hardly remind you that all plants seem to have their
mouths buried in the earth, and so they suck up nourishment
by their roots and diffuse their strength through their pith and
bark: the pith being the softest part is always hidden away at
the heart and covered, protected, as it were, by the strength
of the wood; while outside, the bark, as being the defender

The Consolation of Philosophy 67

who endures the best, is opposed to the unkindness of the
weather. Again, how great is nature's care, that they should all
propagate themselves by the reproduction of their seed; they
all, as is so well known, are like regular machines not merely
for lasting a time, but for reproducing themselves for ever,
and that by their own kinds. Things too which are supposed
to be inanimate, surely do all seek after their own by a like
process. For why is flame carried upward by its lightness,
while solid things are carried down by their weight, unless it
be that these positions and movements are suitable to each?
Further, each thing preserves what is suitable to itself, and
what is harmful, it destroys. Hard things, such as stones,
cohere with the utmost tenacity of their parts, and resist easy
dissolution; while liquids, water, and air, yield easily to divi-
sion, but quickly slip back to mingle their parts which have
been cut asunder. And fire cannot be cut at all.

"We are not now discussing the voluntary movements of a
reasoning mind, but the natural instinct. For instance, we
unwittingly digest the food we have eaten, and unconsciously
breathe in sleep. Not even in animals does this love of self-
preservation come from mental wishes, but from elementary
nature. For often the will, under stress of external causes,
embraces the idea of death, from which nature revolts in
horror. 1 And, on the other hand, the will sometimes restrains
what nature always desires, namely the operation of begetting,
by which alone the continuance of mortal things becomes en-
during. Thus far, then, this love of self-preservation arises not
from the reasoning animal's intention, but from natural in-
stinct. Providence has given to its creatures this the greatest
cause of permanent existence, the instinctive desire to remain
existent so far as possible. Wherefore you have no reason to
doubt that all things, which exist, seek a permanent existence
by nature, and similarly avoid extinction."

1 Boethius is possibly thinking here of passages in Plato's Republic,
Bk. iv. (439-441), where Socrates points out the frequent opposition of
reason and instinct.

68 Boethius

"Yes," I said, "I confess that I see now beyond all doubt
what appeared to me just now uncertain."

"But," she continued, "that which seeks to continue its
existence, aims at unity; for take this way, and none will have
any chance of continued existence."

"That is true."

"Then all things desire unity," she said, and I agreed.

"But we have shewn unity to be identical with the good?"

"Yes," said I.

"Then all things desire the good; and that you may define
as being the absolute good which is desired by all."

"Nothing could be more truthfully reasoned. For either
everything is brought back to nothing, and all will flow on at
random with no guiding head; or if there is any universal aim,
it will be the sum of all good."

"Great is my rejoicing, my son/' said she, "for you have set
firmly in your mind the mark of the central truth. And hereby
is made plain to you that which you a short time ago said that
you knew not."

"What was that?"

"What was the final aim of all things," she said, "for that is
plainly what is desired by all: since we have agreed that that
is the good, we must confess that the good is the end of all
things.

"If any man makes search for truth with all his penetration,
and would be led astray by no deceiving paths, let him turn
upon himself the light of an inward gaze, let him bend by
force the long-drawn wanderings of his thoughts into one
circle; let him tell surely to his soul, that he has, thrust away
within the treasures of his mind, all that he labours to acquire
without. Then shall that truth, which now was hid in error's
darkening cloud, shine forth more clear than Phcebus's self.
For the body, though it brings material mass which breeds
forgetfulness, has never driven forth all light from the mind.
The seed of truth does surely cling within, and can be roused
as a spark by the fanning of philosophy. For if it is not so,

The Consolation of Philosophy 69

how do ye men make answers true of your own instinct when
teachers question you? Is it not that the quick spark of truth
lies buried in the heart's low depths? And if the Muse of Plato
sends through those depths the voice of truth, each man has
not forgotten and is but reminding himself of what he learns." 1
When she made an end, I said, "I agree very strongly with
Plato ; for this is the second time that you have reminded me
of these thoughts. The first time I had lost them through the
material influence of the body; the second, when overwhelmed
by this weight of trouble."

{Philosophy shews that God rules the universe for the highest good.)

"If," said she, "you look back upon what we have agreed
upon earlier, you will also soon recall what you just now said
you knew not."

"What is that?" I asked.

"The guidance by which the universe is directed."

"Yes, I remember confessing my ignorance, and though 1
think I foresee the answer you will offer, I am eager to hear
you explain it more fully."

"This world," she said, "you thought a little while ago must
without doubt be guided by God."

"And I think so now," I said, "and will never think there
is any doubt thereof; and I will shortly explain by what rea-
soning I arrive at that point. This universe would never have
been suitably put together into one form from such various
and opposite parts, unless there were some One who joined such
different parts together; and when joined, the very variety of
their natures, so discordant among themselves, would break
their harmony and tear them asunder unless the One held to-
gether what it wove into one whole. Such a fixed order of
nature could not continue its course, could not develop motions
taking such various directions in place, time, operation, space,
and attributes, unless there were One who, being immutable,
had the disposal of these various changes. And this cause of

1 Plato's doctrine of remembrance is chiefly treated of in his Phcedo
and Meno.

7O Boethius

their remaining fixed and their moving, I call God, according
to the name familiar to all."

Then said she, "Since these are your feelings, I think there
is but little trouble left me before you may revisit your home
with happiness in your grasp. But let us look into the matter
we have set before ourselves. Have we not shewn that com-
plete satisfaction exists in true happiness, and we have agreed
that God is happiness itself, have we not?"

"We have."

"Wherefore He needs no external aid in governing the uni-
verse, or, if He had any such need, He would not have this
complete sufficiency."

"That of necessity follows," I said.

"Then He arranges all things by Himself."

"Without doubt He does."

"And God has been shewn to be the absolute good."

"Yes, I remember."

"Then He arranges all things by good, if He arranges them
by Himself, whom we have agreed to be the absolute good.
And so this is the tiller and rudder by which the ship of the
universe is kept sure and unbreakable."

"I feel that most strongly," I said; "and I foresaw that you
would say so before, though I had a slight uncertainty."

"I believe you," she said, "for now you bring your eyes
more watchfully to scan the truth. But what I am going to say
is no less plain to the sight."

"What is that?"

"Since we may reasonably be sure that God steers all things
by the helm of goodness, and, as I have shewn you, all things
have a natural instinct to hasten towards the good, can there
be any doubt that they are guided according to their own will:
and that of their own accord they turn to the will of the
supreme disposer, as though agreeing with, and obedient to,
the helmsman?"

"That is so," I said, "and the government would not seem
happy if it was a yoke upon discontented necks, and not the
salvation of the submissive."

The Consolation of Philosophy 71

"Then nothing need oppose God's way for its own nature's
preservation."

"No."

"But if it try to oppose Him, will it ever have any success
at all against One whom we have justly allowed to be supreme-
ly powerful in matters of happiness?"

"Certainly not."

"Then there is nothing which could have the will or the
power to resist the highest good?"

"I think not."

"Then it is the highest good which is guiding with strength
and disposing with gentleness?"

Then said I, "How great pleasure these things give me! Not
only those which have been proved by the strongest argu-
ments, but still more the words in which you prove them,
which make me ashamed that my folly has bragged so loudly."

"You have heard in mythology how the giants attacked
heaven. It was this kindly strength which overthrew them too,
as was their desert. But would you care to put these arguments
at variance? For perhaps from such a friction, some fair spark
of truth may leap forth."

"As you hold best," I said.

"Nobody would care to doubt that God is all-powerful?"

"At any rate, no sane man would doubt it."

"Being, then, all-powerful, nothing is beyond His power?"

"Nothing."

"Can, then, God do evil?"

"No."

"Then evil is nothing, since it is beyond His power, and
nothing is beyond His power?"

"Are you playing with me," I asked, "weaving arguments
as a labyrinth out of which I shall find no way? You may enter
a labyrinth by the way by which you may come forth: come
now forth by the way you have gone in: or are you folding
your reason in some wondrous circle of divine simplicity? A
little while ago you started from happiness, and said that hap-
piness was the highest good; and you shewed how that rested

72 Boethius

in the highest Deity. And you reasoned that God too was the
highest good, and the fullest happiness; and you allowed, as
though granting a slight gift, that none could be happy except
such as were similarly divine. Again, you said that the essence
of God and of happiness was identical with the very form of
good ; and that that alone was good which was sought by all
nature. And you argued, too, that God guided this universe
by the helm of goodness; and that all creatures with free will
obeyed this guidance, and that there was no such thing as
natural evil; and all these things you developed by no help
from without, but by homely and internal proofs, each gaining
its credence from that which went before it."

Then she answered, "I was not mocking you. We have
worked out the greatest of all matters by the grace of God, to
whom we prayed. For the form of the divine essence is such
that it is not diffused without, nor receives aught into itself
from without. But as Parmenides says of it, "It is a mass well
rounded upon all sides." * But if you examine it with reason-
ing, sought for not externally but by lying within the sphere
of the very thing we are handling, you will not wonder at what
you have learnt on Plato's authority, 2 that our language must
be akin to the subjects of which we speak.

"Happy the man who could reach the crystal fount of good:
happy he who could shake off the chains of matter and of
earth. The singer of Thrace in olden time lamented his dead
wife: by his tearful strains he made the trees to follow him,
and bound the flowing streams to stay: for him the hind would
fearlessly go side by side with fiercest lions, and the hare would

1 This is a verse from the poems in which Parmenides embodied his
philosophy : this was the doctrine of the unity which must have been
in Boethius's mind above. Parmenides, the founder of the Eleatic school
(495 B.C.), was perhaps, considering his early date, the greatest and
most original of Greek philosophers. Boethius probably did not make
a clear distinction between the philosopher's own poems and the views
expressed in Plato's Parmenides.

8 Plato in the Timaus says, "The language must also be akin to the
subjects of which its words are the interpreters" (29 B.).

The Consolation of Philosophy 73

look upon the hound, nor be afraid, for he was gentle under the
song's sway. But when the hotter flame burnt up his inmost
soul, even the strains, which had subdued all other things,
could not soothe their own lord's mind. Complaining of the
hard hearts of the gods above, he dared approach the realms
below. There he tuned his songs to soothing tones, and sang
the lays he had drawn from his mother's 1 fount of excellence.
His unrestrained grief did give him power, his love redoubled
his grief's power: his mourning moved the depths of hell. With
gentlest prayers he prayed to the lords of the shades for grace.
The three-headed porter 2 was taken captive with amazement
at his fresh songs. The avenging goddesses, 3 who haunt with
fear the guilty, poured out sad tears. Ixion's 4 wheel no longer
swiftly turned. Tantalus, 5 so long abandoned unto thirst, could
then despise the flowing stream. The vulture, satisfied by his
strains, tore not a while at Tityos's heart. At last the lord of
the shades 7 in pity cried: "We are conquered; take your bride
with you, bought by your song; but one condition binds our
gift: till she has left these dark abodes, turn not your eyes upon
her." Who shall set a law to lovers? Love is a greater law unto
itself. Alack! at the very bounds of darkness Orpheus looked
upon his Eurydice; looked, and lost her, and was lost himself.
"To you too this tale refers; you, who seek to lead your
thoughts to the light above. For whosoever is overcome of de-
sire, and turns his gaze upon the darkness 'neath the earth, he,
while he looks on hell, loses the prize he carried off."

1 Orpheus's mother was the Muse Calliope, mistress of the Castalian
fount.

2 The dog Cerberus.

3 The Furies.

4 Ixion for his crimes was bound upon a rolling wheel.

6 Tantalus for his crimes was condemned to perpetual hunger and thirst
though surrounded by fruits and water which ever eluded his grasp.

Tityos for his crimes was for ever fastened to the ground, while a
vulture devoured his entrails.

7 Pluto.

BOOK FOUR

(They discuss the possibility of evil in God's world.)

THUS gently sang the Lady Philosophy with dignified mien
and grave countenance; and when she ceased, I, who had not
thoroughly forgotten the grief within me, interrupted her as
she was about to speak further. "Herald of true light," I said,
"right clear have been the outpourings of your speech till now,
seeming inspired as one contemplates them, and invincible
through your reasonings. And though through grief for the
injustices I suffer, I had forgotten them, yet you have not
spoken of what I knew not at all before. But this one thing is
the chief cause of my grief, namely that, when there exists a
good governor of the world, evils should exist at all, or, exist-
ing, should go unpunished. I would have you think how strange
is this fact alone. But there is an even stranger attached there-
to: ill-doing reigns and flourishes, while virtue not only lacks
its reward, but is even trampled underfoot by wicked doers,
and pays the penalties instead of crime. Who can wonder and
complain enough that such things should happen under the
rule of One who, while all-knowing and all-powerful, wills good
alone?"

Then she answered: "Yes, it would be most terrible, mon-
strous, and infinitely amazing if it were as you think. It would
be as though in a well-ordered house of a good master, the
vilest vessels were cared for while the precious were left de-
filed. But it is not so. If our former conclusions are unshaken,
God Himself, of whose government we speak, will teach you
that the good are always powerful, the evil are always the
lowest and weakest; vice never goes unpunished; virtue never
goes without its own reward; happiness comes to the good,
misfortune to the wicked: and when your complaints are set

74

The Consolation of Philosophy 75

at rest, many such things would most firmly strengthen you in
this opinion. You have seen now from my teaching the form
of true happiness; you know now its place: let us go quickly
through all that must be lightly passed over, and let me shew
you the road which shall lead you to your home. I will give
wings to your mind, by which it shall raise itself aloft: so
shall disquiet be driven away, and you may return safe to your
home by my guidance, by the path I shall shew you, even by
myself carrying you thither.

"Yea, airy wings are mine to scale the heights of heaven;
when these the mind has donned, swiftly she loathes and
spurns this earth. She soars above the sphere of this vast
atmosphere, sees the clouds behind her far; she passes high
above the topmost fires which seethe above the feverish tur-
moil of the air, 1 until she rises to the stars' own home, and
joins her path unto the sun's; or accompanies on her path the
cold and ancient Saturn, maybe as the shining warrior Mars;
or she may take her course through the circle of every star
that decks the night. And when she has had her fill of journey-
ing, then may she leave the sky and tread the outer plane of
the swift moving air, as mistress of the awful light. Here holds
the King of Kings His sway, and guides the reins of the uni-
verse, and Himself unmoved He drives His winged chariot,
the bright disposer of the world. And if this path brings thee
again hither, the path that now thy memory seeks to recall,
I tell thee, thou shalt say, 'This is my home, hence was I de-
rived, here shall I stay my course.' But if thou choose to look
back upon the earthly night behind thee, thou shalt see as
exiles from light the tyrants whose grimness made wretched
peoples so to fear."

"Wondrous," I cried; "what vast things do you promise!
And I doubt not that you can fulfil them. I only beg that you

lr This and some of the following lines allude to some of the theories
of the early Physicists.

76 Boethius

will not hold me back with delays, now that you have excited
me thus far."

(Philosophy argues that the good are powerful, the bad are weak.)

"First, then, you must learn that power is never lacking
to the good, while the wicked are devoid of all strength. The
proofs of these two statements hang upon each other. For
good and bad are opposites, and therefore, if it is allowed
that good is powerful, the weakness of evil is manifest: if the
weakness and uncertainty of evil is made plain, the strength
and sureness of good is proved. To gain more full credit for
my opinion, I will go on to make my argument sure by first
the one, then the other of the two paths, side by side.

"It is allowed that there are two things upon which depend
the entire operation of human actions : they are will and power.
For if the will be wanting, a man does not even attempt that
which he has no desire to perform; if the power be wanting,
the will is exercised in vain. Wherefore, if you see a man wish
for that which he will in no wise gain, you cannot doubt that
he lacks the power to attain that which he wishes."

"That is plain beyond doubt."

"And if you see a man gain that which he wishes, can you
doubt that he has the power?"

"No."

"But wherein a man has power, he is strong; wherein he
has not power, he must be counted weak?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember that we agreed from our earlier rea-
sonings, that the instinct of all human will, though acted upon
by different aims, does lead with eagerness towards happi-
ness?"

"Yes," said I, "I remember that that too was proved."

"Do you remember that happiness is the absolute good, and
that the good is desired of all, when in that manner happiness
is sought?"

"I need not recall that," I said, "since it is present fixedly
in my memory."

The Consolation oj Philosophy 77

"Then all men, good and bad alike, seek to arrive at the
good by no different instincts?"

"Yes, that follows necessarily."

"But it is certain that the good become so by the attain-
ment of good?"

"Yes."

"Then the good attain that which they wish?"

"Yes," said I, "it seems so."

"But if evil men attain the good they seek, they cannot
be evil?"

"No."

"Since, then, both classes seek the good, which the good
attain, but the evil attain not, it is plain that the good are
powerful, while the evil are weak?"

"If any doubt that, he cannot judge by the nature of the
world, nor by the sequence of arguments."

Again she said, "If there are two persons before whom the
same object is put by natural instinct, and one person carries
his object through, working by his natural functions, but the
other cannot put his natural instinct into practice, but using
some function unsuitable to nature he can imitate the success-
ful person, but not fulfil his original purpose, in this case,
which of the two do you decide to be the more capable?"

"I think I guess what you mean, but I would hear more
explicitly."

"You will not, I think, deny that the motion of walking is
a natural one to mankind?"

"No, I will not."

"And is not that the natural function of the feet?"

"Yes."

"If, then, one man walks, being able to advance upon his
feet, while another, who lacks the natural function of feet,
uses his hands and so tries to walk, which of these two may
justly be held the more capable?"

"Weave me other riddles!" I exclaimed, "for can any one
doubt that a man who enjoys his natural functions, is more
capable than one who is incapable in that respect?"

78 Boethius

"But in the case of the highest good," she said, "it is equally
the purpose set before good and bad men; good men seek it
by the natural functions of virtue, while bad men seek to attain
the same through their cupidity, which is not a natural func-
tion for the attainment of good. Think you not so?"

"I do indeed," said 1; "this is plain, as also is the deduction
which follows. For it must be, from what I have already al-
lowed, that the good are powerful, the wicked weak."

"Your anticipation is right; and as doctors are wont to
hope, it shews a lively nature now fit to withstand disease. But
I see that you are very ready in understanding, and I will
multiply my arguments one upon another. See how great is
the weakness of these wicked men who cannot even attain
that to which their natural instinct leads them, nay, almost
drives them. And further, how if they are deprived of this
great, this almost invincible, aid of a natural instinct to fol-
low? Think what a powerlessness possesses these men. They
are no light objects which they seek; they seek no objects in
sport, objects which it is impossible that they should achieve.
They fail in the very highest of all things, the crown of all,
and in this they find none of the success for which they labour
day and night in wretchedness. But herein the strength of good
men is conspicuous. If a man could advance on foot till he
arrived at an utmost point beyond which there was no path
for further advance, you would think him most capable of
walking: equally so, if a man grasps the very end and aim
of his search, you must think him most capable. Wherefore
also the contrary is true; that evil men are similarly deprived
of all strength. For why do they leave virtue and follow after
vice? Is it from ignorance of good? Surely not, for what is
weaker or less compelling than the blindness of ignorance? Do
they know what they ought to follow, and are they thrown
from the straight road by passions? Then they must be weak
too in self-control if they cannot struggle with their evil pas-
sions. But they lose thus not only power, but existence all
together. For those who abandon the common end of all who
exist, must equally cease to exist. And this may seem strange,

The Consolation of Philosophy 79

that we should say that evil men, though the majority of
mankind, do not exist at all; but it is so. For while I do not
deny that evil men are evil, I do deny that they 'are/ in the
sense of absolute existence. You may say, for instance, that
a corpse is a dead man, but you cannot call it a man. In a like
manner, though I grant that wicked men are bad, I cannot
allow that they are men at all, as regards absolute being. A
thing exists which keeps its proper place and preserves its
nature; but when anything falls away from its nature, its
existence too ceases, for that lies in its nature. You will say,
'Evil men are capable of evil': and that I would not deny.
But this very power of theirs comes not from strength, but
from weakness. They are capable of evil; but this evil would
have no efficacy if it could have stayed under the operation
of good men. And this very power of ill shews the more plainly
that their power is naught. For if, as we have agreed, evil is
nothing, then, since they are only capable of evil, they are
capable of nothing."

"That is quite plain."

"I would have you understand what is this strength of
power. We have a little while ago laid down that nothing is
more powerful than the highest good?"

"Yes," I said.

"But the highest good can do no evil?"

"No."

"Is there any one who thinks that men are all-powerful?"

"No one," I said, "unless he be mad."

"And yet those same men can do evil."

"Would to heaven they could not!" I cried.

"Then a powerful man is capable only of all good; but
even those who are capable of evil, are not capable of all: so
it is plain that those who are capable of evil, are capable of
less. Further, we have shewn that all power is to be counted
among objects of desire, and all objects of desire have their
relation to the good, as to the coping-stone of their nature.
But the power of committing crime has no possible relation
to the good. Therefore it is not an object of desire. Yet, as

8o Boethius

we said, all power is to be desired. Therefore the power of
doing evil is no power at all. For all these reasons the power
of good men and the weakness of evil men is apparent. So
Plato's opinion 1 is plain that 'the wise alone are able to do
what they desire, but unscrupulous men can only labour
at what they like, they cannot fulfil their real desires.' They do
what they like so long as they think that they will gain through
their pleasures the good which they desire; but they do not
gain it, since nothing evil ever reaches happiness.

"Kings you may see sitting aloft upon their thrones, gleam-
ing with purple, hedged about with grim guarding weapons,
threatening with fierce glances, and their hearts heaving with
passion. If any man take from these proud ones their outward
covering of empty honour, he will see within, will see that these
great ones bear secret chains. For the heart of one is thus
filled by lust with the poisons of greed, or seething rage lifts
up its waves and lashes his mind therewith: or gloomy grief
holds them weary captives, or by slippery hopes they are
tortured. So when you see one head thus labouring beneath
so many tyrants, you know he cannot do as he would, for by
hard task-masters is the master himself oppressed.

(The good and the evil have their own rewards.)
"Do you see then in what a slough crimes are involved, and
with what glory honesty shines forth? It is plain from this that
reward is never lacking to good deeds, nor punishment to
crime. We may justly say that the reward of every act which
is performed is the object for which it is performed. For in-
stance, on the racecourse the crown for which the runner
strives is his reward. But we have shewn that happiness is

1 From Plato's Gorgias (466). Boethius in this and several other pas-
sages in this book has the Gorgias in mind ; for Plato there discusses the
strength and happiness of good men, and the impotence and unhappi-
ness of bad men. Socrates is also there represented as proving that the
unjust man is happier punished than unpunished, as Boethius does
below.

The Consolation of Philosophy 81

the identical good for the sake of which all actions are per-
formed. Therefore the absolute good is the reward put before
all human actions. But good men cannot be deprived of this.
And further, a man who lacks good cannot justly be de-
scribed as a good man; wherefore we may say that good
habits never miss their rewards. Let the wicked rage never so
wildly, the wise man's crown shall never fail nor wither. And
the wickedness of bad men can never take away from good
men the glory which belongs to them. Whereas if a good man
rejoiced in a glory which he received from outside, then could
another, or even he, may be, who granted it, carry it away.
But since honesty grants to every good man its own rewards,
he will only lack his reward when he ceases to be good. And
lastly, since every reward is sought for the reason that it is
held to be good, who shall say that the man, who possesses
goodness, does not receive his reward? And what reward is
this? Surely the fairest and greatest of all. Remember that
corollary 1 which I emphasised when speaking to you a little
while ago; and reason thus therefrom. While happiness is the
absolute good, it is plain that all good men become good by
virtue of the very fact that they are good. But we agreed that
happy men are as gods. Therefore this is the reward of the
good, which no time can wear out, no power can lessen, no
wickedness can darken; they become divine. In this case,
then, no wise man can doubt of the inevitable punishment of
the wicked as well. For good and evil are so set, differing from
each other just as reward and punishment are in opposition
to each other: hence the rewards, which we see fall to the
good, must correspond precisely to the punishments of the
evil on the other side. As, therefore, honestly is itself the re-
ward of the honest, so wickedness is itself the punishment of
the wicked. Now whosoever suffers punishment, doubts not
that he is suffering an evil: if, then, they are ready so to judge
of themselves, can they think that they do not receive punish-

82 Boethius

ment, considering that they are not only affected but thor-
oughly permeated by wickedness, the worst of all evils?

"Then, from the other point of view of the good, see what
a punishment ever goes with the wicked. You have learnt a
little while past that all that exists is one, and that the good
itself is one; it follows therefrom that all that exists must
appear to be good. In this way, therefore, all that falls away
from the good, ceases also to exist, wherefore evil men cease
to be what they were. The form of their human bodies still
proves that they have been men; wherefore they must have
lost their human nature when they turned to evil-doing. But
as goodness alone can lead men forward beyond their hu-
manity, so evil of necessity will thrust down below the hon-
ourable estate of humanity those whom it casts down from
their first position. The result is that you cannot hold him
to be a man who has been, so to say, transformed by his vices.
If a violent man and a robber burns with greed of other men's
possessions, you say he is like a wolf. Another fierce man is
always working his restless tongue at lawsuits, and you will
compare him to a hound. Does another delight to spring upon
men from ambushes with hidden guile? He is as a fox. Does
one man roar and not restrain his rage? He would be reckoned
as having the heart of a lion. Does another flee and tremble
in terror where there is no cause of fear? He would be held
to be as deer. If another is dull and lazy, does he not live the
life of an ass? One whose aims are inconstant and ever changed
at his whims, is in no wise different from the birds. If another
is in a slough of foul and filthy lusts, he is kept down by the
lusts of an unclean swine. Thus then a man who loses his
goodness, ceases to be a man, and since he cannot change his
condition for that of a god, he turns into a beast.

"The east wind wafted the sails which carried on the wan-
dering ships of Ithaca's king to the island where dwelt the
fair goddess Circe, the sun's own daughter. There for her new
guests she mingled cups bewitched by charms. Her hand, well
skilled in use of herbs, changed these guests to different forms.

The Consolation of Philosophy 83

One bears the face of a boar; another grows like to an African
lion with fangs and claws; this one becomes as a wolf, and
when he thinks to weep, he howls; that one is an Indian tiger,
though he walks all harmless round about the dwelling-place.
The leader alone, Ulysses, though beset by so many dangers,
was saved from the goddess's bane by the pity of the winged
god, Mercury. But the sailors had drunk of her cups, and now
had turned from food of corn to husks and acorns, food of
swine. Naught is left the same, speech and form are gone;
only the mind remains unchanged, to bewail their unnatural
sufferings.

"How weak was that hand, how powerless those magic
herbs which could change the limbs but not the heart 1 Within
lies the strength of men, hidden in deep security. Stronger are
those dread poisons which can drag a man out of himself,
which work their way within: they hurt not the body, but on
the mind their rage inflicts a grievous wound." *

Then I answered: "I confess that I think it is justly said
that vicious men keep only the outward bodily form of their
humanity, and, in the attributes of their souls, are changed to
beasts. But I would never have allowed them willingly the
power to rage in the ruin of good men through their fierce and
wicked intentions."

"They have not that power," said she, "as I will shew you
at a convenient time. But if this very power, which you be-
lieve is allowed to them, were taken from them, the punish-
ment of vicious men would be to a great extent lightened. For,
though some may scarcely believe it, evil men must be more
unhappy when they carry out their ill desires than when they
cannot fulfil them. For if it is pitiable to have wished bad
things, it is more pitiable to have had the power to perform
them, without which power the performance of this pitiable
will would never have effect. Thus, when you see men with
the will and the power to commit a crime, and you see them

*C/. St. Matthew x. 28.

84 Boethius

perform it, they must be the victims of a threefold misfortune,
since each of those three things brings its own misery."

"Yes/' said I, "I agree; but I do wish from my heart that
they may speedily be rid of one of these misfortunes, being
deprived of this power of doing evil."

"They will be rid of it," she said, "more speedily even than
you wish perhaps, and sooner than they think they will be rid
thereof. There is in the short course of life naught which is
so long coming that an immortal mind can think it has long
to wait for it. Many a time are their high hopes and great plans
for evil-doing cut short by a sudden and unlooked-for end.
This indeed it is that sets a limit to their misery. For if wicked-
ness makes a man miserable, the longer he is wicked, the more
miserable must he be; and I should hold them most miserable
of all, if not even death at last put an end to their evil-doing.
If we have reached true conclusions concerning the unhappi-
ness of depravity, the misery, which is said to be eternal, can
have no limit."

"That is a strange conclusion and hard to accept. But I see
that it is suited too well by what we have agreed upon earlier."

"You are right," she said; "but when one finds it hard to
agree with a conclusion, one ought in fairness to point out
some fault in the argument which has preceded, or shew that
the sequence of statements is not so joined together as to
effectively lead to the conclusion; otherwise, if the premises
are granted, it is not just to cavil at the inference. This too,
which I am about to say, may not seem less strange, but it
follows equally from what has been taken as fact."

"What is that?" I asked.

"That wicked men are happier when they pay the penalty
for their wickedness than when they receive no penalty at
the hands of justice. 1 1 am not going to urge what may occur
to any one, namely, that depraved habits are corrected by
penalties, and drawn towards the right by fear of punishment,
and that an example is hereby given to others to avoid all that

1 Plato, Gorgias, 472 and ff.

The Consolation of Philosophy 85

deserves blame. But I think that the wicked who are not pun-
ished are in another way the more unhappy, without regard
to the corrective quality of punishment, nor its value as an
example."

"And what way is there other than these?"

"We have allowed, have we not," she said, "that the good
are happy, but the bad are miserable?' 7

"Yes."

"Then if any good be added to the misery of any evil man,
is he not happier than the man whose miserable state is purely
and simply miserable without any good at all mingled there-
with?"

"I suppose so."

"What if some further evil beyond those by which a man,
who lacked all good things, were made miserable, were added
to his miseries? Should not he be reckoned far more unhappy
than the man whose misfortune was lightened by a share in
some good?"

"Of course it is so."

"Therefore," she said, "the wicked when punished have
something good added to their lot, to wit, their punishment,
which is good by reason of its quality of justice; and they
also, when unpunished, have something of further evil, their
very impunity, which you have allowed to be an evil, by rea-
son of its injustice."

"I cannot deny that," said I.

"Then the wicked are far more unhappy when they are
unjustly unpunished, than when they are justly punished. It
is plain that it is just that the wicked should be punished, and
unfair that they should escape punishment."

"No one will gainsay you."

"But no one will deny this either, that all which is just is
good; and on the other part, all that is unjust is evil."

Then I said : "The arguments which we have accepted bring
us to that conclusion. But tell me, do you leave no punishment
of the soul to follow after the death of the body?"

"Yes," she answered, "heavy punishments, of which some,

86 Boethius

I think, are effected by bitter penalties, others by a cleansing
mercy. 1 But it is not my intention to discuss these now. My
object has been to bring you to know that the power of evil
men, which seems to you so unworthy, is in truth nothing;
and that you may see that those wicked men, of whose im-
punity you complained, do never miss the reward of their
ill-doing; and that you may learn that their passion, which
you prayed might soon be cut short, is not long-enduring,
and that the longer it lasts, the more unhappiness it brings,
and that it would be most unhappy if it endured for ever.
Further, I have tried to shew you that the wicked are more to
be pitied if they escape with unjust impunity, than if they
are punished by just retribution. And it follows upon this
fact that they will be undergoing heavier penalties when they
are thought to be unpunished."

"When I hear your arguments, I feel sure that they are
true as possible. But if I turn to human opinions, I ask what
man would not think them not only incredible, but even un-
thinkable?"

"Yes," she said, "for men cannot raise to the transparent
light of truth their eyes which have been accustomed to dark-
ness. They are like those birds whose sight is clear at night,
but blinded by daylight. So long as they look not upon the
true course of nature, but upon their own feelings, they think
that the freedom of passion and the impunity of crime are
happy things. Think upon the sacred ordinances of eternal
law. If your mind is fashioned after better things, there is no
need of a judge to award a prize; you have added yourself to
the number of the more excellent. If your mind sinks to worse
things, seek no avenger from without: you have thrust your-
self downward to lower things. It is as though you were

1 It must not be supposed from the words "cleansing mercy" (purga-
toria dementia) that Boethius held the same views as were held by
the Church later concerning purgatory, and as are now taught by the
Roman Catholic Church. It is true that St. Augustine had in 407 A.D.
hinted at the existence of such a state, but it was not dogmatically
inculcated till 604, in the Papacy of Gregory the Great.

The Consolation of Philosophy 87

looking at the squalid earth and the heavens in turn; then
take away all that is about you; and by the power of sight,
you will seem to be in the midst now of mud, now of stars.
But mankind looks not to such things. What then shall we
do? Shall we join ourselves to those whom we have shewn to
be as beasts? If a man lost utterly his sight, and even forgot
that he had ever seen, so that he thought he lacked naught
of human perfection, should we think that such a blind one
can see as we do? Most people would not even allow another
point, which rests no less firmly upon strong reasons, namely,
that those who do an injury are more unhappy than those
who suffer one." *

"I would hear those strong reasons," I said.

"You do not deny that every wicked man deserves punish-
ment?"

"No."

"It is plain for many reasons that the wicked are unhappy?"

"Yes."

"Then you doubt not that those who are worthy of punish-
ment are miserable?"

"No, I agree."

"If then you were sitting as a judge, upon which would you
consider punishment should fall the man who did the injury,
or the man who suffered it?"

"I have no hesitation in saying that I would make amends
to the sufferer at the expense of the doer of the injustice."

"Then the doer of the injustice would seem to you more
miserable than the sufferer?"

"That follows."

"Then from this," said she, "and other causes which rest
upon the same foundation, it is plain that, since baseness
makes men more miserable by its own nature, the misery is
brought not to the sufferer of an injustice, but to the doer
thereof. But the speakers in law-courts take the opposite
course: they try to excite the pity of the judges for those who

1 Plato, Gorgias, 474 and ff.

88 Boethius

have suffered any heavy or bitter wrong; but more justly
their pity would be due to those who have committed the
wrong. These guilty men ought to be brought, by accusers
kindly rather than angry, to justice, as patients to a doctor,
that their disease of crime may be checked by punishment.
Under such an arrangement the occupation of advocates for
defence would either come to a complete standstill, or if it
seemed more to the advantage of mankind, it might turn to
the work of prosecution. And if the wicked too themselves
might by some device look on virtue left behind them, and
if they could see that they would lay aside the squalor of vice
by the pain of punishment, and that they would gain the
compensation of achieving virtue again, they would no longer
hold it punishment, but would refuse the aid of advocates for
their defence, and would intrust themselves unreservedly to
their accusers and their judges. In this way there would be no
place left for hatred among wise men. For who but the most
foolish would hate good men? And there is no cause to hate
bad men. Vice is as a disease of the mind, just as feebleness
shews ill-health in the body. As, then, we should never think
that those, who are sick in the body, deserve hatred, so are
those, whose minds are oppressed by a fiercer disease than
feebleness, namely wickedness, much more worthy of pity than
of persecution.

"To what good end do men their passions raise, even to
drag from fate their deaths by their own hands? If ye seek
death, she is surely nigh of her own will; and her winged
horses she will not delay. Serpents and lions, bears, tigers and
boars, all seek your lives with their fangs, yet do ye seek
them with swords? Is it because your manners are so wide
in variance that men raise up unjust battles and savage wars,
and seek to perish by each other's darts? Such is no just rea-
son for this cruelty. Wouldst thou apportion merit to merit
fitly? Then love good men as is their due, and for the evil
shew your pity."

The Consolation of Philosophy 89

(Boethius still feels dissatisfied with the world's government.)

Then said I, "I see how happiness and misery lie insep-
arably in the deserts of good and bad men. But I am sure that
there is some good and some bad in the general fortune of men.
For no wise man even would wish to be exiled, impoverished,
and disgraced rather than full of wealth, power, veneration,
and strength, and flourishing securely in his own city. The
operation of wisdom is shewn in this way more nobly and
clearly, when the happiness of rulers is in a manner trans-
mitted to the people who come into contact with their rule;
and especially when prisons, bonds, and other penalties of
the law become the lot of the evil citizens for whom they
were designed. I am struck with great wonder why these dues
are interchanged ; why punishments for crimes fall upon the
good, while the bad citizens seize the rewards of virtue; and
I long to learn from you what reason can be put forward for
such unjust confusion. I should wonder less if I could believe
that everything was the confusion of accident and chance.
But now the thought of God's guidance increases my amaze-
ment; He often grants happiness to good men and bitterness
to the bad, and then, on the other hand, sends hardships to
the good and grants the desires of the wicked. Can we lay our
hands on any cause? If not, what can make this state different
in any way from accidental chance?"

"It is no wonder," she answered, "if one who knows not the
order and reasons of nature, should think it is all at random
and confused. But doubt not, though you know not the cause
of such a great matter of the world's government, doubt not,
I say, that all is rightly done, because a good Governor rules
the universe.

"If any man knows not that the star Arcturus 1 has his
course nearest the topmost pole, how shall he not be amazed

1 Arcturus, the star in Bootes nearest to the Bear, used to be thought
the nearest star to our pole. Bootes was also known as the Arctophylax,
or Rearward, and so also as the driver of the Wain.

QO Boethius

that Bootes so slowly takes his wain and is so late to dip his
brightness in the ocean, and yet so swiftly turns to rise again?
The law of heaven on high will but bewilder him. When the
full moon grows dim to its horns, darkened by the shadow of
dull night, when Phoebe thus lays bare all the varying bands
of the stars, which she had hidden by the power of her shin-
ing face: then are the nations stirred by the errors of the
vulgar, and beat without ceasing brazen cymbals. 1 No man
is surprised when the blasts of the wind beat a shore with
roaring waves, nor when a solid mass of frozen snow is melted
by the warmth of Phcebus's rays; for herein the causes are
ready at hand to be understood. But in those other matters the
causes are hidden, and so do trouble all men's hearts, for time
does not grant them to advance with experience in such things
as seldom recur: the common herd is ever amazed at all that
is extraordinary. But let the cloudy errors of ignorance de-
part, and straightway these shall seem no longer marvellous."

"That is true," I said; "but it is your kind office to unravel
the causes of hidden matters, and explain reasons now veiled
in darkness; wherefore I beg of you, put forth your decree
and expound all to me, since this wonder most deeply stirs
my mind."

Then said she, smiling, "Your question calls me to the
greatest of all these matters, and a full answer thereto is well-
nigh impossible. For this is its kind: if one doubt be cut away,
innumerable others arise, as the Hydra's heads; and there can
be no limit unless a man restrains them by the most quick
fire of the mind. For herein lie the questions of the directness
of Providence, the course of Fate, chances which cannot be
foreseen, knowledge, divine predestination, and freedom of
judgment. You can judge for yourself the weight of these
questions. But since it is a part of your treatment to know
some of these, I will attempt to make some advantage there-

x The old superstition was that an eclipse meant the withdrawal of
the moon, and that by a noise of beaten brass, etc., she could be saved.

The Consolation of Philosophy 91

from, though we are penned in by our narrow space of time.
But if you enjoy the delights of song, you must wait a while
for that pleasure, while I weave together for you the chain
of reasons."

"As you will," said I.

Then, as though beginning afresh, she spake thus:

(Philosophy discusses Providence and Fate.)

"The engendering of all things, the whole advance of all
changing natures, and every motion and progress in the world,
draw their causes, their order, and their forms from the allot-
ment of the unchanging mind of God, which lays manifold
restrictions on all action from the calm fortress of its own
directness. Such restrictions are called Providence when they
can be seen to lie in the very simplicity of divine understand-
ing; but they were called Fate in old times when they were
viewed with reference to the objects which they moved or
arranged. It will easily be understood that these two are very
different if the mind examines the force of each. For Provi-
dence is the very divine reason which arranges all things, and
rests with the supreme disposer of all; while Fate is that
ordering which is a part of all changeable things, and by means
of which Providence binds all things together in their own
order. Providence embraces all things equally, however dif-
ferent they may be, even however infinite: when they are
assigned to their own places, forms, and times, Fate sets them
in an orderly motion; so that this development of the temporal
order, unified in the intelligence of the mind of God, is Provi-
dence. The working of this unified development in time is
called Fate. These are different, but the one hangs upon the
other. For this order, which is ruled by Fate, emanates from
the directness of Providence. Just as when a craftsman per-
ceived in his mind the form of the object he would make, he
sets his working power in motion, and brings through the
order of time that which he had seen directly and ready pres-
ent to his mind. So by Providence does God dispose all that
is to be done, each thing by itself and unchangeably; while

92 Boethius

these same things which Providence has arranged are worked
out by Fate in many ways and in time. Whether, therefore,
Fate works by the aid of the divine spirits which serve Provi-
dence, or whether it works by the aid of the soul, or of all
nature, or the motions of the stars in heaven, or the powers of
angels, or the manifold skill of other spirits, whether the course
of Fate is bound together by any or all of these, one thing is
certain, namely that Providence is the one unchangeable direct
power which gives form to all things which are to come to
pass, while Fate is the changing bond, the temporal order of
those things which are arranged to come to pass by the direct
disposition of God. Wherefore everything which is subject to
Fate is also subject to Providence, to which Fate is itself sub-
ject. But there are things which, though beneath Providence,
are above the course of Fate. Those things are they which
are immovably set nearest the primary divinity, and are there
beyond the course of the movement of Fate. As in the case
of spheres moving round the same axis, that which is nearest
the centre approaches most nearly the simple motion of the
centre, and is itself, as it were, an axis around which turn those
which are set outside it. That sphere which is outside all turns
through a greater circuit, and fulfils a longer course in pro-
portion as it is farther from the central axis; and if it be joined
or connect itself with that centre, it is drawn into the direct
motion thereof, and no longer strays or strives to turn away.
In like manner, that which goes farther from the primary in-
telligence, is bound the more by the ties of Fate, and the
nearer it approaches the axis of all, the more free it is from
Fate. But that which clings without movement to the firm
intellect above, surpasses altogether the bond of Fate. As,
therefore, reasoning is to understanding; as that which be-
comes is to that which is; as time is to eternity; as the circum-
ference is to the centre: so is the changing course of Fate to
the immovable directness of Providence. That course of Fate
moves the heavens and the stars, moderates the first principles
in their turns, and alters their forms by balanced interchang-
ings. The same course renews all things that are born and

The Consolation of Philosophy 93

wither away by like advances of offspring and seed. It con-
strains, too, the actions and fortunes of men by an unbreakable
chain of causes: and these causes must be unchangeable, as
they proceed from the beginnings of an unchanging Provi-
dence. Thus is the world governed for the best if a directness,
which rests in the intelligence of God, puts forth an order of
causes which may not swerve. This order restrains by its own
unchangeableness changeable things, which might otherwise
run hither and thither at random. Wherefore in disposing the
universe this limitation directs all for good, though to you
who are not strong enough to comprehend the whole order, all
seems confusion and disorder. Naught is there that comes to
pass for the sake of evil, or due to wicked men, of whom it
has been abundantly shewn that they seek the good, but mis-
leading error turns them from the right course; for never does
the true order, which comes forth from the centre of the high-
est good, turn any man aside from the right beginning.

"But you will ask, What more unjust confusion could
exist than that good men should sometimes enjoy prosperity,
sometimes suffer adversity, and that the bad too should some-
times receive what they desire, sometimes what they hate?'
Are then men possessed of such infallible minds that they,
whom they consider honest or dishonest, must necessarily be
what they are held to be? No, in these matters human judg-
ment is at variance with itself, and those who are held by some
to be worthy of reward, are by others held worthy of punish-
ment. But let us grant that a man could discern between good
and bad characters. Can he therefore know the inmost feelings
of the soul, as a doctor can learn a body's temperature? For it
is no less a wonder to the ignorant why sweet things suit one
sound body, while bitter things suit another; or why some
sick people are aided by gentle draughts, others by sharp and
bitter ones. But a doctor does not wonder at such things, for
he knows the ways and constitutions of health and sickness.
And what is the health of the soul but virtue? And what the
sickness, but vice? And who is the preserver of the good and
banisher of the evil, who but God, the guardian and healer of

94 Boethius

minds? God looks forth from the high watch-tower of His
Providence, He sees what suits each man, and applies to him
that which suits him. Hence then comes that conspicuous
cause of wonder in the order of Fate, when a wise man does
that which amazes the ignorant. For, to glance at the depth
of God's works with so few words as human reason is capable
of comprehending, I say that what you think to be most fair
and most conducive to justice's preservation, that appears
different to an all-seeing Providence. Has not our fellow-
philosopher Lucan told us how 'the conquering cause did
please the gods, but the conquered, Cato?' 1 What then sur-
prises you when done on this earth, is the true-guided order
of things; it is your opinion which is perverted and confused.
But if there is any one whose life is so good that divine and
human estimates of him agree, yet he must be uncertain in
the strength of his mind; if any adversity befall him, it may
always be that he will cease to preserve his innocence, by
which he found that he could not preserve his good fortune.
Thus then a wise dispensation spares a man who might be
made worse by adversity, lest he should suffer when it is not
good for him to be oppressed. Another may be perfected in
all virtues, wholly conscientious, and very near to God : Provi-
dence holds that it is not right such an one should receive
any adversity, so that it allows him to be troubled not even
by bodily diseases. As a better man 2 than I has said, The
powers of virtues build up the body of a good man/ It often
happens that the duty of a supreme authority is assigned to
good men for the purpose of pruning the insolent growth of
wickedness. To some, Providence grants a mingled store of

1 Lucan, Pharsalia, i. 128. This famous line refers to the final triumph
of Caesar at Thapsus, B.C. 46, when Cato considered that the Republican
cause was finally doomed and he committed suicide at Utica rather than
survive it.

*The author is supposed to be Hermes Trismegistus, who wrote in
the third century after Christ. The word "powers" was used by many
Neo-Platonic philosophers for those beings in the scale of nature, with
which they filled the chasm between God and man. But Boethius does
not seem to intend the word to have that definite meaning here.

The Consolation of Philosophy 95

good and bad, according to the nature of their minds. Some
she treats bitterly, lest they grow too exuberant with long-
continued good fortune; others she allows to be harassed by
hardships that the virtues of their minds should be strength-
ened by the habit and exercise of patience. Some have too
great a fear of sufferings which they can bear; others have
too great contempt for those which they cannot bear: these
she leads on by troubles to make trial of themselves. Some
have brought a name to be honoured for all time at the price
of a glorious death. Some by shewing themselves undefeated
by punishment, have left a proof to others that virtue may
be invincible by evil. What doubt can there be of how rightly
such things are disposed, and that they are for the good of
those whom we see them befall? The other point too arises
from like causes, that sometimes sorrows, sometimes the ful-
filment of their desires, falls to the wicked. As concerns the
sorrows, no one is surprised, because all agree that they de-
serve ill. Their punishments serve both to deter others from
crime by fear, and also to amend the lives of those who un-
dergo them; their happiness, on the other hand, serves as a
proof to good men of how they should regard good fortune
of this nature, which they see often attends upon the dis-
honest. And another thing seems to me to be well arranged:
the nature of a man may be so headstrong and rough that
lack of wealth may stir him to crime more readily than restrain
him; for the disease of such an one Providence prescribes a
remedy of stores of patrimony: he may see that his con-
science is befouled by sin, he may take account with himself
of his fortune, and will perhaps fear lest the loss of this prop-
erty, of which he enjoys the use, may bring unhappiness.
Wherefore he will change his ways, and leave off from ill-
doing so long as he fears the loss of his fortune. Again, good
fortune, unworthily improved, has flung some into ruin. To
some the right of punishing is committed that they may use
it for the exercise and trial of the good, and the punishment
of evil men. And just as there is no league between good and
bad men, so also the bad cannot either agree among them-

96 Boethius

selves: i;;:y, with their vices tearing their own consciences
asunder, they cannot agree with themselves, and do often
perform acts which, when done, they perceive that they should
not have done. Wherefore high Providence has thus often
shewn her strange wonder, namely, that bad men should make
other bad men good. For some find themselves suffering in-
justice at the hands of evil men, and, burning with hatred
of those who have injured them, they have returned to culti-
vate the fruits of virtue, because their aim is to be unlike those
whom they hate. To divine power, and to that alone, are evil
things good, when it uses them suitably so as to draw good
results therefrom. For a definite order embraces all things, so
that even when some subject leaves the true place assigned
to it in the order, it returns to an order, though another, it
may be, lest aught in the realm of Providence be left to random
chance. But 'hard is it for me to set forth all these matters as
a god/ * nor is it right for a man to try to comprehend with
his mind all the means of divine working, or to explain them
in words. Let it be enough that we have seen that God, the
Creator of all nature, directs and disposes all things for good.
And while He urges all, that He has made manifest, to keep
His own likeness, He drives out by the course of Fate all evil
from the bounds of His state. Wherefore if you look to the
disposition of Providence, you will reckon naught as bad of
all the evils which are held to abound upon earth.

"But I see that now you are weighed down by the burden
of the question, and wearied by the length of our reasoning,
and waiting for the gentleness of song. Take then your draught,
be refreshed thereby and advance further the stronger.

"If thou wouldst diligently behold with unsullied mind the
laws of the God of thunder upon high, look to the highest point
of heaven above. There, by a fair and equal compact, do the
stars keep their ancient peace. The sun is hurried on by its
whirl of fire, but impedes not the moon's cool orb. The Bear

1 Homer, Iliad, xii. 176.

The Consolation of Philosophy 97

turns its rushing course around the highest pole of the uni-
verse, and dips not in the western depths, and though it sees
the other constellations sink, it never seeks to quench its
flames in the ocean stream. In just divisions of time does the
evening star foretell the coming of the late shadows, and, as
Lucifer, brings back again the warming light of day. Thus
does the interchanging bond of love bring round their never-
failing courses; and strife is for ever an exile from the starry
realms. This unity rules by fair limits the elements, so that
wet yields to dry, its opposite, and it faithfully joins cold to
heat. Floating fire rises up on high, and matter by its weight
sinks down. From these same causes in warm spring the
flowering season breathes its scents ; then the hot summer dries
the grain; then with its burden of fruits comes autumn again,
and winter's falling rain gives moisture. This mingling of sea-
sons nourishes and brings forth all on earth that has the breath
of life; and again snatches them away and hides them, whelm-
ing in death all that has arisen. Meanwhile the Creator sits
on high, rules all and guides, King and Lord, fount and source
of all, Law itself and wise judge of justice. He restrains all that
stirs nature to motion, holds it back, and makes firm all that
would stray. If He were not to recall them to their true paths,
and set them again upon the circles of their courses, they
would be torn from their source and so would perish. This
is the common bond of love; all seek thus to be restrained by
the limit of the good. In no other manner can they endure if
this bond of love be not turned round again, and if the causes,
which He has set, return not again.

(Philosophy shews that all fortune is good.)

"Do you see now," she continued, "what follows upon all
that we have said?"

"What is it? "I asked.

"That all fortune is plainly good," she answered.

"How can that be?" said I.

"Consider this," she said: "all fortune, whether pleasant
or difficult, is due to this cause; it is for the sake of rewarding

98 Boethius

the good or exercising their virtue, and of punishing and cor-
recting bad men: therefore it is plain that all this fortune
which is allowed to be just or expedient, must be good."

"Yes," I said, "that is a true argument, and when I think
of the Providence or Fate about which you have taught me,
the conclusion rests upon strong foundations. But if it please
you, let us count it among those conclusions which you a little
while ago set down as inconceivable."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it is a commonplace saying among men indeed
an especially frequent one that some people have bad for-
tune."

"Would you then have us approach more nearly the com-
mon conversation of men, lest we should seem to withdraw
too far from human ways?"

"If you will," I said.

"Do you not think that that, which is advantageous, is
good?"

"Yes."

"And that fortune, which exercises or corrects, is ad-
vantageous?"

"I agree," said I.

"Then it is good, is it not?"

"It must be so."

"This is the fortune of those who are either firmly set in
virtue and struggling against their difficulties, or of those who
would leave their vices and take the path of virtue?"

"That is true," I said.

"But what of that pleasant fortune which is granted as a
reward to good men? Do most people perceive that it is bad?
No; but, as is true, they esteem it the best. And what of the
last kind of fortune, which is hard and which restrains bad
men by just punishment? Is that commonly held to be good?"

"No," said I, "it is held to be the most miserable of all that
can be imagined."

"Beware lest in following the common conception, we come
to some truly inconceivable conclusion."

The Consolation of Philosophy 99

"What do you mean?"

"From what we have allowed," she said, "it results that the
fortune of those who are in possession of virtue, or are gaining
it, or advancing therein, is entirely good, whatever it be, while
for those who remain in wickedness, their fortune is the worst."

"That is true, but who would dare confess it?"

"For this reason a wise man should never complain, when-
ever he is brought into strife with fortune; just as a brave
man cannot properly be disgusted whenever the noise of battle
is heard, since for both of them their very difficulty is their
opportunity, for the brave man of increasing his glory, for
the wise man of confirming and strengthening his wisdom.
From this is virtue itself so named, 1 because it is so supported
by its strength that it is not overcome by adversity. And you
who were set in the advance of virtue have not come to this
pass of being dissipated by delights, or enervated by pleasure;
but you fight too bitterly against all fortune. Keep the middle
path of strength and virtue, lest you be overwhelmed by mis-
fortune or corrupted by pleasant fortune. All that falls short
or goes too far ahead, has contempt for happiness, and gains
not the reward for labour done. It rests in your own hands
what shall be the nature of the fortune which you choose to
form for yourself. For all fortune which seems difficult, either
exercises virtue, or corrects or punishes vice.

"The avenging son of Atreus strove for full ten years before
he expiated in the fall of Phrygian Troy the wrong done to
his brother's marriage. The same Agamemnon must needs
throw off his father's nature, and himself, an unwilling priest,
thrust his knife into his unhappy daughter's throat, and buy
the winds at the cost of blood, when he sought to fill the sails
of the fleet of Greece. The King of Ithaca wept sore for his
lost comrades whom the savage Polyphemus swallowed into
his huge maw as he lay in his vast cave; but, when mad for
his blinded eye, he paid back with rejoicings for the sad tears

1 The Latin word "virtus" means by its derivation, manly strength.

ioo Boethius

he had drawn. Hercules became famous through hard labours.
He tamed the haughty Centaurs, and from the fierce lion of
Nemea took his spoil. With his sure arrows he smote the birds
of Stymphalus; and from the watchful dragon took the apples
of the Hesperides, filling his hand with their precious gold;
and Cerberus he dragged along with threefold chain. The story
tells how he conquered the fierce Diomede and set before his
savage mares their master as their food. The Hydra's poison
perished in his fire. He took the horn and so disgraced the
brow of the river Achelous, who hid below his bank his head
ashamed. On the sands of Libya he laid Antaeus low; Cacus
he slew to sate Evander's wrath. The bristling boar of Ery-
manthus flecked with his own foam the shoulders which were
to bear the height of heaven; for in his last labour he bore
with unbending neck the heavens, and so won again his place
in heaven, the reward of his last work.

"Go forth then bravely whither leads the lofty path of high
example. Why do ye sluggards turn your backs? When the
earth is overcome, the stars are yours."

BOOK FIVE

HERE she made an end and was for turning the course of her
speaking to the handling and explaining of other subjects.
Then said I: "Your encouragement is right and most worthy
in truth of your name and weight. But I am learning by experi-
ence what you just now said of Providence; that the question
is bound up in others. I would ask you whether you think
that Chance exists at all, and what you think it is?"

Then she answered: "I am eager to fulfil my promised debt,
and to shew you the path by which you may seek your home.
But these things, though all-expedient for knowledge, are
none the less rather apart from our path, and we must be
careful lest you become wearied by our turnings aside, and so
be not strong enough to complete the straight journey."

"Have no fear at all thereof," said I. "It will be restful to
know these things in which I have so great a pleasure; and
when every view of your reasoning has stood firm with un-
shaken credit, so let there be no doubt of what shall follow."

"I will do your pleasure," she made answer, and thus she
began to speak:

{Philosophy discusses "chance")

"If chance is defined as an outcome of random influence,
produced by no sequence of causes, I am sure that there is no
such thing as chance, and I consider that it is but an empty
word, beyond shewing the meaning of the matter which we
have in hand. For what place can be left for anything hap-
pening at random, so long as God controls everything in
order? It is a true saying that nothing can come out of nothing.
None of the old philosophers has denied that, though they did
not apply it to the effective principle, but to the matter op-
erated upon that is to say, to nature; and this was the
foundation upon which they built all their reasoning. If any-

101

iO2 Boethius

thing arises from no causes, it will appear to have risen out
of nothing. But if this is impossible, then chance also cannot
be anything of that sort, which is stated in the definition which
we mentioned."

"Then is there nothing which can be justly called chance,
nor anything 'by chance'?" I asked. "Or is there anything
which common people know not, but which those words do
suit?"

"My philosopher, Aristotle, defined it in his Physics* shortly
and well-nigh truly."

"How?" I asked.

"Whenever anything is done with one intention, but some-
thing else, other than was intended, results from certain causes,
that is called chance: as, for instance, if a man digs the ground
for the sake of cultivating it, and finds a heap of buried gold.
Such a thing is believed to have happened by chance, but it
does not come from nothing, for it has its own causes, whose
unforeseen and unexpected coincidence seem to have brought
about a chance. For if the cultivator did not dig the ground,
if the owner had not buried his money, the gold would not
have been found. These are the causes of the chance piece of
good fortune, which comes about from the causes which meet
it, and move along with it, not from the intention of the actor.
For neither the burier nor the tiller intended that the gold
should be found; but, as I said, it was a coincidence, and it
happened that the one dug up what the other buried. We may
therefore define chance as an unexpected result from the
coincidence of certain causes in matters where there was an-
other purpose. The order of the universe, advancing with its
inevitable sequences, brings about this coincidence of causes.
This order itself emanates from its source, which is Providence,
and disposes all things in their proper time and place.

"In the land where the Parthian, as he turns in flight, shoots
his arrows into the pursuer's breast, from the rocks of the

1 Aristotle, Physics, ii. 3.

The Consolation of Philosophy 103

crag of Achsemenia, the Tigris and Euphrates flow from out
one source, but quickly with divided streams are separate. If
they should come together and again be joined in a single
course, all, that the two streams bear along, would flow in
one together. Boats would meet boats, and trees meet trees
torn up by the currents, and the mingled waters would to-
gether entwine their streams by chance; but their sloping beds
restrain these chances vague, and the downward order of the
falling torrent guides their courses. Thus does chance, which
seems to rush onward without rein, bear the bit, and take its
way by rule."

(Philosophy asserts the existence of free will.)
"I have listened to you," I said, "and agree that it is as you
say. But in this close sequence of causes, is there any freedom
for our judgment, or does this chain of fate bind the very feel-
ings of our minds too?"

"There is free will," she answered. "Nor could there be
any reasoning nature without freedom of judgment. For any
being that can use its reason by nature, has a power of judg-
ment by which it can without further aid decide each point,
and so distinguish between objects to be desired and objects
to be shunned. Each therefore seeks what it deems desirable,
and flies from what it considers should be shunned. Wherefore
all who have reason have also freedom of desiring and refusing
in themselves. But I do not lay down that this is equal in all
beings. Heavenly and divine beings have with them a judg-
ment of great insight, an imperturbable will, and a power
which can effect their desires. But human spirits must be more
free when they keep themselves safe in the contemplation of
the mind of God; but less free when they sink into bodies,
and less still when they are bound by their earthly members.
The last stage is mere slavery, when the spirit is given over to
vices and has fallen away from the possession of its reason.
For when the mind turns its eyes from the light of truth on
high to lower darkness, soon they are dimmed by the clouds
of ignorance, and become turbid through ruinous passions;

104 Boethius

by yielding to these passions and consenting to them, men
increase the slavery which they have brought upon themselves,
and their true liberty is lost in captivity. But God, looking
upon all out of the infinite, perceives the views of Providence,
and disposes each as its destiny has already fated for it ac-
cording to its merits: 'He looketh over all and heareth all.' 1

"Homer with his honeyed lips sang of the bright sun's clear
light; yet the sun cannot burst with his feeble rays the bowels
of the earth or the depths of the sea. Not so with the Creator
of this great sphere. No masses of earth can block His vision
as He looks over all. Night's cloudy darkness cannot resist
Him. With one glance of His intelligence He sees all that has
been, that is, and that is to come. He alone can see all things,
so truly He may be called the Sun." a

Then said I, "Again am I plunged in yet more doubt and
difficulty."

(Boethius cannot reconcile God's foreknowledge with man's free

will.)

"What are they," she asked, "though I have already my
idea of what your trouble consists?"

"There seems to me," I said, "to be such incompatibility
between the existence of God's universal foreknowledge and
that of any freedom of judgment. For if God foresees all
things and cannot in anything be mistaken, that, which His
Providence sees will happen, must result. Wherefore if it
knows beforehand not only men's deeds but even their designs
and wishes, there will be no freedom of judgment. For there
can neither be any deed done, nor wish formed, except such
as the infallible Providence of God has foreseen. For if matters
could ever so be turned that they resulted otherwise than was

*A phrase from Homer (Iliad, iii. 277, and Odyssey, xi. 109), where
it is said of the sun.

a This sentence, besides referring to the application of Homer's words
used above, contains also a play on words in the Latin, which can only
be clumsily reproduced in English by some such words as "The sole
power which can see all is justly to be called the solar."

The Consolation of Philosophy 105

foreseen of Providence, this foreknowledge would cease to be
sure. But, rather than knowledge, it is opinion which is un-
certain; and that, I deem, is not applicable to God. And,
further, I cannot approve of an argument by which some men
think that they can cut this knot; for they say that a result
does not come to pass for the reason that Providence has fore-
seen it, but the opposite rather, namely, that because it is
about to come to pass, therefore it cannot be hidden from
God's Providence. In that way it seems to me that the argu-
ment must resolve itself into an argument on the other side.
For in that case it is not necessary that that should happen
which is foreseen, but that that which is about to happen
should be foreseen; as though, indeed, our doubt was whether
God's foreknowledge is the certain cause of future events, or
the certainty of future events is the cause of Providence. But
let our aim be to prove that, whatever be the shape which
this series of causes takes, the fulfilment of God's foreknowl-
edge is necessary, even if this knowledge may not seem to
induce the necessity for the occurrence of future events. For
instance, if a man sits down, it must be that the opinion, which
conjectures that he is sitting, is true; but conversely, if the
opinion concerning the man is true because he is sitting, he
must be sitting down. There is therefore necessity in both
cases: the man must be sitting, and the opinion must be true.
But he does not sit because the opinion is true, but rather
the opinion is true because his sitting down has preceded it.
Thus, though the cause of the truth of the opinion proceeds
from the other fact, yet there is a common necessity on both
parts. In like manner we must reason of Providence and future
events. For even though they are foreseen because they are
about to happen, yet they do not happen because they are
foreseen. None the less it is necessary that either what is about
to happen should be foreseen of God, or that what has been
foreseen should happen; and this alone is enough to destroy
all free will.

"Yet how absurd it is that we should say that the result of

io6 Boethius

temporal affairs is the cause of eternal foreknowledge! And
to think that God foresees future events because they are
about to happen, is nothing else than to hold events of past
time to be the cause of that highest Providence. Besides, just
as, when I know a present fact, that fact must be so; so also
when I know of something that will happen, that must come
to pass. Thus it follows that the fulfilment of a foreknown
event must be inevitable.

"Lastly, if any one believes that any matter is otherwise
than the fact is, he not only has not knowledge, but his opinion
is false also, and that is very far from the truth of knowledge.
Wherefore, if any future event is such that its fulfilment is
not sure or necessary, how can it possibly be known before-
hand that it will occur? For just as absolute knowledge has
no taint of falsity, so also that which is conceived by knowl-
edge cannot be otherwise than as it is conceived. That is the
reason why knowledge cannot lie, because each matter must
be just as knowledge knows that it is. What then? How can
God know beforehand these uncertain future events? For if
He thinks inevitable the fulfilment of such things as may pos-
sibly not result, He is wrong; and that we may not believe,
nor even utter, rightly. But if He perceives that they will
result as they are in such a manner that He only knows that
they may or may not occur, equally, how is this foreknowl-
edge, this which knows nothing for sure, nothing absolutely?
How is such a foreknowledge different from the absurd
prophecy which Horace puts in the mouth of Tiresias: What-
ever I shall say, will either come to pass, or it will not'? * How,
too, would God's Providence be better than man's opinion,
if, as men do, He only sees to be uncertain such things as have
an uncertain result? But if there can be no uncertainty with
God, the most sure source of all things, then the fulfilment of
all that He has surely foreknown, is certain. Thus we are led
to see that there is no freedom for the intentions or actions of
men; for the mind of God, foreseeing all things without error

1 Horace, Satires, 11. v. 59.

The Consolation oj Philosophy 107

or deception, binds all together and controls their results
And when we have once allowed this, it is plain how complete
is the fall of all human actions in consequence. In vain are
rewards or punishments set before good or bad, for there is
no free or voluntary action of the mind to deserve them ; and
what we just now determined was most fair, will prove to be
most unfair of all, namely to punish the dishonest or reward
the honest, since their own will does not put them in the way of
honesty or dishonesty, but the unfailing necessity of develop-
ment constrains them. Wherefore neither virtues nor vices are
anything, but there is rather an indiscriminate confusion of
all deserts. And nothing could be more vicious than this; since
the whole order of all comes from Providence, and nothing is
left to human intention, it follows that our crimes, as well as
our good deeds, must all be held due to the author of all good.
Hence it is unreasonable to hope for or pray against aught.
For what could any man hope for or pray against, if an un-
deviating chain links together all that we can desire? Thus
will the only understanding between God and man, the right
of prayer, be taken away. We suppose that at the price of our
deservedly humbling ourselves before Him we may win a
right to the inestimable reward of His divine grace: this is the
only manner in which men can seem to deal with God, so to
speak, and by virtue of prayer to join ourselves to that inac-
cessible light, before it is granted to us; but if we allow the
inevitability of the future, and believe that we have no power,
what means shall we have to join ourselves to the Lord of all,
or how can we cling to Him? WTierefore, as you sang but a
little while ago, 1 the human race must be cut off from its source
and ever fall away.

"What cause of discord is it breaks the bonds of agreement
here? What heavenly power has set such strife between two
truths? Thus, though apart each brings no doubt, yet can
they not be linked together. Comes there no discord between

1 Supra, Book iv. Met. vi. p. 135.

io8 Boethius

these truths? Stand they for ever sure by one another? Yes,
'tis the mind, o'erwhelmed by the body's blindness, which
cannot see by the light of that dimmed brightness the finest
threads that bind the truth. But wherefore burns the spirit
with so strong desire to learn the hidden signs of truth? Knows
it the very object of its careful search? Then why seeks it to
learn anew what it already knows? If it knows it not, why
searches it in blindness? For who would desire aught un-
witting? Or who could seek after that which is unknown?
How should he find it, or recognise its form when found, if
he knows it not? And when the mind of man perceived the
mind of God, did it then know the whole and parts alike?
Now is the mind buried in the cloudy darkness of the body,
yet has not altogether forgotten its own self, and keeps the
whole though it has lost the parts. Whosoever, therefore, seeks
the truth, is not wholly in ignorance, nor yet has knowledge
wholly; for he knows not all, yet is not ignorant of all. He
takes thought for the whole which he keeps in memory, han-
dling again what he saw on high, so that he may add to that
which he has kept, that which he has forgotten."

(Philosophy tries to shew how they may be reconciled.)
Then said she, "This is the old plaint concerning Provi-
dence which was so strongly urged by Cicero when treating
of Divination, 1 and you yourself have often and at length
questioned the same subject. But so far, none of you have
explained it with enough diligence or certainty. The cause of
this obscurity is that the working of human reason cannot
approach the directness of divine foreknowledge. If this could
be understood at all, there would be no doubt left. And this
especially will I try to make plain, if I can first explain your
difficulties.

"Tell me why you think abortive the reasoning of those
who solve the question thus; they argue that foreknowledge
cannot be held to be a cause for the necessity of future results,
1 Cicero, De Divinatione, n.

The Consolation of Philosophy 109

and therefore free will is not in any way shackled by fore-
knowledge. 1 Whence do you draw your proof of the necessity
of future results if not from the fact that such things as are
known beforehand cannot but come to pass? If, then (as you
yourself admitted just now), foreknowledge brings no neces-
sity to bear upon future events, how is it that the voluntary
results of such events are bound to find a fixed end? Now
for the sake of the argument, that you may turn your atten-
tion to what follows, let us state that there is no foreknowl-
edge at all. Then are the events which are decided by free
will, bound by any necessity, so far as this goes? Of course
not. Secondly, let us state that foreknowledge exists, but
brings no necessity to bear upon events; then, I think, the
same free will will be left, intact and absolute. 'But/ you
will say, 'though foreknowledge is no necessity for a result
in the future, yet it is a sign that it will necessarily come to
pass.' Thus, therefore, even if there had been no foreknowl-
edge, it would be plain that future results were under neces-
sity; for every sign can only shew what it is that it points
out; it does not bring it to pass. Wherefore we must first prove
that nothing happens but of necessity, in order that it may
be plain that foreknowledge is a sign of this necessity. Other-
wise, if there is no necessity, then foreknowledge will not be
a sign of that which does not exist. Now it is allowed that
proof rests upon firm reasoning, not upon signs or external
arguments; it must be deduced from suitable and binding
causes. How can it possibly be that things, which are foreseen
as about to happen, should not occur? That would be as
though we were to believe that events would not occur which
Providence foreknows as about to occur, and as though we
did not rather think this, that though they occur, yet they
have had no necessity in their own natures which brought
them about. We can see many actions developing before our
eyes; just as chariot drivers see the development of their
actions as they control and guide their chariots, and many
1 Referring to Boethius's words on p. 104.

no Boethius

other things likewise. Does any necessity compel any of those
things to occur as they do? Of course not. All art, craft, and
intention would be in vain, if everything took place by com-
pulsion. Therefore, if things have no necessity for coming to
pass when they do, they cannot have any necessity to be
about to come to pass before they do. Wherefore there are
things whose results are entirely free from necessity. For I
think not that there is any man who will say this t that things,
which are done in the present, were not about to be done in
the past, before they are done. Thus these foreknown events
have their free results. Just as foreknowledge of present things
brings no necessity to bear upon them as they come to pass,
so also foreknowledge of future things brings no necessity to
bear upon things which are to come.

"But you will say that there is no doubt of this too, whether
there can be any foreknowledge of things which have not
results bounden by necessity. For they do seem to lack har-
mony: and you think that if they are foreseen, the necessity
follows; if there is no necessity, then they cannot be foreseen;
nothing can be perceived certainly by knowledge, unless it
be certain. But if things have uncertainty of result, but are
foreseen as though certain, this is plainly the obscurity of
opinion, and not the truth of knowledge. For you believe
that to think aught other than it is, is the opposite of true
knowledge. The cause of this error is that every man believes
that all the subjects, that he knows, are known by their own
force or nature alone, which are known; but it is quite the
opposite. For every subject, that is known, is comprehended
not according to its own force, but rather according to the
nature of those who know it. Let me make this plain to you
by a brief example: the roundness of a body may be known
in one way by sight, in another way by touch. Sight can take
in the whole body at once from a distance by judging its radii,
while touch clings, as it were, to the outside of the sphere, and
from close at hand perceives through the material parts the
roundness of the body as it passes over the actual circum-

The Consolation of Philosophy 1 1 1

ference. A man himself is differently comprehended by the
senses, by imagination, by reason, and by intelligence. For
the senses distinguish the form as set in the matter operated
upon by the form; imagination distinguishes the appearance
alone without the matter. Reason goes even further than
imagination; by a general and universal contemplation it
investigates the actual kind which is represented in individual
specimens. Higher still is the view of the intelligence, which
reaches above the sphere of the universal, and with the un-
sullied eye of the mind gazes upon that very form of the kind
in its absolute simplicity. Herein the chief point for our con-
sideration is this: the higher power of understanding includes
the lower, but the lower never rises to the higher. For the
senses are capable of understanding naught but the matter;
imagination cannot look upon universal or natural kinds;
reason cannot comprehend the absolute form; whereas the
intelligence seems to look down from above and comprehend
the form, and distinguishes all that lie below, but in such a
way that it grasps the very form which could not be known
to any other than itself. For it perceives and knows the gen-
eral kind, as does reason; the appearance, as does the imagina-
tion; and the matter, as do the senses, but with one grasp
of the mind it looks upon all with a clear conception of the
whole. And reason too, as it views general kinds, does not
make use of the imagination nor the senses, but yet does per-
ceive the objects both of the imagination and of the senses. It
is reason which thus defines a general kind according to its
conception: Man, for instance, is an animal, biped and rea-
soning. This is a general notion of a natural kind, but no man
denies that the subject can be approached by the imagination
and by the senses, just because reason investigates it by a
reasonable conception and not by the imagination or senses.
Likewise, though imagination takes its beginning of seeing
and forming appearances from the senses yet without their
aid it surveys each subject by an imaginative faculty of dis-
tinguishing, not by the distinguishing faculty of the senses.

ii2 Boethius

"Do you see then, how in knowledge of all things, the sub-
ject uses its own standard of capability, and not those of the
objects known? And this is but reasonable, for every judg-
ment formed is an act of the person who judges, and therefore
each man must of necessity perform his own action from his
own capability and not the capability of any other.

"In days of old the Porch at Athens 1 gave us men, seeing
dimly as in old age, who could believe that the feelings of
the senses and the imagination were but impressions on the
mind from bodies without them, just as the old custom was
to impress with swift-running pens letters upon the surface
of a waxen tablet which bore no marks before. But if the
mind with its own force can bring forth naught by its own
exertions; if it does but lie passive and subject to the marks of
other bodies; if it reflects, as does, forsooth, a mirror, the vain
reflections of other things; whence thrives there in the soul
an all-seeing power of knowledge? What is the force that sees
the single parts, or which distinguishes the facts it knows?
What is the force that gathers up the parts it has distin-
guished, that takes its course in order due, now rises to mingle
with the things on high, and now sinks down among the things
below, and then to itself brings back itself, and, so examining,
refutes the false with truth? This is a cause of greater power,
of more effective force by far than that which only receives
the impressions of material bodies. Yet does the passive re-
ception come first, rousing and stirring all the strength of
the mind in the living body. When the eyes are smitten with
a light, or the ears are struck with a voice's sound, then is
the spirit's energy aroused, and, thus moved, calls upon like
forms, such as it holds within itself, fits them to signs without
and mingles the forms of its imagination with those which it
has stored within.

1 Zeno, of Citium (342-270 B.C.) , the founder of the Stoic school, taught
in the Stoa Poekile, whence the name of the school. The following lines
refer to their doctrine of presentations and impressions.

The Consolation of Philosophy 113

(Human reasoning, being lower than divine intelligence, can at best
only strive to approach thereto.)

"With regard to feeling the effects of bodies, natures which
are brought into contact from without may affect the organs
of the senses, and the body's passive affection may precede
the active energy of the spirit, and call forth to itself the
activity of the mind; if then, when the effects of bodies are
felt, the mind is not marked in any way by its passive recep-
tion thereof, but declares that reception subject to the body
of its own force, how much less do those subjects, which are
free from all affections of bodies, follow external objects in
their perceptions, and how much more do they make clear the
way for the action of their mind? By this argument many
different manners of understanding have fallen to widely dif-
ferent natures of things. For the senses are incapable of any
knowledge but their own, and they alone fall to those living
beings which are incapable of motion, as are sea shell-fish, and
other low forms of life which live by clinging to rocks; while
imagination is granted to animals with the power of motion,
who seem to be affected by some desire to seek or avoid certain
things. But reason belongs to the human race alone, just as
the true intelligence is God's alone. Wherefore that mannei
of knowledge is better than others, for it can comprehend ol
its own nature not only the subject peculiar to itself, but also
the subjects of the other kinds of knowledge. Suppose that
the senses and imagination thus oppose reasoning, saying,
The universal natural kinds, which reason believes that it
can perceive, are nothing; for what is comprehensible to the
senses and the imagination cannot be universal: therefore
either the judgment of reason is true, and that which can be
perceived by the senses is nothing; or, since reason knows
well that there are many subjects comprehensible to the senses
and imagination, the conception of reason is vain, for it holds
to be universal what is an individual matter comprehensible
to the senses.' To this reason might answer, that 'it sees from
a general point of view what is comprehensible to the senses

ii4 Boethius

and the imagination, but they cannot aspire to a knowledge
of universals, since their manner of knowledge cannot go
further than material or bodily appearances; and in the mat-
ter of knowledge it is better to trust to the stronger and more
nearly perfect judgment. 7 If such a trial of argument oc-
curred, should not we, who have within us the force of rea-
soning as well as the powers of the senses and imagination,
approve of the cause of reason rather than that of the others?
Tt is in like manner that human reason thinks that the divine
intelligence cannot perceive the things of the future except
as it conceives them itself. For you argue thus: 'If there are
events which do not appear to have sure or necessary results,
their results cannot be known for certain beforehand: there-
fore there can be no foreknowledge of these events; for if we
believe that there is any foreknowledge thereof, there can exist
nothing but such as is brought forth of necessity.' If therefore
we, who have our share in possession of reason, could go
further and possess the judgment of the mind of God, we
should then think it most just that human reason should yield
itself to the mind of God, just as we have determined that the
senses and imagination ought to yield to reason.

"Let us therefore raise ourselves, if so be that we can, to
that height of the loftiest intelligence. For there reason will
see what it cannot of itself perceive, and that is to know how
even such things as have uncertain results are perceived defi-
nitely and for certain by foreknowledge; and such foreknowl-
edge will not be mere opinion, but rather the single and direct
form of the highest knowledge unlimited by any finite bounds.

"In what different shapes do living beings move upon the
earth! Some make flat their bodies, sweeping through the
dust and using their strength to make therein a furrow with-
out break; some flit here and there upon light wings which
beat the breeze, and they float through vast tracks of air in
their easy flight. Tis others' wont to plant their footsteps on
the ground, and pass with their paces over green fields or
under trees. Though all these thou seest move in different

The Consolation of Philosophy 115

shapes, yet all have their faces downward along the ground,
and this doth draw downward and dull their senses. Alone of
all, the human race lifts up its head on high, and stands in
easy balance with the body upright, and so looks down to
spurn the earth. If thou art not too earthly by an evil folly,
this pose is as a lesson. Thy glance is upward, and thou dost
carry high thy head, and thus thy search is heavenward: then
lead thy soul too upward, lest while the body is higher raised,
the mind sink lower to the earth.

(Philosophy explains that God's divine intelligence can view all

things from its eternal mind, while human reason can only see them

from a temporal point of view.)

"Since then all that is known is apprehended, as we just
now shewed, not according to its own nature but according
to the nature of the knower, let us examine, so far as we law-
fully may, the character of the divine nature, so that we may
be able to learn what its knowledge is.

"The common opinion, according to all men living, is that
God is eternal. Let us therefore consider what is eternity. For
eternity will, I think, make clear to us at the same time the
divine nature and knowledge.

"Eternity is the simultaneous and complete possession of
infinite life. This will appear more clearly if we compare it
with temporal things. All that lives under the conditions of
time moves through the present from the past to the future;
there is nothing set in time which can at one moment grasp
the whole space of its lifetime. It cannot yet comprehend to-
morrow; yesterday it has already lost. And in this life of
to-day your life is no more than a changing, passing moment.
And as Aristotle 1 said of the universe, so it is of all that is
subject to time; though it never began to be, nor will ever
cease, and its life is co-extensive with the infinity of time, yet
it is not such as can be held to be eternal. For though it appre-
hends and grasps a space of infinite lifetime, it does not em-
brace the whole simultaneously; it has not yet experienced the

1 Aristotle, De Colo, i.

n6 Bocthius

future. What we should rightly call eternal is that which
grasps and possesses wholly and simultaneously the fulness
of unending life, which lacks naught of the future, and has
lost naught of the fleeting past; and such an existence must
be ever present in itself to control and aid itself, and also
must keep present with itself the infinity of changing time.
Therefore, people who hear that Plato thought that this uni-
verse had no beginning of time and will have no end, are
not right in thinking that in this way the created world is
co-eternal with its creator. 1 For to pass through unending life,
the attribute which Plato ascribes to the universe is one thing;
but it is another thing to grasp simultaneously the whole of
unending life in the present; this is plainly a peculiar property
of the mind of God.

"And further, God should not be regarded as older than
His creations by any period of time, but rather by the peculiar
property of His own single nature. For the infinite changing
of temporal things tries to imitate the ever simultaneously
present immutability of His life: it cannot succeed in imitating
or equalling this, but sinks from immutability into change, and
falls from the single directness of the present into an infinite
space of future and past. And since this temporal state cannot
possess its life completely and simultaneously, but it does in
the same manner exist for ever without ceasing, it therefore
seems to try in some degree to rival that which it cannot fulfil
or represent, for it binds itself to some sort of present time
out of this small and fleeting moment; but inasmuch as this
temporal present bears a certain appearance of that abiding

1 Boethius speaks of people who "hear that Plato thought, etc.,"
because this was the teaching of some of Plato's successors at the
Academy. Plato himself thought otherwise, as may be seen in the
Timaus, e.g. ch. xi. 38 B., "Time then has come into being along with
the universe, that being generated together, together they may be dis-
solved, should a dissolution of them ever come to pass; and it was
made after the pattern of the eternal nature that it might be as like to
it as possible. For the pattern is existent for all eternity, but the copy
has been, and is, and shall be, throughout all time continually." (Mr.
Archer Hind's translation.)

The Consolation of Philosophy 117

present, it somehow makes those, to whom it comes, seem to
be in truth what they imitate. But since this imitation could
not be abiding, the unending march of time has swept it away,
and thus we find that it has bound together, as it passes, a
chain of life, which it could not by abiding embrace in its
fulness. And thus if we would apply proper epithets to those
subjects, we can say, following Plato, that God is eternal, but
the universe is continual.

"Since then all judgment apprehends the subjects of its
thought according to its own nature, and God has a condition
of ever-present eternity, His knowledge, which passes over
every change of time, embracing infinite lengths of past and
future, views in its own direct comprehension everything as
though it were taking place in the present. If you would weigh
the foreknowledge by which God distinguishes all things,
you will more rightly hold it to be a knowledge of a never-
failing constancy in the present, than a foreknowledge of the
future. Whence Providence is more rightly to be understood
as a looking forth than a looking forward, because it is set
far from low matters and looks forth upon all things as from
a lofty mountain-top above all. Why then do you demand
that all things occur by necessity, if divine light rests upon
them, while men do not render necessary such things as they
can see? Because you can see things of the present, does your
sight therefore put upon them any necessity? Surely not. If
one may not unworthily compare this present time with the
divine, just as you can see things in this your temporal pres-
ent, so God sees all things in His eternal present. Wherefore
this divine foreknowledge does not change the nature or in-
dividual qualities of things: it sees things present in its under-
standing just as they will result some time in the future. It
makes no confusion in its distinctions, and with one view of
its mind it discerns all that shall come to pass whether of
necessity or not. For instance, when you see at the same time
a man walking on the earth and the sun rising in the heavens,
you see each sight simultaneously, yet you distinguish between
them, and decide that one is moving voluntarily, the other

n8 Boethius

of necessity. In like manner the perception of God looks down
upon all things without disturbing at all their nature, though
they are present to Him but future under the conditions of
time. Wherefore this foreknowledge is not opinion but knowl-
edge resting upon truth, since He knows that a future event
is, though He knows too that it will not occur of necessity. If
you answer here that what God sees about to happen, cannot
but happen, and that what cannot but happen is bound by
necessity, you fasten me down to the word necessity, I will
grant that we have a matter of most firm truth, but it is one
to which scarce any man can approach unless he be a con-
templator of the divine. For I shall answer that such a thing
will occur of necessity, when it is viewed from the point of
divine knowledge; but when it is examined in its own nature,
it seems perfectly free and unrestrained. For there are two
kinds of necessities; one is simple: for instance, a necessary
fact, 'all men are mortal'; the other is conditional; for in-
stance, if you know that a man is walking, he must be walking:
for what each man knows cannot be otherwise than it is known
to be; but the conditional one is by no means followed by
this simple and direct necessity; for there is no necessity to
compel a voluntary walker to proceed, though it is necessary
that, if he walks, he should be proceeding. In the same way,
if Providence sees an event in its present, that thing must be,
though it has no necessity of its own nature. And God looks
in His present upon those future things which come to pass
through free will. Therefore if these things be looked at from
the point of view of God's insight, they come to pass of neces-
sity under the condition of divine knowledge; if, on the other
hand, they are viewed by themselves, they do not lose the
perfect freedom of their nature. Without doubt, then, all
things that God foreknows do come to pass, but some of them
proceed from free will; and though they result by coming into
existence, yet they do not lose their own nature, because be-
fore they came to pass they could also not have come to pass.

" 'What then/ you may ask, 4s the difference in their not
being bound by necessity, since they result under all circum-

The Consolation of Philosophy 119

stances as by necessity, on account of the condition of divine
knowledge? 1 This is the difference, as I just now put forward:
take the sun rising and a man walking; while these operations
are occurring, they cannot but occur: but the one was bound
to occur before it did; the other was not so bound. What God
has in His present, does- exist without doubt; but of such
things some follow by necessity, others by their authors' wills.
Wherefore I was justified in saying that if these things be
regarded from the view of divine knowledge, they are neces-
sary, but if they are viewed by themselves, they are perfectly
free from all ties of necessity: just as when you refer all, that
is clear to the senses, to the reason, it becomes general truth,
but it remains particular if regarded by itself. 'But/ you will
say, 'if it is in my power to change a purpose of mine, I will
disregard Providence, since I may change what Providence
foresees.' To which I answer, 'You can change your purpose,
but since the truth of Providence knows in its present that
you can do so, and whether you do so, and in what direction
you may change it, therefore you cannot escape that divine
foreknowledge: just as you cannot avoid the glance of a
present eye, though you may by your free will turn yourself
to all kinds of different actions/ 'What?' you will say, 'can
I by my own action change divine knowledge, so that if 1
choose now one thing, now another, Providence too will seem
to change its knowledge?' No; divine insight precedes all
future things, turning them back and recalling them to the
present time of its own peculiar knowledge. It does not change,
as you may think, between this and that alternation of fore-
knowledge. It is constant in preceding and embracing by one
glance all your changes. And God does not receive this ever-
present grasp of all things and vision of the present at the
occurrence of future events, but from His own peculiar di-
rectness. Whence also is that difficulty solved which you laid
down a little while ago, that it was not worthy to say that our
future events were the cause of God's knowledge. For this
power of knowledge, ever in the present and embracing all
things in its perception, does itself constrain all things, and

120 Boethius

owes naught to following events from which it has received
naught. Thus, therefore, mortal men have their freedom of
judgment intact. And since their wills are freed from all bind-
ing necessity, laws do not set rewards or punishments unjustly.
God is ever the constant foreknowing overseer, and the ever-
present eternity of His sight moves in harmony with the future
nature of our actions, as it dispenses rewards to the good, and
punishments to the bad. Hopes are not vainly put in God, nor
prayers in vain offered: if these are right, they cannot but be
answered. Turn therefore from vice: ensue virtue: raise your
soul to upright hopes: send up on high your prayers from this
earth. If you would be honest, great is the necessity enjoined
upon your goodness, since all you do is done before the eyes
of an all-seeing Judge."

THE IMITATION OF CHRIST

BY THOMAS A KEMPIS

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAP. PAGE

I. Of Following of Christ and Despising of

all Worldly Vanities 130

II. Of Meek Knowing of a Man's Self 131

III. Of the Teaching of Truth 133

IV. Of Prudence in Man's Works 135
V. Of Reading of the Scriptures 136

VI. Of Inordinate Affections 136

VII. Of Fleeing from Vain Hope and Elation 137

VIII. Of Eschewing of too great Familiarity 138

IX. Of Obedience and Subjection 139

X. Of Eschewing Superfluity of Words 139

XI. Of Peace to be Gotten and Zeal for Profiting 140

XII. Of the Profit of Adversity 142

XIII. Of Withstanding of Temptation 143

XIV. Of Fleeing Rash Judgment 145
XV. Of Works done in Charity 146

XVI. Of Bearing other Men's Infirmities and

Faults 147

XVII. Of the Religious Life 148

XVIII. Of the Examples of the Holy Fathers 149

XIX. Of the Exercises of a Good Religious Man 150

XX. Of Love of Silence and to be Alone 1 53

XXI. Of Compunction of Heart 156

XXII. Of Consideration of Man's Misery 157

XXIII. Of Meditation of Death 160

XXIV. Of the Judgment and of the Pains of Sinners 1 63

XXV. Of the Fervent Amendment of all of a

Man's Life 166
123

124 Thomas a Kempis

PART II

CHAP. PAGE

I. Of Inward Conversation 170

II. Of Meek Submission 172

III. Of a Good Peaceable Man 173

IV. Of Pure and Simple Intention 174
V. Of Consideration of Oneself 175

VI. Of the Gladness of a Good Conscience 176

VII. Of the Love of Jesu above all Things 178

VIII. Of the Familiar Friendship of Jesu 179

IX. Of Lacking of all Manner of Solace 181

X. Of Thanks for the Grace of God 183

XI. Of the Fewness of the Lovers of the Cross

of Christ 185

XII. Of the King's Highway of the Cross 187

PART III

I. Of the Inward Speaking of Christ unto a

True Soul 192

II. That the Words of God are to be heard with

Meekness 193

III. That the Words of God are to be heard with

Meekness 194

IV. A Prayer to ask Grace of Devotion 195
V. That a Man ought to live before God in

Truth and in Meekness 196

VI. Of the Wonderful Effect of the Love of God 1 98

VII. Of Proving of True Love 200
VIII. Of Grace to be hid under the Word of

Meekness 202
IX. Of Vile Estimation of Oneself in the Sight

of God 204

The Imitation of Christ 125

CHAP. PAGE

X. That all Things are to be referred to God as

to the last end 205

XI. That, the World despised, it is merry and

sweet for to serve God 206

XII. That the Desires of the Heart must be ex-
amined and modered (moderated) 208

XIII. Of the learning of Patience and fighting

against Concupiscence 209

XIV. Of Obedience of a Meek Subject by Ensam-

ple of our Lord Jesu 210

XV. Of Considering the Privy Judgments of God

against Pride 211

XVI. How a Man shall stand in everything de-
sired 213
XVII. A Prayer to do the Will of God 2 14
XVIII. That True Solace is to be sought in God

alone 214

XIX. That all Business is to be set in God 215

XX. That Temporal Miseries are to be suffered

by the Ensample of Christ 216

XXI. Of Suffering of Wrongs and who is proved

very Patient 217

XXII. Of Knowledge of our Infirmity and of

Miseries of this Life 219

XXIII. That Man ought to rest in God above all

Gifts 220

XXIV. Of Recording (Remembering) the Manifold

Benefits of God 223
XXV. Of Four Things bringing Great Peace 224
XXVI. Against Evil Thoughts 225
XXVII. A Prayer for Illumination of Mind 225
XXVIII. Of Eschewing curious Inquisition of an-
other Man's Life 226
XXIX. Wherein standeth Peace of Heart and True

Profiting 227

126 Thomas a Kempis

CHAP. PAGE

XXX. Of the Excellence of a Free Mind and how
it is rather gotten by Prayer than by
Reading 228

XXXI. That Private Love most tarrieth a Man

from the highest Good 229

XXXII. A Prayer for Purgation of Heart and

Heavenly Wisdom 230

XXXIII. Against the Tongues of Detractors 231

XXXIV. That in Time of Tribulation God is In-

wardly to be called upon and to be
Blessed 232

XXXV. Of Asking of God's Help and Trust in

Recovering Grace 232

XXXVI. Of Recking never of all Creatures so the

Creator may be Found 234

XXXVII. Of Denying Oneself and Forsaking of all

Cupidity 236

XXXVIII. Of Unstableness of Heart and of Intention

to be had towards God 237

XXXIX. To Him that Loveth, God Savourelh above

all Things 238

XL. That there is no Surety from Temptation in

this Life 239

XLI. Against Men's Vain Judgments 241

XLII. Of Pure Resignation of a Man's Self 242

XLIII. Of Good Governance in Outward Things 243
XL1V. That Man be not too busy in Worldly Busi-
ness 244
XLV. That a Man hath no good of Himself

whereof to Rejoice 245

XL VI. Of Contempt of all Honour 246

XLVII. That Peace is not to be set (put) in Men 247

XL VIII. Against Vain and Secular Knowledge 248

XLIX. Of not Attracting Outward Things to a Man 249

L. That it is not Right to believe all Men and

of Light Lapse of Words 250

The Imitation of Christ 127

CHAP. PAGE

LI. Of Trust to be had in God against Evil

Words 252

LII. That all Grievous Things are to be suffered

for the Life to come 254

LIII. Of the Day of Eternity and the Anguish of

this Life 255

LIV. Of Desire of Everlasting Life and how

Great Things are promised to Fighters 257
LV. That the Desolate Man ought to offer Him-
self into the Hands of God 260
LVI. That Man must give Himself to Low Works

when High Works Fail 263

LVII. That Man should account Himself worthy

of no Consolation 264

LVITI. That Grace is not Part of them that follow

Earthly Things 265

LIX. Of Diverse Movings of Nature and of Grace 267
LX. Of Corruption of Nature and of the Might

of Grace 270

LXI. That we ought to deny Ourselves and follow

Christ by the Cross 272

LXII. That a Man (must) not be thrown down

too much if he fall in any Faults 273

LXIII. High Things and Privy Judgments of God

must not be Searched 275

LXIV. That all Hope and Trust is to be fixed only

in God 278

PART IV

Prologus 280

I. In what great Reverence and Fervent
Desire we ought to receive our Lord Jesu
Christ 281

128 Thomas & Kempis

CHAP. PACK

II. How the Great Charity and Bounty of God
is shewed unto Man in the Holy Sacra-
ment 285

III. What great Profit it is often to receive the

Body of our Lord Jesu Christ 288

IV. How many Advantages be given unto them

that Devoutly receive this Holy Sacra-
ment 290
V. Of the Dignity of the Sacrament of the

Altar and of the Order of Priesthood 293
VI. An Inward Remembrance and Exercise that
a Man ought to have afore the receiving
of the Body of our Lord Jesu Christ 294

VII. The Remembring of his own Conscience

with Purpose of Amendment 295

VIII. Of the Oblacion of Jesu Christ on the Cross;
of the Proper Resignation that Man
should make of Himself 297

IX. That we ought to offer unto God all that we

have, and to Pray for all People 298

X. That the Holy Sacrament ought not Lightly

to be Forborne 300

XI. How the Blessed Body of our Lord Jesu
Christ is greatly necessary for the Health
of Man's Soul 303

XII. With how great Diligence he ought to pre-
pare himself that should receive the
Sacrament of Christ 306

XIII. How the Devout Soul ought Effectually

with all his Heart to be united unto Jesu
Christ 308

XIV. Of the Burning Desire that some Creatures

have to the Blessed Body of our Lord
Jesu Christ 310

The Imitation of Christ 129

CHAP. PAGE

XV. How Meekly thou oughtest to beseech the
Grace of Devotion and to renounce Thy-
self 311
XVI. How we ought to show our Necessities unto

Jesu Christ and ask of him Benign Grace 312
XVII. Of the Burning Love and great Affection
that we should have to receive our Sa-
viour Christ Jesu 314
XVIII. That a Man should not be too Curious an
Inquisitor of that Holy Sacrament, but
a Meek Follower of Christ Jesu in sub-
mitting his Reason and Feeling to the
Holy Faith 316

THE IMITATION OF CHRIST

PART ONE
CHAPTER I

OF FOLLOWING OF CHRIST AND DESPISING OF ALL
WORLDLY VANITIES

OUR Lord saith: he that followeth me goeth not in darkness
These are the words of Christ in the which we are admonished

to follow his life and his manners if we would be verily

illumined and be delivered from all manner of blindness

of heart
Wherefore let our sovereign study be in the life of Jesu

Christ.
The teaching of Christ passeth the teaching of all saints and

holy men; and he that hath the spirit of Christ should

find there hidden manna.

But it happeneth that many feel but little desire of often hear-
ing of the gospel; for they have not the spirit of Christ;
For whoever will understand the words of Christ plainly and

in their savour must study to conform all his life to his

life.
What availeth thee to dispute highly of the Trinity if thou

lack meekness and thereby thou displeasest the Trinity?
For high words make not a man holy and righteous, but it is

virtuous life that maketh man dear to God.
I desire rather to know compunction than its definition.
If thou knewest all the Bible without book and the sayings of

all the philosophers, what should that avail thee without

charity and grace?

130

The Imitation oj Christ 131

All other things in the world, save only to love God and serve

him, are vanity of vanities and all vanity.
This is sovereign wisdom by despising of the world for a man

to draw him nearer to the realm of heaven: but for a man

to seek perishing riches and to trust in them is vanity.
And it is vanity also to desire honour and for a man to lift

himself on high
And it is vanity to follow the desires of the flesh and to desire

the thing for which man must afterward grievously be

punished
And it is vanity to desire a long life and to take no heed of a

good life
And it is vanity for a man to take heed only to this present

life and not to see before those things that are to come
And it is vanity to love the thing that passeth away with all

manner of swiftness and not to hasten thither where joy

abideth everlasting.
Have mind often of that proverb that the eye is not fulfilled

with seeing nor the ear with hearing.
Study therefore to withdraw thy heart from love of things

visible and turn thee to things invisible
For they that follow their senses spot their conscience and lose

the grace of God.

CHAPTER II

OF MEEK KNOWING OF A MAN*S SELF

EVERY man naturally desireth to have knowledge: but knowl-
edge without the grace and dread of God, what availeth
it?

Certainly the meek plough man that serveth God is much bet-
ter than the proud philosopher that, taking no heed of
his own living, considereth the courses of the heavens.

He that knoweth himself well is vile in his own sight and hath
no delight in man's praises.

132 Thomas a Kempis

If I knew all things that are in the world and be not in charity
what should that help me before God who shall doom me
according to my deeds?

Cease from over-great desire of knowledge, for therein shall be
found great distraction and deceit.

They that are learned will gladly be seen and held wise and
many things there be whose knowledge availeth the soul
little or naught. And full unwise is he that more attendeth
to other things than to the health of his soul.

Many words fill not the soul but a good life refresheth the
mind and a pure conscience giveth a great confidence in
God.

The more thou canst do and the better that thou canst do, the
more grievously thou shalt be doomed unless thou live
the more holily. Be not lift up therefore for any skill or
any knowledge but rather dread for the knowledge that
is given thee.

If it seemeth to thee that thou knowest many things and art
understanding enough, yet are there many more things
that thou knowest not.

Think not highly of thyself but rather acknowledge thine
ignorance.

Why wilt thou prefer thyself before any other since many
other are found better learned and more wise in the law
of God than thou?

If thou wilt learn and know any thing profitably, love to be
unknown and to be accounted as naught.

This is the highest and most profitable reading, the very know-
ing and despising of a man's self. For a man to account
nothing of himself but evermore to think well and highly
of other folks is sovereign wisdom and perfection.

If thou see any man sin openly or do grievous sins thou ought-
est not to deem thyself better; for thou knowest not how
long thou mayest abide in good.

All we be frail but thou shalt hold no man frailer than thyself.

The Imitation of Christ 133

CHAPTER III

OF THE TEACHING OF TRUTH

BLISSFUL is he whom truth herself teacheth not by figures or
voices but as it is.

Our opinions and our feeling ofttimes deceive us and see but
little.

What availeth great searching of dark and hidden things for
the which we shall not be blamed in the judgment though
we know them not?

A great unwisdom it is that we, setting at naught profitable
and necessary things, give our utmost attention to curi*
ous and harmful things. We, having eyes, see not.

And why care we of general kinds and special kinds? (genera
and species)

He to whom the word everlasting speaketh is sped and deliv-
ered from a multitude of opinions. Of one word came
all things, and all things speak one word; that is the be-
ginning that speaketh to us. No man without him under-
standeth or judgeth righteously.

He to whom all things are one and who draweth all things to
one and seeth all things in one may be stable in heart and
peaceably abide in God.

O God of truth make me one with thee in everlasting love.

Ofttimes it wearieth me to hear and read many things: in thee
Lord is all that I will and desire.

All manner of teachers hold they their peace and all manner
of creatures keep they their silence in thy sight: speak
thou to me alone.

The more that a man is inwardly at one with thee alone the
more things and the higher doth he understand, for he
taketh his light of understanding from above.

A pure, simple and a stable spirit is not distracted with many
works for he worketh all things to the honour of God and

134 Thomas a Kempis

laboureth to be idle in himself from all manner of inquiry
with his own knowledge.

What hindereth thee more and troubleth thee more than thine
unmortified affection of heart?

A good and a devout man first disposeth his works inwardly
which he proposeth to do outwardly. Nor do these works
draw him to desires of vicious inclination but rather he
boweth them to the judgment of right reason.

Who hath a stronger battle than he that useth force to over-
come himself? and that should be our occupation, for a
man to overcome himself and every day to be stronger
than himself somewhat to do better.

All manner of perfection in this world hath a manner of im-
perfection annexed thereto and our speculation is not
without darkness on some side.

Meek knowing of thyself is more acceptable to God than deep
inquiry after knowing.

Knowledge or bare and simple knowing of things is not to be
blamed, the which, in itself considered, is good and or-
dained of God: but a good conscience and a virtuous life
is ever to be preferred.

And forasmuch as many people study more to have knowledge
than to live well therefore ofttimes they err and bring
forth little fruit or none.

O if men would give so great diligence to root out vices and to
plant virtues as they do to move questions there would
not be so much wickedness in the people nor so much
laxity in cenobies (convents) and monasteries.

Certainly at the day of doom it shall not be asked of us what
we have read but what we have done: nor what good we
have said but how religiously we have lived.

Tell me now where are the lords and masters that thou knewest
sometime while they lived and flourished in the schools?
Now other men have their prebends and I wot not whether
they once think upon them. In their lives they appeared
somewhat and now almost no man speaketh of them. O
Lord how soon passeth the glory of this world.

The Imitation of Christ 135

Would God that their life had been according to their knowl-
edge for then they had well studied and well read.

How many be there that perish in this world by vain knowl-
edge and little reck of the service of God. And for that
they choose rather to be great than meek therefore they
vanish away in their own thoughts.

Verily he is great that in himself is little and meek and setteth
at naught all height of honour. Verily he is great that
hath great charity. Verily he is prudent that deemeth all
earthly things as stinking dung so that he may win Christ.
And he is verily well learned that doth the will of God
and forsaketh his own.

CHAPTER IV

OF PRUDENCE IN MAN'S WORKS

IT is not fit to give credence to every word nor to every stirring

(suggestion), but every thing is to be weighed according

to God warily and in leisure.
Alas, evil of another man is rather believed than good; we are

so weak.
But the perfect believe not lightly all things that men tell, for

they know man's infirmity, ready to speak evil and sliding

enough in words.
Hereto it belongeth also not to believe every man's words nor

to tell other men that that we hear or lightly believe.
Have thy counsel with a wise man and a man of conscience

and seek rather to be taught of thy better than to follow

thine own inventions.
Good life maketh a man wise in God's sight and expert in

many things.
The more meek that a man is and the more subject to God the

more wise shall he be in all things, and the more patient

136 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER V

OF READING OF THE SCRIPTURES

TRUTH is to be sought in holy writings, not in eloquence. Every
holy writing ought to be read with the same spirit where-
with it was made.

We ought in Scriptures rather to seek profitableness than high-
ness of language.

We ought as gladly to read simple and devout books as high
books and profound sentences.

Let not the authority of him that writeth whether he be of
great name or little change thy thought, but let the love
of pure truth draw thee to the love of God.

Ask not who said this but take heed what is said. Man passeth
but the truth of our Lord abideth everlastingly.

God speaketh to us in diverse wise without acceptance of
persons.

Our curiosity oft times in reading of the scriptures deceiveth
us in that we search for curious thought where it is to be
passed over simply and not curiously enquired.

If thou wilt draw profit in reading, read meekly simply and
truly, not desiring to have a name of knowledge.

Ask gladly, and hear, holding thy peace.

And let not the parables of elder men displease thee for they
are not brought forth without cause

CHAPTER VI

OF INORDINATE AFFECTIONS

WHENEVER a man coveteth anything inordinately anon, he is

unrested in himself.
The proud man and covetous hath never rest: the poor man

and meek in spirit is delighted in multitude of peace.

The Imitation of Christ 137

The man that is not perfectly dead in himself is soon tempted
and soon overcome in small things and things of little
price.

He that is feeble in spirit and yet in fleshly manner inclined
to sensual things can not lightly withdraw himself wholly
from earthly desires: wherefore ofttimes when he with-
draweth a little he is sorry; and when any man with-
standeth his will he disdaineth him.

And if he obtain that he desireth anon he is grieved in his con-
science that he hath followed his own passion, the which
helpeth nothing to the peace that he sought. Wherefore in
withstanding of passions and not in serving them standeth
very peace of heart.

Wherefore then is no peace in the heart of the fleshly man nor
in him that is all given to outward things, but in the fer-
vent spiritual man.

CHAPTER VII

OF FLEEING FROM VAIN HOPE TO ELATION

HE is vain that putteth his hope in men or in creatures.

Be not ashamed to serve other men for the love of Jesu Christ

and to be seen poor in this world. Stand not upon thyself

but set thy trust in God. Do that in thee is and God shall

be nigh to thy good will.
Trust not in thine own knowledge nor in the wiliness of any

man living: but rather in the grace of God that helpeth

meek folk and maketh low them that presume of them-
. selves.
Rejoice thee not in riches if thou have any nor in friends if

they be mighty: but in God that giveth all things and

above all things desireth to give himself.
Lift not up thyself for greatness nor for beauty of body the

which is corrupt and defouled with a little sickness.

138 Thomas a Kempis

Please not thyself for ability or for wit lest thou displease God

of whom cometh all the good that thou hast naturally.
Account not thyself better than other lest peradventure thou

be held worse in the sight of God that knoweth what is

in man.
Be not proud of good works; for God's judgments are thiswise

and man's otherwise; for ofttimes what pleaseth man

displeaseth God.
If thou have any good things believe better things of others

that thou may keep thy meekness.
It shall not annoy thee if thou set thee under all men: it might

hinder thee much if thou set thyself afore other.
Continual peace is with the meek man but in the heart of the

proud man is oft envy and indignation.

CHAPTER VIII

OF ESCHEWING OF TOO GREAT FAMILIARITY

SHOW not thy heart to every man but bring thy cause to him

that is wise and dreadeth God.
Be rarely among young people and strange folks.
Blandish not rich men and appear not before great men: but

accompany thyself with meek and simple men and treat

of such things as belong to edification.
Be not familiar to any woman but generally commend all good

women to God.
Desire to be familiar with God and with his angels and eschew

knowledge of men. Charity is to be had towards all men

but familiarity is not expedient.
It happeneth some times that a person unknown shineth by

his bright fame whose presence offendeth and maketh

dark the eyes of the beholders. We often hope to please

others by our being and living together with them and

often we begin to displease through ungodly manners

found in us.

The Imitation oj Christ 139

CHAPTER IX

OF OBEDIENCE AND SUBJECTION

IT is a right great thing for a man to stand under obedience

and live under a prelate and not to be at his own liberty;

it is much more sure (safe) to stand in subjection than

in prelacy.
Many are under obedience more of necessity than of charity:

and they have pain and soon and lightlygrutch (grumble)

and shall never get liberty of mind till they with all their

heart subdue themselves for God.
Run here and there, thou shalt never find quiet but in meek

subjection under a prelate; imagination and changing of

place have deceived many a one.
True is it that every man after his own wit is inclined most

to them that feel as he doth: but if God be among us it is

needful for us some times to forsake our own feelings for

the good of peace.
Who is so wise that may fully know all things? Wherefore

trust not too much in thine own feeling but desire gladly

to hear other men's feelings. If thy feeling be good and

thou, for God, leaves t that and folio west another man's

feeling thou shalt more profit thereby.
I have heard ofttimes that it is more sure (safe) to hear and

to take counsel than to give counsel.
It may well be that every man feel well (i.e., have good

thoughts) : but for a man no wise to agree with other men

when reason and the matter require it is token of pride

and obstinacy.

CHAPTER X

OF ESCHEWING SUPERFLUITY OF WORDS

ESCHEW thou noise and the press of men as much as thou may-
est: for treating and talking of secular deeds though they

140 Thomas a Kempis

be brought forth with true and simple intention, hind-
ereth much: for we be soon defiled and led into vanity.

I have wished myself of ttimes to have held my peace and not
to have been among men; but why speak we and talk
we together so gladly since seldom we come home with-
out hurting of conscience?

Therefore we talk so oft together because by such speaking
we seek comfort each from the other and to relieve the
heart that is made weary with divers thoughts: and we
speak much of such things as we love or desire or such
things as are contrary to us: but, alas, of ttimes very
vainly and unfruitfully. For such outward comfort is a
great hindering of inward and heavenly consolation and
therefore we ought to wake and to pray that our time
pass not idly.

If it be lawful and expedient to speak, speak of such things as
belong to edification. Evil use and the taking no heed of
our ghostly (spiritual) increase and profiting doth much
towards the evil keeping of our mouths. Nevertheless de-
vout conference on spiritual things, and that where men
of one soul and one spirit are fellowshipped together in
God, helpeth greatly to spiritual profiting.

CHAPTER XI

OF PEACE TO BE GOTTEN AND ZEAL FOR PROFITING

WE SHOULD have much peace if we were not occupied with
other men's deeds and sayings that belong not to our care.
How may he long abide in peace that meddleth himself
with other men's cares, that seeketh occasions outward
and seldom gathereth himself within himself?

Blissful are the simple for they shall have much peace.

Why were some holy men sometime so perfect and so con-
templative but that they studied to mortify themselves
in all wise from earthly desires? And therefore they could

The Imitation of Christ 141

take heed to themselves and cleave to God with ail the
inward of their hearts.

But we are occupied with our own passions and are busied
overmuch in transitory things.

Also seldom it is that we overcome any vice perfectly: and we
tend not every day to increase and therefore we abide
cold and luke (lukewarm).

If we were perfectly dead to ourselves and not entangled too
much with outward things then might we taste godly
things and somewhat know of heavenly contemplation.

The whole and the greatest impediment is that we are not free
from passions and concupiscences, nor do we force our-
selves to enter in the way of holy men and saints.

Also when there cometh a little adversity we be anon thrown
down and we turn us to seek man's comfort.

If we would force ourselves to stand in battle as mighty men
we should see verily the help of our Lord come from
heaven: for he is ready to help all them that fight for
him and trust in his grace, and suffereth us to have occa-
sions of fighting that we may have the victory.

If we put profiting of religion in outward observances alone
our devotion shall soon have an end; but let us set the
axe to the root that we, purged of our passions, may have
a peaceable mind.

If every year we destroyed groundly (utterly) one vice we
should soon be perfect men; but ofttimes we feel the
contrary; for we find ourselves better and purer in the
beginning of our conversion than after many years of
our profession. Our fervour and our profiting ought to
increase daily but now it seemeth a great thing if we
may have but a part of our first fervour.

If we would in the beginning put (use) a little violence we
should be able to do all things afterward with easiness
and gladness.

It is grievous to leave things accustomed and it is more griev-
ous for a man to do against his own will; but if thou

142 Thomas a Kempis

overcome not small and light things when shalt thou over-
come harder things?

Withstand thine inclination and unlearn evil custom lest little
and little it bring thee to greater difficulty.

if thou wouldst take heed how much peace thou shouldst
get to thyself and how much gladness thou shouldst cause
to other men in keeping thyself well, I suppose that thou
wouldst be more busy about spiritual profiting.

CHAPTER XII

OF THE PROFIT OF ADVERSITY

IT is good to us that we have some times grievances and con-
trarieties: for ofttimes they call a man into himself that
he may know himself to be in an exile and that he may
put not his trust in any earthly thing.

It is good that some time we suffer gainsaying and that men
thmk of us evil and imperfectly; yea, though we do well
and mean well.

Such things help ofttimes to meekness and defend us from
vainglory: for then we seek better the inward witness,
God, when we be little set by outwardly of men and little
credence is given to us.

Therefore a man ought to firm (strengthen) himself in God so
that he needeth not to seek any consolations outwardly.

When a man well disposed is troubled tempted or vexed with
evil thoughts then he understandeth God to be more
necessary unto him without whom he perceiveth that he
may do no good thing ; then he mourneth, then he waileth,
and then he prayeth because of the miseries that he suf-
fereth. Then also it wearieth him to live any longer: he
desireth death that he may be dissolved and be with
Christ.

Then also he perceiveth certainly that perfect surety and full
peace may not be had in this world.

The Imitation of Christ 143

CHAPTER XIII

OF WITHSTANDING OF TEMPTATION

ALL the while we are in this world we may not be without
tribulation and temptation ; as it is written in Job "Temp-
tation is man's life on earth." And therefore every man
ought to be busy about his temptations and to wake
(watch) in prayers, that the enemy find no place to
deceive thee for he sleepeth never but goeth about seeking
whom he may devour.

There is no man so perfect nor so holy but that some time he
hath temptations and we may not fully lack them.

Nevertheless temptations are of ttimes right profitable to men,
though they be heavy and grievous; for in them a man is
meekened (humbled), purged and sharply taught.

All holy men have gone and profited by many tribulations
and temptations: and they that could not well suffer
temptation were made reprobate and they failed in their
way.

Neither is no order so holy nor no place so sure and secret but
there be temptations or adversities there.

There is no man all sure from temptations while he liveth; for
in ourselves is that whereof we be tempted since we are
born in concupiscence.

When one tribulation or temptation goeth another cometh
and ever shall we have somewhat to suffer for we have
lost the good of felicity.

Many men seek to overcome temptations only by fleeing of
them and they fall much more grievously into them. By
only fleeing we may not overcome, but by patience and
meekness we shall be stronger than all our enemies.

He that only outwardly declineth from temptation and taketh
it not up by the root shall little profit: but rather tempta-
tions shall come upon him again and he shall feel worse
and worse.

144 Thomas a Kempis

Thou shall overcome them better little and little by patience
and long-suffering with the help of God than with hard-
ness and thine own importunity.

In temptation ofttimes ask counsel.

Be not hard to him that is tempted, but give him comfort as
thou wouldest should be done to thee.

The beginning of all temptations is inconstancy of heart and
little trust in God; for as a ship without governance is
stirred hitherward and thitherward with the waves so a
man that is remiss and that holdeth not stedfastly his
purpose is diversely tempted.

Fire proveth gold and temptation proveth the righteous man.

Ofttimes we wot never what lieth in our power to do but
temptation openeth what we be.

Nevertheless we ought to watch principally about the be-
ginning for then is the enemy soonest overcome if he be
not suffered to enter unto the door of the mind; but anon,
as he knocketh, meet him at entry.

First there cometh to mind a simple thought, after that a
strong imagination and then delectation of a shrewd
moving and assenting.

So the wicked enemy while he is not withstood in the beginning
entereth hi little and little till he be all in; and the longer
a man tarrieth in withstanding, the more feeble he waxeth
continually and his enemy against him is more mighty.

Some men have most grievous temptations in the beginning
of their conversion, some in the end: some in all their life
have no ease.

Many men are tempted full easily after the wisdom and equity
of the ordinance of God that peiseth (weigheth) the
states and merits of men and ordaineth all things to the
help of his chosen children.

Wherefore we ought not to despair when we be tempted but
the more fervently pray God that he vouchsafe to help
us in every tribulation; for he, as Saint Paul saith, shall
make in tribulation such profiting that we shall suffer it
and abide it.

The Imitation of Christ 145

Wherefore let us bow our souls under the mighty hand of God

in every tribulation and temptation; for them that are

meek in spirit he shall save and enhance.
In temptations and tribulations it is proved how much a man

profiteth and there is most merit and virtue is best shown.
It is no great thing if a man be devout and fervent if he feel

no heaviness but if he suffer patiently in time of adversity

there is hope of great profiting.
Some men are preserved from great temptations and in small

ones are daily overcome; that so, humbled, they may

trust never in themselves in great things who are found

feeble in so little things.

CHAPTER XIV

OF FLEEING RASH JUDGMENT

TURN thine eyes to thyself and be not a judge of other men's

deeds.
In judging other men a man laboureth in vain, of ttimes erreth

and lightly sinneth: but in judging and discussing a man's

self ever he laboureth fruitfully.
As it lieth in our heart so for the most part we judge and

lightly we lose our true judgment for our own likings.
If God were always the true intention of our desire we should

not easily be troubled at the withstanding of our opinions;

but ofttimes something is hidden within or cometh from

without that draweth our judgment (aside) .
Many privily seek their own advantage in things that they

judge and yet they know it not.
It seemeth also to them that all is well when all things fall

after their own rule and their own feelings; and if it fall

otherwise than they desire then they are soon moved and

sorry.
From diversity of opinions and of wits ofttimes come dissen-

146 Thomas d Kempis

sions between friends and neighbours, between religious

and devout people.
Old custom is hard to break and scarce any man will be led

otherwise than seemeth good unto himself.
If thou lean more on thine own reason than on the humbling

virtue of Jesu Christ it will be late before thou be a man

illuminate; for God will have us perfectly subject unto

him and by love brightened and burning will have us

pass by the reason of all manner of men.

CHAPTER XV

OF WORKS DONE IN CHARITY

EVIL is not to be done for nothing in this world nor for man's
love. For the profit of him that is needy a good work may
sometimes be left or else changed for the better: for in
this manner the good work is not destroyed but changed.

Without charity the outward work availeth naught; but what-
ever is done of charity, be it never so simple nor so little,
all is fruitful. For God weigheth more with how great
charity a man doth a work than how great a work he doth.

He that loveth much doth much; and he doth much that doth
a thing well.

He doth well that serveth more the common weal than his own
weal.

Ofttimes it seemeth to be charity and it is carnality: for
carnal inclination, one's own will, hope of reward, affec-
tion for profit are but seldom out of the way but ever
ready.

He that hath very and perfect charity seeketh himself in
nothing but only desireth the glory of God in all things
and above all things. Also he hath envy to no man for he
loveth no private or personal joy; nor he will not joy in
himself but above all things he desireth to be made bliss-
ful in God. He ascribeth to no man any good thing but

The Imitation oj Christ 147

wholly referreth all things to God of whom they proceed
originally in whom all saints rest finally.
O he that had verily that knowledge of charity would truly
feel that all earthly things are full of vanity.

CHAPTER XVI

OF BEARING OTHER MEN'S INFIRMITIES AND FAULTS

SUCH things as a man may not amend in himself and in others
he ought to suffer patiently till God ordain the contrary.

Think peradventure that it is better for thee to suffer such
contrarieties for thy proving and thy patience; without
which our merits are of little price. Nevertheless thou
oughtest for such impediments to pray meekly to God
that he vouchsafe to help thee that thou mayest suffer
benignly.

If any such there be that be once or twice admonished and
will not agree nor be counselled strive not with him but
commit all to God that his will and his worship may be
done and had in all his servants he can well turn evil
into good.

Study to be patient in suffering and bearing other men's faults
and all manner infirmities: for thou hast in thee many
things that must be suffered by other men. If thou canst
not make thyself such as thou wouldest how canst thou
have another at thy pleasure? Gladly we desire to make
other men perfect but we will not amend our own fault;
we will that other men be straightly corrected and we
ourselves will not be corrected. Other men's large licence
displease th us but we to ourselves will have nothing de-
nied that we ask. We will have others restrained by
statutes and we will suffer ourselves in no wise to be
more restrained.

And thus it appeareth how seldom we weigh our neighbour as
ourselves.

148 Thomas a Kempis

If all men were perfect what should we then have to suffer
from other men for God's sake? Now therefore God hath
ordained that we should learn each to bear others burdens.
For there is no man without fault, no man without a
burden, no man sufficient to himself, no man wise enough
to himself but we must bear together, comfort together,
help together, teach and admonish together.

What every man truly is is best shown by occasion of ad-
versity: for occasions make not a man fail but they show
what the man is.

CHAPTER XVII

OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE

IT BEHOVETH that thou learn to break thyself in many things
if thou wilt accord and keep peace with others.

It is no little thing for a man to dwell in monasteries and con-
gregations and there to live without quarrel and so truly
to abide to his life's end. Blissful is he that liveth there
well and graciously continueth.

If thou wilt stand rightly and wilt profit account thyself to
be an exile and a pilgrim upon earth.

It behoveth thee to be a fool for Christ.

If thou wilt lead a religious life habit and tonsure avail little:
but change of manners and whole mortification of the
passions make a true religious man.

He that seeketh other than God to the health of his soul he
shall find but tribulation and sorrow: nor may he long
stand in peace unless he enforce himself to be least and
subject to all.

Thou comest to serve and not to govern: know well that thou
art called to suffer and to labour and not to be idle and
tell tales.

Here are men proved as gold in the furnace: here may no man
stand unless he will meeken (humble) himself with all
his heart for God.

The Imitation of Christ 149

CHAPTER XVIII

OF THE EXAMPLES OF THE HOLY FATHERS

BEHOLD the living examples of the old fathers in the which
shineth true perfection and thou shalt see how little it is
and almost naught that we do. Alas, what is our life
compared to them?

Holy men and the friends of God have served our Lord in
hunger and in thirst, in cold and nakedness, in labour and
weariness, in wakings and fastings, in prayers and holy
meditations, in persecutions and many reproofs. O how
many and how grievous tribulations apostles suffered,
martyrs, confessors, virgins, and all Religious that would
follow the steps of Christ: for they hated their souls, that
is to say their bodily lives, that they might keep them
into life everlasting.

O how strict a life lived the holy fathers in the desert; how
long and how grievous temptations suffered they: how oft
were they vexed by the enemy: how continual and how
fervent prayers offered they to God: how sharp their
abstinences; how great zeal and fervour had they to
spiritual profiting: how great battle kept they about de-
struction of vices; how pure and right intention was theirs
towards God.

By day they laboured and by night they gave themselves to
prayer, though even in labouring they ceased not from
inward prayer; every time they spent fruitfully, every
hour given to thought of God seemed short and for the
great sweetness of their contempla\ion sometimes the
necessity of bodily food was forgotten.

They renounced all manner of riches, dignity, honours, friends
and kin : they cared to have naught from the world, scarce
they took what was necessary for life and were sorry to
have to serve the body in its necessity. They were poor
in earthly things but right rich in grace and virtues. Out-

150 Thomas a Kempis

wardly they were needy but inwardly they were re-
freshed with grace and ghostly comfort.

To the world they were aliens but to God they were familiar
friends. To themselves they seemed as naught and de-
spised by the world but in the eyes of God they seemed
precious and chosen.

They stood in true meekness, they lived in simple obedience,
they walked in charity and patience: and therefore
every day they profited in spirit and gat great grace in
the eyes of God.

They were given as an example to all Religious men and these
ought to provoke us more to live and profit well than the
great number of sluggish and lukewarm men to make us
remiss and lax.

O how great was the fervour of religion in the beginning of its
institution.

O how great devotion in praise, how great zeal for following
virtue, how great discipline throve during that time: how
great reverence and obedience under a rule flourished in
them all.

Witness yet their steps that are left to show that they were
truly holy men and perfect men who fighting so doughtily
threw the world under foot.

Now is he accounted great that is not a breaker of the rule,
that can suffer patiently what happeneth to him. O the
sluggishness and the negligence of our time, that we so
soon decline from our earlier fervour and are weary to
live for very sluggishness and weariness.

Would God that the profiting of virtue sleep not utterly in
thee that hast seen so many examples of devout men.

CHAPTER XIX

OF THE EXERCISES OF A GOOD RELIGIOUS MAN

THE life of a good Religious man ought to shine in all manner
of virtue so that he be such inward as he appeareth to

The Imitation of Christ 151

men outward. And rightly it ought to be much more in-
ward than that which is seen outward. For God is our
beholder whom chiefly we ought to worship wherever we
be and go clean in his sight as angels.

Every day we ought to renew our purpose and stir ourselves
to fervour as though we had been first converted and
say "Help me, Lord God, in my good purpose and in
thy service and grant rne this day to begin perfectly; for
naught it is that I have done unto this time."

According to our purpose so is the course of our profiting, and
he that will profit well hath need of great diligence: for
if he that purposeth seriously faileth of ttimes what shall
hap to him that seldom or never purposeth anything
seriously?

Nevertheless in divers manners it happeneth that men forsake
their purpose; and though it appear to be slight yet it is
not without some manner of hindering.

The purpose of righteous men hangeth rather in the grace of
God than in man's own wisdom; in him they trust always
in all things that they do.

For man purposeth and God disposeth; and man's way is not
in man (to carry out).

If an accustomed exercise be sometimes left because of pity
or for the profit of our neighbour it may soon be recov-
ered again: but if it be lightly forsaken through heaviness
of soul or negligence it is blameworthy and will be found
hurtful.

Let us enforce ourselves as much as we can and yet we shall
lightly fail in many things. But ever more somewhat
certain is to be purposed and especially against those
things that most hinder us.

Our outward and our inward exercises both ought to be
searched and kept in order for both are expedient and
helping to ghostly profit.

If thou may not continually gather thyself together, do it some
time at least once a day, morning or evening.

In the morning purpose, in the eventide discuss the manner,

152 Thomas d Kempis

what thou hast been this day in word, work and thought:
for in these perad venture thou hast oft offended thy God
and thy neighbour.

Gird thee as a man against the Fiend's wickedness.

Refrain from gluttony and thou shalt the more easily restrain
all the inclination of the Hesh.

Be never all idle, but either be reading or writing or praying
or thinking or something labouring for the common profit.

Bodily exercises are to be done discreetly; not to be taken
evenly and alike by all men.

Those things that are not common to all are not to be shown
outwardly, for private things are more safely exercised
in secret wise.

Nevertheless be ware that thou be not slow in common things
and more ready for private and singular exercises; but,
these that are due and enjoined being truly fulfilled, if
there be vacant time, yield thee to thyself as devotion
desireth.

All must not have one manner of exercise, but one this, another
that, as according.

Also diversity of exercises pleaseth, for some are more savoury
on festival days and some on common days; others we
need in time of temptation, others in time of peace and
quietness: others we must think when we are sorry and
others when we are glad in our Lord.

In principal feasts good exercises ought to be renewed and
the help of the saints more fervently to be sought.

From feast to feast we ought to purpose as though we should
at that time pass out of this world and go to the feast
everlasting.

Therefore we ought to array ourselves more busily in devout
works and live the more devoutly and keep every ob-
servance the more strictly as men that shall soon receive
the reward of our labour. And if it be delayed let us ac-
count ourselves as men not fully ready and unworthy to
come to so great a glory the which shall be revealed in us

The Imitation of Christ 153

in time ordained and let us study to make us ready to go
out of the world.

"Blissful is that servant" saith Luke "whom our Lord when
he cometh findeth waking; for I say to you verily he
shall set him over all his goods."

CHAPTER XX

OF LOVE OF SILENCE AND TO BE ALONE

SEEK a convenient time to take heed to thyself and think

ofttimes of the benefits of God.
Leave curious things and read such matters that rather give

compunction than occupation.
If thou withdraw thyself from void speakings and idle circuits

and from vanities and hearing of tidings thou shalt find

time sufficient and convenient to have sweet meditations.
The great holy men where they might, fled men's fellowship

and chose to live to God in secret places.
One said "as ofttimes as I was among men I came back a less

man" that is to say less holy: this we find by experience

when we talk any while.
It is easier for a man always to be still than not to exceed in

words. It is easier for a man to abide privily at home

than well to keep himself being away from home.
Wherefore whoever purposeth to come to inward and to

spiritual things it behoveth him to decline from the com-
pany of people with Jesu.
No man appeareth safely away from home but he that loveth

gladly to abide at home.

No man speaketh safely but he that is glad to hold his peace.
No man is safe above but he that will gladly be beneath.
No man commandeth safely but he that hath learned to obey.
No man rejoiceth safely but he that hath the witness of a

good conscience.
Nevertheless the safety of holy men was never without dread

154 Thomas d Kempis

of God; nor were they the less busy and meek in them-
selves though they had great virtues and grace.

The safety of shrews (wicked men) groweth from pride and
presumption and in the end it turneth into deceit.

Promise thyself safety in this world never, though thou seem
a good religious man or a devout hermit: Ofttimes they
that are best in man's estimation fall most perilously for
their trust in themselves.

Wherefore it is not profitable that they lack temptations ut-
terly but they should ofttimes be attacked lest they be
too secure and lest they be lift up by pride and lightly
decline to outer consolations.

O he that never sought transitory gladness, he that never
occupied him in the world, how good a conscience would
he keep.

O he that would cut away all manner of vain business and
would think all only on ghostly and godly things and set
all his hope in God how great peace and quiet should
he have.

There is no man worthy heavenly comfort unless he diligently
exercise himself in holy compunction. If thou heartily
be sorry enter into thy closet, exclude all worldly noise
as it is written "Be ye sorry in your chambers"; thou
shalt find there what outside thou shalt ofttimes lose.

The cell well continued waxeth sweet and the cell evil kept
engendreth weariness. If in the beginning of thy con-
version thou keep thy cell and dwell well therein it shall
be to thee afterwards as a dear and well beloved friend
and most pleasant solace.

In silence and quiet the devout soul profiteth and learneth
the secrets of the scriptures: there he findeth the floods
of tears wherewith every night he may wash and cleanse
himself that he may be the more familiar to his creator
the more he withdraweth him far from secular noise.

He that withdraweth himself from friends and known men,
God shall come nigh unto him with his holy angels.

The Imitation of Christ 155

Better it is for a man to be hid and take care of himself than,
taking no heed of himself, to work wonders.

It is commendable for a man of religion seldom to go out, to
fly from being seen and not wish to see men; why wilt
thou see what is not lawful for thee to have?

The world passeth and his concupiscence.

The desires of sensuality draw men to walk about; but when
the hour is past what cometh thereof but grudging (mur-
muring) of conscience and dispersion of heart?

A glad going out of ttimes bringeth forth a sorrowful coming
home and a glad watching over evening bringeth forth
a sorry morning; so every fleshly joy entereth in pleas-
antly but in the end he biteth and slayeth.

What canst thou see elsewhere that thou canst not see here?
Lo here heaven earth and all elements and of these all
things are made.

What canst thou see elsewhere that may long abide under
the sun? peradventure thou waitest to be filled; but thou
shalt never come thereto.

If thou sawest all things that are present what were that but
a vain sight? Lift up thine eyes to God on high and pray
God for thy sins and negligence: leave vain things to
the vain and take thou heed to the things that God com-
mandeth thee.

Shut thy door upon thee and call to thee Jesu thy love: dwell
with him in thy cell for thou shalt not find elsewhere
so great peace.

If thou hadst not gone out nor heard no tidings thou wouldst
the better have abided in peace; and since it delighteth
thee sometimes to hear new tidings it behoveth, follow-
ing this, that thou suffer turbation of heart.

156 Thomas a Kempis

CHAPTER XXI

OF COMPUNCTION OF HEART

IF THOU wilt any wise profit keep thee in the dread of God
and be not in great liberty but refrain thy understanding
under discipline and give not thyself to unseasonable
gladness.

Give thyself to compunction of heart and thou shalt find de-
votion; compunction openeth many things which distrac-
tion of mind soon loseth.

Wonder it is that a man may at any time be glad that con-
sidereth his exile and so many perils of his soul. For
through lightness of heart and negligence of our faults
\ve feel not the sorrows and the harm done to our souls
and ofttimes we laugh vainly when we should by reason
rather weep.

There is no true liberty nor good mirth but in the dread of
God with a good conscience; blissful is he that may put
away every hindering distraction and bring himself to
the unity of holy compunction : blissful is he that voideth
from him all that may defoul or grieve his conscience.

Fight manly: custom is overcome with custom.

If thou canst leave men, they will well leave thee and suffer
thee to do thine own deeds.

Draw not to thyself the matters of other men and implicate
not thyself in causes of great men. Have thine eye first
upon thyself and admonish thyself spiritually before all
others whom thou lovest best.

If thou have not the favour of men be not sorry therefore:
but let this be grievous to thee that thou hast (keepest)
not thyself well and circumspectly as it beseemeth the
servant of God and a devout religious man to live.

Ofttimes it is more profitable and more safe that a man have
not many comforts in this life and specially after the
flesh.

The Imitation of Christ 157

And that we have not or that we seldom feel godly consola-
tions it is own our fault; for we seek not compunction,
nor we put not away utterly vain and outward comforts.

Acknowledge thyself to be not worthy godly consolation but
rather worthy much tribulation.

When a man is perfectly sorry then is all the world grievous
and bitter to him.

A good man findeth sufficient matter of sorrowing and weep-
ing; whether he consider himself or think on his neigh-
bour he shall know that no man liveth here without
tribulation; and the more strictly that he considereth
himself so much more he sorroweth.

Matters of righteous sorrow and of inward compunction are
our sins and our vices wherein we lie wrapped so that
we may but seldom behold heavenly things.

If thou thoughtest ofter on death than thou dost of long life
no doubt but thou wouldst more fervently amend thyself:
or else if thou wouldst heartily behold the pains of hell
and purgatory I believe that thou wouldst gladly suffer
pain, labour and sorrow, dreading no manner of rigour:
but because these go not to the heart and we yet love
blandishings, therefore we remain cold and slow.

Ofttimes it is need (poverty) of spirit whereof the wretched
body so easily complaineth: pray therefore meekly to
our Lord that he give thee the spirit of compunction and
say with the prophet "Feed me, Lord, with the bread of
tears and give me drink of tears in measure."

CHAPTER XXII

OF CONSIDERATION OF MAN'S MISERY

WRETCHED thou art wherever thou be and whithersoever thou

turn thee unless thou turn thee to God.
Why art thou troubled, that all things come not to thee as

thou wiliest or desirest? who is he that hath all things

158 Thomas & Kempis

at his own will? neither I nor you, nor no man in earth;
there is no man in this world without some manner of
tribulation or anguish, though he be king or pope.

Then who is in the best case? forsooth he that may suffer
anything for God's sake.

Lord, now there are many weak folk that say "O how good
a life that man hath; how great, how rich, how mighty,
how high he is." But behold heavenly goods and thou
shalt see that all these temporal goods be as none but
that they be full uncertain, and more grieving than
easing; for they are never had without business and
dread.

It is man's felicity to have temporal goods in abundance but
mediocrity suffketh him; verily it is a misery to live upon
earth: the more spiritual that a man will be the more
this present life appeareth bitter: for he feeleth better
and seeth more clearly the faults of man's corruption.

For to eat, to drink, to wake, to sleep, to rest, to labour, and
to be subject to the necessities of nature is very misery
and an affliction to a devout man that would fain be
loose and free from sin.

The inward man is full sore grieved with bodily necessities
in this world.

Wherefore the prophet prayeth devoutly that he may be free
from them saying "Lord, deliver me from my necessities."

But woe to them that know not their misery: but more woe
to them that love this misery and this corruptible life;
for there be some that so heartily clasp this wretched
life that though they may scarce have their necessities
with labour, yea and with begging, yet if they might
live here for ever, they would take no heed of the realm
of heaven.

O the mad men and out of true belief that live so deeply
in earthly things that they savour no heavenly things:
but these wretches yet in the end shall grievously feel
how nought it was and how vile that which they have
loved.

The Imitation of Christ 159

But the saints of God and all devout men and friends of Christ
have not taken heed to that which pleaseth the flesh nor
to them that have flourished in this world: but all their
hope and all their intention hath been to things ever-
lasting.

All their desire was borne up to things invisible and abiding
lest by love of things visible they might be drawn to their
lowest things.

Brother, lose not thy confidence in profiting by spiritual
things: yet hast thou time and the hour; why wilt thou
tarry thy purpose till to-morrow? Arise and begin anon
and say "Now is the time of doing, now is the time of
purging, now is the time of amending."

When thou art ill at ease then say "Now is the time of merit."
Thou must go through fire and water ere thou come to
refreshing.

Unless thou do force to thyself, thou shalt never overcome
vice.

All the while that we bear this frail body we cannot be with-
out sin, nor live without heaviness and sorrow.

We would gladly have quiet from all misery; but for as much
as by sin we lost innocence, we lost also true blissfulness:
therefore we must keep patience and abide the mercy of
God till this wickedness go away and this mortality be
swallowed up by life.

O how great is man's frailty that is prone and ready to vices;
this day thou art shriven of thy sins and to-morrow thou
dost like sins again. Now thou purposest to be ware and
within two hours thou dost as though thou hadst never
taken such purpose; wherefore we have great cause to
humble ourselves and never to feel any great things of
ourselves; for we be so frail and so unstable.

Also may soon be lost by negligence what is scarce gotten in
great time by grace.

What shall happen to us in the end that are sluggish so early?

Woe be to us who thus wish to decline and rest as though

160 Thomas d Kempis

there were peace and safety, since there appeareth yet no
step of true holiness in our conversation.
It were need that we should now be informed as young novices
are in good manners, if peradventure there might be any
hope of amendment to come or of more spiritual profiting.

CHAPTER XXIII

OF MEDITATION OF DEATH

THIS day a man is and to-morrow he appearth not: full soon
shall this be fulfilled in thee; look whether thou canst
do otherwise.

And when man is out of sight soon he passeth out of mind.

O the dulness and the hardness of man's heart that only
thinketh on things present and provideth not more for
things to come. Thou shouldst have thyself so in every
deed and in every thought as though thou shouldst die
anon.

If thou hadst a good conscience thou wouldst not much dread
death.

It is better to eschew sins than to flee death: if thou be not
ready to-day, how shalt thou be ready to-morrow? The
morrow is a day uncertain and how knowest thou that
thou shalt live to-morrow?

What availeth it to live long when there is little amendment?
A long life amendeth us not always but some times in-
creaseth sin. Would God we had lived well in this world
one day.

Many men count the years of their conversion but ofttimes
little is the fruit of amendment. If it be dreadful to die
peradventure it is more perilous to live long: blissful is
he that hath the hour of his death ever before his eyes
and that every day disposeth himself to die.

If thou have seen any man die think that thou thyself shalt
go the same way.

The Imitation of Christ 161

When it is morning think thou shalt not come to the even; and
when even cometh be not bold to promise thyself the
morning.

Wherefore be ever ready and live so that death find thee never
unready.

Many men die sudden and unadvised: for what hour we think
not the Son of man shall come.

When that last hour cometh thou shalt begin to feel all other-
wise of thy life that is past and thou shalt greatly sorrow
that thou hast been so remiss and so negligent.

O how blessed is he that laboureth to be such in his life as he
desire th to be found in his death.

These things shall give thee great trust in death perfect
contempt of the world, fervent desire to profit in virtues,
love of discipline, labour in penance, promptitude in
obedience, denying of oneself, bearing all manner of
adversity for the love of Christ.

While thou art whole thou mayst do much good: but when
thou art sick I wot not what thou mayst do: few there
be that are amended by sickness even as they that go
much on pilgrimage are but seldom the holier.

Delay not the health of thy soul through trust in friends or
in neighbours; for men will forget sooner than thou
thinkest: it is better now to make provision betimes and
send before thee some good than to trust in other men's
help.

If thou be not busy for thyself now, who shall be busy for thee
in time to come?

Time now is right precious: but alas that thou spendest it no
more profitably wherein thou canst deserve that whereby
thou mayst live everlastingly.

Time shall come when thou shalt desire one day or one hour
for thine amendment and thou wottest not whether thou
shalt get it.

O my dear friend, from how great peril mayst thou make
thyself free and from how great dread deliver thyself if
thou be now always fearful and suspicious of death.

1 62 Thomas d Kempis

Study to live so now that thou may in the hour of death rather
rejoice than dread: learn now to die to the world that
thou mayst begin to live with Christ: learn now to despise
all things that thou mayst then go freely to Christ.
Chastise thy body by penance that thou mayst then have
certain confidence.

And, thou fool, why thinkest thou shalt live long since thou
art sure of no day?

How many are deceived and against all expectation drawn
out of the body. How often hast thou heard men say
"That man was slain with a sword, he drowned, he fall-
ing from high brake his neck, he in eating suddenly
waxed stiff, he in playing met his end, another with fire,
another with iron, another with pestilence, another slain
among thieves."

And so the end of all is death and man's life passeth away
suddenly as a shadow.

Who shall have mind on thee after death and who shall pray
for thee?

Do, my dear brother, now what thou canst do for thou wottest
not when thou shalt die and thou wottest not what shall
come to thee after thy death.

While thou hast time gather riches immortal; think on noth-
ing but thy soul's health; charge (care for) only those
things that belong to thy soul.

Make thyself friends now worshipping holy saints and follow-
ing their works that when thou failest in this life they
may receive thee into everlasting tabernacles.

Keep thyself as a pilgrim and a guest upon the earth to whom
belongeth nothing of worldly business.

Keep thy heart and rear it up to thy God for thou hast here
none abiding city: thither direct prayers and daily
mournings with tears that thy spirit after thy death may
deserve blissfully to come to our Lord.

The Imitation of Christ 163

CHAPTER XXIV

OF THE JUDGMENT AND OF THE PAINS OF SINNERS

IN ALL things behold the end and how thou shalt stand before
the righteous judge from whom is nothing hid. He is
not pleased with gifts, he receiveth none excusations but
that is righteous he shall judge.

O thou most wretched and unsavoury sinner what shalt thou
answer God who knows all thy evils, thou that sometimes
art afeard of the look of a man that is wroth?

Why dost thou not provide for thyself against the day of
doom when no man shall be excused nor defended by
another but every man's burden shall be enough for
himself?

Now thy labour is fruitful, thy weeping acceptable, thy mourn-
ing is heard, thy sorrow is satisfactory and purgatory
(purging). He hath a great and a wholesome purgatory
that patiently receiveth wrongs, that sorroweth more for
other men's malice than for his own wrongs, that gladly
prayeth for his adversaries and heartily forgiveth his
trespassers, that tarrieth not to ask forgiveness of others,
that more easily forgiveth than is wroth, that doth
violence to himself, that laboureth in all wise to hold his
flesh under the spirit.

Better it is to cut away and purge thy sins and thy vices here
than to reserve them to be purged in coming time.

Verily we deceive ourselves by inordinate love of our flesh.

What other thing shall that fire devour but only thy sins?
The more that thou sparest thyself now and followest
thy flesh the longer thou shalt be punished and the more
matter for burning thou reservest.

In what thing a man hath sinned in those things a man shall
be punished.

There slow men shall be pricked with burning pricks and
gluttonous men shall be tormented with great hunger and

1 64 Thomas & Kempis

great thirst, the lecherous men and lovers of their lusts
shall be poured on with burning pitch and stinking brim-
stone.

And the envious shall howl for sorrow as mad hounds and
there shall be no vice but he shall have his own proper
torment.

There proud men shall be fulfilled with all manner of shame
and confusion: and covetous men shall be straitened
with most wretched need. There shall one hour be more
grievous in pain than an hundred year here in laborous
penance.

There is no rest, no consolation to damned folk; here some
times men cease from labours and are solaced by their
friends.

Be now busy and sorrowing for thy sins that thou mayst stand
safe in the day of judgment with blissful men.

Then shall righteous men stand in great constancy against
them that have anguished them and oppressed them;
then shall he sit to judge that now subdueth himself
meekly to the judgments of men; then shall the poor
and the meek have great trust and the proud man shall
dread on every side.

Then it shall appear that he was wise in this world who
learned for Christ to be a fool and despised, then every
tribulation suffered patiently for Christ shall please and
all wickedness shall stop his mouth; then shall every
devout man rejoice and every unreligious man sorrow.

Then shall the flesh that hath been in affliction rejoice much
more than he that hath been nourished in delicates.

Then shall the vile coat shine bright and the subtle (woven)
cloth shall be dark.

Then shall be more praised a poor cot than a golden palace.

Then shall constant patience more help than all the world's
might.

Then shall meek obedience be higher exalted than all worldly
wisdom.

The Imitation of Christ 165

Then shall a pure and good conscience gladden a man more

than great philosophy.
Then shall contempt of riches weigh more than all the treasure

of the earth.
Then shalt thou be more comforted by devout prayer than by

delicate eating.
Then shalt thou rather rejoice for well kept silence than for

long talking.

Then shall holy works more avail than many fair words.
Then shall straight life and hard penance more avail than all

earthly delectation.

Learn now to suffer in a little that thus thou mayst be de-
livered from more grievous pains.
Prove here first what thou mayst suffer afterwards. If thou

canst not suffer here so little things how shalt thou be

able to suffer everlasting torments?
If now so little a passion maketh thee impatient, what shall

hell do then?
Lo, verily, thou canst not have ij joys ; to be delighted in this

world and afterward to reign with Christ.
If thou hast lived until now in honours and in the lusts of

the world, what could all that avail thee if it happened

to thee to die in this moment?
All things therefore are vanity save to love God and to serve

him alone. For he that loveth God with all his heart

dreadeth neither death, nor torment, nor judgment, nor

hell: for perfect love shall make a ready way to God

and a sure coming.
He that yet delighteth to sin, it is no wonder that he dread

death and the judgment.
Nevertheless it is good that, if love cannot revoke thee from

sin, at least let dread do it: for he that putteth behind

him the dread of God may not long stand in good but

he shall soon run into the Fiend's snares.

1 66 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER XXV

OF THE FERVENT AMENDMENT OF ALL OF A MAN'S LIFE

BE WAKING and diligent in the service of God and think oft-
times why thou earnest here and forsookest the world:
was it not that thou wouldest live to God and be a
spiritual man?

Wherefore be fervent to profiting for thou shalt receive meed
for thy labours and then shall there no more be dread
nor sorrow in thy coasts.

Thou shalt labour now a little and thou shalt find great rest
and everlasting gladness and if thou abide true and
fervent in working without doubt God shall be true and
rich in rewarding.

Thou oughtest to keep a good hope that thou shalt come to
the victory; but it is not behoveful to make thyself sure
lest thou wax sluggish or proud.

There was once a man in great heaviness ofttimes doubting
between dread and hope; and on a time, encumbered
with great sorrow, he fell down prostrate in his prayers
before an altar in the church. This he thought in his
mind "Would God I wist that I should persevere." And
then he heard within himself an answer from God "What
if thou wist, what wouldst thou do? Do now as thou
wouldst do then and thou shalt be safe enow"; and anon
he was comforted and committed himself to the will of
God and the doubtful fluctuation ceased and he would
no more search curiously of things that were to come
but rather studied to inquire what was the well pleasing
and perfect will of God wherewith to begin every good
work and perform it.

"Trust in our Lord and do goodness," saith the Prophet "and
dwell upon the earth and thou shalt be fed in the riches
thereof."

One thing there is that letteth (hindereth) many men from

The Imitation of Christ 167

profiting and fervent amending horror of difficulty and
labour of striving or of fighting. They above all other
profit in virtues that enforce themselves most manly to
overcome the things that are most grievous and contrary
to them: for there a man profiteth and most ample
grace deserveth where he overcometh himself and morti-
fieth in spirit. But all have not alike much to overcome
and mortify.

Nevertheless a diligent lover shall be more mighty to profit
though he have more passions than he that is well man-
nered, being less fervent to virtue.

And ij things specially help to great amending: that is for a
man to withdraw himself with violence from such things
as nature is viciously inclined to and fervently to labour
for the good that he most needeth.

Also study most to eschew and overcome those things that
most fervently displease thee in other men.

Take thy profiting in every place, so that, if thou hear or see
a good ensample, thou be fervent to follow it. If thou
think of anything that is to be blamed, be ware that
thou do it not. And if thou do it at any time, study soon
to amend it. As thine eye considereth other folk, so other
men note thee.

How sweet it is, how merry it is, to see fervent and devout
brethren and well mannered and under discipline and
how sorrowful and heavy it is to see brethren going in-
ordinately, that practise not those things that they are
called to; how noyous (hurtful) it is for a man to take
none heed of the purpose of his calling and to bow his
wit to such things as are not given him to do.

Have mind on the purpose that thou hast taken and ever put
before thee the image of the crucifix. Thou mayest be well
ashamed, beholding the life of our Lord Jesu Christ, that
thou hast no more studied to conform thee thereto though
thou have been long in the way of God. The religious
man that attentively and devoutly exerciseth himself in
the most holy life and passion of our Lord, he shall find

168 Thomas d Kempis

abundantly all things that are needful and profitable to
him nor shall he have no need to seek any better thing
without Jesu.

O if Jesu Christ come into our heart how soon and how suffi-
ciently we should be taught.

The negligent religious and the luke(warm) hath tribulation
and on every side suffereth anguish: for he lacketh in-
ward comfort and he is forbidden to seek any outward.
The religious man that is without discipline is open to
a grievous fall.

He that ever more seeketh those things that are most lax
and most remiss shall ever be in anguish; for one thing
or other shall evermore displease. How many religious
men that are straightened under claustral discipline, live
retired, eat poorly, are clothed boistrously (roughly),
labour greatly, speak little, wake long, rise early, pray
long, ofttimes read and keep them in all manner of
discipline. Take heed of the Carthusians, the Cistercians,
and monks and minchins (nuns) of diverse religious
houses how they rise up every night to sing to our Lord ;
therefore it is foul that thou shouldst be sluggish in so
holy a work, where so great multitude of religious folk
begin to joy to God.

Would God we had naught else to do, but only to praise our
Lord Jesu Christ with all our heart.

Would God thou needed never to eat nor drink nor sleep but
ever praise God and to take heed to spiritual studies:
but thou shouldst be more blissful than now when thou
servest the flesh for any manner of need.

Would God that these necessities were not but that only
spiritual refections existed for the soul the which alas
we taste full seldom.

When a man is come to this that he seeketh his comfort of
no creature then at first beginneth God to taste sweet to
him perfectly. Then also he is well content of every
chance, then he will not be glad for no great thing, nor
sorry for no little thing, but putteth himself wholly and

The Imitation of Christ 169

trustily in God that is to him all things in all things, to
whom nothing perisheth nor dieth but all things live to
him and serve him at his beckoning.

Have mind ever on the end and that time lost never cometh
again.

Without business and diligence shalt thou never get virtue.
If thou beginnest to be luke(warm) thou beginnest to
be evil at ease. But if thou give thyself to fervour, thou
shalt find great peace and thou shalt feel labour lighter
for the grace of God and love of virtue. A fervent man
and a diligent is ready to all things. There is more labour
in withstanding vices and passions than to sweat in bodily
labours.

He that escheweth not small defaults little and little shall
slide in to greater.

Thou shalt ever joy at eventide if thou spend the day fruit-
fully.

Watch upon thyself, stir thyself, admonish thyself: and how
ever it be with other, forget not thyself. So much thou
shalt profit as thou doest violence to thyself.

Here endeth the first party of musica ecclesiastica. And now
follow the chapters of the ij party.

PART TWO
CHAPTER I

HERS BEGINNETH CONCERNING THE ADMONITIONS DRAWING
GREATLY INWARD. OF INWARD CONVERSATION.

OUR Lord saith that the kingdom of heaven is within you.
Turn thyself to God with all thine heart and forsake this
wretched world and thy soul shall find rest.

Learn to despise outward things and to turn thee to inward
things and thou shalt see the kingdom come into thee;
for the kingdom of God is peace and joy in the Holy
Ghost the which is not given to wicked men.

Christ shall come to thee showing thee his consolation if thou
make for him within thee a worthy dwelling place; all
his glory and honour is within and there is his plesaunce.

His visitation is common and oft with an inward man ; with
him is his sweet talking., gracious consolation, much
wonderful familiarity.

Eh, thou true soul, array thy soul for thy spouse that he may
vouchsafe to come to thee and to dwell in thee: for thus
he saith "whoso loveth me shall keep my word and to
him we shall come and in him make our dwelling place."
Wherefore give Christ place and as to all other hold
them out.

When thou hast Christ thou art rich and it sufficeth thee; he
shall be thy pro visor thy true procurator in all things, so
that thou shalt not need to trust in man. Men are soon
changed and fail soon; Christ abideth for ever and
standeth steadfastly unto the end.

Great trust is not to be put in a mortal and frail man though

he be profitable and well beloved: nor great sorrow to be

felt though sometimes he withstand thee and is contrary.

They that are this day with thee to-morrow they may

170

The Imitation of Christ 171

be contrary ; and in contrary wise they be of ttimes turned
as the wind.

Put all thy trust in God, let him be thy dread, let him be thy
love; he shall answer for thee and do well and as is best.

Thou hast here no dwelling city and wherever thou be thou
art as a stranger and a pilgrim: here gettest thou no rest,
unless thou be inwardly one with Christ.

Why lookest thou about here, since this is not the place of
thy resting? In heavenly things ought to be thine habita-
tion and all earthly are to be considered as in a manner
of passing; for all things pass and thou also with them.
Look that thou cleave not to them lest thou be taken with
them and perish.

Let thy thinking be on the high God and let thy prayer be
lift up unto Christ without intermission. If thou canst
not behold high celestial things, rest in the passion of
Christ and dwell gladly in his holy wounds; for if thou
flee devoutly to the wounds and the precious prints of
Christ thou shall find great comfort in tribulation nor
thou shalt not greatly care for man's despisings and thou
shalt lightly bear backbiting words; for Christ was de-
spised of men in this world and in his greatest need
suffered reproofs, forsaken of his friends and of his known
men.

Christ would suffer and be despised; and thou wilt have all
men friends and benefactors?

Christ had adversaries and suffered shrewd speakers; and
thou darest complain on any body?

How shall thy patience be crowned if there come no adversity?
If thou wilt suffer no contrary, how shalt thou be the
friend of Christ? Suffer for Christ and with Christ if
thou wilt reign with Christ.

If thou hadst once perfectly entered in to the innerness of
Jesu and hadst savoured a little of his burning love, thou
wouldst have set naught by thine own profit or harm but
rather thou wouldst rejoice of reproof done to thee; for
the love of Jesu maketh a man set naught of himself.

172 Thomas a Kempis

A lover of Jesu and a very inward man and free from inor-
dinate affections may freely turn himself to God and lift
himself above himself in spirit and there rest joyously.

The man to whom all things taste as they be, not as they are
said or thought to be he, is very wise and taught more
by God than by men.

He that can go within and praise things without but little,
he seeketh no place, nor abideth for no times to have
devout exercises. The inward man soon gathereth him-
self together for he never poureth himself out wholly
over outward things. Outward labour hindereth him not
nor needful occupation of the day, but so as things come,
so he giveth himself to them.

He that is well disposed and ordained within, he careth not
for the wicked and wonderful conduct and bearing of
men.

Just so much is a man hindered and distracted as things are
drawn to him.

If it were well with thee and thou wert well purged all should
turn for thee to good and profit.

Many things as yet trouble thee and displease thee, for thou
art not yet dead to thyself nor parted from all earthly
things: nothing so defouleth and entangleth man's heart
as impure love in created things.

If thou forsake outward comfort thou shalt be able to behold
heavenly things and ofttimes have jubilation within.

CHAPTER II

OF MEEK SUBMISSION

SET not much by this who is against thee or with thee but

so do and care that God be with thee.
In every thing that thou dost have a good conscience and God

shall defend thee: for him that God will help no man's

overthwartness shall be able to annoy.
If thou canst be still and suffer thou shalt see without any

The Imitation of Christ 1 73

doubt the help of our Lord; he knoweth the time and

manner of helping thee and therefore thou oughtest to

reserve thyself for him.

To God it belongeth to help and to deliver from all confusion.
Ofttimes it availeth to the keeping of greater meekness that

other men should know our faults and reprove them.
When a man humbleth himself for his faults then he appeaseth

others lightly and easily maketh satisfaction to them that

were displeased.
The meek man God defendeth and delivereth, the meek man

he loveth and comforteth, to the meek man he bareth

himself, to the meek man he granteth great grace and

after his humbling he lifteth him in glory; to the meek

man he sheweth his secrets and draweth him and calleth

him sweetly.
The meek man receiving reproofs or wrong or confusion is in

peace well enough, for he standeth in God and not in the

world.
Account thyself never to have profited till thou feel thee lower

than all others.

CHAPTER III

OF A GOOD PEACEABLE MAN

SET thyself first in peace and then shalt thou be able to set
others at peace.

A peaceable man availeth more than a great learned man.

A passionate man turneth good into evil and soon believeth
evil: a good peaceable man draweth all things to good.

lie that is well in peace hath suspicion against no man; he
that cannot be content but is moved, he is shaken with
many suspicions; neither can he be in rest nor suffer
others to be in rest. Ofttimes he saith that he should not
say and leaveth that which were more expedient to do;
he considereth what other men ought to do and taketb
no heed to his own charge.

174 Thomas a Kempis

Have therefore first zeal to better thyself and then mayst
thou have zeal to thy neighbour.

Thou canst well excuse and colour thine own deeds but other
men's excuses thou wilt not receive. It were more
righteous first to accuse thyself and to excuse thy brother.

If thou wilt be borne, bear thou another.

See how far thou art yet from true charity and meekness the
which can not be wroth, nor have indignation with no
man but only with itself.

It is not a great thing for a man to be conversant with good
men and mild men: for that pleaseth all men naturally
and every man gladly hath peace with them that feel
as he doth; and such he loveth.

But for a man to live peaceably with hard and overthwart
men indisciplined and contrarious is a great grace and
a commendable and a manly deed.

There are some that keep themselves at peace and have peace
with others also; and there be some also that neither
have peace themselves nor suffer others to have peace;
to others they be grievous but most grievous to them-
selves. And there be some that keep their peace in them-
selves and study to reduce other men to peace.

Nevertheless all our peace in this wretched life is rather to
be set in meek suffering than in not feeling what goes
contrary.

He that can well suffer shall find most peace; he is an over-
comer of himself, lord of the world, the friend of Christ
and the heir of heaven.

CHAPTER IV

OF PURE AND SIMPLE INTENTION

A MAN is lift up from earthly things with ij wings they are
simplicity and purity ; simplicity ought to be in intention,
purity in affection: simplicity intendeth God, purity
taketh him and tasteth him.

The Imitation of Christ 175

There shall no good deed hinder thee if thou be free within
from inordinate affection.

If thou intend not nor seek nothing else but the pleasing of
God and the profit of thy neighbour thou shalt have
inward liberty. If thine heart were right, then every
creature should be to thee a mirror of life and a book of
holy doctrine. There is no creature so little nor so vile
but it represents the goodness of God.

If thou were inward, good and pure, then shouldest thou see
all things without impediment and understand them.

A pure heart pierceth heaven and hell.

Such as every man is inwardly so he judgeth outwardly.

If there be any joy in this world the man of pure heart hath
it; and if there be in any place tribulation and anguish
an idle conscience knoweth it best.

Like as iron put in the fire loseth his rust and shall be made
bright: so a man turning him wholly to God is freed and
taken from sloth and changed into a new man.

When a man beginneth to wax luke(warm) then he dreadeth
a little labour and receivelh gladly outward consolation:
but when he beginneth perfectly to overcome himself and
to go manly in the way of God then he setteth little by
those things that before seemed to him right grievous.

CHAPTER V

OP CONSIDERATION OF ONESELF

WE OUGHT not to believe ourselves overmuch for ofttimes
grace is lacking in us and understanding. Little light is
in us and ofttimes we lose that by negligence. And also
of ttimes we perceive not how blind we are within.

Ofttimes we do evil, and worse we excuse it.

Ofttimes we be moved (to anger) and think that it is zeal.

We reprove small things in others and pass over our own faults
that are greater.

1 76 Thomas & Kempis

We feel and weigh soon enough what we suffer from others:
but how much others suffer from us, of this we take no
heed.

He that would ponder well and truly his own faults he should
find naught to judge in others grievously. An inward man
before all other things taketh care of himself and he
that diligently taketh heed of himself holdeth his peace
of others. Thou shalt never be an inward and devout
man unless thou keep silence of other men and specially
behold thyself. If thou take heed only to God and to
thyself what thou perceivest outside thee shall little move
thee.

Where art thou when thou art not present to thyself? And
when thou hast run over all things, taking no heed of
thyself, what hast thou profited?

If thou wilt have peace and very unity thou must set all aside
and only have thyself before thine eyes; and then thou
shalt profit much if thou keep holiday and rest from
every temporal care.

Thou shalt greatly fail if thou set great store by any temporal
thing. Let nothing be great or high or acceptable to thee
but purely God. All things deem as vain comfort that
come from any creature the soul that loveth God, let
her despise all things but God alone.

God alone, everlasting and great, without any measure, ful-
filling all things; he is the solace of man's soul and true
gladness of heart.

CHAPTER VI

OF THE GLADNESS OF A GOOD CONSCIENCE

THE joy of a good man is the witness of a good conscience:
have a good conscience and thou shalt ever have gladness.

A good conscience may bear right many (very many) things
and is right glad among adversities: an evil conscience
is ever dreadful and out of quiet.

The Imitation of Christ 177

Thou shalt rest sweetly if thine heart reprehend thee not.

Be not glad but when thou hast done well.

Evil men have never true gladness nor never feel inward
peace; for as our Lord saith there is no peace to wicked
men; and if they say "we are in peace, there shall none
evils come upon us" believe them not, for the wrath of
God shall arise suddenly and their deeds shall be brought
to naught and their thoughts shall perish.

For a man to rejoice in tribulation is not grievous to him
who loves; for so to joy is to joy in the cross of Christ.

Short is the glory that is given and taken by men; and sorrow
followeth ever the glory of the world.

The glory of good men is in their conscience and not in the
mouths of men.

The gladness of righteous men is of God and in God: and
their joy is of truth.

He that desireth everlasting and true glory setteth no care
on that which is temporal: and he that seeketh not tem-
poral glory but despiseth it from his heart he must needs
love heavenly glory. He hath great tranquillity of heart-
that setteth nothing by praisings or Warnings.

He whose conscience is clean, he will soon be content and
pleased. Thou art not the holier though thou be praised
nor the more vile though thou be blamed or dispraised.

What thou art, that thou art; that God knoweth thee to be
and thou canst be said to be no greater.

If thou take heed what thou art within thou shalt not reck
what men say of thee: man looketh on the visage and
God on the heart; man considereth the deeds and God
praiseth the thoughts.

For a man ever to do well and to hold (think) little of him-
self is token of a meek soul.

For a man not to wish to be comforted by any creature is a
token of great purity and of inward trust.

He that seeketh no outward witness for himself, it appeareth
openly that he hath committed himself all wholly to God:

178 Thomas A Kempis

for (as the apostle saith) he that commendeth himself is
not approved but only he whom God commendeth.
The state of the inner man is to walk with God and to be held
by no outward affection.

CHAPTER VII

OF THE LOVE OF JESU ABOVE ALL THINGS

BLISSFUL is he that understandeth what it is to love Jesu and

to despise himself for Jesu.
It behoveth thee to forsake all things for the loved one, for

Jesu would be loved alone above all things: the love of

a creature is failing and unstable; the love of Jesu is

true and persevering.

He that cleaveth to a creature shall fall with the sliding crea-
ture; he that clippeth (embraceth) Jesu shall be made

steadfast forever.
Love him and hold him fast as a friend which, when all goeth

away, shall not forsake thee nor shall not suffer thee to

perish at the end.
From all things thou must be departed some time whether

thou wilt or not. Hold thee with Jesu living and dying

and commit thee to his trust, who, all other failing, alone

may help thee.
Thy beloved is of such nature that he will admit no stranger,

but he alone will have thy heart and there sit as a king

on his own throne.
If thou couldest well free thee from every creature Jesu would

gladly dwell with thee.
Thou shalt find almost all lost whatever trust thou settest in

creatures: trust not nor lean not upon a windy reed:

for every flesh is grass and all his glory shall fall as the

flower of grass.
Thou shalt soon be deceived if thou look only to the outer

appearance of men. If thou seek thy solace and thy lucre

in others, thou shalt of ttimes find hindrances to thee.

The Imitation of Christ 179

If thou seek Jesu in all things, thou shalt find Jesu; and if
thou seek thyself thou shalt find thyself but to thine
own harm.

A man hurteth himself more, if he seeketh not Jesu, than
all the world and all his adversaries can hurt him.

CHAPTER VIII

OF THE FAMILIAR FRIENDSHIP OF JESU

WHEN Jesu is nigh all goodness is nigh and nothing seemeth

hard: but when Jesu is not nigh all things are hard.
When Jesu speaketh not within, the comfort is of little price;

but if Jesu speak one word, there is found great comfort.
Did not Mary Mawdeleyn rise out of her place wherein she

wept, anon as Martha said "Our master is nigh and

calleth thee?"
Blissful is that man whom, when Jesu cometh, he calleth from

tears to the joy of the spirit.
How dry and how hard thou art without Jesu ; how unsavoury,

how vain, if thou covet anything without Jesu; whether

is it not more harm than if thou lost all the world?
What may the world avail thee without Jesu? to be without

Jesu is a grievous hell and to be with Jesu is a sweet

paradise.

If Jesu be with thee there may no enemy hurt thee.
He that fmdeth Jesu findeth a good treasure, yea, good above

all good; and he that loseth Jesu he loseth over much

and more than if he lost all that world.
It is a great craft for a man to be conversant with Jesu; and

to know how to hold Jesu is a great prudence.
Be meek and peaceable and Jesu shall be with thee: be devout

and restful and Jesu shall abide with thee; thou mayest

soon chase out Jesu and lose his grace if thou wilt decline

to outer things; and if thou chase out Jesu and lose

him, to whom shalt thou flee? and what friend shalt thou

i8o Thomas a Kempis

seek? Without a friend thou canst not well live, and save
Jesu be thy friend before all other, thou shalt be over
sorry and over desolate: wherefore thou dost foolishly
if thou trust or art glad in any other.

It is more to be chosen for a man to have all the world con-
trary to him than to have Jesu offended.

Among all therefore that are dear to thee, let Jesu be solely
thy darling and thy special (friend).

Let all men be loved for Jesu and Jesu for himself.

Only Jesu Christ is singly to be loved, who only is found good
and true before all other friends; for him and in him
let both friends and enemies be dear to thee ; and for all
them he is to be prayed that they may know him and
love him.

Desire never to be singularly praised or loved for that be-
longeth to God alone that hath none like him.

Nor desire not that any man be occupied in his mind about
love of thee nor be not thou occupied about no other
love: be pure and free within, without impediment or
encumbrance of any creature.

Thou must be bare and bear to God a pure heart if thou wilt
taste and see how sweet God is: and verily thereto shalt
thou never come unless thou be prevented and nourished
with his grace, that all things being voided and left, thou
alone be united with him.

For when the grace of God cometh to a man then is he mighty
to all things: and when it goeth away then shall he be
poor and unmighty and as a man left only to scourgings
and beatings and pains.

In these things be not thrown down, nor despair not: but
stand simply at the will of God and suffer all things that
come to thee praising our Lord Jesu Christ: for after
winter cometh summer and after even cometh day and
after tempest cometh clearness.

The Imitation of Christ 181

CHAPTER IX

OP LACKING OF ALL MANNER OF SOLACE

IT is not grievous for a man to set no price as man's solace
when God is nigh; but it is great, and right great, for a
man to lack both God's solace and man's and for the
honour of God gladly to suffer exile of heart and in noth-
ing to seek himself and trust not to his own merit.

What great thing is it, when grace comes, that thou be glad
and devout? for that hour is desirable to all men: he
rideth easily and merrily whom the grace of God beareth.

And what wonder that he feel no burden, who is borne of the
almighty and led of the sovereign leader?

Gladly we take somewhat by way of solace and hard it is for
a man to be drawn out of himself.

Saint Laurence overcame the world with his priest: for he
despised all things delectable in the world and for the
love of God suffered benignly the high priest Sextus
whom he most loved to be taken away from him.

The love therefore of the creator overcame the love of man
and he chose the well-willing of God before man's solace.

So learn thou to forsake for the love of God some dear friend
that is necessary to thee, nor bear it heavily when thou
art forsaken of thy friend knowing that at last we must
all depart each from other.

It behoveth a man long time and mightily to strive with him-
self before a man shall be able perfectly to overcome
himself and draw all his affection unto God.

When a man standeth upon himself he slideth lightly to man's
consolations but the very true lover of Christ and studi-
ous follower of virtue slideth not to consolations nor
seeketh such sensible sweetness but rather would suffer
for Christ mighty trials and hard labours.

Wherefore, when spiritual consolation is given of God receive

182 Thomas & Kempis

it with great thanks and understand it to be the gift of
God and not thy merit.

Be not proud nor rejoice not too much nor presume not vainly :
but be the more meek for the gift and the more ware and
the more anxious in all thy deeds: for that hour shall
pass and temptation shall follow.

And when the consolation is taken away despair not anon but
with meekness and patience abide the heavenly visita-
tion: for God is mighty enough to give thee greater con-
solation.

This is no new nor strange thing to them that are expert in
the way of God: for ofttimes in great saints and holy
prophets hath been this manner of alternation. Where-
fore one, grace being present, said "I said in mine abun-
dance I shall never be moved." And, when grace was
absent, he rehearsed what he felt, saying "Thou hast
turned away and I was troubled." Nevertheless among
these things he despised not but prayed God more
heartily saying, "Lord to thee shall I cry and I shall
pray to my God." And then he reported the fruit of his
prayer, confessing himself to be heard of God, saying
"Our Lord hath heard and hath pity on me and is made
my helper." But wherein? "Thou hast" he saith "turned
my sorrow into joy, and clothed me about with gladness."

If it were done then with great saints, we, feeble and poor,
ought not to despair, if some time we be in fervour and
some time in coldness; for the holy spirit goeth and
cometh after the well pleasing of his will. Wherefore Job
saith "Thou visitest him betimes or in the twilight and
suddenly thou provest him."

Upon what therefore shall I hope or in whom shall I trust
but in the great mercy of God and only in hope of
heavenly grace?

Whether good men be nigh thee or devout brethren or true
friends or holy books or fair treatises or sweet songs and
melodious hymns; all these help but little, savour but
little.

The Imitation of Christ 183

When I am forsaken of grace and left in my poverty then
is there no better remedy than patience and denying of
myself in the will of God.

I have found no man so religious or devout that feeleth not
some time withdrawing of grace or diminution of fervour.
There was never saint so highly ravished or illumined
but that later or earlier he was tempted: for he is not
high in the contemplation of God who is not tried for
God in some tribulation: and tribulation going before
is wont to be a token of consolation following; for to
them that are proved in temptations is promised heavenly
comfort.

"He that overcometh" saith our Lord "I shall give him to
eat of the tree of life." Heavenly comfort is given that
a man should be stronger to sustain adversities; tempta-
tion also followeth lest man be proud of the gift; the
devil sleepeth never and the flesh is not dead.

Wherefore, cease not to array thee to battle: for both on the
right hand and on the left are enemies that never cease.

CHAPTER X

OF THANKS FOR THE GRACE OF GOD

WHY seekest thou rest since thou art born to labour? Put

thee to patience more than to consolations and to bear

the cross more than to gladness.
What secular man is there that would not gladly have spiritual

consolations and gladness if he might have it for ever?

for spiritual consolations pass all the delights of the

world and all fleshly pleasures.
For all the delights of the world, either they are vain or foul,

but spiritual delights are jocund and honest, engendered

of gentle virtues and infused into pure minds by God.
But no man may use these divine consolations at his own

will; for the time of temptation ceaseth not for long.

1 84 Thomas d Kempis

False liberty and trust in self are much contrary to heavenly
visitation.

God doth well in giving grace of consolation but man doth
evil not giving all to God with thanks: and the gifts of
God can not flow in on us, for we be ungrateful to the
giver and we refund not again all to the original well.

Grace is ever due to him that thinketh worthily and that shall
be taken away from the proud man which is wont to
be given to meek men.

I wish not that consolation which shall take away from me
compunction; nor do I desire that contemplation which
shall bring me into elation: for not every high thing is
holy, nor every sweet thing good, nor every desire pure,
nor every dear thing acceptable to God.

I receive gladly that grace whereby I am found the more meek,
the more anxious, and the more ready to forsake myself.

He that is taught with the gift of grace and learned (taught)
with the beatings of its withdrawal dare ascribe nothing
to himself but rather will acknowledge himself poor and
naked.

Give to God that is his and ascribe to thyself that is thine:
give God thanks for his grace and to thyself guilt and
pain known to be due to thee for thy guilt.

Put thee ever at the lowest and the highest shall be given to
thee: for the highest can not stand without the lowest.

The highest saints before God are lowest before themselves;
and the more glorious that they be, the more meek they
are in themselves.

They that are full of truth and heavenly glory are not desirous
of vain glory.

They that are grounded and confirmed in God are not proud;

And they that ascribe all to God whatever good they receive
they seek not glory each of the other but they wish the
glory that is only of God; and they desire God to be
praised in himself and in his saints above all things: and
to that evermore they tend.

Be thankful therefore for a little thing and thou shalt be

The Imitation of Christ 185

worthy to take a greater: let also the least thing be to
thee as the greatest and the least of price as a special
gift.

If the dignity of the giver be considered there shall no gift
appear little that is given of the high God: yea if he give
pains and beatings it ought to be taken gladly: for all is
done for our help, whatever he suffereth to come to us.

He that desireth to keep the grace of God let him be thankful
for the grace given and patient when it is taken away:
let him pray that it come again and be ware and meek
that he lose it not.

CHAPTER XI

OF THE FEWNESS OF THE LOVERS OF THE CROSS OF CHRIST

JESU hath many lovers of the kingdom of heaven but few
bearers of the cross; he hath many who desire consola-
tions and few desiring tribulations: he findeth many
fellows of the table and few of abstinence.

All desire to joy with him; but few will suffer any pain for
him.

Many follow Jesu unto the breaking of the bread, but few
unto the drinking of the cup of the passion.

Many worship his miracles but few follow the reproof of the
Cross.

Many love Jesu when no adversity happeneth.

Many praise him and bless him while they take any consola-
tions from him; but if Jesu hide himself and forsake them
a little, they fall into a complaining or into over great
dejection.

But they that love Jesu for Jesu, and not for any consolations,
they bless him in every tribulation and anguish of heart
as in the highest consolation; and if he would never give
them consolation yet would they ever praise him and
ever thank him.

1 86 Thomas d Kempis

O how mighty is the pure love of Jesu when it is mingled with
no love of self nor profit of self.

Whether all they that always seek consolations are not to be
called mercenaries and hired men?

Whether are they not proved lovers of themselves and not of
Christ who think of their own lucre and profit? where
is found one that will serve God freely?

Seldom shall there be any man found so spiritual that will
be naked from all worldly things. And who shall find a
man very poor in spirit and bare from every creature?
his price is from the uttermost coasts. 1

If a man give all his substance, it is as naught; and if he do
great penance yet it is but little; and if he apprehend
all manner of science yet is he far: and if he have great
virtue and right fervent devotion, yet him lacketh much;
but one thing is sovereignly necessary to him. What is
that? that, all things forsaken, he forsake himself and
go wholly out of himself and retain nothing of self-love.

When he hath done all things that he knoweth how to do let
him feel himself to have done naught.

Let him not weigh as great all that may be esteemed great;
but let him in truth pronounce himself an unprofitable
servant, as the truth saith "when ye have done all things
that are commanded to you say that we are unprofitable
servants." For such a one may say with the prophet that
"I am sole and poor" when he beginneth verily to be
bare and poor in spirit.

Nevertheless no man is richer, no man is mightier, no man
more free than he that can forsake himself and all things
and put himself at the lowest.

* 1>. As a gem that is brought from far.

The Imitation of Christ 187

CHAPTER XII

OF THE KING'S HIGHWAY OF THE CROSS

THIS word "deny thyself and take thy cross and follow me"
seemeth a hard word to many men: but much harder it
shall be to hear this word "Go from me ye cursed people
into the fire everlasting."

They that gladly hear and follow the word of the cross shall
not dread the word of everlasting damnation.

This sign of the cross shall be in heaven when our Lord shall
come to judgment.

Then all the servants of the cross that have conformed them
to Christ in their life shall come nigh unto Christ the
judge with great trust.

Why dreadest thou therefore to take the cross whereby men
go to the kingdom?

In the cross is health, in the cross is life, in the cross is pro-
tection from enemies, in the cross is infusion of heavenly
sweetness, in the cross is strength of mind, in the cross
is joy of spirit, in the cross is the sum of virtue, in the
cross is perfection of holiness: there is no health of soul
nor hope of everlasting life, but in the cross. Take thy
cross therefore and follow Jesu and thou shalt go into
life everlasting.

He that bare his own cross is gone before and died for thee
on the cross that thou shouldest bear thy cross and desire
to die on the cross: and if thou be fellow in pain thou
shalt be fellow in glory.

Lo, in the cross standeth all things and in dying lieth all:
and there is none other way to life and to very inward
peace but the way of the holy cross and of daily mortify-
ing for if thou be dead with him thou shalt also live with
him.

Walk therefore where thou wilt, seek wherever it pleaseth thee,

1 88 Thomas a Kempis

and thou shalt find no higher way above nor surer way

beneath than the way of the cross.
Dispose and ordain all things after thy will and thy seeming

and thou shalt not find it anything but a duty to suffer

somewhat either willingly or against thy will and thou

shalt ever find the cross.
Thou shalt either suffer sorrow in thy body or tribulation of

spirit in the soul.
Sometimes thou shalt be forsaken of God and sometimes thou

shalt be stirred by thy neighbour and, what more is,

sometimes thou shalt be grievous to thyself.
And yet it shall not lie in thy power to be eased or delivered

with no remedy and with no solace; but, while God will,

thou must needs suffer and bear.
God willeth that thou shalt learn to suffer tribulation without

comfort, for thou shouldest subdue all things to him and

be the meeker for tribulation.
No man so heartily feeleth the passion of Christ as he that

suffereth like things.
The cross therefore is ever ready and over all things it abideth

for thee: thou canst not flee it, wherever thou run; and

wherever thou come, thou bearest thyself with thee, and

ever thou shalt find thyself.
Turn thyself above, turn thyself below, turn thyself outward,

turn thyself inward ; and in all these thou shalt find the

cross; and everywhere it is needful for thee to keep pa-
tience, if thou wilt have inward peace and deserve a

crown everlasting.
If thou bear the cross gladly, it shall bear thee, and lead thee

to a desirable end, where an end shall be of suffering

though it be not here.
If thou bear it against thy will thou makest for thyself an

heavy burden and grievest thyself more and yet must

thou needs sustain it.
If thou put away one cross doubtless thou shalt find another

and peradventure a more grievous one.
Thinkest thou to escape what never mortal man might escape?

The Imitation of Christ 189

what saint in this world was without cross and tribula-
tion? Not our Lord Jesu Christ was without sorrow of
passion one hour in all his life. The evangelist saith "It
behoved Christ to suffer and to rise from death and so
to enter into his glory." And how seekest thou another
way than the king's highway, the cross way? All Christ's
life was a cross and a martyrdom: and thou seekest to
thyself rest and joy.

Thou errest, thou goest out of the way if thou seek other thing
to thee than tribulation, for all this mortal life is full
of miseries and marked all about with crosses; and the
higher that a man profiteth in spirit the higher crosses
ofttimes he findeth: for the pain of his exile growetb
more through love.

Nevertheless this man, thus pained, is not without some man-
ner of comfort: for he feeleth great fruit grow to him
through the suff ranee of his cross; for while he gladly
subdue th him thereto, all burden of tribulation is turned
into trust of divine consolation; and the more that the
flesh is thrown down by affliction, the more the spirit is
strengthened by inward grace.

And ofttimes he is so greatly comforted and strengthened that
for desire of tribulation and adversity, for love of con-
formity to the cross of Christ, he would not be without
sorrow and tribulation; for the more acceptable he ac-
counteth himself to God, the more and the greater are
the pains that he must suffer for God.

This is not man's might but the grace of Christ that man
doeth so great things in his frail flesh, that through
fervour of spirit he can take upon him and love that thing
which the flesh ever naturally fleeth and abhorreth.

It is not like man to bear the cross, to love the cross, to chastise
the body, to bring it to thraldom, to flee honour, gladly
to sustain reproofs and wrongs, to despise himself and
to will to be despised, to suffer all manner of adversities
with harms and to desire no manner of prosperity in this
world.

igo Thomas & Kempis

If thou look to thyself, thou canst do no such thing of thyself;
but, if thou trust in our Lord, strength shall be given to
thee from heaven, and the world and the flesh shall be
made subject to thy commandment: nor shalt thou dread
thine enemy the devil, if thou be armed with faith and
marked with the cross.

Put thee therefore forward as a good and true servant of
Christ to bear manly the cross of thy Lord crucified for
thee through love. Make thee ready to suffer many con-
trary things and diverse incommodities in this wretched
life: for so he shall be with thee wherever thou be and
so thou shalt find him wherever thou be hid.

It must be so: for there is no remedy of scaping from tribula-
tion of evil men and sorrow except that thou suffer.

Drink the chalice of our Lord lovingly if thou desire to be
his friend and to have part with him. Consolations com-
mit thou to God: let him do therewith as it pleaseth him.

Put thou thyself forward to suffer tribulations and account
them as greatest consolations; for there are no passions
of this time worthy to deserve the glory that is to come,
yea, though thou mightest suffer all alone.

When thou comest to this, that tribulation is sweet to thee
and is savoury to thee for Christ then deem it well with
thee: for thou hast found paradise in earth.

As long as it is grievous to thee to suffer and thou seekest to
flee it, so long shall it be evil with thee, and fleeing after
thee, tribulation shall follow thee everywhere.

If thou puttest thee forward, as thou oughtest to do, to suffer
and to die, it shall soon be better and thou shalt find
peace.

Yea, if thou be ravished into the third heaven with Paul, thou
art not yet sure to suffer no contrary thing: for Jesu said
"I shall shew him how great things he must suffer for
my name."

To suffer therefore remaineth to thee if thou wilt love and
ever please him.

Would God that thou were worthy to suffer any thing for

The Imitation of Christ 191

the name of Jesu: how great glory should be to thee,
how great exultation to all the saints of heaven, how great
edification of thy neighbour; for all men commend pa-
tience, though few will suffer.

Thou shouldest gladly suffer for Christ since men suffer much
more grievous things for the world.

Know for certain that thou must lead a dying life; and the
more that a man dieth to himself, the more he beginneth
to live to God: there is no man apt (fit) to take heavenly
things unless he submit himself to bear adversities for
Christ.

There is nothing more acceptable to God, nothing more whole-
some to thee in this world than gladly to suffer for Christ:
and if it lay in thy choice, thou shouldest rather desire
to suffer contrary things for Christ than to be refreshed
with many consolations: for thou wouldest be more like
unto Christ and be more conformed to all saints.

For our merit and the profiting of our estate standeth not in
sweetness and consolations but rather in suffering of
grievous things and tribulations: for if there had been
any thing more better or more profitable to man than to
suffer, Christ would verily have shown it by word and
example: but he exhorted all his disciples and all them
that desired to follow him openly to bear the cross say-
ing "Who that will come after me, let him deny himself
and take his cross and follow me."

All things therefore being read over and searched, be this
the final conclusion, that by many tribulations it be-
hoveth us to enter into the kingdom of heaven.

Here end the admonitions drawing inward. And here follow
the chapters of the third book that is of inward consola-
tion.

PART THREE
CHAPTER I

HERE BEGINNETH THE THIRD PART OF INWARD CONVERSA-
TION. OF THE INWARD SPEAKING OF CHRIST UNTO A SOUL

I SHALL hear what our Lord Christ speaketh in me. Blissful
is that soul that heareth our Lord speaking in him and
taketh from his mouth the word of consolation. Blessed
be those ears that receive of God's rounding (whisper)
and take no heed of the rounding of this world. Plainly
those ears are blessed that take no heed to the outward
sounding voice but to the truth teaching inwardly.
Blessed be those eyes that are closed to earthly things
and attend to the inward things. Blessed are they that
pierce inward things and study to make themselves ready
by daily exercises more and more to take heavenly se-
crets. Blissful are they that desire to take heed to God
and cast themselves out from all impediments of the
world.

Take heed hereto, my soul, and close up the doors of thy
sensuality (senses) that thou mayst hear what thy Lord
God speaketh in thee. Thus saith thy well beloved, Thine
help am I, thy peace, and thy life: keep thee with me
and thou shalt find peace. Leave all transitory things
and seek everlasting. What are all temporal things but
deceivers and what avail all creatures if thou be forsaken
of thy creator? All other things therefore set aside, yield
thyself pleasant and true to thy creator that thou mayst
win very felicity.

The Imitation of Christ 193

CHAPTER II

THAT THE WORDS OF GOD ARE TO BE HEARD WITH MEEKNESS

SPEAK Lord for thy servant heareth. I am thy servant: give
me understanding that I may know thy testimonies. Bow
my heart to the words of thy mouth; let thy speech flow
as sweet dew.

The children of Israel said on a time to Moses "Speak thou
to us and we shall hear thee: let not our Lord speak lest
we die."

Lord, Lord, not so; I pray not so, but rather with Samuel
the prophet, meekly and affectionately I beseech thee
"Speak thou, Lord, for thy servant heareth."

Let therefore Moses not speak to me, nor none of the
prophets: but speak thou rather, Lord God, inspirer and
illuminer of prophets; for thou alone without them mayst
teach me perfectly: but they without thee shall nothing
profit. They may sound words well but they give no
spirit. They say passingly fair, but, if thou speak not,
they set nothing afire. They take us to the letter, but thou
openest the wit (meaning). They bring forth mysteries
but thou makest open the understanding of the secrets.
They tell out commandments but thou helpest us to per-
form them. They show the way but thou makest us
strong to go. They work all without, but thou teachest
and illuminest the hearts. They water from without, but
thou givest increase. They cry with words, but to the
hearing thou givest understanding. Let not therefore
Moses speak to me but thou, my Lord God, everlasting
truth: lest I die and be made unfruitful, lest I be only
admonished outwardly and not set afire inwardly.

Therefore, lest the word heard and not done be to me my
judgment, or the word known and not loved, or the word
believed and not kept, speak thou, Lord, for thy servant
heareth. Thou hast words of life everlasting; speak to

194 Thomas a Kempis

me to some manner of comfort to my soul and to the
amendment of my life; and to thee Lord be praise, glory,
and everlasting honour.

CHAPTER III

THAT THE WORDS OF GOD ARE TO BE HEARD WITH MEEKNESS

SON, hear my words most sweet and passing the cunning of
all the philosophers and all the wise men of this world.
My words are spirit and life: they are not to be peised
(weighed) with man's wits.

They be not to be turned to vain pleasure but to be heard in
silence and to be taken with meekness and great desire.

And I said: Blissful is he whom thou hast learned and hast
taught him of thy law that thou may make him a mitiga-
tion from evil days that the earth be not desolate.

I, saith our Lord, have taught the prophets from the begin-
ning and until now I cease not to speak to all but many
be hard and deaf to my voice, many more gladly hear
the world than God: they follow more lightly the appe-
tite of their flesh than the good pleasure of God.

The world promiseth temporal things and little things and is
served with great greediness: and I promise most high
things and everlasting and mortal men's hearts wax
sluggish.

Who serveth and obeyeth me in all things as men serve the
world and its lords? The sea said, "Be ashamed, Sidon";
and if thou ask the cause, hear why. For a little prebend
men run a long way; but for everlasting life scarce the
foot is once lift up from the earth.

A thing of little price is busily sought: other whiles men strive
for one penny right shamefully; men dread not to weary
themselves night and day for a vain thing, for a little
promise. But, alas, for good incommutable, for need

The Imitation of Christ 195

inestimable, for sovereign honour, for endless glory men

will not suffer the least weariness.
Be ashamed therefore thou sluggish and complaining servant

that they are more ready for perdition than thou for

life; they joy more at vanity than thou at truth.
And lo, ofttimes they are defrauded of their hope: but my

promise deceiveth no man; nor leaveth no man void

that trusteth me.
That I have promised, I shall give: that I have said I shall

fulfil, so that a man abide true in my love until the end.
I am rewarder of all good men and a mighty prover of all

devout men. Write my words in thine heart and treat

them diligently for in time of tribulation they shall be

full necessary. That that thou knowest not when thou

readest, thou shalt truly know in time of visitation.
I am wont in two manners to visit my chosen children that

is to say with temptation and consolation.
And every day I read them two lessons: one in blaming their

vices, another exhorting them to everlasting virtues.
He that heareth my words and despiseth them hath that shall

doom (judge) him in the last day.

CHAPTER IV

A PRAYER TO ASK GRACE OF DEVOTION

MY LORD God all my goods thou art: and who am I that dare
speak to thee? I am thy most poor servant, and an abject
worm much poorer and more contemptible than I can
or dare say. Nevertheless have mind that I am naught
worth. Thou alone art good, righteous and holy: thou
canst do all things: thou givest all things, thou fillest all
things leaving void the sinner. Bring to mind thy pity
and fulfil mine heart with thy grace for thou wilt not
that thy work should be void. How may I suffer myself
in this wretched life, unless thou comfort me with thy

196 Thomas & Kempis

mercy and thy grace? Lord, turn not away thy face
from me: prolong not thy visitation; withdraw not thy
consolation, lest my soul be as earth without water to
thee. Lord teach me to do thy will; teach me to live
worthily and meekly for thee; for thou art my wisdom,
thou knowest me truly and knewest me or ever the world
were made and or ever I were born in the world.

CHAPTER V

THAT A MAN OUGHT TO LIVE BEFORE GOD IN TRUTH AND IN
MEEKNESS

SON, go before me in truth, and in simplicity of heart seek
me ever. He that goeth before me in truth shall be made
sure from evil availings and truth shall deliver him from
deceivers and from detractions of wicked men. If truth
deliver thee thou shalt be verily free and thou shalt not
reck of men's vain words.

Lord it is true that thou sayest: and, as thou sayest, so I
beseech thee may it be with me. Let thy truth teach me,
thy truth keep me and bring me to an healthful end.

Let her deliver me from all evil affection and inordinate lov-
ing and I shall go with thee in great liberty of heart.

Truth saith, I shall teach thee those things that are right and
pleasant to me.

Think on thy sins with great displeasure and mourning and
never account thyself anything for any good works.
Verily a sinner thou art and encumbered and wrapped
in many passions; of thyself ever thou drawest to naught;
soon thou slidest, soon thou art overcome, soon thou art
dissolved.

Thou hast nothing whereof thou mayst rejoice thee but many
things thou hast whereof thou oughtest to set little by
thyself; for thou are more sick than thou canst conceive.

Wherefore let nothing seem great to thee of all things that

The Imitation of Christ 197

them doest, nothing precious, nothing wonderful; let
nothing appear to thee worthy any reputation, for verily
there is none other thing here laudable or desirable but
that which is everlasting.

And above all things let everlasting truth please thee; let
ever thy great vileness and unworthiness displease thee.

Dread nothing so much, blame nor flee nothing so much, as
thy vices and thy sins the which ought to displease thee
more than any worldly harm.

Some go not clearly before me but they be led with all manner
of curiosity and arrogance, willing to know my secrets
and to understand the high things of God, taking no heed
of themselves and of their souls' health.

These folk, being displeased, ofttimes fall into great tempta-
tions for their pride and their curiosity.

Dread the judgments of God, be aghast of the wrath of him
that is almighty.

Discuss not the works of the highest God: but search thy
wickedness, in how many things thou hast trespassed
and how many good deeds thou hast negligently left.

Some bear their devotion alone in their looks, some in images,
some in outward signs and figures: some have me in
mouth but little is there in the heart.

There be other that being illumined in the understanding and
purged in affection, desire laboriously things everlasting,
grieving to hear of earthly things: they serve the neces-
sities of nature with great sorrow; and these feel what
the spirit of truth speaketh in them for he teacheth them
to love heavenly things, to set no price by the world and
day and night to desire heaven.

198 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER VI

OF THE WONDERFUL EFFECT OF THE LOVE OF GOD

I BLESS thee, heavenly father, the father of my Lord Jesu
Christ for thou vouchest safe to have mind on me most
poor.

father of mercies and God of all consolation I thank thee

that refreshest me with thy consolations, me that am
unworthy all manner of comfort.

1 bless thee ever and glorify thee with thine only begotten

Son and the Holy Ghost the comforter into worlds of
worlds (for ever and ever).

Ah, my Lord God, my holy lover, when thou shalt come into
my heart all my inwards shall joy. Thou art my glory
and the exultation of mine heart; thou art mine hope
and my refuge in the day of my tribulation. But for that
I am feeble in love and imperfect in virtue, therefore I
have need to be comforted of thee.

Wherefore visit me Lord ofttimes and inform me with holy
discipline. Deliver me from mine evil passions, heal mine
heart from all inordinate affections; that I, inwardly
healed and well purged, may be apt to love, mighty to
suffer, stable to persevere.

Love is a great thing, a great good in every wise; it alone
maketh light every heavy thing and beareth evenly every
uneven thing: for it beareth burden without burden and
every bitter thing it maketh sweet and savoury.

The noble love of Jesu stirreth to do great things and ever
enticeth to desire more perfect things. Love will be above,
not retained with any low things. Love will be free and
alienate from all worldly affection lest his inward be-
holding be let (hindered) lest he be wrapped in and
encumbered by any temporal commodity or fall under
(disappear) by any incommodity.

The Imitation of Christ 199

There is nothing sweeter than love, nothing stronger, nothing
higher, nothing broader, nothing more jocund, nothing
fuller, nothing better in heaven nor in earth; for love is
born of God nor it may not rest but in God above all
creatures.

The lover flieth, runneth and is glad; he is free and is not
holden. Love giveth all things for all things and it hath
all things in all things; for it resteth above all things in
one sovereign good of whom all good floweth and pro-
ceedeth. It looketh not to the gifts but turneth itself to
the giver above all goods. Love of ttimes knows no meas-
ure but is fervent above all measure.

Love feeleth no burden, it accounteth no labour, it desireth
more than it may attain, it complaineth never of impos-
sibility, for it deemeth itself mighty to all things, and
all things be lawful to it. It is valiant therefore to all
things, it fulfilleth many things and bringeth them to
effect where he that loveth not faileth and lieth still.

Love waketh; and, sleeping, it sleepeth not; love wearied is
not weary, and love constrained is not constrained; it,
afeard, is not troubled; but as a quick flame and a burn-
ing brand, he bursteth upwards and passeth surely (safe) ,
He that loveth knoweth what this voice crieth. A great
cry in the ears of God is that burning affection of soul
that saith "My God, my love, thou art all mine and I
thine."

Dilate me in love that I may learn to taste with the inward
mouth of mine heart how sweet it is to love and in love
to melt and to swim. Be I held with love going above
myself for excellent fervour and astonishment. May I
sing a song of love, may I follow thee my love into the
height and let my soul fail in thy praise, jubilee-ing for
love.

Let me love thee more than myself and myself only for thee
and all in thee that verily love thee as the law of love
commandeth shining out of thee.

2OO Thomas a Kempis

Love is swift, pure, holy, jocund, merry, strong, patient, true,
prudent, long-abiding, manly and never seeking himself.
Where any man seeketh himself, there anon he falleth
from love.

Love is circumspect, meek and right, not soft, not light, not
intending to vain things, sober, chaste, stable, restful,
kept in all wits (senses) devout to God and mankind.

Love is subject and obedient to prelates, vile and despicable
to himself, trusting ever in God, yea when God savoureth
him not, for without sorrow men live not in love.

He that is not ready to suffer all things and to stand at the
will of his beloved, is not worthy to be called a lover. It
behove th the lover gladly to clip (grasp) to himself all
manner hard things and bitter things for his beloved and
not to bow (turn) from him for any contrary things that
happen to fall.

CHAPTER VII

OF PROVING OF TRUE LOVE

SON, yet art thou not a mighty and a prudent lover.

Why, Lord?

For as much as for a little contrariousness thou failest in
things begun, and over-greedily seekest consolation. A
strong lover standeth in temptations nor will he believe
the wily persuasions of the enemy. As I please him in
prosperity, so I displease him not in adversity.

A prudent lover considereth not so much the gift of the lover
as the love of the giver; he peiseth (weigheth) more the
affection than the value and setteth all the gifts far be-
neath the beloved. The noble lover resteth not in the
gift but in me above all gifts.

It is not therefore all lost, though some times thou feelest not
so well of me and of my saints as thou wouldest. That
good and sweet affection, that thou perceivest sometimes,
is an effect of grace and a manner of foretaste of the

The Imitation of Christ 201

heavenly country upon which it is not good to lean over-
much, for it goeth and cometh.

For a man to fight against the evil moving of the soul and to
despise the suggestions of the devil is a token of virtue
and of great merit. Therefore let no strange fantasies
brought in by any matter trouble thee; keep a mighty
purpose and a right intention to God.

It is no illusion that some times thou art suddenly ravished
in an excess and turnest anon again to the wonted japes
(jests) of thine heart: for thou sufferest these unwillingly
rather than doest them and as long as they displease
thee, and thou wrestlest against them it is merit and no
perdition.

Know well that the enemy laboureth in all wise to stay thy
desire in good and to make thee void of all good exercise;
from worshipping of saints, from minding of thy holy
passion, from profitable thinking of thy saints, from
keeping of thine heart, and from sad (settled) purpose
of profiting in virtue; he putteth in many evil thoughts
that he may cause in thee weariness and horror and may
revoke thee from prayer and holy reading.

Meek confession displeaseth him, and, if he may, he will make
thee to cease from holy communion. Believe him not nor
take no hold of him though he of ttimes tend to thee gins
of deceit. Impute it to himself when he soweth evil things
and unclean. Say to him "Be ashamed, thou unclean
spirit, and go away, wretch; thou art full unclean, that
bringest such things to mine ears. Go hence, thou wicked
deceiver, thou shalt have no part in me, but Jesu shall
be with me as a mighty fighter and thou shalt stand
confused. I had liever die and suffer all pain than con-
sent to thee. Hold thy peace and be still; I will no more
hear thee though thou labour to molest me never so oft.
God is mine* illumination and mine help, whom shall T
dread? If battles be against me mine heart shall not be
afeard. Our Lord is mine helper and my redemptor."

Fight as a good knight, and though sometime thou fall through

202 Thomas a Kempis

frailty of flesh, resume strength more mighty than before,
trusting on my more large grace and be well ware of vain
complacency and pride; for thereby many men be led
into error and some time they slide into a blindness in-
curable. Let it be to thee for a perpetual wariness and
meekness the falling of proud men presuming on them-
selves.

CHAPTER VIII

OF GRACE TO BE HID UNDER THE WORD OF MEEKNESS

SON, it is more profitable and more sure to thee to hide the
grace of devotion and not to lift thyself on high, not to
speak much thereof, nor much to peise (weigh) it, but
rather to despise thyself and dread lest it be given to
thee unworthy.

It is not good to cleave over-toughly to this affection that may
so soon be turned into the contrary. Think, when in grace,
how wretched and how needy thou wert wont to be,
without grace.

Nor is there only spiritual profiting when thou feelest grace
of consolation but also when thou bearest meekly and
patiently the withdrawing thereof when it is denied;
provided thou then be not slow from study of prayer nor
let not slide away utterly other works that thou art wont
to do, but as thou mayest after thine understanding
gladly do that in thee is and for no dryness nor anxiety
of mind be not negligent of thyself. For there be many
to whom when it cometh not as they would anon they be
impatient or slow.

Man's way is not ever in his own power but to God it belongs
to give and to comfort when he will and as much as he
will and to whom he will, as it pleaseth him and no
more.

Some indiscreetly for grace of devotion have destroyed them-

The Imitation of Christ 203

selves. For they do more than they can, peising (weigh-
ing) not the measure of their littleness but following
more the affection of the heart than the judgment of
reason. And for they presumed greater things than God
was pleased with, therefore they soon lost grace. They
were made needy and left as vile that had set their nest
in heaven, that they, made so meek and poor, might learn
not to fly on their own wings but to hope and trust under
my feathers.

They that be yet new and inexpert in the way of God, unless
they be governed by the counsel of discreet men, may
soon be deceived and hurt. And if they will follow their
own feeling rather than believe others that are experi-
enced, the end will be perilous, if they will not be with-
drawn from their own conceit. They that seem wise to
themselves suffer but seldom to be governed by others.

Better is it to savour but a little with meekness and little un*
derstanding than to have great treasures of cunning with
vain complacency.

Better is it for thee to have little than much whereof thou
mayst be proud. He doth not discreetly that giveth him-
self all to gladness, forgetting his rather (earlier) poverty
and the chaste dread of God, which dreadeth to lose
grace that is offered. Nor doth he savour virtuously
enough that in time of adversity or any heaviness holdeth
himself over desperately and less trustingly thinketh or
feeleth of me than it behoveth. For he that in time of
peace will be over sure of ttimes in time of battle is found
deject and fearful.

If thou couldst at all times abide meek and little in thyself
and measure and rule thy spirit, then wouldest thou not
fall so soon into peril and into offence.

It is good that, when the fervour of spirit is conceived, thou
think what is to come, if the light goeth away; the which
when it happeneth to fall (happen) think again that
the light may come again the which I have withdrawn
for a time to thy warnes (warning) and my glory. Such

2O4 Thomas & Kempis

a proving is of ttimes more profitable than if thou haddest
pleasant things at thine own will. For merits be not to be
estimated if a man hath many visions and consolations
or else be wise in the scriptures or be set in high degree:
but if he be grounded in very meekness and fulfilled with
divine charity, if he seek in all things purely and wholly
the worship of God, if he account himself as naught and
despise himself in truth and joy more to be despised and
made low of others than to be worshipped, there is merit
and matter of hope.

CHAPTER IX

OF VILE ESTIMATION OF ONESELF IN THE SIGHT OF GOD

I SHALL speak to my Lord though I be dust and ashes.

If I account myself more, lo thou standest against me and my
wickedness beareth witness against me, I may not say
nay.

But if I vilify myself and bring me to naught and fail from
all manner of proper reputation (thought of myself)
and make me dust as I am, thy grace shall be merciful
to me and thy light nigh to my heart, and all manner
of estimation, be it never so little, shall be drowned in
the valley of my naughtiness and shall perish for ever.

There thou showest me myself what I am, what I was, and
from whence I came: for I am naught and know not
myself. If I be left to myself lo I am naught and all in-
firmity. If thou behold me suddenly anon I am made
strong and am fulfilled with a new joy; and a wonderful
thing is it that I am so suddenly lift up and so benignly
clipped (embraced) of thee that with mine own weight
am I ever borne down low. This thy love doth freely, going
before me and helping me in so many needs and keeping
me from grievous perils and delivering me, as I may truly
say, from evils out of number.

The Imitation of Christ 205

In mis-loving I lost both thee and me and in seeking thee
alone and in purely loving thee found both thee and me;
and through love I brought myself more deeply to naught.
For thou, most sweet, dost with me above all manner
of merit and above that that I dare hope or pray.

Blessed be thou, my God, for though I be unworthy of all
goods, yet thy noblesse and infinite goodness ceaseth
not to do well, yea even to the unkind and the far-turned-
away from thee.

Convert us Lord to thee that we may be meek, kind and de-
vout, for thou art our help, our virtue, and our strength.

CHAPTER X

THAT ALL THINGS ARE TO BE REFERRED TO GOD
AS TO THE LAST END

SON, I ought to be thy last and thy sovereign end if thou
desire verily to be blissful; and through this intention
shall thine affection be purged that is of ttimes evil bowed
down to herself and to creatures. For if thou seek thyself
in anything anon thou failest in thyself and waxest dry.
Wherefore to me refer all things principally for I it am
that have given all things.

Consider all things as welling from the highest and most
sovereign good; and therefore they are to be reduced to
me as to their original beginning. Of me little and great,
poor and rich, draw quick water as from the well of life:
and they that serve me willingly and gladly shall receive
grace for (after) grace, but he that hath glory without
me or is delighted in any private good shall never be
stablished in very joy nor be delighted in heart but shall
be let (hindered) in many wises (ways) and anguished.

Therefore thou oughtest to ascribe to thyself no manner of
good nor attribute not virtue to any man but all to God
without whom man hath naught. I gave all and I will

206 Thomas Kempis

have all again and with strictness I require thanks. This

is truth whereby is chased away the vanity of glory.
And if heavenly grace and very charity enter in, there shall

be no envy nor contraction of heart: private love shall

not occupy it, for divine charity overcometh all things

and dilateth all the might of the soul.
If thou savour aright thou shalt joy alone in me for there is no

man good but God alone, that is to be praised above all

things and to be blessed in all things.

CHAPTER XI

THAT, THE WORLD DESPISED, IT IS MERRY AND
SWEET FOR TO SERVE GOD

Now Lord I shall speak again and keep no silence. I shall say
in the ears of my God, my Lord, my King that is on high,

O Lord how great is the multitude of thy sweetness to them
that dread thee. But what art thou to thy lovers? what to
them that serve thee with all their hearts? Verily the
sweetness of thy contemplation that thou grantest to thy
lovers is unspeakable. Herein thou showest most the
sweetness of thy charity, that, when I was not, thou
madest me and when I erred from thee thou leddest me
again that I should serve thee and thou commandest me
to love thee.

O thou well of everlasting love, what shall I say of thee? How
may I forget thee that vouchest safe to have mind on me?
Yea after that I failed and perished thou hast been merci-
ful with thy servant above all hope and hast showed
grace and friendship above all merit.

What yield I thee again for this grace? It is not given to all
that, all things forsaken, they renounce the world and
take a religious life. Is that a great thing that I serve
thee since every creature is bound to serve thee? It ought
not to seem to me a great thing to serve thee; but rather

The Imitation of Christ 207

this appeareth to me great and wonderful, that thou
vouchsafe to receive as thy servant me so poor and so
unworthy and to one (unite) me to thy well beloved
servants.

Lo all things that I have and with the which I serve thee
are thine; nevertheless, in contrariwise thou servest me
rather than I thee. Lo, heaven and earth, that thou hast
made unto man's service are ready and every day do
that thou commandest them; and that is little; but,
over that, thou hast ordained also angels to man's min-
istry; but it passeth all that thou thyself vouchest safe
to serve man and madest promise to give thyself to him.

What shall I give thee for all these thousand of goods? Would
God I might serve thee all the days of my life. Would
God at least I might suffice to do thee worthy service for
a day. Verily thou art worthy all manner of service, all
worship and everlasting praise. Verily thou art my Lord
and I thy poor servant, that am bound with all my might
to serve thee and never be weary of thy praise.

Thus I will and thus I desire and what lacketh me vouch
thou safe to fulfil. It is a great worship (honour) and a
great glory to serve thee and to set all things at no price
with (compared with) thee: for they that willingly sub-
due themselves to thy service shall have grace. And they
that for thy most holy love put away fleshly delectation
shall find the consolation of the Holy Ghost. They shall
get liberty of mind that enter into the straight life and
take no heed of no worldly care.

the acceptable and the jocund service of God whereby a
man is verily made free and holy. O the holy state of re-
ligious servage, that maketh man even with angels,
pleasant to God, fearful to fiends and commendable to
all Christian men. O the service to be embraced and even
to be desired, whereby the highest and sovereign good
is deserved (won) and joy gotten that shall dwell with-
out end.

2o8 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER XII

THAT THE DESIRES OF THE HEART MUST BE EXAMINED
AND MODERED (MODERATED)

SON, yet thou must learn much thing the which thou hast not
not learned as yet.

Lord, what are those?

That thou put thy desire wholly after my well-willing and
that thou be not a lover of thyself but a desirous follower
of my will. Desires ofttimes set thee on fire and hugely
stir thee; but consider whether thou be moved more for
my worship or for thine own profit. If I be at the root
thou wilt be well content whatever I ordain ; and if there
be anything of thine own seeking that is hid privily, that
it is that letteth (hindereth) and grieveth.

Be ware therefore that thou lean not too much upon any de-
sire before conceived, me not counselled; lest it repent
thee afterwards and that displease which first pleased
and which thou heldest for the better. For not every
affection that seemeth good is to be followed anon nor
every contrary affection is to be fled at first.

It is expedient sometimes to use the bridle, yea in good studies
and desires, lest by importunity thou fall into distraction
of mind, lest thou engender slander in others through
indiscipline or else lest thou be suddenly troubled and
fall by withstanding of others. And thy flesh ought so
long to be chastised and constrained to be subject in
servage, till it learn to be ready for all things and to be
content with few, and to delight in simple things and
not grudge (grumble) against such things as are not con-
venient thereto.

The Imitation of Christ 209

CHAPTER XIII

OF THE LEARNING OF PATIENCE AND FIGHTING
AGAINST CONCUPISCENCE

LORD, as I see, patience is right needful to me for many con-
trary things fall in this world. For, however I ordain for
my peace, my life may not be without battle and sword.

So it is, son; but I will not that thou seek peace and lack
temptations, and feel no contrariousness; but then deem
to have found peace when thou art haunted in diverse
temptations and proved in many contrary things. If thou
say that thou canst not suffer many things how wilt thou
then suffer the fire of purgatory?

Of two evils the less is ever to be chosen: wherefore that
thou mayst escape torments that are to come study to
suffer evenly for God present evils.

What trowest thou that men of this world suffer naught or
little? Nay thou shalt not find that, though thou seek
most delicate men. But they have, thou sayest, many
delectations and therefore they peise (weigh) little their
tribulations. Be it so that they have what they will; but
how long hopest thou it shall endure?

Lo they that are abundant in this world shall fail as the smoke
and there shall be no more remembrance of the joys
passed. And yet while they live they rest not in them
without bitterness, weariness and dread; for ofttimes of
the same thing whereof they conceive delectation they
receive pain and sorrow. It falleth to them righteously
that since they inordinately seek delectations and follow
them they should not taste them fully without confusion.
O how short, how inordinate, how false, how foul they
all be.

Nevertheless for drunkenness and blindness they understand
not but as dumb beasts run into death of soul for a little
delectation of corruptible life. Wherefore, thou, son, go

2io Thomas & Kempis

not after thy concupiscence but turn away from thine
own will. Delight thee in God and he shall give thee the
petitions of thine heart.

Lo if thou wilt verily be delighted and more abundantly be
comforted of me, lo, in contempt of all worldly and in
cutting away of all lower delights shall be thy blessing
and plenteous consolation shall be yielded to thee. And
the more that thou withdrawest thyself from consolation
of all creatures the sweeter and the mightier comforts
thou shalt find in me. But first thou shalt not come to
these without sorrow and labour of striving.

The old used custom (habit) will withstand thee but it shall
be overcome by a better custom. The flesh will grudge
(grumble); but it shall be refrained (bridled) with the
fervour of spirit. The old serpent will stir thee and bring
thee to bitterness; but with prayer he shall be driven
away and with profitable labour his coming in shall be
stopped.

CHAPTER XIV

OF OBEDIENCE OF A MEEK SUBJECT BY ENSAMPLE OF
OUR LORD JESU

SON, he that laboureth to withdraw himself from obedience
he withdraweth himself from grace; and he that seeketh
to have private things loseth the common things.

He that freely and gladly subdueth not himself to his sover-
eign, it is a token that his flesh obeyeth him not perfectly
yet but ofttimes kicketh against and grutcheth (grum-
bleth).

Learn therefore to obey thy sovereign swiftly if thou will that
thy flesh shall obey thee; for the outer enemy is sooner
overcome, if the inner be destroyed. There is not a more
grievous nor a worse enemy of the soul than thou thy-
self, when not well according to the spirit.

The Imitation of Christ 211

It behoveth thee in all wise to take upon thee very despising
of thyself if thou wilt prevail against flesh and blood.
But for as much as thou lovest thyself inordinately there-
fore thou dreadest to resign thyself fully to the will of
others. But what great thing is it if thou that art but
ashes and naught subdue thyself to man for God.

Since I, almighty and highest, that made all things of naught,
meekly made me subject to man for thee and was made
meekest of all and lowest, thou shouldst overcome thy
pride with my meekness.

Learn to obey, thou dust; learn to make thyself meek, thou
earth and clay, and to bow thyself under the feet of all;
learn to break thine own will and to put thee under sub-
jection of all. Be wroth against thyself and suffer no
volowing (swelling) pride to live in thee, but show thee
so subject and so little that all men may go over thee
and tread upon thee as upon mire of the street.

What hast thou, vain man, to complain of? Thou foul sinner,
what hast thou to answer thy reprovers, thou that so oft-
times hast offended thy God and so ofttimes deserved
hell? But mine eyes have spared thee for thy soul
was precious in my sight; that thou shouldst know
my love and be ever kind to (grateful for) my bene-
fits and that thou shouldst give thyself continually to
very subjection by meekness and bear patiently thine
own despising.

CHAPTER XV

OF CONSIDERING THE PRIVY JUDGMENTS OF GOD
AGAINST PRIDE

LORD, thou soundest thy dooms (judgments) upon me and
shakest all my bones for dread and trembling and my
soul is greatly afraid. I stand astonished and consider
that heaven is not clean in thy sight. If thou foundest

212 Thomas & Kempis

shrewdness (wickedness) in angels and sparedst them
not what shall fall of me?

Stars fell from heaven, and I, dust, what presume I? They
whose works seemed laudable fell to lowest things and
they that ate bread of angels, I saw them delight in
swines' draff (food).

Therefore Lord there is no surety if thou withdraw thine hand.
There availeth no wisdom if thou leave thy governance.
There helpeth no strength, if thou cease to keep. There
is no chastity sure if thou defend it not. There availeth
no keeping if thy holy watching be not nigh. If we be
forsaken we be drowned and perish; if we be visited we
are reared up and live. We be unstable but by thee be
confirmed. We wax luke (warm) but by thee we be
set afire.

O how meekly and abjectly it filleth me to feel of myself and
how naught to set by is any good that I seem to have.

how deeply I ought to submit myself under thy deep ground-
less judgments, Lord, where I find myself nothing else
but naught and naught. O weight unmeasurable, O
sea in transna table (through which I cannot swim) when
I find nothing of myself but all naught. Where is the lurk-
ing hidels (secret boast) of glory, where is the trust con-
ceived of virtue? All vain glory is swallowed up in the
deepness of thy judgments upon me.

What is every flesh in thy beholding? Shall clay rejoice itself
against him that maketh it? How may he be reared up
(uplifted) in vain speech whose heart is subject to God
in truth? all the world shall not rear up into pride him
whom truth hath made subject to himself: nor shall he
be moved by the mouths of all his praisers that stead-
fasteth all his hope in God.

For they that speak in magnifying themselves, lo, are naught,
and they shall fail with the sound of their words; but the
truth of our Lord abideth for ever.

The Imitation of Christ 213

CHAPTER XVI

HOW A MAN SHALL STAND IN EVERYTHING
DESIRABLE

SON, say thou at all times, Lord if it please thee, be this thus.
Lord if this be to thy worship (honour) be this done in
thy name. Lord, if thou see it be expedient and prove it
profitable to me, grant me to use it to thy worship: but
if thou know that it be noyous (harmful) to me or not
available to the health of my soul take such a desire from
me: for not every desire cometh of the Holy Ghost, yea,
though it seem to man right and good.

It is hard to deem truly whether a good spirit or an evil stir
thee to desire this or that, or whether thou be moved of
thine own spirit. Many in the end be deceived, but in the
beginning seemed brought in (endued) with a good
spirit. Wherefore with dread of God and meekness of
heart is to be desired and asked whatever desirable thing
that cometh to mind principally; for with proper resig-
nation all things are to be committed to me saying, Lord
thou knowest how it is best: be it thus or thus as thou
wilt and when thou wilt ; give what thou wilt, how much
thou wilt and when thou wilt. Do with me as thou wilt
and as it most pleaseth thee and as it is most to thy
honour. Put me where thou wilt and do with me freely
in all things. I am in thine hands: turn me and again
turn me round about. Lo I am thy servant ready to all
things: for I desire not to live to myself, but to thee, and
that, would God, perfectly and worthily.

214 Thomas a Kempis

CHAPTER XVII

A PRAYER TO DO THE WILL OF GOD

MOST benign Jesu, grant me thy grace, that it may be with
me and labour with me and abide with me to the end.
Grant me ever to do thy will and to desire that is most ac-
ceptable to thee and most dearly pleaseth thee. Thy will
be my will and may my will ever follow thy will and ac-
cord (agree) to it in all wise. Be there to me one willing
and one not willing with thee; and let me not will nor not
will but what thou wilt or wilt not. Grant me to die from
all things that are in this world, and for thee to love to
be despised and not known in this world. Grant me above
all things desired to rest in thee and to poise my soul
in thee. Thou art very peace of heart, thou art only rest:
without thee all things are hard and out of quiet. In this
peace that is in the one sovereign everlasting good may
I sleep and rest. Amen.

CHAPTER XVIII

THAT TRUE SOLACE IS TO BE SOUGHT IN
GOD ALONE

WHATEVER I may think or desire to my solace I abide it not
here but hereafter; so that if I alone had all the solaces
of the world and might use all the delights it is certain
that they may not endure.

Wherefore my soul thou mayest not fully be comforted nor
perfectly be refreshed but in God the consolation of
poor, and the undertaker (supporter) of meek, men.
Abide a little while, my soul; abide God's promise and
thou shalt have abundance of all goods in heaven.

If thou covet then present things over inordinately thou shalt

The Imitation of Christ 215

lose the everlasting heavenly things. Let temporal things
be in use and everlasting things in desire. Thou mayest
not be filled with no temporal good for thou wert not
made to enjoy those.

Yea though thou hadst all goods that are made thou mayst
not be blissful; but in God that made all things shall be
thy bliss and thy felicity, not such as is seen and praised
of foolish lovers of this world but such as good true Chris-
tian men abide and spiritual men foretaste whose con-
versation is in heaven.

Vain it is and short, all men's solace: but that is blissful
solace and true that is perceived within from truth the
devout man beareth ever with him his comforter Jesu
and saith to him, Be nigh to me Lord in every place and
every time. Be this my consolation gladly to be willing
to lack all man's solace. And if thy consolation fail thy
will and just probation be to me as a sovereign solace;
for thou shalt not perpetually be wroth nor thou shalt
not threaten everlastingly.

CHAPTER XIX

THAT ALL BUSINESS IS TO BE SET IN GOD

MY SON, suffer me to do with thee what I will; I know what is
most expedient to thee. Thou thinkest as a man, thou
feelest in many things as man's affection persuadeth thee.

Lord, it is true that thou sayest. Thy business (care) is more
for me than any care that I can bear (take) for myself.
He standeth overcasually and like to fall that casteth not
all his business into thee. So that my will be right and
abide steadfast in thee do of me what pleaseth thee for
it may not be but good whatever thou do of me.

If thou wilt that I be in darkness, blessed mayst thou be;
and if thou wilt that I be in light, yet blessed mayst
thou be. If thou vouch safe to comfort me, blessed mayst

216 Thomas 5 Kempis

thou be; and if thou wilt that I be troubled, be thou ever
alike blessed.

Son, so thou must stand, if thou desirest to go with me. Thou
oughtest to be as ready to suffer as to joy. As gladly thou
oughtest to be needy and poor as full and rich.

Lord I shall gladly suffer for thee whatever thou wilt shall
come upon me. I will indifferently receive of thy hand
good and evil, sweet and sour, glad and sorrowful, and for
all things that fall to me give thee thanks. Keep me from
all manner of sin and I shall not dread death nor hell.
While thou throw me not away for ever nor put me not out
of the book of life, it shall not annoy me, whatever tribu-
lation come to me.

CHAPTER XX

THAT TEMPORAL MISERIES ARE TO BE SUFFERED BY THE
ENSAMPLE OF CHRIST

SON, I came down from heaven for thy health: I took upon
me thy miseries, not of need, but for charity for thou
shouldst learn by patience to suffer temporal miseries not
grudgingly (grumbling). For from the hour of my birth
unto the day of my going out of this world on the cross
there lacked me never suffering of sorrows.

I had great lack of temporal goods. I heard many complaints
made of me, shames and reproofs I sustained benignly,
for benefits I received unkindness, for miracles blas-
phemies, for teachings reprehensions and blame.

Lord as thou wert patient in thy life, therein fulfilling the
commandment of thy father, it is worthy that I, most
wretched sinner, after thy will should sustain myself
patiently and that as long as thou wilt that 1 bear the
burden of this corruptible life.

For if this life be onerous and heavy yet by thy grace it is
full meritorious, and by thine ensample and the steps

The Imitation of Christ 217

of thy deeds, it is to the feeble and the sick the more
tolerable and the more clear ; and much more consolatory
than it was sometime in the old Law, when the gate of
heaven was yet closed and also the way more dark; for
as much as so few at that time took any care to seek the
realm of heaven. Neither good men that paid their debt
by holy death might then enter into the realm of heaven
(i.e. before Christ died). 1

O how great thanks am I bound to yield to thee that hast
vouch safed to show to me and to all Christian men the
right way and the good way to thine everlasting realm.

Thy life is our way and by thine holy patience we go to thee
that art our crown. If thou hadst not gone before and
taught us the way who would have taken any care to
have followed? Alas how many would have abode all afar
and behind if they had not beheld thy clear ensample?
Lo yet we wax luke(warm) hearing of so many signs and
doctrines. What would fall (happen) if we had not so
great a light to follow thee?

CHAPTER XXI

OF SUFFERING OF WRONGS AND WHO IS PROVED
VERY PATIENT

WHAT is it that thou speakest, son? Cease thy complaining,
considering my passion and the passion of other saints:
for thou hast not yet withstood unto shedding of thy
blood. Little it is that thou sufferest in comparison of
them that suffered so great things, so mightily tempted,
so grievously troubled, so manifoldly proved and tried.

It behoveth thee therefore to bring to mind other grievous
pains that thou mayst the more mightily and more easily

1 This is only one of the many passages in which the translator has
missed the meaning of the Latin.

2i8 Thomas a K empis

bear thy small pains. And if they seem not little to thee
be ware lest thine impatience cause that. Nevertheless
whether they be small, whether they be great, study to
suffer all patiently.

The better that thou disposest thyself to suffer, the more
wisely thou dost, and the more thou deservest: and the
more easily thou shalt bear it, thy heart and thy use
(custom) made ready thereto not sluggishly. And say
not "I may not suffer this of such a man" nor "I ought
not to suffer such things for he did me great harm and
put things upon me that I never thought, but of another
I will gladly suffer whatever I shall suffer."

Such a thought is full foolish which considereth not the virtue
of patience nor of whom she is to be crowned, but taketh
more heed of the persons and of the offences done to
himself.

He is not very patient that will only suffer as much as he
will: for the very patient taketh no heed whether he
suffer of his prelate or of his peer or of his lover (friend) ;
whether of a good man and an holy or whether he be
tried by an over thwart (cross-grained) man and an un-
worthy; but, indifferently, whatever adversity and how
oft it happeneth from any creature all that he taketh
acceptably of the hand of God and accounteth that as
a great gain: for nothing, be it never so little, so it be
suffered for God, shall pass without merit. Wherefore be
thou sped and ready for fighting if thou wilt have the
victory. Without victory mayst thou not come to the
crown of patience.

If thou wilt not suffer thou refusest to be crowned and if
thou desire to be crowned fight manly, suffer patiently.
Without labour men come not to rest nor without fight-
ing men come not to victory.

Lord make possible by thy grace that which seemeth impos-
sible by nature. Thou knowest, Lord, that I can suffer
little and that I am soon thrown down with little ad-

The Imitation of Christ 219

versity. Make Lord every trial of tribulation to me ami-
able and for thy name desirable: for to suffer and to be
vexed for thee is full wholesome to my soul.

CHAPTER XXII

OF KNOWLEDGE OF OUR INFIRMITY AND OF
MISERIES OF THIS LIFE

I SHALL acknowledge against myself my unrighteousness. I
shall acknowledge to thee mine infirmity. Ofttimes a
little thing throweth me down and maketh me sorry. I
purpose to do mightily; but when a little temptation
cometh, I am in great anguish. Otherwhiles, from things
of little value riseth grievous temptation and while I
ween myself somewhat sure, for I feel nothing (I.e. hurt
ing me), I find myself ofttimes overcome through a light
blast.

See therefore, Lord, my dejection and my frailty known to
thee on every side. Have mercy on me (and snatch) me
from the clay that I stick not therein nor abide dejected
on every side. That it is which ofttimes rebuketh me be-
fore thee and confoundeth me that I am so sliding and
so weak to withstand passions and though I fully not
consent yet their vexation is grievous and heavy to m*
and it wearieth me so to live daily in strife.

And thereby is mine infirmity known to me that abominable
fantasies come much lighter than they go away. Would
God, thou most strong God of Israel, lover of true souls,
that thou wouldst behold the labour and the sorrow ot
thy servant, and be assistant to him, to whatever things
he goeth.

Strength me with heavenly might, lest the old man, the
wretched flesh not yet fully subject to the spirit, have
the better and the lordship, against which it behoveth
to fight all the while men live in this life most wretched

220 Thomas & Kempis

Alas, what a life is this where never lack tribulations and
miseries where all things are full of gins and of enemies.
For, one temptation or tribulation going away, another
cometh ; yea, sometime yet during the first conflict, other
many come upon me unawares.

And how may a life be loved, having so many bitternesses,
subject to so many miseries and mischances? how also is
it called a life that engendereth so many deaths and pesti-
lences and yet is loved and sought of many to have their
delight therein.

The world is ofttimes reproved that it is false and vain and
yet it is not lightly forsaken, for the lusts of the flesh have
too great domination.

But some things draw men to love them, others to despise
them. To love these draw, desire of the flesh, desire of
eyes, and pride of life: but pains and miseries following
bring forth hate of the world and weariness. But, alas,
false delight overcometh the mind given to the world,
and so she accounteth it a delight to be under the briars
(i.e. pleasure) for the mind hath neither seen nor tasted
the sweetness of God, nor the inward mirth of the soul.

But they that despise perfectly the world and study to live
under holy discipline the sweetness of God that is prom-
ised to true lovers is not unknown to them and they see
clearly how grievously the world erreth and how diversely
it deceive th.

CHAPTER XXIII

THAT MAN OUGHT TO REST IN GOD ABOVE ALL GIFTS

ABOVE all goods and in all, my soul, thou shalt rest in our
Lord ever for he is (the) everlasting rest of saints.

Grant me most loving and most sweet Jesu above every
creature, above all health and all beauty, above all glory
and worship, above all might and dignity, above all cun-
ning and subtlety, above all riches and craft, above all

The Imitation of Christ 221

gladness and exaltation, above all fame and praise, above
all hope and promise, above all merit and desire, above
all gifts that thou mayst give or pour on me, above all
joy or jubilation that mind may take or feel; further
more above angels and archangels, above all the knight-
hood of heaven, above all things visible and invisible, and
above all things that thou, my God, art not; for thou my
God, art best above all;

Thou alone art highest, thou alone most mighty, thou alone
most sufficient and most full, thou alone most sweet and
most solacious, thou alone most fair and most lovely,
thou alone most noble and most glorious above all things;
in whom all goods are together and are perfectly and
ever have been and shall be.

And therefore it is little and insufficient whatever thou givest
me beside thyself or revealest or promisest of thyself,
thee not seen or gotten fully; for mine heart may not
verily rest nor be fully and all wholly content, if it rest
not in thee and ever pass thy gifts and every creature.

O my most sweet spouse Jesu Christ, most pure lover, lord
of all manner of creatures who shall give me feathers of
very liberty that I may flee and rest in thee? O when
shall it be given to me fully that I may take heed and
see how sweet thou art, my Lord God? when shall I at
full gather myself in thee that for thy love I feel not
myself but thee only above all feeling and all manner,
in a manner not known to all.

Now ofttimes I mourn and bear my infelicity with sorrow:
for in this valley of tears there come many evil things that
ofttimes let (hinder) me trouble me sore and dark my
mind and distract me and draw me and wrap me in that
I may not have free coming to thee and that I may not
enjoy these jocund embraces that are ready for holy
spirits.

My sighing and my manifold sorrow on earth must move thee,
Jesu, the brightness of everlasting glory, comfort of
the soul going in pilgrimage; before thee my mouth is

222 Thomas & Kempis

without voice and my silence speaketh to thee. How long
tarrieth my Lord ere he come?

Come to me, his poor servant, that he may make him glad ;
put (forth) his hand and deliver the wretch from all
manner of anguish. Come, come; for without thee there
shall be no blissful day nor hour; for thou art my glad-
ness, and without thee my board is void.

I am a wretch and in a manner imprisoned and grievously
afeared till thou refresh me with the light of thy presence
and make me free and show me thy amiable visage. Let
other men seek instead of thee what other things they
like; for me nothing pleaseth nor shall please but thou,
my God, mine hope, and mine everlasting health.

I shall not hold my peace and I shall not cease to pray till
thy grace turn again to me and thou speak within.

Lo, I am here; lo, I am come to thee, for thou calledst me
inwardly; thy tears, the desire of thy soul, thine humili-
ation the contrition of thine heart they have bowed me
and brought me to thee.

And I said Lord I have called on thee inwardly and desired
to have my joy in thee. I am ready to forsake all things
for thee. Thou verily stirredst me first to seek thee.
Wherefore, Lord, be thou blessed that hast done this
goodness with thy servant after the multitude of thy
mercy.

What hath thy servant more to say, Lord, before thee, but
that he (should) meek himself greatly in thy sight hav-
ing ever in mind his own wickedness and his vileness? for
there is none like thee in all the innumerable things of
heaven and earth.

thy works are right good, thy judgments true, and by thy
providence all things are governed. Praise therefore be
to thee and glory, thou the wisdom of the father; my
mouth, my soul and all things that are made, praise they
thee and bless thee. Amen.

The Imitation of Christ 223

CHAPTER XXIV

OF RECORDING (REMEMBERING) THE MANIFOLD
BENEFITS OF GOD

LORD open mine heart in thy law and teach me to go in thy
precepts. Grant me to understand thy will and with
great reverence and diligent consideration to remember
thy benefits, both in general and special, that I may
therefore worthily give thee thanks. But I know and
acknowledge that I may not yield thee thanks for the
least point. I am less than all thy goods given to me and
when I think of thy noblesse, my spirit faileth for the
greatness thereof.

All that we have in body and soul and all that we have out-
ward or inward, naturally or supernaturally, all are thy
benefits and commend thee as a benefactor holy and
good of whom we have received all good things. And if
one have taken more and another fewer, yet all are thine
and without thee may not the least thing be had.

He that hath received greater may not rejoice him for his
merit nor be lift up above other, nor despise the less; for
he is more and better that less ascribeth to himself, and
in thanking he is more meek and more devout. And he
that weeneth himself to be more vile and deemeth him-
self more unworthy than all other, he is more apt (fit) to
receive greater gifts. And he that taketh fewer, ought not
to be sorry, nor bear indignation nor envy against the
richer; but rather to take heed of thee and praise thy
goodness sovereignly, that so plenteously, so freely, so
gladly, granteth thy gifts without acceptance of persons.

All things came of thee and therefore thou art to be praised
in all things. Thou knowest what is expedient to be given
to everybody and why this hath more and this less; it is
not for us to discern but for thee anenst (with) whom
the merits of all are defined.

224 Thomas & Kempis

Wherefore, Lord God, I account it for a great benefit that I
have not many things the praise and glory of which ap-
pear outwardly and according to man. So that a creature,
the poverty and vileness of his person considered, should
not conceive thereof heaviness, sorrow or dejection but
rather consolation and great gladness; for thou God
chosest in this world poor and meek (men) and despised
of the world to (be) thy familiars and household men.

Witness hereof are thine apostles whom thou madest princes
above all the earth. They were conversant (living) in
the world without complaint, meek and simple, without
all malice and guile, in so much that they joyed to suffer
rebukes and wrongs for thy name and what the world
abhorreth, that they embraced to them with great will
(ingness).

Wherefore nothing ought so to make glad thy lover and the
knower of thy benefits as thy will in him and the well-
pleasing of thine everlasting disposition; with which
only he ought to be content and comforted, so that he
will be least as gladly as another will be most and as well
pleased and content in the lower place as in the first
and as gladly despicable and abject and of no fame as
to be more worshipful and greater in the world than other.
For thy will and the love of thy honour ought to pass
all things and to comfort him more and please him more
than all benefits given him or to be given him.

CHAPTER XXV

OF FOUR THINGS BRINGING GREAT PEACE

SON now shall I teach thee the way of peace and of very

liberty.

Lord, do as thou sayest for that is agreeable to me to hear.
Study, son, rather to do the will of another than thine own.

Choose evermore rather to have less than more. Seek

The Imitation of Christ 225

ever the lower place and to be under all. Desire ever to
pray that the will of God be all and wholly done. Lo,
such a man entereth into the coasts of peace and quiet.
Lord, this word of thine is greatly short but it containeth in
itself much perfection. It is little in saying but full of wit
and plenteous of fruit. And if this might be truly kept
by me a light disturbance should not so soon spring up
in me ; and as of ttimes as I feel me unpleased and grieved
I find that I have gone from this doctrine. But thou canst
(do) all things and ever lovest the profiting of man's
soul. Increase in me more grace that I may fulfil thy word
and make perfect mine own health.

CHAPTER XXVI

AGAINST EVIL THOUGHTS

MY LORD God be not eloyned (distant) from me: my God,
behold mine health: for vain thoughts and dreads have
risen against me, tormenting my soul. How shall I escape
unhurt? how shall I break them? I shall go before thee,
he saith, and I shall make low the glorious of the earth:
I shall open the gate of the prison and I shall reveal to
thee the inward of my secrets. Do, Lord, as thou speakest,
and make to flee from thy visage all wicked thoughts.
This is mine hope and my sole consolation to flee to thee
in every tribulation, to trust to thee and inwardly to.
call upon thee and patiently to abide thy consolation.

CHAPTER XXVII

A PRAYER FOR ILLUMINATION OF MIND

CLARIFY me with thy clearness of everlasting light and bring
out of the habitat of mine heart all manner of darkness.

226 Thomas a Kempis

Restrain all evil wanderings and all mighty temptations.
Fight for me mightily and bear (drive) out the wicked
beasts, the perilous lusts, I mean; that peace be made
in thy virtue and might and abundance of praise sound
in the holy hall, that is in the pure conscience. Com-
mand winds and tempests, say to the sea Be in rest, and
to the northern wind Blow not, and there shall be great
tranquillity. Send out thy light and thy truth, that they
may shine upon the earth; for I am idle earth and void,
till thou illumine me. Pour out thy grace from above,
wash my soul with that heavenly dew, minister waters of
devotion to water the face of the earth, to bring forth
good fruit and of the best. Lift up the mind that is
pressed with the heavy burden of sin, and suspend all
my desire to heavenly things; that the sweetness of thy
felicity once tasted, it may not like me to think on earthly
things. Tear me and deliver me from all passing comfort
of creatures, for nothing created may fully quiet and com-
fort my appetite. Join me to thee with an undepartable
bond of love, for thou alone sufficest to the lover and
without thee all things are frivols (frivolous).

CHAPTER XXVIII

OF ESCHEWING CURIOUS INQUISITION OF ANOTHER
MAN'S LIFE

SON, be not curious, nor be busy. What is this or that to thee?
Follow thou me. What is it to thee whether a man be
such and such or what this man doth or what he saith?
Thou has no need to answer for others, but for thyself
thou must yield accounts. Whereto wrappest thou and
impliest (implicatest) thyself? Lo, I know all men and
see all things that are done under heaven and know how
it standeth with every man, what he thinketh, what he

The Imitation of Christ 227

will, and to what end his intention draweth. Wherefore
to me all things are to be committed.

Keep thou thyself in good peace and let the stirrer stir as
much as he will, whatever he doth or saith shall fall upon
him for he may not cj^ceive me. Take no heed of the
shadow of a great name nor of the familiarity of many
nor of private love of man; for all these engender dis-
traction and great darkness of soul. I would gladly speak
my word and show thee hid things if thou wouldst dili-
gently observe my coming and open to me the door of
thy heart.

Be ready, wake (watch) in prayer and in all things meek
thyself.

CHAPTER XXIX

WHEREIN STANDETH PEACE OF HEART AND
TRUE PROFITING

SON, I said, I leave peace to you, I give my peace to you; not
as the world giveth so give I. All men desire but all men
love not those things that long (belong) to true peace.
My peace is with meek men and mild of heart: thy peace
shall be in much patience. If thou hear me and follow my
voice thou shalt live in great peace.

What shall I do therefore?

In everything take heed what thou dost and what thou sayest
and dress (direct) all thine intention to please me alone,
and out of me (outside me) covet nothing nor seek noth-
ing. And also of other men's deeds deem nothing rashly
nor meddle not nor imply (implicate) thee not with
things that art not committed to thee and it shall be
trouble to thee little or seldom. For a man never to feel
trouble nor suffer no heaviness in body nor in soul, is not
the state of this world but the state of everlasting quiet.

Wherefore deem not to have found true peace if thou feel no
grief, nor then all to be well if thou have no adversary;

228 Thomas a Kempis

nor (deem) thyself to be perfect if all things be after thy
will. Nor then account thee great or specially beloved
if thou be in great delight, devotion or sweetness for
herein is not known a true lover of virtue nor in them
profit and man's perfection stand.

Wherein then, Lord?

In offering thyself with all thine heart to the will of God,
not asking those things that art thine neither in little,
nor in much, nor in time nor in everlastingness. So that
with one even cheer (face) thou abide in yielding of
thanks among pleasant things and contrarious, peising
(weighing) all evenly.

If thou art so mighty and so long-abiding-in-hope that, all
manner of inward consolation withdrawn, yet thou
makest ready thine heart to suffer greater things and
more, and dost not justify thyself as though thou oughtest
not to suffer so great things but justifiest me in all my
dispositions and praisest me as most holy; then thou
goest in the true and right way of peace and thou mayst
hope certainly to see my face in jubilation. And if thou
wouldst come to full contempt of thyself, know that thou
shalt then enjoy abundance of peace after the possibility
of thy dwelling place.

CHAPTER XXX

OP THE EXCELLENCE OF A FREE MIND AND HOW IT IS
RATHER GOTTEN BY PRAYER THAN BY READING

LORD, this is the work of a perfect man, never to release the
soul from intention of holy things, and among many
cares to go in a manner without care, not for sluggishness,
but in a kind of right of a free mind in cleaving to no
creature in inordinate affection.

I beseech thee, my most merciful God, preserve me from the
cares of this world, that I be not too much implied (im-

The Imitation of Christ 229

plicated) ; from many necessities of the body that I be
not taken with pleasures; from all obstacles of the soul,
that I be not broken and thrown down with heaviness.
I say not only from such things as the vanity of the world
coveteth with whole affection but also from these miseries
that punishingly grieve the soul of thy servant with the
common curse of mortality and tarry (hinder) it that it
may not enter into liberty of spirit as oft as I would.

my God, ineffable sweetness, turn into bitterness all fleshly
comfort that draweth me away from love of everlasting
things and wickedly draweth me to itself under colour
of a present delightful good. My God let not flesh and
blood overcome me, let not the world deceive me and his
short glory, let not the fiend with his wiles supplant me.
Give me strength to withstand, patience in suffering,
constancy in persevering, give for all worldly consola-
tions the most sweet unction of the Holy Ghost, and for
fleshly love pour into me the love of thy name.

Lo, meat and drink, clothe and other things belonging to the
body are onerous to a fervent spirit. Grant me to use
such nourishings temperately, and not to be wrapped too
much in desires. To cast all things away is not lawful,
for nature must be sustained, but to seek superfluities
and such things as most delight, holy law forbiddeth; for
else the flesh would wanton against the spirit. In these
things I pray that thine hand may govern me and teach
me what is too much.

CHAPTER XXXI

THAT PRIVATE LOVE MOST TARRIETH A MAN FROM
THE HIGHEST GOOD

SON, it behoveth thee to give all for all and for nothing of
thine to be to thyself. Know well that love of thyself
noyeth thee more than anything in the world. According

Thomas a Kempis

to the love and affection that thou bearest, everything
cleaveth to thee more or less. If thy love be pure, simple
and ordinate thou shalt not be captive nor subject to
earthly things. Covet not that thing that thou mayst
not have; will not to have that thing that may let
(hinder) thee and prive thee of thine inward liberty.

It is wonder that thou committest not thyself to me from the
ground of thine heart with all things that thou mayst
desire or have. Why art thou consumed with vain mourn-
ing? Why art thou made weary with superfluous cares?
Stand at my well-pleasing and thou shalt suffer no hinder-
ing. If thou seek this or that or would be here or there
for thine own profit and for thy more plesance thou shalt
never be in quiet nor free from business: for in every-
thing shall be some default and in every place shall be
that that is contrary.

Therefore not everything gotten and multiplied from with-
out helpeth but rather when it is set at naught and cut
away by the root; which is not only understood of money
and riches, but of ambition, of honour and desire of vain
praise; the which all pass with the world.

The place wardeth but little if thou lack a fervent spirit;
nor shall that peace long stand that is sought from with-
out if the state of the heart be vacant of a right founda-
tion; that is, unless thou stand in me thou mayst change
but not do better. For, occasion once arisen and taken,
thou shalt find that which thou fleddest and more thereto.

CHAPTER XXXII

A PRAYER FOR PURGATION OP HEART AND
HEAVENLY WISDOM

CONFIRM me, God, by the grace of the Holy Ghost: and
make virtue to be strengthened in the inner man, and
make mine heart void from all unprofitable business;

The Imitation of Christ 231

not drawn with diverse desires of anything vile or
precious but beholding all things as things passing
and me together with them. For there is nothing abiding
under the sun where all things are vanity and affliction
of spirit.

O how wise is he that thus considereth. Lord, give me heavenly
wisdom that I may learn to seek thee and find thee above
all things and above all things to savour thee and love
thee and according to the order of wisdom to under-
stand all other things as they be. Grant me prudently to
decline the flatterer and patiently to suffer the adversary;
for this is great wisdom not to be moved with every wind
of words nor to give the ear to evil-blandishing mer-
maiden; and thus men go surely in the way begun.

CHAPTER XXXIII

AGAINST THE TONGUES OF DETRACTORS

SON, bear it not heavily, if some feel evil of thee and say that
thou wouldst not gladly hear. Thou oughtest to feel of
thyself worse things and to believe no man to be lower
than thyself. If thou walk within, thou shalt not peise
(weigh) flying words. It is no little prudence to keep
silence in evil time and to turn inwardly to me and not
to be troubled with man's judgment. Let not thy peace be
in the mouths of men; whether they say well, whether
they say evil, thou art not therefore another man. Where
is very peace and very glory? Whether not in me? And
he that coveteth not to please men nor dreadeth not to
displease men, he shall rejoice in much peace. Of inordi-
nate love and vain dread groweth all unrestfulness of
heart and distraction of wits.

232 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER XXXIV

THAT IN TIME OF TRIBULATION GOD IS INWARDLY TO BE
CALLED UPON AND TO BE BLESSED

LORD be thy name blessed for ever that wouldest this tempta-
tion to come upon me. I may not flee it. I pray thee help
me and turn it to me into good. Lord now I am in tribu-
lation and it is not well in mine heart, but I am greatly
vexed with this present passion. And now, well beloved
father, what shall I say? I am taken among anguishes.
Save me in this hour. But therefore I come into this hour
that thou shouldst be glorified when I shall be brought
down low and by thee delivered. Please it thee, Lord, to
deliver me, for I am poor and what shall I do and whither
shall I go without thee?

Lord, give peace at this time; help me my Lord God and I
shall not dread how much ever I be grieved. And now in
this what shall I say? Lord, thy will be done and I have
well deserved to be troubled and grieved. It is behoveful
also that I suffer and, would God, patiently, till this
tempest pass and better be.

Thine almighty hand is of power to take away this temptation
from me, and to assuage his violence that I be not utterly
overcome, as thou hast done ofttimes with me, my God,
my mercy; and the harder that it is to me, the lighter it is
to thee, this change of the right hand of the highest.

CHAPTER XXXV

OP ASKING OF GOD'S HELP AND TRUST IN RECOVERING

GRACE

SON, I am the Lord comforting in the day of tribulation.
Come to me when it is not well with thee. This it is that

The Imitation of Christ 233

letteth (hindereth) most heavenly comfort for thou hast
so late recourse to prayer, for before thou prayest me
heartily thou seekest mean time many solaces and re-
freshest thee in outward things. And there-through it
cometh that all availeth but little till thou take heed
that I it am that deliver men trusting in me, nor without
me is any availing, help, or profitable counsel or durable
remedy.

But now taking again spirit after tempest wax strong in the
light of my pity; for I am nigh, saith scripture, to restore
all things, not only wholly, but abundantly and over-
heaped. Whether is there anything hard to me or shall I
be like a man that saith and doth not? Where is thy faith?
stand steadfastly and perseveringly. Be of long hope and
a strong man; consolation shall come to thee in time.
Abide me and I shall come and cure thee.

It is a temptation that vexeth thee and a vain dread that
feareth (frighteth) thee. What mattereth busy caring of
things that are contingently to come, but to make thee
have sorrow upon sorrow? Let the malice of the day
suffice to it. Vain it is and unprofitable for a man to be
troubled or rejoiced of things to come that peradventure
shall never fall. But it is man's condition to be deluded
with such imaginations and a sign of a soul as yet little,
to be drawn so lightly at the suggestion of the enemy.
For he taketh no heed whether he delude or deceive by
true or by false, whether he throw down by loss of things
present or dread of things to come.

Let not thine heart therefore be troubled nor dread such.
Believe in me and have trust in my mercy. When thou
weenest of ttimes that I am far from thee then am I next.
When thou weenest thyself almost lost then ofttimes
cometh greatest gain of merit.

It is not then all lost when the thing falleth into the contrary.
Thou oughtest not to deem after the present feeling nor
so to cleave to any heaviness where ever it come from

2 34 Thomas a Kempis

and take her so as though hope of scaping were utterly
taken away.

Ween not thyself to be all forsaken though I send thee some
tribulation for a time or else withdraw desired consola-
tion; for so men go to the realm of heaven. And without
doubt it is more expedient to thee and to the remnant of
my servants that ye be exercised with contrary things
than if all things fell after your liking.

Lo, I know hid thoughts that it is greatly expedient for thine
health that thou be left some time without savour lest
thou be lift up in the succeeding of thy desire and please
thyself in that thou art not. That I gave I may take away
and restore it again when it pleaseth me. When I give
it, it is mine; when I withdraw it, I take not thine, for
mine is every good thing given and every perfect gift.

If I send thee any heaviness or any contrariousness, have no
indignation thereof, nor let not thine heart fall, for lo,
I may soon lift thee up again and change every heaviness
into joy. Nevertheless I am righteous and commendable
when I do so with thee.

If thou savour aright and behold truly, thou oughtest never
for adversity to sorrow so deeply but rather to joy and
give thanks, yea, to account this as for a singular joy
that I paining thee with sorrows spare thee not.

"As the father loved me, so I love you" said I to my well
beloved disciples whom I send not to temporal joys but
to despites, not to idleness but to labours, not to rest but
to bring forth much fruit in patience.

CHAPTER XXXVI

OF RECKING NEVER OF ALL CREATURES SO THE CREATOR
MAY BE FOUND

LORD I need yet more grace if I shall come thither where no
man nor other creature may let (hinder) me. For as long

The Imitation oj Christ 235

as any thing withholdeth me, I may not flee freely to
thee. He desired to flee freely that said "Who shall give
me feathers as a culver and I shall flee and rest?" What
is more restful than a simple eye? and what is more free
than he that desireth naught on earth?

It behoveth therefore to pass over every creature and to for-
sake oneself perfectly and to stand in ecstasy of mind and
see thee creator of all to be nothing like his creatures. And
unless a man be sped (freed) from all creatures he may
never freely attend to godly things.

Therefore there are found but few contemplative men for
few can fully sequester and depart themselves from
perishing creatures. Therefore great grace is required
thereto that may lift up the soul and ravish herself above
herself. And save a man be lift up in spirit and delivered
from all creatures and all wholly oned (united) to God,
whatever he can (knoweth), whatever he have, it is of
little weight.

He shall long be little and shall lie beneath that accounteth
anything great but only one, that is without measure,
everlasting good: and all save that is naught and foi
naught to be accounted. There is a great difference be-
tween him that is Mummed with wisdom and a devout
man and him that is lettered and studious in science
called a clerk. That doctrine is much more noble that
welleth from above of God's influence than that that is
laboriously gotten by man's wit.

There are many desirers of contemplation; but they study not
to practise the things that are required thereto. It is a
great let (hindrance) that men abide in signs and sensible
things and take little care of perfect mortification. I
know not what it is nor what spirit we be led with nor
what we mean, we that are called spiritual men, that we
have so much labour and so much business about transi-
tory things and vile things but of our inwards (inward
things) we think full seldom, gathering our wits to-
gether.

236 Thomas a Kempis

Alas, anon after a little recollection we break out and we
weigh not our works with a strait examination. Where
our affections lie we take no heed and how impure all
our works are, this we bewail not. Every flesh had cor-
rupt his way and therefore followed the great flood.
Wherefore when our inward affection is much corrupt it
must needs be that the following action, showing the lack-
ing of inward strength, be corrupt also.

Of a pure heart proceedeth fruit of good life. Men seek how
much a man hath, but of how much good he doth no man
thinketh. It is inquired if he be mighty, rich, fair, able,
or a good writer, a good singer, a good labourer, but how
pure he be in spirit, how patient, how mild, how devout
and how inward, not many men speak. Nature beholdeth
the outward things of man, but grace turneth itself all
inward. Nature is ofttimes deceived, but grace trustetti
in God, that she be not deceived.

CHAPTER XXXVII

OF DENYING ONESELF AND FORSAKING OF ALL CUPIDITY

SON, thou mayst not have perfect liberty unless thou
deny thyself utterly. All lovers of themselves, covetous,
curious, wanderers about (are fettered), seeking ever
soft things and not those things that are of Jesu Christ
but ofttimes feigning and shaping what may not stand.
Hold a short and perfect saying Leave all and thou
shalt find all; forsake coveting and thou shalt find rest.
Think this over in thy mind and when thou hast fulfilled
it thou shalt understand all things.

Lord this is not one day's work nor children's play; but, what
is more, in this short word is included all perfection of
Religious folk.

Son, thou oughtest not to be turned away nor anon to be all
thrown down when thou hearest the way of perfectness,

The Imitation of Christ 237

but rather to be provoked to higher things and at least
to aspire thereto by desire. Would God it were so with
thee and that thou wert come thereto, that thou wert no
lover of thyself but stoodest purely at my beckoning and
of him that I have put above thee as father. Then
shouldst thou please me greatly and thy days should pass
with great joy and in great peace. Thou hast many things
yet to forsake the which unless thou resign them wholly
to me, thou shalt not get that thou askest. Wherefore
I make persuasion to thee to buy gold of me that thou
mayst be made rich, that is, heavenly wisdom treading
under foot all these low things.

Put behind (thee) all earthly wisdom and all thine own com-
placency. I have said to thee to buy vile things and of
little price instead of things precious in man's reputation.
For true and heavenly wisdom seemeth little and of no
price and almost forgotten in this world, not thinking
highly of itself nor seeking to be magnified on earth.
Many preach with the mouth but in living they depart
far therefrom. Nevertheless it is a precious margaret
(pearl) and hid from many.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

OF UNSTABLENESS OF HEART AND OF INTENTION TO BE
HAD TOWARDS GOD

SON, believe not thine own affection that now is for it shall
soon be changed into another. As long as thou livest thou
art subject to mutability, yea, though thou wilt not;
so thou shalt be found now glad, now sorry, now pleased,
now troubled, now devout, now indevout, now studious,
now sluggish, now heavy, now light.

But above these changes standeth the wise man and well
taught in spirit, taking no heed what he feels in himself,
nor on which side the wind of unstableness bloweth, but

238 Thomas & Kempis

that all the intention of his mind may profit to the due
and best end. For so he may abide one and the same un-
shaken, with the simple eye of intention directed to me
without ceasing among so many divers chances. For the
more pure that the eye of intention is, the more stead-
fastly men go among divers storms.

But in many the eye of intention is darked, for anon they be-
hold a delightful thing that appeareth and seldom is any
found free from the venom of self-seeking. So the Jews
sometime came into Bethany to Martha and Mary not
for Jesu alone but for they would see Lazarus. Where-
fore the eye of intention must be cleansed that it be
simple and for the right and directed to me alone above
all variant things that are between.

CHAPTER XXXIX

TO HIM THAT LOVETH, GOD SAVOURETH ABOVE ALL THINGS

Lo MY God and all. What would I more and what more bliss-
ful thing may I desire? O the savoury and the sweet
word, to him that loveth the word of the father, not the
world nor that that longeth to it.

Lo my God and all: To him that understandeth there is said
enough and oft to rehearse it is jocund for the lover. Cer-
tainly, thou being present, all things are jocund and thou
being absent all things are loth and weary. Thou makest
in the heart tranquillity, great peace and solemn gladness.

Thou makest (man) to feel well of all and in all things to
praise thee nor may there nothing long please without
thee ; but if anything is to be acceptable and savour well
it behoveth that thy grace shall be nigh and make it
savoury with the sauce of thy wisdom. To whom thou
savourest, what shall not savour to him aright? and to
whom thou savourest not, what thing may turn him to
mirth?

The Imitation of Christ 239

But the worldly wise men fail in thy wisdom and they that
savour the flesh; for there is much vanity and there is
found death. But they that by despising of earthly things
and mortification of the flesh follow thee be known verily
to be wise men, for they are translate from vanity to
verity and from the flesh to the spirit. To these men God
savoureth; and whatever of good they find in creatures
all that they refer to the praise of their maker. Unlike
nevertheless, much unlike is the savour of the creator and
of the creature, of everlastingness and of time, of light
uncreate and light illuminate.

O thou light perpetual, passing all lights created, cast thou
from above lightning, piercing all the iawards of my
heart. Purify, make glad, quicken and clarify my spirit
with its powers to cleave to thee in jubilant excess. O
when shall that blessed and desirable hour come when
thou wilt fill me with thy presence and thou shalt be all
in all. As long as this is not given, there shall be no
full joy.

Alas, yet liveth in me the old man; he is not all crucified, he
is not perfectly all dead : yet he coveteth against the spirit
and moveth inward battles and suffereth not the realm
of the soul to be in quiet. But thou that hast lordship over
the power of the sea and suagest the movings of his
floods, arise and help me; bring to naught folks that will
have battles. Knock them down in thy might and show
thy greatness and be thy right hand glorified: for there is
to me none other hope nor refuge but in thee, my Lord
God.

CHAPTER XL

THAT THEWS IS NO SURETY FROM TEMPTATION IN
THIS LIFE

SON, THOU art never sure in this life; but as long as thou livest,
ever spiritual armour is necessary to thee. Thou dwellest

240 Thomas d Kempis

among enemies, thou art impugned on the right hand
and on the left hand. Wherefore if thou use not on every
side the shield of patience thou shalt not be long with-
out a wound.

Furthermore if thou set not thine heart fixed and firm in me
with will to suffer for me thou shalt not be able to suffer
this burning nor come to the victory of saints. It behoveth
thee therefore to pass (by) all things manly and to use a
mighty hand against things set against thee; for to the
victor is given manna and to the coward is left much
misery.

If thou seek rest in this world how shalt thou then come to
rest everlasting? Set not thyself to (gain) great rest but
to (gain) much patience. Seek very peace not in earth
but in heaven; not in men nor in other creatures but in
God alone.

For the love of God thou oughtest to suffer all things: labours
and sorrows, temptations, vexations, anxieties, necessi-
ties, infirmities, wrongs, obloquy, reprehensions, humilia-
tions, confusions, corrections, and despites. These things
help to virtue, these prove the knight of Christ, these
make the heavenly crown.

I shall give everlasting meed for a little labour and infinite
glory for a transitory shame. Weenest thou to have at all
times spiritual consolations at thy will? My saints had
not so, but many heavinesses, diverse temptation and
great desolations; but they bore themselves in all things
patiently and trusted more to God than to themselves
knowing that passions (sufferings) of this time are not
worthy to deserve the glory that is to come.

Wilt thou have anon that that many men could scarce get
after many tears and great labours? Abide the Lord, do
manly and be comforted, and mistrust not nor go away,
but constantly put forth both body and soul for the glory
of God; and I shall give again most fully, I shall be with
thee in every tribulation.

The Imitation of Christ 241

CHAPTER XLI

AGAINST MEN'S VAIN JUDGMENTS

SON, cast thine heart on to our Lord steadfastly and dread no
man's judgment where thy conscience declareth thee pure
and innocent. It is good and blissful for a man so to suffer;
nor shall that be grievous to him that is meek in heart,
trusting to God more than to himself.

Many men speak many things and to them little faith is to
be given. And to please all men is not possible ; for though
Paul studied to please all men in our Lord and was made
all things to all men nevertheless he accounted it for the
least thing to be deemed (well) by man's sight. He did
enough for man's edification and health, as much as in
him was or he might do; but he could not let (hinder)
that sometimes he should be deemed (judged) and de-
spised of others.

Therefore he committed all to God that knew all things and
defended himself with patience and meekness against
the mouths of wicked speakers and of them that think
vain things and lies and make boast at their own will.
Nevertheless other whiles he answered lest by his silence
occasion of offending might have been given to the feeble
in faith.

What art thou that dreadest so much of a mortal man that
this day is and to-morrow appeareth not? Dread God
and be not afeard of man's dreads. What may any man
do against thee with wrongs or with words? he noyeth
more himself than thee, whatever he be. Have thou God
ever before thine eyes and strive not with brawling
words.

And if thou for the time seemest to have the worse and
to suffer shame that thou hast not deserved, grudge
(grumble) not therefore, nor lose not thy crown by im-

242 Thomas a Kempis

patience but rather look up to me in heaven that am
mighty to deliver from all confusion and wrong and to
yield to every man after his works.

CHAPTER XLII

OF PURE RESIGNATION OF A MAN*S SELF

SON, forsake thyself and thou shalt find me. Stand without
choice and without all manner of self and thou shalt win
ever; for anon, as thou hast resigned thyself and not
taken thyself again, then shall be thrown to thee more
grace.

Lord, how oft shall I resign myself and wherein shall I for-
sake myself?

Ever and in every hour, as in little, so in great. I out-take
(except) nothing but in all things I will find thee made
bare: else, how canst thou be mine and I thine, unless
thou be deprived outwardly and inwardly from all thine
own will? The more swiftly that thou lost this the better
it shall be with thee; and the more plainly and clearly
it is done the more shalt thou please me and the more
thou shalt win.

Some resign, but with some exception, for they trust not fully
to God; wherefore they labour to provide for themselves.
Some also first offer all but afterwards through a little
temptation they go again to their own selves and there-
fore profit not in virtue. Then folk come not to true
liberty of heart, nor to the grace of my jocund familiarity
except with whole resignation and daily offering of them-
selves first being made, without which unity of fruition
(pure enjoyment) standeth not, nor shall stand.

I have said to thee full oft, and yet I say again: Forsake
thyself, resign of thyself and thou shalt enjoy great
peace. Give all for all, seek nothing, ask nothing again;

The Imitation oj Christ 243

stand purely and undoubtingly in me and thou shalt
have me; thou shalt be free in heart and darkness shall
not over go (overwhelm) thee. To this enforce thyself,
this pray thou, this desire thou, that thou may be de-
spoiled on all manner of self, and thou, bare, follow bare
Jhesu (Jesus only) and die to thyself and live ever-
lastingly to me. Then shall end all vain fantasies, wicked
conturbations and superfluous cares; then also shall go
away inordinate dread and inordinate love shall die.

CHAPTER XLIII

OF GOOD GOVERNANCE IN OUTWARD THINGS

SON, thou oughtest diligently to attend to this that in
every place, every action or outward occupation thou be
inwardly free and mighty in thyself and all things be
under thee and thou not under them, that thou be lord
and governor of thy deeds not servant, but rather exempt
and a true Hebrew going in to the lot and liberty of the
sons of God that stand upon these present goods and be-
hold the everlasting that behold things transitory with
the left eye and heavenly things with the right eye: whom
temporal things draw not (them) to cleave to them but
they rather draw such goods to serve God well with as
they are ordained of God and instituted of the sovereign
workman that leaveth nothing inordinate (unordered)
in his creation.

Also if thou in every chance standest not in outward appear
ance nor with the fleshly eye turnest about to things see*
or heard but anon in every cause thou enterest with
Moses to ask counsel of our Lord, thou shalt hear oft'
times God's answer and thou shalt come again instructed
in things present and that are to come.

Moses at all times had recourse to the tabernacle for doubts

244 Thomas a Kemp is

and questions to be assoiled and fled to the help of prayer
for relieving of perils and for mischiefs of men. So thou
oughtest to fly into the secret place of thine heart beseech-
ing inwardly the help of God. For Joshua and the children
of Israel, as it is read, were deceived of the Gibeonites,
for they asked no counsel first of our Lord but giving too
much credence to sweet words were deluded with a false
pity.

CHAPTER XLIV

THAT MAN BE NOT TOO BUSY IN WORLDLY BUSINESS

SON, at all times commit to me thy cause for I shall dispose it
well in convenient time. Abide mine ordinance thou shalt
feel profit thereof.

Lord ; right gladly I commit to thee all things for little may my
thinking profit. Would God that I cleaved not over much
to chances that are to come that I might offer myself to
thy well-pleasing without tarrying.

Son, of ttimes a man is sore moved about a thing that he de-
sireth; but when he is come to it, he beginneth to feel
otherwise; for affections are not abiding about one thing
but they be shuf ted from one to another. It is not there-
fore a little thing, yea, it is not among least things for a
man to forsake himself; true profit is denying of a man's
self and a man so denied is full free and full sure. But the
old enemy, adversary to all good, cease th not from temp-
tation but day and night he lieth in a wait if he may bring
headily (headlong) the unware man into the snare of
deceit.

Work therefore and pray, saith our Lord, that ye enter not
into temptation.

The Imitation of Christ 245

CHAPTER XLV

THAT A MAN HATH NO GOOD OF HIMSELF WHEREOF TO

REJOICE

LORD what is man that thou hast mind on him or the son of
man that thou visitest him? What deserved man that
thou shouldst give him thy grace? Lord, why may I com-
plain if thou forsake me or what can I righteously pre-
tend against thee if thou do not that I ask? Certainly this
may I think in truth and say: Lord, I am naught, I can
naught, I have no good of myself but in all things I fail
and ever tend to naught. And unless I be helpen (helped)
of thee and inwardly informed I am made all hike (warm)
and dissolute.

But thou Lord art ever one and abidest one everlastingly, ever
God, righteous and holy, doing all things by wisdom. But
I that am more prone to failing than to profit am not
ever abiding in the same estate, for seven times change
upon me. Nevertheless it is soon amended when it
pleaseth thee to put to an helping hand; for thou alone
without all man's succour mayst help and confirm me in
such wise that my cheer (face) may no more be changed
diversely but that in thee alone my heart may turn and
be at rest.

Wherefore if I could well cast away all man's consolation
either for getting of devotion or for necessity compelling
me to seek thee for there is no man that can comfort me
then might I worthily trust in thy grace and rejoice in
the gift of new consolation.

Thanks be to thee whereof all cometh, as oft as it is well with
me. For I am vanity and naught before thee, a man in-
constant and sick; wherein therefore may I rejoice 01
why covet I to be held in reputation? Is it not of naught
and a most vain thing? Verily vainglory is an evil pestil-
ence and the greatest vanity, for it draweth away from

246 Thomas & Kempis

true glory and despoileth (man) of heavenly grace. For
while a man pleaseth himself, he displeaseth thee; and
while he gapeth after man's praises he is deprived of true
virtues.

For true glory and holy exultation is to rejoice in thee and not
in oneself, to joy in thy name and not in man's own vir-
tue, and to delight in no creature save for thee. Praised
be therefore thy name, not mine; magnified be thy work
and not mine; blessed be thine holy name, but to me be
nothing given of man's praises.

Thou art my glory, thou art the exultation of my heart. In
thee shall I rejoice and joy all day, for myself not at all,
save in my infirmities. Let the Jews seek glory each of
the other, I shall seek that that is of God alone, for all
man's glory, all temporal worship (honour), all worldly
height, compared to thine everlasting glory is vanity and
folly. O my truth and my mercy, my God, blessed trinity,
to thee alone be praise and honour virtue and glory
through worlds infinite. Amen.

CHAPTER XLVI

OF CONTEMPT OF ALL HONOUR

SON, if thou see other men honoured take no such thing to thy-
self but rather be despised and made low. Lift up thine
heart to me in heaven and men's despising on earth shall
not make thee sorry.

Lord, we be in blindness and some are deceived of vanity.
Lord, if I behold me aright there was never wrong done
to me by no creature; wherefore of right I have nothing
to complain of against thee. Forasmuch as I have oft and
grievously offended thee, rightly is every creature armed
against me.

To me therefore is due confusion and despite but to thee praise
honour and glory. And unless I make myself ready to

The Imitation oj Christ 247

this that I will gladly be despised of every creature and
forsaken and utterly seem naught I may not be inwardly
peaced (at peace) and stablished, nor spiritually be il-
lumined nor fully oned (united) to thee.

CHAPTER XLVII

THAT PEACE IS NOT TO BE SET (PUT) IN MEN

SON, if thou set (put) thy peace in any person for thine own
feeling and living together (with them) thou shalt be
unstable and unpeaced (not at peace). But if thou have
recourse to the truth living and abiding, the friend that
goeth from thee or dieth from thee shall not make thee
sorry. In me ought to stand the love of the friend and
whoever seemeth good to thee and dear in this life is to
be beloved for me.

Without me friendship is not worth and may not endure: and
the love is not very true or pure that I couple not. Thou
oughtest to be so dead from such affections of men be-
loved, as in thee is; thou shouldest will to be without
man's fellowship. The further that a man goeth from all
earthly solace, the more he nigheth unto God. Also the
more profoundly that a man goeth down into himself and
waxeth vile to himself the higher he styeth (climbeth) up
to God.

He that ascribeth any good to himself, he letteth (hindreth)
the coming of the grace of God into him, for the grace of
the Holy Ghost seeketh ever the meek heart. If thou
couldest perfectly make thyself naught and void (empty)
thyself from all love of creatures then should I well into
thee with great grace. When thou lookest to creatures
thine affection is withdrawn from the creator.

Learn in all things to overcome thyself for thy creator and
thou shalt then be able to attain to the knowledge of
God. How little ever it be that is beheld and loved inordi-

248 Thomas a Kempis

nately, it tarrieth (keepeth men) from the highest love
anddraweth (them) into wickedness.

CHAPTER XLVIII

AGAINST VAIN AND SECULAR KNOWLEDGE

SON, let not the fair and the subtle sayings of men move thee
for the realm of God is not in word but in virtue. Take
heed to my words the which set hearts afire and illuminate
minds, bring in compunction and manifold consolations.
Read never anything for thee to seem better taught or
wiser. Study for mortification of sins and vices for that
shall avail thee more than the knowledge of many hard
questions. When thou hast read and known many things,
it behoveth ever to have recourse to one principal thing.

I am he that teacheth man cunning and I grant to meek men
more clear understanding than may be taught of man. He
to whom I speak shall soon be wise for he shall greatly
profit in spirit. Woe to them that inquire many curious
things of men but of the way to serve me care but little.
Time shall come when there shall appear the Master of
masters, Christ Jesu, to hear the lesson of all angels,
that is to search the consciences of all men: and then
shall Jerusalem be searched with lanterns and then shall
be open the hidils (secrets) of darkness and then shall
arguments of tongues be at peace.

I it am that in a point lift up the meek soul so that he shall
take (understand) my reasons of everlasting truth more
than though he had studied ten years in schools. So I
teach without noise of words, without confusion of opin-
ions, without desire of honour, without fighting of argu-
ments.

I it am that teach to despise earthly things, to be weary of
things present, to seek heavenly things, to savour things
everlasting, to flee honours, to suffer slanders, to put all

The Imitation of Christ 249

whole trust in me and covet nothing outside me and above
all things to love me burningly.

A certain man in loving me entirely learned godly things and
spake marvels; he profited more in forsaking all things
than in studying of subtleties. But to some I speak com-
mon things, to some special, to some I appear surely in
signs and figures, and to some I reveal mysteries in a great
light.

There is one voice of the books but it informeth (men) not
alike: for I am the teacher of truth within, searcher of
the heart, understander of the thoughts, promoter of the
works, dealing to every man as I deem worthy.

CHAPTER XLIX

OF NOT ATTRACTING OUTWARD THINGS TO A MAN

SON, in many things suppose thyself as dead upon the earth
and one to whom all the world is crucified; and many
things thou must pass over with a deaf ear and think
rather on those things that belong unto thy peace. It is
more profitable to turn away thine eye from things that
displease and to leave to every man his own feeling than
to strive with contentious words. If thou stand well with
God and behold his judgment thou shalt bear it the more
easily if thou be overcome.

O Lord whither are we come? Lo, temporal harm is sorrowed
for, men labour and run for little getting and spiritual
harm is forgotten and scarcely and late cometh to mind
again. That that availeth little or naught is taken heed to
and that that is sovereignly necessary is negligently
passed over; for man floweth out all to outer things and
unless he turn again soon, gladly he lieth and resteth in
outer things.

2 $o Thomas a Kempis

CHAPTER L

THAT IT IS NOT RIGHT TO BELIEVE ALL MEN AND OF
LIGHT LAPSE OF WORDS

LORD, give me help out of tribulation for man's help is vain.
How oft have I not found faith and trust where I weened
to have had it; how oft also have I found it where I least
presumed. Vain therefore is trust of man but the help
of righteous men is in thee, God. Blessed be thou, Lord
my God, in all things that fall to us. We be sick and un-
stable, soon changed and soon deceived.

Who is he that so warily and so circumspectly may keep him-
self in all things but that some time he shall come into
some deceit and some perplexity? But he that trusteth
in thee Lord and seeketh thee with a simple heart, slideth
not so lightly. And if he fall into any tribulation or be
wrapped in any perplexity he shall soon be delivered
thereof by thee or comforted by thee for thou shalt not
forsake them that trust in thee to the end.

Seldom is found a trusty friend that is persevering (lasting)
in all the necessities of his friend. So, Lord, in all things
thou art most trusty and among all there is not such an-
other. O how well knew that holy soul that said "My mind
is settled in God and grounded in Christ." If it was so
with me, dread of man should not so trouble me, nor the
darts of words should not move me.

Who may see before and be ware of all things? If things fore-
seen ofttimes hurt what then do things unforeseen but
hurt grievously? But why did I not foresee better for my-
self, wretch that I am? Also why believed I so lightly
other men? But we are men and we are none other than
frail men though we be deemed and called of other men as
angels.

Whom shall I believe, Lord, whom but thee that art truth
that deceivest not nor canst be deceived? And, on the

The Imitation of Christ 251

other side, every man is a liar, sick, unstable and sliding
and specially in words. So that scarce may be believed
anon that that soundeth well and righteously in a man's
ear.

How prudently warnedst thou men to be ware of men and that
a man's familiar friends are his enemies and that it is not
good to believe those who say "Lo there" and "lo here."
I am taught, and would God (it led) to greater wariness
and less folly in me.

"Be ware," said one, "be ware: keep to thyself that I say" and
whiles I kept silence and weened it to be hid, he could not
keep counsel of that he asked to be kept hid but anon
discovered both me and him and went his way. From
such fables and unwary men Lord defend me that I fall
not into their hands nor do no such things.

Give to my mouth a true word and a stable and a false wily
tongue put far from me. O how good and how peaceable
a thing it is for a man not to speak of other men, nor in-
differently to believe all things nor lightly to speak a thing
forth; to reveal himself to few, yea evermore to be sought
(looked on) as a beholder of the heart, and not to be
borne about with every wind of words but to desire all
things inwardly and outwardly after the good pleasure of
thy will.

How sure a thing it is for the keeping of heavenly grace to flee
from and not to desire such things that should give mat-
ter for minding outwardly: but with all manner of busi-
ness (care) to follow the things that make for amend-
ment of life and fervour of spirit. O how many have been
hurt by virtue known and praised and how wholesomely
hath grace, kept under silence, availed men in this frail
life that is all temptation and knighthood (service) .

25? Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER LI

OP TRUST TO BE HAD IN GOD AGAINST EVIL WORDS

SON, stand steadfastly and trust in me: for what are words but
words? they flee through the air but they hurt not a stone.
If thou be guilty think that thou art going gladly to
amend thyself. If thou know thyself guilty in nothing,
think that thou wilt suffer all gladly for God. It is little
enough that thou now and then shouldst suffer words
who canst not yet suffer strong beatings.

And why takest thou so small things to heart, except that thou
art fleshly and takest more heed to man than behoveth
thee? And because thou dreadest to be despised thou wilt
not be reproved for thine excesses and seekest the shad-
ows of excuses. But behold thyself better and thou shalt
know that yet the world liveth in thee and vain love of
pleasing men.

But all the while that thou fleest (shunnest) to be rebuked
and confounded for thy faults it appeareth verily that
thou art not very meek, nor the world dead to thee, nor
thou crucified to the world. But hear my word and thou
shalt not charge (care for) ten thousand words of men.
Lo if all things were said against thee that would mali-
ciously be feigned against thee how should they annoy
thee if thou wouldst suffer them utterly to pass and
wouldest no more set by them than a straw? Whether may
they take one hair out from thee?

But he that hath no heart within and hath not God before his
eyes is soon moved with a word of blame. But he that
trusteth in me and coveteth not to stand by his own judg-
ment shall be without dread of man. Lo I am judge and
knower of all secrets; I know how all things are done, I
know the wrong-doer and the sufferer. Out from me went
this word and by my sufferance this hath happened that
the thoughts of many hearts might be revealed.

The Imitation of Christ 253

I shall judge the guilty and the innocent; but with a privy
judgment, for I would prove both. Man's wits often fail
and deceive but my judgment is true; wherefore it shall
stand and shall not be subverted. It is hid ofttimes and is
open to few in all things but it never erreth and it may
not err, though to the eye of unwise men it appeareth not
righteous; wherefore in every judgment recourse ought
to be had to me and (men ought) not to lean to their own
decision. For the righteous man shall not be sorry what-
ever come to him from God; yea, though anything un-
righteously be brought forth against him, he shall not
much charge (care for) it; nor he shall not vainly rejoice
if he be reasonably excused by others for he thinketh that
I search the heart and the reins and that I judge not after
the face and after man's appearance; for ofttimes in mine
eyes that is found culpable which to the judgment of man
seemeth laudable.

Lord God, righteous judge, mighty and patient, thou knowest
man's frailty and man's shrewdness (perversity) : be my
strength and all my trust for my conscience sufnceth not
for me. Thou knowest that I know not: and therefore I
ought in every blame and reproof to meek myself and
suffer mildly.

Merciful Lord, forgive me as oft as I have not done so; and
give me grace of more large sufferance, for thy copious
mercy is better to me for getting of indulgence than my
fancied righteousness for the defence of my secret con*
science. And though I find no guilt in my conscience yet
in that may I not justify myself; for in thy sight no man
living can be justified.

254 Thomas d, Kempis

CHAPTER LII

THAT ALL GRIEVOUS THINGS ARE TO BE SUFFERED FOR
THE LIFE TO COME

SON, let not the labours that thou hast taken upon thee for me
make thee weary nor tribulations throw thee all down;
but let my promise in every adventure strength thee and
comfort thee. I am sufficient to reward above all manner
and all measure. Thou shalt not labour long nor shalt
ever be grieved with sorrows. Abide a little while and
thou shalt see a swift end of all evils.

One hour shall come when all labour shall cease and all noise;
little it is and short, all that passeth with time. Do that
thou dost, labour truly in my vineyard; I shall be thy
reward. Write, read, sing, mourn, keep silence, pray,
suffer contrariousness manly; for everlasting life is worth
all these and much more and much greater battles.

Peace shall come in one day known to our Lord, and of that
time shall there be neither day nor night but light per-
petual, infinite brightness, sovereign peace and sicker
(sure) rest. Thou shalt not say then, Who shall deliver
me from the body of this death, nor thou shalt not cry,
Wo me for my dwelling here is overlong tarried ; for death
shall be thrown down headlong and health shall be with-
out fauting (blemish), none anxiety, blissful pleasure,
sweet company and pleasant to behold.

O if thou hadst seen the perpetual crowns of saints in heaven
and in how much glory they joy now that sometimes in
this world were deemed contemptible and as folk un-
worthy to live, forsooth thou wouldst meek (humble)
thyself unto the earth and wouldst rather be subject
under all than to be above one; nor thou wouldst desire
the merry days of this world but rather thou wouldst joy
to suffer tribulation for God and wouldst take it as for a
great gain to be accounted for naught among men.

The Imitation of Christ 255

O if these things tasted well to thee and entered into thine
heart how durst thou once complain? Whether all labori-
ous things ought not to be suffered for everlasting life?
It is no little thing to win or to lose the kingdom of God.
Lift up therefore thy visage unto heaven. Lo, I and all
my saints with me which that in this world have had
great battle, now they joy, now they be comforted, now
they be sure, now they rest and in that end shall abide
with me in the kingdom of my father.

CHAPTER LIII

OF THE DAY OF ETERNITY AND THE ANGUISH OF
THIS LIFE

O THE most blissful dwelling place of that high city. O the
most clear day of eternity which no night maketh dark
but sovereign truth ever beshineth it; the day ever glad,
ever sure and never changing state into the contrary. O
would God that that day had once shined and all these
temporal things had taken an end. And this day shineth
to saints in a perpetual bright clearness but to pilgrims all
afar and by a mirror.

The citizens of heaven know how joyous is that day; the
exiled sons of Eve wail, so sorrowful is this day. The days
of this time are little and evil, full of sorrow and an-
guish; when man is defouled with many sins, tied with
many passions, strained with many dreads, distant
with many cares, distract with many curiosities, wrapped
in many vanities, surrounded with many errors, broken
with many labours, grieved with many temptations, made
soft and weak with delights, tormented with need and
poverty.

O when shall there be an end of all these evils? when shall I be
delivered from the wretched thraldom of vices? when
shall I, Lord, have mind on thee alone? when shall I at

256 Thomas a Kempls

full be glad in thee? when shall I be without any impedi-
ment in true liberty, without grievance of soul or body.
When shall there be sad (settled) peace, peace undis-
turbed and sure, peace within and without, peace firm on
every side?

Good Jesu, when shall I stand to see thee? when shall I be-
hold the glory of thy kingdom? when wilt thou be to me
all in all? When shall I be with thee in thy kingdom that
thou hast ordained to thy well beloved from everlasting?
I am left poor and exile in the land of enemies where are
daily battles and greatest misfortunes. Comfort mine
exile, assuage my sorrow, for to thee suspireth all my de-
sire; for all that the world offereth me as solace is to me
an heavy burden.

I desire to enjoy thee inwardly but I cannot take thee. I desire
to cleave to heavenly things but fleshly things and un-
mortified passions depress me. I will in my mind be
above all things, but in despite of myself I am constrained
to be beneath. So I unhappy man fight with myself and
am made grievous to myself while the spirit seeketh what
is above and the flesh what is beneath. O what I suffer
within while I think on heavenly things in my mind ; the
company of fleshly things cometh against me when I
pray.

My God, be not far from me, decline not from thy servant in
wrath. Lighten out in shining and waste them, send out
thine arrows and thou shalt spill them and all the fan-
tasies of the enemy shall be borne down. Gather together
all my wits to thee, make me to forget all worldly things
and grant me soon to cast away and despise all fantasies
of vices.

fhou, truth eternal, succour me that no vanity may move me.
Come heavenly sweetness and make to flee from thy
visage all manner of impurity. Forgive me also and merci-
fully forget as of ttimes as in my prayer I think on any
other thing than thee. I acknowledge truly that I am
wont to behave me there full distractedly and many times

The Imitation oj Christ 257

I am not there where I stand or sit bodily but rather 1
am there where I am borne with my thoughts. Where my
thought is, there am I; and where my thought is there I
love. That thing cometh soon to mind that naturally
please th or delighteth through use. Wherefore thou,
truth, saidest openly "Where is thy treasure there is thine
heart."

If I love heaven I am glad to think on heavenly things. If I
love the world, I joy in the world's felicity and sorrow
in the world's adversity. If I love the flesh I imagine
ofttimes on such things as belong to the flesh. If I love
the spirit, I have a delight to think on spiritual things.
Whatever things that I love of them gladly I speak and
hear and the images of such I bear to mine house.

But blissful is that man that, for the Lord, giveth all creatures
licence to go their way, that doth violence to nature, that
crucifieth the lusts of the flesh with the fervour of the
spirit, that with a clear conscience he may offer to thee a
pure prayer and be worthy to be present with the quire
(choir) of angels, all earthly things excluded within and
without.

CHAPTER LIV

OF DESIRE OF EVERLASTING LIFE AND HOW GREAT THINGS
ARE PROMISED TO FIGHTERS

SON, when thou feelest the desire of everlasting bliss to be
poured into thee from above, and thou desirest to go out
of the tabernacle of the body, that thou mayst behold my
clearness without shadow of changeableness, open thine
heart and receive this holy inspiration with all manner
of desire. Yield to the sovereign bounty most large thanks
that doth with thee so worthily, visiteth mercifully, ex-
citeth ardently, lifteth up mightily, lest thou with thine
own weight slide down to earthly things.

For thou takest not this with thine own thought or thine own

258 Thomas & Kempis

power but only by worthiness of the most high grace and
of God's beholding thee that thou mayst profit the more
in virtues and greater meekness and make thee ready for
battles that are to come and cleave to me with all thine
affection and that thou mayst study to serve me with a
fervent will.

Son, of ttimes the fire burneth but without flame and smoke it
styeth (riseth) never up. So the desires of some men are
lift up to heavenly things and nevertheless they are not
free from the temptation of fleshly affections; and there-
fore they do not in all wise purely for the service of God in
that they ask so desirously of God. And such is ofttime
the desire that thou hast said should be so importunate,
for that is not pure and perfect that is done for one's own
profit.

Ask that thing that is not to thee delightful nor profitable but
that that is to me acceptable and honourable; for if thou
judge righteously thou oughtest to put mine ordinance
before thy desire and prefer and follow it afore all things.
For I have heard thy desire and thy manifold mournings.

Now thou wouldst be in the liberty of the glory of the sons of
God; now the house everlasting delighteth thee and the
heavenly country full of joy; but yet this hour is not
come; there is yet another time, time of battle, time of
labour and of proving. Thou desirest to be fulfilled with
the most sovereign good; but thou canst not follow that
now.

"I am" saith our Lord "abide me, till the kingdom of God
come." As yet thou art to be proved on earth and to be
exercised in many things. Consolation shall be given thee
now and then but copious fulfilling is not granted. Be
thou comforted therefore and be strong as well in doing
as in suffering things contrary to nature.

It behoveth thee to be clothed in a new man and to be changed
into another. It behoveth thee to do of ttimes that thou
wouldest not do, and to forsake that thou wouldest do.
That that pleaseth others shall cause profit, but that that

The Imitation of Christ 259

pleaseth thyself shall not profit; what other men say shalj
be heard, what thou sayest shall be accounted as naught,

Other men shall ask and take: thou shalt ask and not get,
Others shall be great in men's mouths; of thee men shall
hold their peace. To others this or that shall be com-
mitted; thou shalt be judged in nothing profitable.
Wherefore kind (nature) shall some time be sorry and
suffer great battle if thou in silence hear these things. In
these and in many other like things the true servant of
God is wont to be proved, how he may deny and break
himself.

There is scarce any such thing which thou needest think of as
to see and suffer such things as are contrary to thy will,
specially when thou art commanded to do such things as
seem to thee disconvenient and least profitable. And for
thou darest not withstand the higher power set above
thee under our Lord therefore it seemeth to thee hard to
go at another man's beckoning and to leave all thine own
feeling.

But, son, peisie (weigh) the fruit and the swift end of all these
labours and the meed, great without measure; and then
shalt thou have no grievance thereat but a mighty com-
fort of patience. For this little will that thou forsakest
freely thou shalt ever have thine own will in heaven.
There thou shalt find whatever thou wilt and all that
thou canst desire; there shall be plenty of all good with-
out dread of losing or foregoing. There thy will, ever be-
ing one with me, shall never covet strange things nor
private.

There shall no man withstand thee, there shall no man com-
plain on thee, no man shall let (hinder) thee, no man
shall contrary thee, but all things desired shall be present
together and shall refresh all thy desire and shall fill it
to the highest. There shall I give glory and honour for
shame and reproof, a pall of praise for mourning and In-
stead of the lowest place a seat in the kingdom for ever.
There shall appear the fruit of obedience, there the labour

260 Thomas d Kempis

of penance and meek subjection shall be crowned glori-
ously. Wherefore bow down thyself meekly under the
hands of all and take no heed who said this or who com-
manded this; but take care of this above all whether
prelate or one less than thou or one even with thee ask
any thing of thee or move (apply) any thing to thee,
that thou take all as good and study to fulfil it with a
pure will.

Let one seek this, another that; let one rejoice in this and one
in that; let one be praised a thousand thousand times;
but joy thou neither in this nor in that, but in contempt
of thyself and in my well pleasing and honour. This is
ever to be desired of thee but both by life and death let
God be ever glorified in thee.

CHAPTER LV

THAT THE DESOLATE MAN OUGHT TO OFFER HIMSELF
INTO THE HANDS OF GOD

LORD God, holy father, blessed mayst thou be now and ever-
lastingly, for as thou wilt so it is done and that thou dost
is good. Glad must thy servant be in thee and not in him-
self nor in any other thing, for thou alone art true glad-
ness, thou art mine hope and my crown, thou art my joy
and my honour. What hath thy servant but what he hath
taken of thee and that without merit of his own? All
things are thine that thou hast given and that thou hast
made.

I am poor and in labour from my youth up and my soul is oft-
times sorry unto tears and some times it is troubled to-
wards itself for encumbrance of passions. I desire the joy
of peace; the peace of thy sons I ask that are fed of thee
in the light of consolation. If thou give peace, if thou
pour on me holy joy, the soul of thy servant shall be full
of and devout in thy praise.

The Imitation of Christ a6i

But if thou withdraw thyself as thou art wont to do full oft.
he may not run the way of thy commandments; but
rather his knees are bound to knock his breast; for it is
not with him as it was yesterday and the other day when
thy lantern shined upon his head and he was defended
under the shadow of thy wings from temptations falling
upon him. Righteous father and ever to be praised, the
hour is come that thy servant may be proved. Lovely
father, it is worthy that this hour thy servant should
suffer somewhat for thee. Father perpetually to be hon-
oured, let thy servant live inwardly (the inner life) ever
before thee whom thou knowest from the beginning to be
such that he should for a little time fall outwardly (in the
outer life).

For a little time let him be set little by, be meeked (humbled)
and fail afore men, let him be broken with passions and
languors, that he may rise again with thee in the morrow
tide of a new light and be made bright in heavenly
things. Holy father, thou hast so ordained and willed and
that is done that thou hast commanded, for this is thy
grace to thy friend in this world to suffer and to be
troubled for thy love, how oft and at whose hand soever
thou sufferest it to be done.

Without thy counsel and thy prudence and without cause is
nothing done on earth. Good is it for me, Lord, that thou
hast meeked (humbled) me, that I may learn thy laws
and cast away elation of heart and presumption. It is
profitable to me that shame and confusion have covered
my face that I may require thee to be my comfort rather
than men. I have learned hereby to dread thine inscruta-
ble judgments that painest (punishest) the righteous
man with the wicked, but not without righteousness and
equity.

Lord I thank thee that thou hast not spared my evils (sins)
but that thou hast bruised me with beatings, putting
sorrows into me and sending anguish unto me within and

262 Thomas & Kempis

without. There is none that may comfort me of all that
are under heaven but thou my Lord God the heavenly
leech of souls that smitest and healest, that leadest to the
lowest places and bringest from thence again. Thy disci-
pline is upon me and thy rod she shall teach me.

Lo, well beloved father, I am in thine hands. I incline me
under the rod of thy correction, smite my back and my
neck so that I may bow my crookedness to thy will.
Make me a meek disciple, as thou art wont to do, that I
may go entirely at thy beckoning. To thee I commit me
and all mine, to correct; for it is better to be chastised
here than in time coming. Thou knowest all things and
every thing and nothing in man's conscience is hid from
thee. Thou knowest things to come ere they be done, nor
is there need that man teach thee or admonish thee of
those things that are done on earth.

Thou knowest what is expedient for my profit and how much
tribulation is needed to purge the rust of my vices. Do
with me thy desired will and despise not my sinful life
to none better known nor clearer than to thee alone.
Grant me, Lord, to know all that is to be known and to
love all that is to be loved and to praise all that sov-
ereignly please th thee; to have in reputation that that
appeareth precious to thee and to blame that is foul in
thine eyes.

Suffer me not to judge after the sight of the outward eyes, nor
give sentence after the hearing of ears of unlearned men,
but to discern in a true judgment both of things visible
and spiritual and above all things ever to inquire after
the will of thy pleasure. Men's wits are of ttimes deceived
in judging; as lovers of this world are of ttimes blinded in
loving only things visible.

What is a man the better therefore that he is accounted
greater of man? The deceivable beguileth the deceivable,
the vain the vain, the blind the blind, the sick the sick
whiles he lif teth him up, and truly conf oundeth him more

The Imitation of Christ

whiles he vainly praiseth him. For what any man is in
thine eyes, Lord, so much he is and no more, as saith
meek Francis.

CHAPTER LVI

THAT MAN MUST GIVE HIMSELF TO LOW WORKS WHEN
HIGH WORKS FAIL

SON, thou mayst not always stand in the most fervent desire
of virtue, nor abide stedfastly in the highest degree of
contemplation; but thou hast need now and then because
of original corruption to descend to lower things and bear
the burden of this corruptible life against thy will and
with weariness. As long as thou bearest a mortal body
thou shalt find heaviness and grievance of heart. It be-
hoveth thee therefore ofttimes in the flesh to wail under
the burdens of the flesh inasmuch as thou mayst not
without ceasing cleave to spiritual studies and divine
contemplation.

Then it is speedful to thee to draw thyself to meek and out-
ward works and to take recreation in good active occu-
pations abiding my coming and the high visitation with
a stedfast trust and to suffer patiently thine exile and
dryness of soul till thou be visited anew and delivered
from all anxieties; for I shall make thee to forget thy
labours and enjoy inward quiet: I shall open before thee
the meadows of the scriptures that thou with a heart may
run the way of my commandments: and then thou shalt
say "the sufferings of this time are not worthy to the
glory that shall be revealed in us."

a 64 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER LVII

THAT MAN SHOULD ACCOUNT HIMSELF WORTHY OF NO
CONSOLATION

LORD I am not worthy of any consolation nor of any spiritual
visitation, and therefore thou dost righteously with me
when thou forsakest me, needy and desolate. For if I
could pour out tears like the sea, yet were I not worthy
of thy consolation. Wherefore I am nothing more worthy
than to be scourged and punished for I have ofttimes
offended thee and forsaken thee greatly in many things.
Wherefore, true reason peised (being weighed) I am not
worthy the least consolation.

But thou gracious and merciful Lord that wilt not that thy
works should perish and wilt show the riches of thy good-
ness in the vessels of mercy above all our merit, vouchsafe
to comfort thy servant above all man's measure; for thy
consolations are not as man's talkings or what have I
done, Lord, that thou shouldst give me any heavenly
consolation? I have no remembrance of any good that I
have done but the very truth is that I have been ever
ready and prone to vices and slow to amendment the
which I can not deny. If I would say otherwise thou
wouldst stand against me and there would no man defend
me.

What have I deserved for my sins but hell and everlasting fire?
I acknowledge in truth that I am worthy of all manner
of scorning and despite nor it sitteth (suiteth) me not to
be numbered among thy devout servants. And though I
bear not this easily nevertheless for truth's sake I shall
against myself reprove my sins that I may the more
easily get thy mercy. What shall I say, a guilty man and
full of all confusion? I have no words to speak but only
this word: I have sinned, Lord, I have sinned: have
mercy on me, forgive me. Suffer me a little while that I

The Imitation of Christ 265

may wail my sorrow or ever I go to the dark land cov-
ered with the darkness of death.

What requirest thou most of the guilty and the wretched sin-
ner but that he be converted and meek (humble) himself
for his sins? In true contrition and meekness of heart is
brought forth hope of forgiveness, the troubled conscience
is reconciled, grace lost is repaired, man is defended from
wrath that is to come and God and the meek soul meet
in a holy kiss. Contrition for sin is to the Lord an accept-
able sacrifice, smelling much sweeter than any sweet in-
cense. This is also that acceptable ointment that thou
wouldst should be poured upon thy most holy feet; for
thou hast never despised the contrite and the meeked
(humbled) heart. There is the place of refuge from the
visage of the wrath of the enemy; there is amended and
washen away all that is contract and defouled elsewhere.

CHAPTER LVIII

THAT GRACE IS NOT PART OF THEM THAT FOLLOW
EARTHLY THINGS

SON, my grace is precious, suffereth not itself to be mingled
with strange things nor earthly consolations. Wherefore
it behoveth thee to cast away impediments to grace if
thou wilt to receive the inpouring thereof. Ask for thy-
self a secret place, love to dwell alone with thyself, seek
confabulation of none other; but rather put out to God a
devout prayer that thou mayst have a devout mind and
a pure conscience. Deem all the world as naught; put the
vacation to (readiness for) God before all other things
for thou canst not both take heed to me and delight thee
in things transitory.

It behoveth thee to be eloyned (distant) from known and
dear friends and keep thy mind private from all temporal

266 Thomas a Kempis

solace. So beseecheth the blessed apostle Peter that all
true Christian men should hold themselves in this world
as strangers and pilgrims. O how great confidence shall be
to the man that shall die whom affection for no earthly
thing withholdeth in this world. But thus to have the
heart departed from all things, a sick and a weak soul
cannot understand it nor doth the beastly (natural) man
know the liberty of the inward man.

Nevertheless if one would be very spiritual, it behoveth him to
renounce both them that be afar and them that are nigh
and of none so much to be ware as of himself. If thou
overcome thyself perfectly thou shalt the more lightly
put under foot all other things. It is perfect victory for
a man to overcome himself. If any keep himself so under
that sensuality obeys reason and reason me in all things
he shall be a true victor of himself and lord of the world.

If thou desire to stie (step) up to the height of perfection thou
must begin manly and set the axe to the root that thou
mayst root up and destroy all inordinate affection to
thyself and to all private and material good. On this
vice that a man loveth himself too inordinately hangs
every thing almost that is groundly (utterly) to be over-
come ; the which evil overcome and put under forthwith
there shall be great peace and tranquillity.

But few there are that labour perfectly to die to themselves
and do not fully stretch themselves beyond themselves;
therefore they remain implicated and encumbered in
themselves that they may not be lift up in spirit above
themselves. Whoso that desireth freely to walk with me
if behoveth him that he mortify all his shrewd (evil) and
inordinate affections and that he cleave to no creature
lustfully with any private love.

The Imitation of Christ 267

CHAPTER LIX

OF DIVERSE MOVINGS OF NATURE AND OF GRACE

SON, attend diligently to the movings of nature and of grace,
for they are full contrary and subtly moved and they
can scarce be perceived except it be by a spiritual man
and a man inwardly illumined. All folk desire that is
good and in their words and in their deeds they put for-
ward some manner of good ; wherefore many are deceived
under colour of good.

Nature is wily and draweth many men and holdeth them as
in a snare and deceiveth them and hath herself ever as
an end, seeking none other. But grace goeth simply
and declineth from all that seemeth evil, pretending no
falseness or deceits and doth all things purely for God
in whom finally she resteth. Nature dieth against his
will, he will not be thrown down nor overcome nor be
under nor willingly come under yoke; but grace la-
boureth and studieth to mortification of itself, she with-
standeth sensuality, she seeketh to be made subject, she
desireth to be overcome, she will not use her own liberty
but she loveth to be under discipline, she coveteth to
have lordship over nobody but to live, to stand and to
be only under God, ready, for God, to be meekly inclined
and bowed to every creature of mankind.

Nature laboureth for his own profit and taketh heed what
lucre may come to himself alone, but grace considereth
not what is profitable and advantageous to one but to
many. Nature receiveth gladly honour and reverence;
but grace giveth all worship and glory freely to God.
Nature dreadeth shame and despite; but grace rejoiceth
to suffer for the name of Jesu. Nature loveth idleness
and bodily rest, but grace cannot be void or idle, but
gladly taketh upon her labour and travail. Nature
seeketh to have curious things and fair things and

i68 Thomas & Kempis

toatheth all vile things and gross things, but grace de-
Kghteth in simple things and low things and despiseth
no asperity nor refuseth to be clothed in old clothes.
Nature beholdeth temporal things and joyeth of earthly
winnings and sorroweth for worldly harms and is moved
soon to wrath with a little word of wrong; but grace
attendeth everlasting things nor cleaveth not to tem-
poral things nor is troubled with the loss of them, nor is
not angered with sharp words for she setteth all her joy
and her treasure in heaven where nothing perisheth.

Nature is covetous and more gladly taketh than giveth, he
loveth his own and private goods; but grace is full of
pity, she is common, she escheweth singular (private)
things and is content with few and deemeth it more bliss-
ful to give than to take. Nature inclineth to creatures,
to his own flesh, to vanities, to discourses and running
about; but grace draweth to God and to virtues, re-
nounceth creatures, fleeth the world, hateth the fleshly
desires, restraineth wanderings about and is ashamed to
appear in open places. Nature gladly receive th outward
comforts; but grace delighteth in the sovereign good
above all things visible. Nature doth all things for his
own gain and for his own profit and can do nothing
freely; and if he do any benefit he will wait (expect) to
have as good or better, or praise, or favour, and desireth
that his deeds and his gifts should be praised and much
set by. But grace seeketh no temporal things, nor seeketh
none other meed but God whom solely she desireth for
her reward ; nor desireth she no more of temporal things
than as may be helping to her to get everlasting things.

Nature rejoiceth of many friends and allies and joyeth of
noble places and of great birth, laugheth upon might and
power, blandisheth rich folk, and hath plesance in such
as are like to himself; but grace loveth her enemies; she
is not proud of multitude of friends nor accounteth place
nor birth unless there be the more virtue there; she
favoureth more the poor than the rich; she hath more

The Imitation of Christ *6g

companion in the innocent than in the mighty, she joyeth
with the true man, not with the false man, and ever
exhorteth to good, to seek more grace and to be like the
Son of God in virtues. Nature complaineth soon of faults
and of grievance but grace stedfastly beareth poverty
and need. Nature reflecteth all things to himself and for
himself he striveth and argueth: but grace reduceth
all things to God of whom they well out groundly and
originally; she ascribeth nothing that is good to herself
nor presumeth nothing proudly, nor striveth not, nor
preferreth not her sentence (opinion) before others, but
in every feeling and in every understanding submitteth
herself to the everlasting wisdom and to God's examina-
tion.

Nature coveteth to know secrets and to hear new things; he
will appear outwardly and by feeling have experience
of many things; he desire th to be known and to do such
things of which praise and wonder may arise. But grace
taketh no heed to perceive new things and curious, for
all this groweth of corruption, since there is nothing new
and durable upon the earth. Grace also teacheth to re-
strain the wits, to eschew vain plesance and ostentation,
meekly to hide such things as are commendable and
wonderful and in every thing and every science to seek
out the fruit of profit and God's praise and his honour.
Grace desireth neither herself nor her works to be
preached openly, but desireth God to be blest in his gifts
that granteth all things of his pure largesse.

This grace is a light supernatural and a special gift of God
and a proper sign of the chosen children of God and the
earnest of everlasting health; for God lifteth up man
from earthly things to love heavenly things and of him
that is fleshly he maketh (a) spiritual (man). Wherefore
the more that nature is holden under and overcome, the
more grace is poured in and the inward man is every day
renewed according to the image of God with new visi-
tations.

2 TO Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER LX

OP CORRUPTION OF NATURE AND OF THE MIGHT OF GRACE

MY LORD God that hast made me to thine image and likeness,
grant me this grace that thou hast shown to be so great
and so needful to man's health that I may overcome my
most wicked nature that draweth me to sins and to perdi-
tion. For I feel in my flesh the law of sin contrarying the
law of my mind and leading me as a caitiff to obey
sensuality in many things; nor may I withstand his
passion unless thy most holy grace passed into mine
hearth be assistant to me. Needful it is to have thy grace
yea and thy great grace that nature may be overcome
that is ever ready to evil, of young age and youth. For
nature (having) slidden and (being) vitiated by the
first man Adam through sin, the pain of that spot hath
come down to all men so that nature that was well and
evenly made by thee is now set for (fixed in) vice and
infirmity of corrupt nature, inasmuch as its movement
left and abandoned to himself draweth ever to evil and to
low things and that little good strength that is left is
as but a little sparkle hid in ashen. This is natural reason
surrounded on every side with darkness having yet judg-
ment of good and evil and distance of (distinction be-
tween) true and false, though it be unable to fulfil that
it approveth nor useth it now full light of truth or holi-
ness of affections.

Therefore it is, my God, that after the inward man I delight
me in thy law knowing thy commandment to be good
and just and holy, proving also all sins and all evil to
be fled, but in my flesh I serve the law of sin while I obey
sensuality more than reason. Here through it is that to
will good cometh to me, but to do it in deed I find not
in me. Wherefore ofttimes I purpose many good things
but for that thy grace lacketh (faileth) that should help

The Imitation of Christ 271

mine infirmity, through a light resistance I turn back
and fail. Herethrough it happeneth that though I know
the way of perfection and that I see clearly what I ought
to do yet I am so pressed with the weight of mine own
corruption that I may not arise to more perfection.

O Lord how most necessary is grace to begin good, to profit
in good and to be perfected in good. For without it I may
do nothing but in thee I am mighty in all things, grace
strengthening me. O that true heavenly grace, without
which properly there are no merits nor no gifts of nature
to be peised. Lord, without grace, as compared with thee
they be of no value, neither crafts nor riches nor beauty
nor strength nor wit nor eloquence. For gifts of nature
are common to the good and to the evil but the proper
gift of the chosen children is grace or charity wherewith
he that is nobled shall be worthy everlasting life. This
grace is so eminent and so excellent that neither the gift
of prophecy nor working of miracles nor speculation, be
it never so high, is of any estimation without her; yea,
neither faith nor hope nor other virtues are acceptable to
thee without grace and charity.

O thou most blissful grace, that makest the poor in spirit rich
in virtue and the meek in heart rich in many goods. Come,
descend unto me, fulfil me betimes with thy consolation
lest my soul fail for weariness and dryness of mind. Lord
I beseech thee that I may find grace in thine eyes; for
thy grace sufficeth me, other things that nature desireth
not being counted. If I be tempted and vexed with many
tribulations I shall not dread while thy grace is with me.
She is my strength, she giveth me counsel and help. She
is more mighty than all enemies, she is wiser than all the
wise. She is mistress of truth, teacher of discipline, light
of the heart, the solace of pressure (trouble), thrower
down and driver away of sorrow, taker away of dread,
nourisher of devotion and bringer forth of tears. What
am I without her, but a dry tree and an unprofitable
stock? Wherefore, Lord, let thy grace ever more go afore

272 Thomas & Kempis

me and follow me and make me to be continually and
busily given to good works by our Lord Jesu Christ,
thy Son.

CHAPTER LXI

THAT WE OUGHT TO DENY OURSELVES AND FOLLOW
CHRIST BY THE CROSS

SON, as much as thou canst go out from thyself. As for a man
to covet nothing outward maketh inward peace so for a
man inwardly to forsake himself joineth and uniteth
him to God. I will that thou learn perfect abnegation
ef thyself to my will without contradiction and com-
plaining. Follow me: I am the way, truth and life. With-
out a way men go not, without truth men know not,
without life men live not.

I am the way that thou shalt follow, I am the truth that thou
shalt believe, and the life that thou shalt hope (for).
I am the way undefouled, the truth infallible, the life
interminable. I am the most even way, most sovereign
truth, true life increate and life blissful. If thou dwell
in my way thou shalt know truth and truth shall deliver
thee and thou shalt have everlasting life.

If thou wilt live keep the commandments. If thou wilt know
truth believe me. If thou will be perfect sell all things.
If thou wilt be my disciple deny thyself. If thou wilt
have the life that is to come despise this that is present.
If thou wilt be enhanced in heaven, meek (humble)
thyself in the world. If thou wilt reign with me, bear
my cross; for only the servants of the cross find the way
of bliss and of everlasting light.

Lard Jesu, for thy way was strait and despised of the world,
grant me to follow thee with the world's despising: for
the servant is no greater than his lord nor the disciple
above his master. Let thy servant be exercised in thy
life for there is mine health and very holiness. Whatever

The Imitation of Christ 273

I hear or read besides that, it refresheth not nor de-
lighteth not fully.

Son, for thou hast read and knowest all these things thou art
blissful if thou do them. He that hath my commandments
and keepeth them he it is that loveth me and I shall love
him and show myself to him and shall make him an heir
in the kingdom of my father.

Lord Jesu as thou hast said and promised so be it to me
and so may I deserve. I have taken from thy hand the
cross and so shall I bear it to my death as thou hast laid
it upon me. Verily the cross is the life of a good monk
and the leader to paradise. (When) it is begun it is not
lawful to go backward nor is it behoveful to forsake it.
Have done, brother, go we together; Jesu shall be with
us. For Jesu we have taken this cross for Jesu persevere
we in the cross. He shall be our help that is our leader
and our predecessor.

Lo our king goeth before us and shall fight for us. Let us fol-
low manly, let no man dread terrors; be we ready to
die bravely in battle; let us put no spot on our glory in
fleeing from the cross.

CHAPTER LXII

THAT A MAN (MUST) NOT BE THROWN DOWN TOO MUCH IF
HE FALL IN ANY FAULTS

SON, patience and meekness in adversity pleaseth me more
than much jubilation and devotion in prosperity. Why
doth a little thing said or done against thee make thee
sorry? It is no new thing: it is not the first, nor shall
not be the last, if thou live long. Thou art manly enough
all the while no contrary cometh against thee. Thou canst
counsel well and labour (prove) other men with wise
words; but when a sudden tribulation cometh to thy
gate, thou failest both in counsel and in strength.

274 Thomas & Kempis

Take heed to thy frailty whereof thou hast experience in many
small objects and contrarinesses, nevertheless when these
are all done for thine health and when they and such
other happen, purpose as well as thou canst in thine heart
that if they touch thee they throw thee not down nor
long encumber thee ; and at least suffer patiently if thou
canst not suffer joyfully. And if thou canst not bear it
gladly and feelest in thyself a loathing, restrain thyself
and let nothing inordinate pass thy mouth that might
be to the small and to the feeble an occasion of falling.
The moving that would out (disturbance) shall soon rest
and, grace returning again, the inward sorrow shall soon
be made sweet.

Yet I live, saith our Lord, ready to help thee and comfort
thee more than I am wont so that thou trust in me and
inwardly and devoutly pray to me. Be mighty in soul
and gird thee and make thee ready to more sufferance.
It is not done idly if thou perceive thyself ofttimes trou-
bled or grievously tempted. Thou art a man and not God,
thou art flesh and no angel ; how canst thou abide ever in
one state of virtue, since that the first angel in heaven
lacked and the first man hi paradise.

I am it that reareth to health them that mourn and bring
to my Godhead them that know their own infirmity.

Lord, blessed be thy word sweet to my mouth above the
hqney and the honeycomb. What should I do in so great
tribulation and in mine anguish unless thou comfortedst
me with thy holy words? If at the last I may come to the
port of health what reck I what things and how great
things I suffer? Grant me a good end, grant me a gracious
going out of this world; have mind on me, my God and
direct me in the right way to thy kingdom. Amen.

The Imitation of Christ 275

CHAPTER LXIII

HIGH THINGS AND PRIVY JUDGMENTS OF GOD MUST NOT
BE SEARCHED

SON, be ware that thou dispute not of high matters and of the
privy judgments of God, why this (one) is forsaken and
another is taken up to so great 'grace; why this (one) is
greatly pained and he is so excellently lift up. These
things pass all man's faculty nor is there reason nor
disputation that sufficeth to search God's judgment.

Wherefore when the enemy bringeth such things to mind or
else curious men ask thee, answer and say with David:
Lord thou art just and thy judgment is righteous; the
judgments of God are true and justified in themselves.
My judgments are to be dreaded and not to be searched ;
for they be incomprehensible to man's understanding.

Inquire nor dispute not of the merits of saints who is holier
than another or who is greater in the kingdom of heaven.
Such things ofttimes engender strifes and unprofitable
contentions and nourish pride and vainglory whereof
grow envies and dissensions while this (man) is about
proudly to prefer one saint and another, another. For a
man to will to search and to know such things bringeth
forth not fruit but rather displeaseth saints; for I am
no God of dissension but of peace, which peace standeth
more in true meekness than in selfish exaltation.

Some with a manner of zeal of love are drawn with more
affection to these saints or to those saints but that affec-
tion is more of man than it is godly. I it am that made
all saints and granted (them) grace. I gave glory: I
know the merits of every (one) ; I presented them with
blessings of sweetness; I predestinated them before the
world; I chose them out of the world; they chose not
me before; I called them by grace; I drew them by
mercy; I led them by divers temptations; I poured into

276 Thomas d K empis

them great consolations; I gave perseverance; I crowned
their patience.

I know the first and the last, I call them all with an inesti-
mable love. I am to be praised in all my saints. I am to
be blessed above all things and to be honoured in every
one of them whom I have so graciously magnified and
predestined without any merits going before. He there-
fore that despiseth one of my least, honoureth not the
great; for I made both the great and the small. And he
that doth hindering to any of my saints doth derogation
to me and to all other in the kingdom of saints.

Ml are one by the bond of charity; they feel the same, and
all one; they will the same and they all love in one. And
yet what is most high of all, they love me more than
themselves, and drawn out of their own love go all and
wholly into love of me in whom they rest rejoicing. There
is nothing that can turn them away or throw them down
since they being full of everlasting truth burn in an un-
quenchable fire of charity.

Wherefore let fleshly and beastly (natural) men cease to
dispute of the state of saints that can only love their
own and private joys. They put away and add according
to their own inclination not as it pleaseth the everlasting
truth; in many there is ignorance and specially in those
that but little illumined can seldom love anybody with
perfect spiritual love. They be greatly drawn with natural
affection and men's friendship to these and to those; and
as they behave them in these lower things so they imagine
in heavenly things.

But there is a distance incomparable between those things that
imperfect men think and those that men illumined by
high revelation behold. Be ware therefore son that thou
treat not curiously of such things as pass thy cunning
but rather tend and labour to this that thou mayst be
found though it be the least in the kingdom of heaven.
And if a man knew what saint were holier or greater than
another in the kingdom of heaven what should that

The Imitation of Christ 277

knowing avail unless a man by the same knowledge
meeked (humbled) himself before me and arose to greater
praise of my name?

They are much more acceptable to God that think on the
greatness of their sins and of the littleness of their virtues
and how far they be from the perfection of saints than
they that dispute of the greatness and of the littleness of
saints. Better it is to pray to saints with devout prayer
and tears and to desire their glorious suffrages with a
meek soul than to search their secrets with vain inquiry.

They be well content and in the best manner content if men
could be content and could restrain their vain speeches.
They rejoice not in their own merits, they ascribe to
themselves no goodness but all to me; for I gave them
all things of mine infinite charity. They are fulfilled with
so great love of the Godhead and such overflowing joy
that nothing faileth them of glory, nothing faileth them
of bliss. All saints the higher that they are in glory the
more meek they be and the nearer to me. Therefore it
is written that they laid their crowns before God and
fell down prostrate before the Lamb and worshipped him
for ever and ever.

Many ask who is greatest in the kingdom of heaven that know
not whether they shall be worthy to be accounted
among the least. This is a great thing for a man to be
the least in heaven where all be great and all are called
the sons of God and so they shall be. When the disciples
asked who was greatest in the kingdom of heaven they
had this answer: Unless ye be converted and made as
small children ye shall not enter into the kingdom of
heaven; who ever therefore meeketh ( humble th) him as
this little child he is the greatest in the kingdom of
heaven.

Woe to them that disdain to meek (humble) themselves will-
ingly as small children for the low gate of the kingdom
of heaven shall not admit them to enter in. Woe also to
rich men that have their consolations here; for, poor men

2 78 Thomas & Kempis

entering into the kingdom of heaven, they shall stand
without, wailing. Joy, ye meek folk, and be glad ye poor;
for yours is the kingdom of God so that ye go in truth.

CHAPTER LXIV

THAT ALL HOPE AND TRUST IS TO BE FIXED ONLY IN GOD

LORD what is the trust that I have in this life or what is my
greatest solace of all things appearing under heaven?
Whether not thou my Lord of whose mercy is no num-
ber? Where was it well with me without thee or when
might it be evil, thou being present? I had liever be poor
for thee than rich without thee. I choose rather to be a
pilgrim with thee in earth than to have heaven without
thee. Where thou art there is heaven: and where thou
are not there is death and hell. Thou art my desire and
therefore after thee it is needful to mourn, to cry and to
pray. I may fully trust in none that may help me in
opportune necessities but only in thee my God.

Thou art mine hope, thou art my trust, thou my comfort and
most faithful in all things. All other ask and seek their
own advantages; thou pretendest only mine health and
my profit and turnest all things to me into good. Yea
though thou lay me out to divers temptations and ad-
versities, all that thou ordainest to my profit, that art
wont to prove thy chosen children in thousands of man-
ners. In the which proving thou oughtest no less to be
loved and praised than if thou fulfilledst me with heav-
enly consolations.

In thee therefore my Lord God I put all mine hope and all
my refuge. In thee therefore I set all my tribulation and
my anguish for I find all infirm and unstable whatever
I behold outside thee. For many friends shall not avail
nor many helpers shall not be able nor many wise coun-
sellors give profitable counsel nor books of doctors give

The Imitation of Christ 2 79

comfort nor precious substance of good deliver nor any
secret or merry place make sure if thou be not assistant
helping, comforting, informing and keeping. For all
things that seem to be for the getting of peace and
felicity, thou being absent, are not worth nor in truth
give anything belonging to true felicity.

Thou therefore art the end of all good, the height of life, the
depth of scriptures; and to hope in thee above all is the
most mighty solace of thy servants. To thee are mine
eyes dressed (directed) , my God, father of mercies. Bless
and sanctify my soul with an heavenly blessing, that it
may be thy holy habitation and the seat of thine ever-
lasting glory: and that nothing be found in the temple
of thy dignity that may offend the eyes of thy majesty.

Look upon me according to the greatness of thy goodness and
the multitude of thy pities and hear the prayer of thy
poor servant being in exile all afar in the region of the
shadow of death. Defend and keep the soul of thy little
servant among so many perils of this corruptible life,
and, thy grace going with him, direct him by the way ot
peace to the country of everlasting clearness. Amen.

PART FOUR

Here beginneth the fourth book of the following Jesu Christ
and of the contemning of the world. Imprinted at the
commandment of the most excellent Princess Margaret
mother unto our sovereign lord King Henry the VII
Countess of Rychemount and Derby, and by the same
Princess it was translated out of French into English in
form and manner ensuing, the year of our Lord God
MDiiii.

PROLOGUS

COME to me, saith our merciful Lord, all that labour and be
charged and I shall give unto you refection. And the bread
that I shall give unto you shall be my flesh for the life of the
world. Take and eat it for it is my body that for you shall be
given in sacrifice. Do ye this in remembrance of me. For whoso
cateth my flesh and drinketh my blood he shall dwell in me
and I in him. These words that I have said unto you be life
and spirit of health.

280

CHAPTER I

IN WHAT GREAT REVERENCE AND FERVENT DESIRE WE OUGHT
TO RECEIVE OUR LORD JESU CHRIST

O MY Lord Jesu Christ, eternal truth, these words before said
be thy words, albeit they have not been said in one time
nor written in one place yet for that they be thy words
I ought faithfully and agreeably to understand them.

They be thy words and thou hast proffered them; and they be
now mine for thou hast said them for my health. I will
gladly receive them from thy mouth to the end that they
may be better sown and planted in my heart. Thy words
of so great pity, full of love and sweetness, greatly excite
me; but Lord my proper sins fear and draw back my
conscience, not pure enough to receive so great a mys-
tery.

The sweetness of thy words incite and provoke me; but the
multitude of my sins charge and sore grieve me.

Thou commandest that I shall come unto thee faithfully if
I will have part with thee to the end that I may receive
the nourishment of immortality if I desire to obtain the
joy and life eternal.

Thou sayest, Lord, "Come ye to me all that labour and be
charged and I shall refresh you."

O how sweet and amiable a word is that in the ear of a sinner
that thou, my Lord and God, listest of thy benign grace
to bid me that am so poor and have so much need to the
communion of thy precious body. O good Lord, what am
I to presume to desire thee whom the heaven and earth
may not comprehend: and thou sayest "Come ye all to
me." What is this condescension and amiable bidding?

How shall I dare come unto thee, I who feel not that I have
done any manner of good?
281

2 82 Thomas a Kempis

How shall I entertain thee in my house, I who so often have
offended before thy glorious and right benign face?

The angels and archangels honour thee: the holy and just
creatures dread thee and thou sayest, good Lord, "yet
come ye all unto me." Lord, who should believe this thing
to be true, if thyself did not say it?

And who is he that durst approach thereunto if thou didst not
command it?

Noah, that just man, laboured for an hundred year to make
the ark to the end that he might be saved with a few of
his people. How may I prepare me then in an hour to
receive thee with due reverence composer and creator of
the world?

Moses, thy great familiar and special friend, made the ark
of timber not corruptible which he covered with right pure
gold and put in it the tables of the Law; and I, a corrupt
creature how shall I now dare receive thee that are the
maker of the Law and giver of grace and life unto all
creatures?

The righteous Solomon, King of Israel, edified a rich temple
to the praising and worshipping of thy name by the space
of vii year and for viii days hallowed the feast of the dedi-
cation of the same: he offered a thousand victims to
pacify thy goodness with and put the ark of the Covenant
in the place made ready for the same with the sound of
clarions and trumpets.

How dare I then, cursed and right poor among other crea-
tures, receive thee into my house, I who scarce can know
that I have well passed and employed one hour of time
nor to my knowledge that I have devoutly passed one
half hour.

O blessed Jesu, how many there have been before me that
have studied to do anything that might please thee; alas,
how little a thing is it that I do albeit the time is short.
And yet when I dispose myself to receive thy holy com-
munion I am but loosely gathered together and full
coldly purged from all distractions of mind ; and certainly

The Imitation of Christ 283

no thoughts unprofitable ought to come into the holy
presence of thy deity.

Also I ought not to occupy me with any creature for I shall
not receive an angel but the Lord of angels into the secret
of my heart.

For there is a great difference between the ark of the Covenant
with his relics and the right pure and precious body with
this virtues not failing but evermore enduring; and be-
tween the sacrifice of the prefigurative Law that was to
come and the true victim thy precious body that is the
accomplishment of all the old sacrifice.

Wherefore then should not I be more inflamed in thy ven-
erable presence and with more solicitude prepare myself
to receive the sacred and holy gifts and benefits of thee,
inasmuch as the holy ancient patriarchs and prophets,
kings and princes, with all the people, have showed so
great affection towards thine honour and divine service in
time past.

The right devout King David inclined to the ark of God with
all his strength acknowledging and remembering the
benefits done unto his fathers: he made organs of divers
manners, and he composed psalms and instituted that
they should be sung and he himself sang them with glad-
ness and often times with the harp of the Holy Ghost.
This king was inspired with the grace of God for he
taught the people of Israel to praise God with all their
hearts, blessing, honouring and preaching daily his holy
name.

If so great devotion and remembrance was done with divine
service and praise before the ark of his testament how
great reverence and devotion ought we then to have in
the presence of the sacrament and in the assumption of
the right excellent body of our Lord Jesu Christ.

Also all Christian people use for to run to divers places for
to visit the relics of saints and marvel to hear the mar-
vellous deeds and works of them. They behold the great
edifices or buildings of temples and kin the sacrificed

284 Thomas <J Kempis

bones of saints wrapped in cloth of silk and gold and
thou my Lord God, saint of all saints, creator of all
things, Lord of all angels, thou art present on this altar
here before me.

Oftentimes the curiosity of men and the novelties of things
not yet seen be of little fruit and less to be set by; prin-
cipally where there is so light recourse to them and great
wavering without any contrition; but, my God, thou art
all present in this blessed sacrament of the altar, very
God and man, Jesu Christ, in whom the fruit eternal of
health aboundeth and is perceived at all times when thou
art worthily received.

And to this not any lightness of sensual curiosity draweth us
but firm faith, devout hope and pure charity.

O God invisible, creator of all the world, how marvellously
dost thou with us, how faithfully dost thou with them
that do purpose to receive thyself in this blessed sacra-
ment.

Certainly it surmounteth all understanding and draweth espe-
cially the hearts of devout people to devotion and em-
braceth their affection; for thy true and faithful friends
that dispose all their life to amend themselves receive
often great grace of devotion and virtue from that most
worthy sacrament.

O marvellous hid grace which all manner of faithful Christian
people of our Lord Jesu Christ only know; but the infidels
and subjects unto sin may thereof have no experience.

In that sacrament the spiritual graces be confirmed and the
virtue that was lost in the soul is repaired and beauty,
by sin wasted, is recovered.

Sometimes this grace is so great that often with the plenitude
of devotion not only the mind but also the feeble body
feels its might and strength augmented; wherefore it
behoveth us to have sorrow and pity for our sloth and
negligence that we are not drawn with so great desire
and affection to receive our Lord Jesu Christ in whom
is all hope and the merit of them that ought to be saved:

The Imitation of Christ 285

for he is our health and redemption and the consolation
of travellers and the eternal fruition of saints.

Also we ought to have sorrow that so many understand, savour
and reverence so little this holy sacrament which re-
joiceth heaven and keepeth all the world.

Alas for this blindness and hardness of men's hearts that will
not consider so singular and also so inestimable a gift as
is given unto us but it falleth into inadvertence by daily
and accustomable usage.

For if the sacrifice of this holy sacrament were done openly
but in one place and but by one priest in all the world
with how great desire, think ye, the people would go to
that place and to that priest to hear the godly mysteries
done by him ; but now be made many priests and in many
places this holy sacrament is offered to the end that the
grace and love of God to man may the more appear for-
asmuch as this holy communion is spread throughout th
world.

Thanks be unto thee, good pastor eternal, that hast vouch-
safed to refresh and feed us poor banished creatures with
thy right precious body and blood and also by the words
of thine own mouth hast desired us to receive this holy
mystery saying "Come ye all unto me that be charged
and I will refresh you."

CHAPTER II

HOW THE GREAT CHARITY AND BOUNTY OF GOD IS SHEWED
UNTO MAN IN THE HOLY SACRAMENT

O MY God, I come unto Thee putting my confidence in Thy
mercy and bounty; I sigh and come unto my Saviour; I,
hungry and thirsty, unto the fountain of life; poor and
needy unto the King of heaven; the servant unto his
Lord, the creature unto his maker, a person desolate unto
his piteous comforter.

286 Thomas & Kempis

But wherefore is this that thou comes t thus unto me? who
am I that thou wilt give thus thine own self to me? How
dare I so simple and poor a sinner be bold to appear
before thee and how can it please thee to come unto such
a wretch?

Thou knowest thy servant and well understandest that noth-
ing is good in him why thou shouldst do this grace unto
me.

Then do I confess my unworthiness and acknowledge thy
bounty and praise thy pity and give unto thee thanks
for thy so much great charity; and thou doest this for
thyself, good Lord, and not for my merit, to the end
that thy bounty may the more be known unto me.

Thy charity is more largely verified and thy meekness com-
mended more perfectly since it thus pleaseth thee and
also thou hast commanded it to be done; this thy pleas-
ure contenteth me and, with my will, my wickedness
shall not resist against thee.

sweet and benign Jesu how great reverence and thanks-

giving with perpetual praise be due unto thee, my good

Lord, Jesu Christ, that by thy pleasure and will I may

receive thy blessed body whose worthiness no man is

found able to declare or express.
But what shall I think of this communion when I shall come

unto thee my Lord God, which I cannot duly honour, and

yet I desire devoutly to receive thee.
What may I think better and more profitable for me than to

humble myself wholly before thee and to praise thine

infinite bounty above all things.

1 praise thee my Lord God everlasting and dispraise my-

self and submit me unto the deepness of my wretch-
edness. O my God thou art saint of all saints and I the
filth of all sinners, yet thou inclinest thyself unto me
that am not worthy to behold thee.

Alas my sweet creator that so meekly comest unto me and
wiliest to be with me and desirest me unto thy dinner
and givest unto me the meat of heaven and the bread

The Imitation of Christ 287

of angels which is bread of life and no less thing than
thyself which didst descend from heaven and give life
unto the world ; let us see here what great love proceedeth
from thee and what gentleness doth shine upon us.

How great yieldings of thanks and love be due unto thee from
us sinners. O how profitable and how healthful was
thy counsel when thou didst institute and ordain this
gracious gift. O how sweet and joyous is that feast
wherein thou hast given unto us the feeding of thy
precious body.

O good Lord how marvellous be thy operations and how
mighty is thy virtue and thy truth unable to be told.
Thou hast said and all things were done and all that
thou hast commanded hath taken effect.

A marvellous thing to be believed and far above the under-
standing of man that thou, my Lord God, very God and
man, art wholly contained under a little likeness of bread
and wine and thou art wholly received without consum-
ing him that so receive th thee.

Thou, Lord of all, that hast no need of any manner of thing
yet thou hast willed to inhabit within us by this thy
holy sacrament. Lord, keep my heart and my body unde-
filed to the end that with a pure and joyous conscience
I may often receive to my everlasting health these holy
mysteries which be instituted and ordained chiefly unto
thine honour and perpetual remembrance.

O my soul, rejoice thee and give thanks unto thy God for his
noble gift and singular comfort that it will please him
here in this vale of tears thus to comfort thee. For as
oftentimes as thou rememberest this mystery and re-
ceivest this blessed body of our Lord, so often thou
receivest the work of thy redemption and art made
partner of all the merits of our Lord Jesu Christ. For his
charity is never minished and the greatness of his mercy
is never consumed; wherefore thou oughtest to dispose
thee alway with a new revolving of thy thought and

288 Thomas 4 Kempis

oughtest to consider this great mystery of thy health by
attentive raising of thy soul.

And this work ought to be unto thee as greatly new and
joyous when thou receivest it as if that same day our
Lord had first descended into the womb of the Virgin
Mary to be made man; or as if he that day had suffered
death for the health of man upon the cross.

CHAPTER III

WHAT GREAT PROFIT IT IS OFTEN TO RECEIVE THE BODY OF
OUR LORD JESU CHRIST

LORD I come unto Thee to the end that wealth may come unto
me of Thy gift and that I may joy at the holy feast that
Thou hast made ready unto me, poor wretch, by thy
sweet benignity in the which my Saviour is all that I may
or ought to desire: for Thou art my health, my redemp-
tion, my strength, honour and joy.

Alas my Lord God make thy daily servant joyous. For my
Lord Jesu I have raised my soul unto thee and now de-
sire devoutly and reverently to receive thee into my
house to the end that I may deserve with Zacchaeus to
be blessed of thee and to be accompted among the chil-
dren of Abraham.

My soul desireth thy body, my heart desireth to be united
only with thee. Give thyself unto me good Lord and then
I am sufficed, for without thee no consolation nor com-
fort is good; without thee I may not be and without
thy visitation I may not live; wherefore it behove th me
oftentimes to come and approach to thy high presence
to receive thee for the remedy of my health to the intent
I fail not in the way of this mortal life if I am defrauded
of thy spiritual nourishing.

Also my right merciful Lord Jesu when thou hast preached
unto the people and healed them of divers sickness thou

The Imitation of Christ 289

hast said "I will not leave them fasting and without any
refection lest peradventure they might fail in their way."

Do with me then, good Lord, in that manner since thou hast
left this holy sacrament for the comfort of all faithful
people; for thou art the sweet refection of the souls of
them that have worthily received and eaten thee and
they shall be partners and also inheritors of the eternal
joy.

Certain it is unto me necessary who so often sins and so soon
cools and at every hour fails to come unto the end that
by continual orisons and confessions and by the receiv-
ing of thy holy body I may purify and renew the heat
of my refection. For peradventure in abstaining too long
to receive thee, I may leave, forget and run from my
good purpose.

For the wit of man and woman from their childhood be in-
clined unto all evil, and also if that this divine and godly
medicine help us not, innocent we fall unto worse. Then
this holy communion draweth men from evil and com-
forteth them again in goodness for I am many times very
negligent and very often cooled when that I commune or
worship my God. What should I then do if I took not that
medicine and asked of him grace and help?

And albeit I am not alway well disposed to receive thy crea-
ture yet shall I put me unto pain to receive those sacred
mysteries in time convenient so that I may be made
partner of so great grace. For it is one of the most prin-
cipal and greatest consolations unto faithful souls all the
time they shall make their pilgrimage in this mortal
body and to the intent we may have the more mind of
thy benefits.

My Lord God I shall more often receive thee, my loving Lord,,
with a devout thought. marvellous gentleness of thine
unspeakable pity towards us that thou, Lord God, creator
and giver of life unto all spirits, hath willed to come to
one so poor a soul with thy deity and humanity and hath
granted to my poor lean and dry soul to be made fat

290 Thomas d Kempis

with thy grace and thy holy unction of thy sweet spirit.

O happy thought and well happy soul that deserveth devoutly
to receive his God his Lord and creator and in that
receiving to be fulfilled with joy and spiritual gladness.

O what great Lord receivest thou. O what and how great an
host entertainest thou into thy lodging, how joyous a
fellow takest thou into thy house, how faithful a friend
thou admittest unto thee, and how good noble and sweet
a spouse embracest thou which ought to be beloved and
desired above all things.

O right sweet beloved Lord, the heaven and earth and all the
ornaments of them hold silence in the presence of thy
face. For what praise, honour and beauty they have it is
of thy mercy and largeness and cannot be like unto the
honour and beauty of thy holy name and of thy wisdom,
whereof there is no number neither end.

CHAPTER IV

HOW MANY ADVANTAGES BE GIVEN UNTO THEM THAT
DEVOUTLY RECEIVE THIS HOLY SACRAMENT

MY LORD God I humbly beseech thee to prevent me thy
servant in the blessings of thy sweet meekness, so that
I may deserve to come worthily and devoutly to the holy
sacrament most to be magnified. Stir my heart and loose
it from the dull heaviness of my mortal body. Visit me
with the messenger of health and give me to taste thy
sweetness spiritual which is hid fully in the sacrament
as in a fountain of all sweetness. Illumine mine eyes to
behold this great mystery and strongly confirm me to
believe the faith undoub table; for it is thy work and
not the power of man; it is thy holy ordinance and not
(done) by man's device. For there is no man found able
f himself to conceive and understand these holy mys-
teries which pass the subtlety of angels.

The Imitation of Christ 291

Then how may I poor unworthy sinner which am but earth
and ashes search and conceive so high and holy secrecy?
Lord I come unto thee in simpleness of heart and in firm
faith and by thy commandment and with meek hope
and reverence. And truly I believe that thou art here
present in this holy sacrament, very God and man.

And thou wilt I shall receive thee and join me unto thee by
charity: wherefore I humbly pray and require that it
may please thee to give unto me thy special grace so that
I may be all relented and flow over with thy love in such
wise that I shall not desire any other consolation.

For this high worthy sacrament is the health of soul and
body. It is the medicine of all spiritual sickness, in the
which my sins be healed, passions be refrained, tempta-
tions be overcome and minished, more great graces be
given, the virtue begun increased, faith is established,
hope is made strong and fortified, charity is burning and
spread abroad.

O my God the defender of my soul and the repairer of the
weakness of man and the sender of all inward comfort,
thou hast given and daily givest unto thy well beloved
friends in this holy sacrament devoutly receiving it many
advantages. For thou infusest into their souls great com-
fort against divers tribulations and from the depth of
their own overthrowing thou arisest them to the hope
of thy divine help. And with a new grace thou inwardly
renewest and lightenest them in such wise that though
they feel before the receiving of the sacrament heavy
and dull and overthrown and without affection and
moisture, of devotion after that they have been fed with
this heavenly meat and drink they have found them-
selves changed with a marvellous joy: which things thou
dost unto thy chosen people by dispensation of thy pure
bounty so that they may truly know by open experience
that they have nor may have nothing of themselves; and
what grace or goodness they have, it cometh of thee.

For of themselves they be cold, hard and undevout but of

292 Thomas & Kempis

thee they be made fervent, joyous and devout: for who
is he that cometh meekly unto the fountain of sweet-
ness and shall not bring some little quantity of sweet-
ness therefrom?

I shall alway put my mouth unto the hole of the heavenly
pipe of that fountain so that I may at the least take a
little drop to satisfy my thirst, so that I be not all dry;
and though I may not be heavenly inflamed as the cher-
ubim and seraphim yet will I enforce me to devotion and
prepare my heart meekly to receive this holy loving sacra-
ment and shall desire to be embraced with a little flame of
that goodly love.

O good Jesu, holy and right piteous saviour, whatsoever virtue
or goodness faileth in me I benignly beseech thee gra-
ciously of thy pity to supply it by thy great mercy. Thou
that hast called all faithful creatures in saying unto them:
Come ye all unto me that labour and be charged and I
shall refresh you.

But alas, good Lord, I poor sinner labour hi the sweat of my
visage and am tormented with sorrow of heart. I am
charged with sins and travailed with temptations, en-
tricked and oppressed with many evil passions. And, Lord,
there is none that may deliver me or make me safe but
thou, my only God and saviour, to whom I commit me
and all my causes to the end thou keep me and lead me
to the life eternal.

Receive me unto the praise of thy name that hast made ready
unto me thy precious body and blood for meat and drink.
My Lord God and saviour grant unto me by thy great
bounty that in customable (accustomed) receiving of
thy holy mystery the affection and desire of my devotion
may be increased.

The Imitation of Christ 293

CHAPTER V

OF THE DIGNITY OF THE SACRAMENT OF THE ALTAR AND OF
THE ORDER OF PRIESTHOOD

IF THOU hadst the purity of angels and the holiness of Saint
John Baptist, thou shouldst not be worthy to receive or
treat of that holy sacrament: for that is not due to the
merits of men that a man should consecrate and treat
of the sacrament of this blessed body of Jesu Christ and
take in meat the bread of angels.

O the great mystery and the marvellous dignity of priests
unto whom is given that that is not granted unto the
angels. For the priests only, duly ordered in the church
of Christ, have power to do and to consecrate the holy
body of Jesu Christ. Certainly the priest is the minister
of God using the word of God by the commandment and
ordinance of God.

But God is the principal and invisible worker to whom be
submitted all creatures to be ordered after his will and
all to obey his commandment. Then thou oughtest more
to believe in almighty God and in that right excellent
sacrament than in thine own will or any other visible
token: And therefore to this holy work thou oughtest to
come with great dread and reverence.

Take good heed then and see from whom this mystery is given
unto thee and that is by the putting to of the hands of
the Bishop thou art admitted unto that high room. Be-
hold now thou art made a priest and consecrated to do
this holy mystery. See then that faithfully and devoutly
and in due time thou offer thy sacrifices unto God and
show thyself irreprovable and without fault.

Thou hast not loosed thy charge (lightened thy burden) of
living but hast bound thee with a more strait bond of
discipline and art holden to a more great perfection of
holiness. Also the priest ought to be adorned with all

294 Thomas d Kempis

virtues and to give to all their example of good and holy
life.

His conversation ought not to be with common people or the
ways of common men but with the angels in heaven or
with the perfect men in the earth. The priest clothed with
holy vestments occupieth the room of our Lord Jesu
Christ to the end that he may right humbly pray unto
God for himself and also for all others. For he hath both
before him and behind him the very sign of the cross that
he may continually remember the passion of our Lord
Jesu Christ. Before him he beareth the cross to the end
that he may diligently behold the traces and the example
of our Lord Jesu Christ and that he may fervently study
to follow them. Behind him also he is signed with the
cross to the intent he should suffer for the honour of God
all adversities and injuries done unto hirq. of other. Be-
fore him he beareth the cross for that he should bewail
properly his sins; and behind him likewise to sorrow
with great compassion for the sins of others and to know
himself that he is a man between God and the sinner:
And that he should depart not from orison and from that
holy oblation till he deserves to purchase the grace of
God. When the priest saith mass he honoureth God, he
giveth joy unto the angels, he edifieth the church, he
helpeth the loving people, he giveth rest to them that
be passed and maketh himself partner of all good works.

CHAPTER VI

AN INWARD REMEMBRANCE AND EXERCISE THAT A MAN OUGHT
TO HAVE AFORE THE RECEIVING OF THE BODY OF OUR
LORD JESU CHRIST

LORD when I think of thy worthiness and of my great filthiness
I tremble strongly and am confounded in myself. For if
I receive thee not I flee the eternal life and if I unworthily

The Imitation of Christ 295

receive thee I run into thy wrath. What shall I then do,
my good Lord, my helper, protector, comforter, and right
sure counsellor hi all mine infirmities and necessities?
Teach me good Lord thy right way, and purpose unto me
some exercise fit to the receiving of this holy mystery.
For it is necessary unto me and greatly profitable to
know how devoutly and reverently I ought to prepare my
heart to receive this holy sacrament or to make so goodly
sacrifice.

CHAPTER VII

THE REMEMBERING OF HIS OWN CONSCIENCE WITH PURPOSE
OF AMENDMENT

THE priest above all things ought to desire with sovereign
reverence and profound meekness of heart, full and firm
faith, humble hope and piteous (pious) intent to the
honour of God to celebrate, take and receive this worthy
sacrament, to examine diligently and make clear and
open the conscience by true contrition and make con-
fession as far as he hath power, so that thou know noth-
ing that grieves thee or bites thy said conscience or lets
(hinders) thee freely to come unto the same daily.

To have displeasure of all thy sins in general and for thine
excesses and sins thou oughtest to have sighing and sor-
row more special. And if the time suffer it confess unto
God in secret of thy heart the miseries of all thy passions,
weep and have sorrow that thou art yet so carnal and
worldly and so ill mortified from thy passions, so full of
motions and lusts, so ill composed and ordered in thy
outward wits, so often applied unto vain fantasies, so
much inclined unto outward things, so negligent in the
inward spiritual things, so ready to laughter and to all
dissolution, so hard to weep and to compunction, so ready
to follow the loose manner and the pleasures of the flesh,
so slow and dull to the fervour of virtue, so curious to

296 Thomas d Kempis

behold and to hear new fair things, so negligent and loath
to learn and desire things that be meek and abject, so
covetous to receive and possess many goods, and so scarce
(sparing) to give them and glad to hold and retain them,
so evil advised in speaking and so incontinent to be still,
so unordered in manners, so importune in thy deeds, so
greedy and so quick in thy meat, so deaf unto the word
of God, so ready to rest, so unhasty to labour, so waking
to fables, so sleepy to holy vigils, so negligent unto the
service of God, so speedy to the end thereof, so wavering
to take heed, so cold in devotion in the time of the mass,
so dry in receiving of the sacrament, so soon withdrawn,
so seldom well gathered unto thyself, so suddenly moved
unto wrath, so easily stirred to the displeasure of others,
so hasty to judge, so rough in reproving, so joyous in
prosperity, so weak in adversity, so often purposing many
good things and bringing little to effect.

These and other thy defaults with sorrow and great displeas-
ure of thine own frailty must be confessed and sorrow-
fully be wept. Set thee then with full purpose always to
amend thyself and to perfect thee from better unto bet-
ter; and, after, offer thyself with plain resignation and
entire will to the honour of my name a perpetual sacri-
fice within the altar of thine heart.

Then, thy soul and body commit faithfully unto me, that
thou so may deserve worthily to come and offer thy sacri-
fice to God and to receive the sacrament of my body
healthfully. For no oblation is more worthy and no satis-
faction can be so great for to deface the sins of man as to
offer himself to God purely and entirely with the oblation
of the holy body of Christ Jesu in the mass and the holy
communion.

Ai id they who ever shall do as much as lieth in them and have
true repentance of their offences past, as oft as they shall
come unto me, they shall recover pardon and grace.

I am Life and will not the death of a sinner, but rather will
that he return and live again. And then will I no more

The Imitation oj Christ 297

remember his sins and trespass but all shall be forgiven
and pardoned unto him.

CHAPTER VIII

OF THE OBLATION OF JESU CHRIST ON THE CROSS; OF THB
PROPER RESIGNATION THAT MAN SHOULD MAKE OF HIMSEL*

O MAN, as I did offer myself and my free-will unto God my
father, my hands spread on the cross, and my body naked
for thy sins; insomuch that nothing remained in me, but
all passed in sacrifice to appease His wrath, in like wise
thou oughtest to offer unto me willingly thyself in pure
oblation daily in the mass with all thine affections and
strengths, as profoundly and fervently as thou mayest.

What ask I of thee more but that thou study to resign thyself
unto me entirely? What thing so ever thou givest me
else I care not for.

For I demand not thy gifts but only thyself.

As nothing should suffice thee without me, likewise nothing
may please me what soever thou shalt give if thou offer
not thyself to me.

Offer thee then, give thee wholly unto me: and that oblation
shall be acceptable.

Behold I did offer myself wholly unto my father for thee,
and for thee I did give all my body and blood, to the
end that I should be all wholly thine, and thou mine also.

But and if thou rest in thyself and present thee not with good
will unto me then there is no full oblation neither entire
perfect union between us; for the free oblation of thyself
into the hands of almighty God ought to go before all
thy works, if thou wouldst obtain liberty and grace.

And the lack of this is the cause that so few folk be illumined
and have inward liberty, for they cannot renounce them-
selves.

Thomas d Kempis

My sentence is firm and stable, that none may be my disciple,

without he renounceth all that he hath.
Then if thou desire to be my disciple offer thyself unto me

with all thine affection.

CHAPTER IX

THAT WE OUGHT TO OFFER UNTO GOD ALL THAT WE HAVE;
AND TO PRAY FOR ALL PEOPLE

LORD, all things that be in heaven and in earth be thine, and
my willing desire is to offer me unto thee perpetually in
oblation, so that I may be thine everlastingly.

And this day, good Lord, I offer unto thee myself perpetually
for ever more to be thy servant with my heart and soul
fully to continue. I beseech thee receive this holy oblation
of me that am unworthy to offer me unto thy precious
body in the presence of angels assisting invisible, to the
end that it may be to the health of one and all thy people.
Lord I also offer unto thee all my sins which I have com-
mitted before thee and thy holy angels since the first day
I began or in any wise might sin unto this present day.
And I beseech thee to inflame me with the burning fire of
charity and to deface and put away all the conditions of
my sins. Cleanse my conscience from all sin and restore
it unto thy grace which by sin I have lost. And perfectly
pardon me of all mine offences that I may receive per-
fectly the sweet kiss of peace. What can I do more for
my sins but meekly confess them with sorrowful weeping
and incessantly praying to thee of thy piteous mercy?

I beseech thee Lord exalt me and be ready unto me when I
am before thee. O my good Lord greatly all my sins dis-
please me and by thy grace I will never begin them
again; but ever shall have sorrow for them as long as I
shall live and shall be ready to do penance and make
satisfaction to the best of my little power. Wherefore now

The Imitation of Christ 299

good Lord pardon me of my great and abominable sins
and for the honour of thy holy name save my soul which
thou hast dearly bought with thy most precious blood.
And I commit me good Lord unto thy great mercy and
resign me wholly unto thy hands. Do with me Lord after
thy bounty and not after my malice and iniquity.

Also I offer unto thee all my deeds that I have done albeit
they be full few and imperfect that thou mayst sanctify
and amend them as they be agreeable and acceptable
unto thee. And always good Lord draw me from better
to better and conduct and lead me slothful and unworthy
sinner unto a good and lawful end.

In like wise I offer unto thee the desires of all devout persons,
the necessities of my kinsfolk and friends and of all them
that have done me good or be dear unto me and all other
for thy love, and they that have desired or required me
to make sacrifice for their friends, living or past the
world, so that they may feel help, Consolation, Defence,
and Preservation from all perils, and deliverance of pains
by thy grace so that they may yield unto thee joy and
gladness with magnifying and praise for their deliverance.

I offer unto thee also prayer and holy oblations for all them
specially that have caused unto me heaviness, hurt, or
any manner of damage; and likewise for them that I
have troubled, grieved, vexed or slandered in words or
deeds, knowingly or ignorantly, to the end, blessed Lord,
that we all may be pardoned of our offences done the
one against the other. And good Lord Jesu take from
our heart all suspicion, wrath and indignation, and all
that may break or let (hinder) charity, or diminish us
from thine eternal love.

O Lord, have pity; blessed Jesu, have pity; and give thy
mercy unto all them that ask it and thy grace unto them
that have need. And make us so worthy to have thy
grace that we may go unto the life eternal. Amen.

3OO Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER X

THAT THE HOLY SACRAMENT OUGHT NOT LIGHTLY
TO BE FORBORNE

IT BEHOVETH thec of ten to return unto the fountain of grace,
mercy, bounty, pity and purity that thou mayst be
cleansed from thy vices and passions, so that thou mayst
be made more strong and waking against all temptations
and subtle crafts of the fiend.

For thine enemy knowing the great fruit and remedy in re-
ceiving of this holy sacrament, striveth, by all manner
of occasions that he may, to draw thee unto him again
and hindereth the faithful and devout people when any
dispose them to the receiving of this holy communion.

The enemy, Satan, putteth to them the most grievous tempta-
tions that he may. Also, it is written in the history of
Job, this evil spirit cometh among the children of God
to the end that by his cursed custom he perturbeth, per-
plexeth and maketh them fearful, diminishing their af-
fection and impugning them of their faith, so that per-
adventure they leave their good purpose in respect of
that holy body which they at that time come for to
receive.

But we should take no thought nor fear of the crafty wiles
of that false enemy that be so foul and horrible, but all
such fantasies we should cast again at the head of that
wicked spirit.

It is a poor mischievous spirit, that so letteth (hindereth)
and mocketh us; and for any assaults or commotions that
he exciteth, this holy sacrament ought not to be left.

Also oftentimes too great solicitude for devotion hindereth
us, and sometimes seriousness about the confession to
be made. But do after the counsel of the wise and take
away this anxiety and stryple (scruple) : for it hindereth
the grace of God and destroyeth devotion.

The Imitation of Christ 301

And leave not the holy receiving of Jesu Christ for little tribu-
lation, dejection or faint heart; but with good will go
to the confessor, and pardon all other that have offended
thee; and if thou have offended any other, meekly ask
forgiveness. And then dread not but God will pardon
thee.

What profiteth it long to tarry from confession or to defer
the receiving of thy blessed saviour? First purge thee
and cast out the venom and then haste thee to take the
remedy, and thou shalt feel the much better than if thou
hadst deferred it.

For if thou this day leave the holy receiving for coldness of
devotion and feebleness of mind, peradventure to-morrow
thou shalt find thyself more slack, and withdraw so long
that thou shalt find thyself much worse and more unable.

Then as soon as thou mayst take away this feebleness of mind
and the spice (species) of sloth; for to be always only in
anguish and heaviness for thy sin, passing the time in
tribulation and because of daily obstacles and imper-
fections to withdraw thee from these divine mysteries
without turning unto the pitiful merit of our saviour
Christ Jesu, this profiteth thee not.

But the long tarrying to receive thy saviour annoyeth thee
greatly and maketh thee slow and shall bring daily unto
thee a greater slothfulness.

But, alas for sorrow, some cold and desolate persons gladly
seek reasons for tarrying from confession and from the
receiving of this holy sacrament; because they covet
many delays lest they shall be bound to give themselves
to a stricter manner in the ordering of their life.

Alas how little charity and how slender devotion have they
that put away so easily the receiving of this holy sacra-
ment.

O how happy be they and agreeable unto almighty God who
lead so holy a life that they keep their conscience in
clean and pure fear, so that they may daily dispose
themselves and make them ready and with great affec-

302 Thomas d Kempis

tion desire to receive that holy sacrament at all times,
if it were lawful.

Nevertheless sometimes by meekness to abstain or for other
lawful causes that may hinder reverence, this is to be
praised.

But if sloth or negligence keep him back he ought to
endeavour himself as far as in him is, and our Lord shall
be present to his desire and will specially behold his good
will; but when he is lawfully hindered and have a
good will and pious mind to receive his maker, he shall
not fail to have the fruit of that blessed sacrament.

For every person with perfect devotion may every day receive
that holy sacrament spiritually to his health and with-
out prohibition; and in certain times and days estab-
lished he ought to receive the body of his saviour with
effectual reverence sacramen tally ; and to seek and do it
more to the praise and honour of God almighty than to
his own consolation.

For as often as he spiritually is communed and refreshed in-
visibly so often he remembreth devoutly the mystery of
the incarnation of Christ and his painful passion and is
kindled in love of him; he that otherwise prepareth not
himself except at the time of a great feast or else when
compelled by custom he shall oftentimes be full unready.

Blessed is he that offers himself unto almighty God as of t as
he doth the mass or else receives this honourable sacra-
ment.

And in doing this mystery, tarry not nor be too hasty but
keep the common manner with such as thou livest among.
Thou oughtest not to do so that the hearers thereof take
grief or irksomeness but keep the common way after the
ordinances of the holy fathers. And rather conform thee
to the profit of others than to thine own devotion or
private pleasure.

The Imitation of Christ 303

CHAPTER XI

HOW THE BLESSED BODY OF OUR LORD JESU CHRIST IS
GREATLY NECESSARY FOR THE HEALTH OF MAN'S SOUL

RIGHT sweet Jesu how great consolation and sweetness is

it to a devout soul to eat with thee at thy dinner where
none other meat is given but thyself which art the only
lover and oughtest to be desired above all desires of man's
heart: and how sweet a thing should it be in thy pres-
ence from the bottom of the heart to send out tears, to
dew and wash thy precious feet with the piteous Mag-
dalen. But where is that devotion or the plenteous effu-
sion of holy tears?

Certainly in beholding thee with thy holy angels all my heart
ought to burn and weep with joy: for I have verily thee
present, though thou be hid under a strange likeness, for
mine eyes may not suffer to behold thee in thy proper
and godly clearness: nor might all the world abide to
behold the clearness of thy joy and majesty.

Wherefore, good Lord, thou helpest my weakness in that it
pleaseth thee to cover thyself under the form of that holy
sacrament.

1 verily worship thee whom the angels worship in heaven, but

in me it is as yet but in faith and the angels worship thee
there in thine own likeness without coverture.

I must be content with true faith and so walk till the day
come of eternal clearness when the shadow of figures shall
vanish; for when that perfect day shall come the usage
of this holy sacrament shall cease.

For they that be blessed in heavenly joy shall have no need
of any sacramental medicine: for they shall joy with-
out end in the presence of God, seeing him in his glory
face to face and shall be transformed from clearness unto
clearness with the Godhead incomprehensible: they shall

304 Thomas d Kempis

taste the son of God made man as he was from the be-
ginning and shall be everlastingly.

I then remembering me of the great marvels and solace though
it be spiritual, it is to me grievous when I remember those
marvels. For all things that I hear or see in this world I
count as nothing so long as I see not my Lord God in his
glory.

Lord God, thou art my witness that nothing can give me com-
fort nor no creature may give me rest but thou my Lord
God whom I desire eternally to behold.

But that is a thing to me not possible while that I am in this
mortal life; wherefore it behoveth me with great patience
to order myself and meekly to submit me unto thee in all
my desires.

Good Lord, the saints that now joy with thee in the kingdom
of heaven abode the coming of the joy with great faith
and patience as long as they lived.

I believe the same that they did believe, and hope as they
have hoped, and trust by the means of thy grace to come
thither as they now be.

In the meanwhile I shall in good and fast faith be comforted
by examples of holy saints. Also I have full virtuous and
holy books for the consolation and mirror of my life and
also above all these things thy sacred body for my
singular refuge and remedy. I feel that two things be
unto me right necessary without which this miserable
life should be unto me inportable. For as long as I shall
be holden in this present body I confess me to have need
of two things, that is to know (say) of meat and light.

But therefore thou hast given unto me which am poor and
sick thy holy body to the refreshing of my soul and
body, and also thou hast put before my faith the light
of thy holy word; and without these two things I may
not well live spiritually; for thy word, my Lord and
God, is the light of my soul and the holy sacrament is
the bread of my life.

These two things so necessary may also be called the tables

The Imitation of Christ 305

set on either side in the treasury of holy church; the one
table is of the holy altar having this lovely bread, that
is to say, the precious body of Jesu Christ; the other
is the law of God containing the holy doctrine and show-
ing the right faith and surely guiding me unto the in-
ward sacrifice where are the holy jewels called Sancta
Sanctorum (Holy of Holies) .

I yield unto thee thanks Lord Jesu Christ which art the very
clearness of eternal light for this table of holy doctrine
which thou hast ministered unto us by thy servants,
prophets, apostles and other doctors; and I yield unto
thee thanks again, creator and redeemer of mankind,
which hast declared thy great charity unto all the world
and hast prepared this royal supper in the which thou
hast not purposed to be eaten the figurative lamb but
thy most holy body and precious blood rejoicing all thy
creatures by that sacred banquet and sweetly fulfilling
them with that healthful chalice, wherein be hid all the
delights and joys of Paradise; and the holy angels be
fed with us with sweetness very plenteous.

O how great and honourable is the office of priests to whom
is given power to consecrate by divine words, to bless
with their lips, to hold with their hands, receive with their
mouths and to minister unto other the Lord and God of
all majesty. O how clean ought to be the hands, how
pure the mouth, how holy the body and how undefiled
the heart of a priest unto whom so often entereth the
author of all purity.

Certainly from the mouth of a priest ought no word to pro-
ceed but that which is honest and profitable, that so often
receiveth sacrament of the holy body of Jesu Christ; his
eyes ought to be simple and shamefast that so custom-
ably behold the holy body; the hands pure to lift up
unto heaven which handle the creator of heaven and
earth. For specially for a priest it is said in the law, Be
ye holy for I your Lord God am holy. O God omnipotent
thy grace be helping unto us that we which have taken

306 Thomas it Kempis

the office of priesthood may reverently and devoutly
serve thee with all purity and good conscience and if we
may not live in so great innocency of life as we ought to
do, give us grace at the least that we may weep and
sorrow for the evils that we have committed and done,
so that in spiritual meekness and purpose of good will we
may from henceforth strongly serve thee with fervent
courage.

CHAPTER XII

WITH HOW GREAT DILIGENCE HE OUGHT TO PREPARE

HIMSELF THAT SHOULD RECEIVE THE SACRAMENT

OF CHRIST

OUR Lord saith: I the lover of purity and the liberal giver of
all holiness, I search the pure clean heart and there will
I rest. Make ready then for me thine heart and I shall
be with thee then as I was with my disciples at Easter
(the Passover).

I shall come and dwell with thee if thou wilt, but then it
behoveth thee to purify and cleanse the habitation of
thine heart from all sins, leave all bruit (sound) and
noise of the world with all thy vices, and inclose and
shut thee in thy chamber, as doth a solitary bird under
the evesings (eaves) of a house, and remember all the
excuses and all thy defaults committed; remember them
with all thy soul and with bitterness of heart.

For a good friend will make ready for his well beloved friend
a good and a pleasant place to dwell in and in doing that
it is well known with what good affection he receiveth
his said friend.

It is for truth that thou oughtest to understand that thou
canst not give satisfaction by any merit or labour of thy-
self, not and if thou diddest labour with the best of thy
power by a whole year, though thou haddest none other
thing to do.

The Imitation of Christ 307

But thou shall understand that by my power only and grace
it is permitted and granted unto thee to come to my
table and that if a poor man were called unto the table
of a rich lord and the poor man had none other thing to
give again for the benefit of that rich man but sweetly
and meekly to thank him, he would do it.

So oughtest thou to do diligently as much as is in thee and
not by custom or necessity, but with all dread, reverence
and affection thou oughtest to take the blessed body of
our Lord God since that it pleaseth him to come unto
thee.

Certainly I am he that calleth thee and I have commanded
it so to be done and I shall supply that which faileth
in thee; wherefore come and receive me and when in
doing that I give unto thee grace of devotion, yield thou
thanks unto me thy God, not thinking that thou art
worthy thereof of thyself but that I have had mercy on
thee.

And if thou have not that grace when thou wouldest but feel
thyself dry and unlusty, yet continue thine orison with
sorrowful weeping and smite at my door without ceasing
unto the time that thou mayst receive a little crumb or
drop of healthful grace and know of a truth thou hast
much need of me and I have none of thee.

Thou comest not to sanctify me but I am he that shall sanctify
thee and make thee better to the end that thou mayst be
united with me to receive new grace and to purpose
amendment.

Be not willing to defer my grace but with all diligence pre-
pare thine heart to receive within thee thy loving Lord.
And not only prepare thee before thy communion, but
also maintain and keep thee after the receiving of thy
said holy sacrament in that same devotion in as much as
thou mayst: for thou oughtest to have no less diligence
than thou hadst afore.

For the good and diligent keeping of thy soul after the receiv-
ing of the blessed sacrament is a good preparation to

308 Thomas d Kempis

obtain greater grace. And they that do not so, show
themselves greatly evil-disposed when they abandon
themselves so soon and so largely to outward solace and
inward pleasures.

Wherefore keep thee from great bruit (sound) and speaking
and abide in the secret graces and fruits of thy God,
for thou hast him that all the world may not take away;
and I am he to whom thou oughtest to give thyself in
such manner that from henceforth thou live no more
in thyself but in me only.

CHAPTER XIII

HOW THE DEVOUT SOUL OUGHT EFFECTUALLY WITH ALL
HIS HEART TO BE UNITED UNTO JESU CHRIST

O LORD who shall grant me that I may find thee alone and
that I may open to thee all my heart and joy with thee
as my poor soul desireth and that here there be no crea-
ture to behold me but thou alone to speak to me and I
to thee, good Lord, as of custom one friend speaketh to
another secretly.

This I desire and pray thee, Lord Jesu, that I may be fully
united unto thee and withdraw my heart from all other
created things, that I may the sooner learn the eternal
and heavenly things by means of the receiving of this
holy sacrament.

Alas, my good Lord, when shall I be united and gathered all
wholly in thee and utterly forget myself? Thou art in
me and I with thee and thus assembled make us dwell
together I pray thee.

Truly thou art my chosen and beloved Lord and it hath
pleased thy benign grace to be inhabited in my soul all
the days of my life. Thou art my peacemaker in whom
is sovereign peace and true rest; without thee there is
nothing but labour, sorrow and infinite misery.

The Imitation of Christ 309

Thou my God are dosed and hid and thy counsel is not shared
by evil folks: but thy familiar speaking is with the meek
and simple folks.

O Lord, how good, benign and sweet is thy spirit which, that
thou mayst show unto the sons and children thy sweet-
ness, hast vouched safe to refresh them again and gives
to them refection of thy right sweet bread descended
from heaven.

Certainly there is none other so great a nation, lacking Christ's
faith, that hath their gods so near unto them as thou art,
our God and Lord, to all thy faithful Christian people
to whom thou givest thy blessed body to eat for their
daily comfort and to raise their hearts to high celestial
things. O what other folks be there so noble as the
Christian people or what creature is there so strongly be-
loved under heaven as is the devout soul in whom God
entereth and giveth feeding with his own glorious flesh
and blood.

$race inestimable and marvellous worthiness. O love with-
out measure singularly shewed unto man. But what shall
I yield unto God? and wherewith shall I recompense this
so great grace and charity? Truly there is nothing I may
give more agreeable to his mercy than to join my heart
perfectly unto him.

And when my soul shall be perfectly united with him, then
shall all my inward parts rejoice and then my Lord will
say unto me, If thou wilt be with me I will be with thee,
And I shall answer him, Blessed Lord I beseech thee dwell
with me, for all the desire of my heart is to be with thee
inseparable without departing.

3io Thomas & Kentpis

CHAPTER XIV

OF THE BURNING DESIRE THAT SOME CREATURES HAVE
TO THE BLESSED BODY OF OUR LORD JESU CHRIST

O LORD, how great is the multitude of thy sweetness which
thou hast hid for them that dread thee. When I remem-
ber me of many devout persons that have come to this
thy holy sacrament with so great fervent affection and
devotion I am then many times in myself confused and
have great shame that I go unto the altar and table of
that holy communion so rudely, with so cold devotion
and am so dry without affection of heart.

I am abashed that I am not all wholly inflamed in thy pres-
ence and so strongly drawn and established as many good
devout persons have been, which by the great desire of
this holy sacrament and sensible love of heart might not
contain nor withhold them from weeping, but effectually
with mouth, heart and body come unto that good Lord
as to the living fountain of all bounty and may not attain
to fulfil their hunger unless they take thy holy body
which they so desirously and spiritually may receive.

O true and benign faith of them that prevably (truly) show
the proof of thy holy presence; to them is verily known
their God in the breaking of bread which burneth and
broileth so strongly the heart of them in the love of Jesu
Christ: certainly such affection, devotion and vehement
burning love is far from me.

O good sweet and benign Jesu be unto me piteous and ready
to give and grant to thy poor beggar sometimes to feel
a little of that hearty love and affection in the receiving
of thy holy body to the end that my faith may be more
firm and my hope more perfect in thy bounty; and my
charity sometime so perfectly inflamed that I may experi-
ently have the heavenly manna that never may fail: I
know certainly the might of thy mercy may lend me thy

The Imitation of Christ 311

grace so much desired and visit me burningly with a burn-
ing spirit when the day of thy good pleasure shall come.
And though I be not inflamed with so great a desire of thy
special devout things yet have I desire by thy grace to
be inflamed with that burning love, praying the good Lord
that I may be made partner with all such thy fervent
lovers and that I may be numbered in their devout com-
pany. Amen.

CHAPTER XV

HOW MEEKLY THOU OUGHTEST TO BESEECH THE GRACE
OF DEVOTION AND TO RENOUNCE THYSELF

IT BEHOVETH thee instantly to seek the grace of devotion and
to ask incessantly, to abide it patiently and faithfully,
joyously to receive it and meekly to conserve it, and
with that studiously to remit unto God the time and the
manner of his sovereign visitation unto the time his
pleasure be to come unto thee: and principally thou
oughtest to meek (humble) thee when thou feelest but
little devotion within thee: and for all that thou oughtest
not to let thyself to fall or sorrow too much inordinately:
for full often our blessed Lord in a short moment giveti
thee which before he hath long time denied: also some-
time he giveth at the end of prayers that he did defer
at the beginning of the same.

If alway grace were so soon given that a man might have if
at his will or wish, it should not be easily borne of a weak
and imperfect soul. And therefore in good hope and meek
patience the grace of devotion ought to be abided (waited
for) and thou oughtest to impute it unto thyself and to
thy sins when it is not given unto thee or when it is
secretly taken away from thee. Some time a little thing
It is that may let (hinder) or hide thy grace if that may
be called little that letteth (hindreth) so great avail
(good).

312 Thomas d Kempis

But be it little or great if thou take that same away and
perfectly overcome it thou shalt obtain that thou desirest
as soon as thou with all thy heart hast given thyself to
God. And therefore seek not this nor that at thy pleasure
but put the whole in the hand of God and thou shalt
certainly find thyself right with him and in great peace
of soul; for there is nothing that ought to be so savoury
and pleasant as is the pleasure and divine will of God.

Then whosoever lif teth up his intent unto God with a simple
perfect heart and so voideth and maketh him naked of all
disordinate love or pleasure to any created things in all
the world he is most meet to receive the gift of devotion;
for our Lord gave his blessing there where he found the
vessels clean and void; and the more perfectly that any
renounce, mortify, despise and contemn themselves and
all the low things, the sooner grace shall enter and copi-
ously abound so that he shall feel his heart lift up as
though it were set in freedom and then he shall see his
heart largely abound and marvellously joy within him-
self, for that the hand of God shall be over him and he
shall submit him perpetually into his holy hands.

And so shall the man be blessed that seeketh God with all
his heart and his soul shall not be taken in vain works:
but such an one certainly in the receiving the holy body
of Jesu Christ meriteth and deserveth the grace of divine
union with God. For he beholdeth not only his own de-
votion and consolation but the great honour and glory
of God.

CHAPTER XVI

HOW WE OUGHT TO SHOW OUR NECESSITIES UNTO JESU
CHRIST AND ASK OF HIM BENIGN GRACE

O RIGHT sweet and most beloved Lord whom I now desire
to receive, thou, good Lord, knowest the sickness of
soul and necessity that I suffer, in what evils and vices

The Imitation of Christ 313

I sleeping am put, how often grieved, tempted, troubled
and dissolute. I come unto thee, Lord, to have consola-
tion and comfort. I speak to thee Lord; thou knowest all
my secret and inward thoughts which be manifest and
open unto thee. It is thou only that perfectly mayst help
me, for thou knowest what unto me is necessary and of
what goods above all other I have most need.

Albeit I am poor in virtue, alas, yet, merciful Lord, behold
me here before thee poor and naked, demanding pite-
ously thy sweet grace and mercy. And give thy poor
beggar that dieth for hunger some of thy heavenly re-
fection and chafe my cold heart with the burning flame
of thy love. Illumine me that am blinded and cannot see
with the clearness of thy presence; take away from my
thought all the earthly and inward things and turn them
into, and make me think them, foul and bitter and griev-
ous and contrary unto me.

And that I may take pleasure in the things that may please
thee; and all earthly created things may I have in
oblivion and turn my heart towards thee in heaven. And
let me not waver nor err upon earth but be thou only
my sweetness and consolation, my meat and drink, my
love and all my joy; so that my will be changed, in-
flamed, and burn all towards thee; so that I may be
made a spirit and inwardly united unto thee by grace
and burning love.

And suffer me not, blessed saviour, to depart from thee fast-
ing and dry with hunger and thirst, but do with me merci-
fully as often thou hast marvellously done with thy holy
servants.

What marvel it is to me that I am not all inflamed in thee
seeing that thou art the burning fire always illumining
and lightening the understanding of thy creatures.

314 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER XVII

OF THE BURNING LOVE AND GREAT AFFECTION THAT WE
SHOULD HAVE TO RECEIVE OUR SAVIOUR CHRIST JESU

O LORD GOD, in sovereign devotion, burning love and all
fervent affection of heart I desire as many other holy and
devout persons have desired to receive, who have been
greatly pleasant by the holiness of their life and by great
devotion.

O my God and eternal love and my eternal felicity I by right
great desire wish to receive thee as worthily and as
reverently as ever did any of thy holy servants. Albeit
that I am not worthy to have so great feelings of devo-
tion, yet offer I unto thee the affections of my heart as
truly as though I had all the burning and flaming desires
that they had.

Also I give and offer unto thee in sovereign reverence and
veneration all that a good debonair heart may contain.
And I will not nor do I covet to reserve anything to my-
self but I offer and make sacrifice unto thee with free
and perfect will of myself with all my goods.

Lord God, my creator and redeemer, this day I desire to
receive thee with such affection, reverence, praise,
honour, worthiness and love and with such faith hope
and purity as thy right holy mother and glorious Virgin
Mary who conceived thee, when she answered meekly
and devoutly unto the angel that showed unto her the
holy mystery of the incarnation of thee, the son of God,
"See here the handmaid of God; so be it done as thou
hast said."

And the right excellent precursor St. John Baptist that with
great joy sprang in thy presence by inspiration of the
Holy Ghost, then being in the womb of his mother; and
afterward beholding thee Jesu walking meekly among
men, he greatly humbling himself to the same with a

The Imitation of Christ 315

devout mind said: "The friend of the spouse standeth
and hearkneth and with comfort rejoiceth for to hear
the voice of the spouse." So I wish to be inflamed with
great and holy desire and with all my heart present me
unto thee.

And I give and offer unto thee for me all the jubilations of
devout hearts with burning affections, the excessive
thoughts, the high and spiritual illuminations and the
heavenly visions with all the virtues and praises, as well
celebrated as those which shall be celebrated, of all the
creatures of heaven and earth ; to the end that thou, Lord,
be worthily praised and be perpetually glorified of all
creatures; beseeching thee, Lord, to receive my prayers
and my desire for thine infinite benediction and praises
without end which rightly be due unto thee according to
the great abundance and multitude of thine inestimable
magnificence. And so my desire is to yield unto thee at all
hours and all moments of time; and so I desire and be-
seech all the heavenly spirits with all faithful Christian
creatures to yield unto thee praises with effectual prayers.

All the universal people praise thee. All generations and kinds
magnify thy holy and sweet name in great joy and burn-
ing devotion, and I pray that they who celebrate that
right high and holy sacrament and receive it in plain
faith and great reverence and devotion may merit well
towards thee and find grace and mercy.

And for me, wretched sinner, I meekly beseech thee, when I
shall have a taste of that sweet union and devotion so
much wished and desired that I may be fulfilled and fed
so marvellously at that heavenly and holy table that at
my departing from thence, thou, good Lord, wilt have
ne, poor sinner, in thy piteous remembrance.

316 Thomas & Kempis

CHAPTER XVIII

THAT A MAN SHOULD NOT BE TOO CURIOUS AN INQUISITOR
OP THAT HOLY SACRAMENT, BUT A MEEK FOLLOWER
OF CHRIST JESU IN SUBMITTING HIS REASON AND
FEELING TO THE HOLY FAITH

IT BEHOVES thee to keep thee from too curious inquisition of
the right deep sacrament if thou wilt not be confounded
in thine own fault and drowned in the depth of opinions.
For he that will inquire of the high majesty of God, he
shall anon be oppressed and thrust down from the glory
of the same. God may open more than man may under-
stand.

The devout and meek inquiry of truth is always ready to be
instructed and taught; and if thou study to go by the
holy and entire sentences of holy fathers, it is not re-
provable but well to be praised. And that simpleness is
well to be praised which leaveth the ways of difficulties
and questions and goeth by the plain and firm path of
the commandments of God. Many have lost their devo-
tion in seeking so busily high unspeakable things.

It is enough to demand of thee fast faith, pure and clean life,
and not the high and subtle profound mysteries of God;
for if thou canst not comprehend and understand that
which is within thee, how canst thou then understand
things that be above thee?

Submit thee then meekly unto God and all thy understanding
to the faith of holy church; and the light of true science
shall be given unto thee such as shall be to thee most
necessary and profitable.

Some be greatly tempted with the faith of that holy sacra-
ment but that is not to be reputed (set down) unto them
but rather unto that cursed enemy the fiend.

And therefore care not nor dispute not in thy thoughts nor
answer not to the doubts that the enemy of hell bringetb

The Imitation of Christ 317

before thee; but firmly trust in the words of God and be-
lieve in saints and holy prophets and then shall that
cursed enemy soon fly from thee. It is often profitable
that the servants of God suffer and sustain such assaults;
for the enemy tempteth not the miscreants and unfaithful
people, nor also the great sinners that he surely holdeth
and possesseth; but he tempteth, travaileth and tor-
menteth in divers manners the good faithful and Chris-
tian creatures.

And therefore keep thee always with meek true faith and
doubt thee not but come unto this holy sacrament with
long reverence, and that thou canst not understand com-
mit unto almighty God for he shall not deceive thee but
he shall be deceived that too much trusteth in himself.

God walked with the simple people and showed himself
openly unto the meek; he gave understanding unto
them that were poor in spirit, and hid his grace and
secrets from them that were proud, high and curious.

For the human reason may lightly err and be deceived but
the true faith may never deceive nor fail. All reason and
natural inquiry ought to follow the true faith without
further reasoning. Fast faith and true love surmounteth
all curious inquiry principally in this matter and mar-
vellously openeth to an understanding in secret manner
of this holy and right excellent sacrament.

O eternal God and without measure of height and bounty,
which hast made the infinite great and wonderful things
in the heaven and earth, none is sufficient to inquire into,
understand or find the secrets of thy so marvellous works;
and therefore they be called inestimable for man's reason
neither may nor can comprehend thy works; to whom
Lord God almighty be given laud and praise, without
end. Amen.

Thus endeth the jourth book following
Jesu Christ and the contemning
oj the world.

RELIGIO MEDICI

BY SIR THOMAS BROWNE

TO THE READER

CERTAINLY that man were greedy of Life, who should desire
to live when all the world were at an end ; and he must needs
be very impatient, who would repine at death in the society
of all things that suffer under it. Had not almost every man
suffered by the Press, or were not the tyranny thereof become
universal, I had not wanted reason for complaint: but in times
wherein I have lived to behold the highest perversion of that
excellent invention, the name of his Majesty defamed, the
Honour of Parliament depraved, the Writings of both de-
pravedly, anticipatively, counterfeitly imprinted; complaints
may seem ridiculous in private persons ; and men of my condi-
tion may be as incapable of affronts, as hopeless of their repa-
rations. And truely, had not the duty I owe unto the
importunity of friends, and the allegiance I must ever acknowl-
edge unto truth, prevailed with me, the inactivity of my
disposition might have made these sufferings continual, and
time, that brings other things to light, should have satisfied
me in the remedy of its oblivion. But because things evidently
false are not onely printed, but many things of truth most
falsely set forth, in this latter I could not but think my self
engaged: for, though we have no power to redress the former,
yet in the other the reparation being within our selves, I have
at present represented unto the world a full and intended
Copy of that Piece, which was most imperfectly and surrep-
titiously published before.

This, I confess, about seven years past, with some others
of affinity thereto, for my private exercise and satisfaction,
I had at leisurable hours composed; which being communi-
cated unto one, it became common unto many, and was by
Transcription successively corrupted, untill it arrived in a
most depraved Copy at the Press. He that shall peruse that
work, and shall take notice of sundry particularities and per-

321

322 Sir Thomas Browne

sonal expressions therein, will easily discern the intention was
not publick; and, being a private Exercise directed to my self,
what is delivered therein, was rather a memorial unto me,
than an Example or Rule unto any other; and therefore, if
there be any singularity therein correspondent unto the
private conceptions of any man, it doth not advantage them ;
or if dissentaneous thereunto, it no way overthrows them. It
was penned in such a place, and with such disadvantage, that,
(I protest), from the first setting of pen unto paper, I had
not the assistance of any good Book whereby to promote my
invention or relieve my memory; and therefore there might
be many real lapses therein, which others might take notice
of, and more than I suspected my self. It was set down many
years past, and was the sense of my conceptions at that time,
not an immutable Law unto my advancing judgement at all
times; and therefore there might be many things therein
plausible unto my passed apprehension, which are not agree-
able unto my present self. There are many things delivered
Rhetorically, many expressions therein meerly Tropical, and
as they best illustrate my intention ; and therefore also there
are many things to be taken in a soft and flexible sense, and
not to be called unto the rigid test of Reason. Lastly, all that
is contained therein is in submission unto maturer discern-
ments; and, as I have declared, shall no further father them
than the best and learned judgments shall authorize them:
under favour of which considerations I have made its secrecy
publick, and committed the truth thereof to every Ingenious
Reader*

THO. BROWNE.

RELIGIO MEDICI

THE FIRST PART

FOR my Religion, though there be several Circumstances that
might perswade the World I have none at all, (as the general
scandal of my Profession, the natural course of my Studies,
the indifferency of my Behaviour and Discourse in matters of
Religion, neither violently Defending one, nor with that
common ardour and contention Opposing another) ; yet, in
despight hereof, I dare without usurpation assume the hon-
ourable Stile of a Christian. Not that I meerly owe this Title
to the Font, my Education, or the clime wherein I was born,
(as being bred up either to confirm those Principles my Par-
ents instilled into my unwary Understanding, or by a general
consent proceed in the Religion of my Country) ; but having
in my riper years and confirmed Judgment seen and examined
all, I find my self obliged by the Principles of Grace, and the
Law of mine own Reason, to embrace no other Name but this.
Neither doth herein my zeal so far make me forget the general
Charity I owe unto Humanity, as rather to hate than pity
Turks, Infidels, and (what is worse), Jews; rather contenting
my self to enjoy that happy Stile, than maligning those who
refuse so glorious a Title.

But, because the Name of a Christian is become too gen-
eral to express our Faith, (there being a Geography of Reli-
gions as well as Lands, and every Clime distinguished not
only by their Laws and Limits, but circumscribed by their
Doctrines and Rules of Faith) ; to be particular, I am of that
Reformed new-cast Religion, wherein I dislike nothing but
the Name; of the same belief our Saviour taught, the Apostles
disseminated, the Fathers authorized, and the Martyrs con-
firmed; but by the sinister ends of Princes, the ambition and

323

324 Sir Thomas Browne

avarice of Prelates, and the fatal corruption of times, so de-
cayed, impaired, and fallen from its native Beauty, that it
required the careful and charitable hands of these times to
restore it to its primitive Integrity. Now the accidental oc-
casion whereupon, the slender means whereby, the low and
abject condition of the Person by whom so good a work was
set on foot, which in our Adversaries beget contempt and
scorn, fills me with wonder, and is the very same Objection
the insolent Pagans first cast at CHRIST and His Disciples.

Yet have I not so shaken hands with those desperate Reso-
lutions, (who had rather venture at large their decayed bot-
tom, than bring her in to be new trimm'd in the Dock; who
had rather promiscuously retain all, than abridge any, and
obstinately be what they are, than what they have been),
as to stand in Diameter and Swords point with them. We
have reformed from them, not against them; for (omitting
those Improperations and Terms of Scurrility betwixt us,
which only difference our Affections, and not our Cause),
there is between us one common Name and Appelation, one
Faith and necessary body of Principles common to us both;
and therefore I am not' scrupulous to converse and live with
them, to enter their Churches in defect of ours, and either
pray with them, or for them. I could never perceive any
rational Consequence from those many Texts which prohibit
the Children of Israel to pollute themselves with the Temples
of the Heathens; we being all Christians, and not divided
by such detested impieties as might prophane our Prayers,
or the place wherein we make them; or that a resolved Con-
science may not adore her Creator any where, especially in
places devoted to His Service; where, if their Devotions offend
Him, mine may please Him; if theirs prophane it, mine may
hallow it. Holy-water and Crucifix (dangerous to the com-
mon people), deceive not my judgment, nor abuse my devo-
tion at all. I am, I confess, naturally inclined to that which
misguided Zeal terms Superstition. My common conversation
I do acknowledge austere, my behaviour full of rigour, some-
times not without morosity; yet at my Devotion I love to

Religio Medici 325

use the civility of my knee, my hat, and hand, with all those
outward and sensible motions which may express or promote
my invisible Devotion. I should violate my own arm rather
than a Church; nor willingly deface the name of Saint or
Martyr. At the sight of a Cross or Crucifix I can dispense with
my hat, but scarce with the thought or memory of my Saviour.
I cannot laugh at, but rather pity, the fruitless journeys of
Pilgrims, or contemn the miserable condition of Fryars; for,
though misplaced in Circumstances, there is something in it
of Devotion. I could never hear the Ave-Mary Bell without
an elevation; or think it a sufficient warrant, because they
erred in one circumstance, for me to err in all, that is, in
silence and dumb contempt. Whilst, therefore, they directed
their Devotions to Her, I offered mine to GOD, and rectified
the Errors of their Prayers by rightly ordering mine own. At
a solemn Procession I have wept abundantly, while my con-
sorts, blind with opposition and prejudice, have fallen into
an excess of scorn and laughter. There are, questionless, both
in Greek, Roman, and African Churches, Solemnities and
Ceremonies, whereof the wiser Zeals do make a Christian use,
and stand condemned by us, not as evil in themselves, but as
allurements and baits of superstition to those vulgar heads
that look asquint on the face of Truth, and those unstable
Judgments that cannot consist in the narrow point and centre
of Virtue without a reel or stagger to the Circumference.

As there were many Reformers, so likewise many Reforma-
tions; every Country proceeding in a particular way and
method, according as their national Interest, together with
their Constitution and Clime, inclined them; some angrily,
and with extremity; others calmly, and with mediocrity; not
rending, but easily dividing the community, and leaving an
honest possibility of a reconciliation; which though peaceable
Spirits do desire, and may conceive that revolution of time
and the mercies of GOD may effect, yet that judgment that
shall consider the present antipathies between the two ex-
treams, their contrarieties in condition, affection, and opinion,

326 Sir Thomas Browne

may with the same hopes expect an union in the Poles of
Heaven.

But (to difference my self nearer, and draw into a lesser Cir-
cle), there is no Church whose every part so squares unto my
Conscience; whose Articles, Constitutions, and Customs seems
so consonant unto reason, and as it were framed to my par-
ticular Devotion, as this whereof I hold my Belief, the Church
of England; to whose Faith I am a sworn Subject, and there-
fore in a double Obligation subscribe unto her Articles, and
endeavour to observe her Constitutions. Whatsoever is be-
yond, as points indifferent, I observe according to the rules
of my private reason, or the humour and fashion of my
Devotion; neither believing this, because Luther affirmed it,
or disproving that, because Calvin hath disavouched it. I
condemn not all things in the Council of Trent, nor approve
all in the Synod of Dort. In brief, where the Scripture is silent,
the Church is my Text; where that speaks, 'tis but my Com-
ment: where there is a joynt silence of both, I borrow not the
rules of my Religion from Rome or Geneva, but the dictates
of my own reason. It is an unjust scandal of our adversaries,
and a gross errour in our selves, to compute the Nativity of
our Religion from Henry the Eighth, who, though he rejected
the Pope, refus'd not the faith of Rome, and effected no more
than what his own Predecessors desired and assayed in Ages
past, and was conceived the State of Venice would have at-
tempted in our days. It is as uncharitable a point in us to
fall upon those popular scurrilities and opprobrious scoffs of
the Bishop of Rome, to whom, as a temporal Prince, we owe
the duty of good language. I confess there is cause of passion
between us: by his sentence I stand excommunicated; Heretick
is the best language h*e affords me; yet can no ear witness I
ever returned him the name of Antichrist, Man of Sin, or
Whore of Babylon. It is the method of Charity to suffer with-
out reaction: those usual Satyrs and invectives of the Pulpit
may perchance produce a good effect on the vulgar, whose ears
are opener to RJietorick than Logick; yet do they in no wise
confirm the faith of wiser Believers, who know that a good

Religio Medici 327

cause needs not to be patron'd by passion, but can sustain it
self upon a temperate dispute.

I could never divide my self from any man upon the dif-
ference of an opinion, or be angry with his judgment for not
agreeing with me in that from which perhaps within a few
days I should dissent my self. I have no Genius to disputes in
Religion, and have often thought it wisdom to decline them,
especially upon a disadvantage, or when the cause of Truth
might suffer in the weakness of my patronage. Where we desire
to be informed, 'tis good to contest with men above our selves;
but to confirm and establish our opinions, 'tis best to argue
with judgments below our own, that the frequent spoils and
Victories over their reasons may settle in ourselves an esteem
and confirmed Opinion of our own. Every man is not a proper
Champion for Truth, nor fit to take up the Gauntlet in the
cause of Verity: many, from the ignorance of these Maximes,
and an inconsiderate Zeal unto Truth, have too rashly charged
the troops of Error, and remain as Trophies unto the enemies
of Truth. A man may be in as just possession of Truth as of
a City, and yet be forced to surrender ; 'tis therefore far better
to enjoy her with peace, than to hazzard her on a battle. If,
therefore, there rise any doubts in my way, I do forget them,
or at least defer them till my better settled judgement and
more manly reason be able to resolve them; for I perceive
every man's own reason in his best CEdipus, and will, upon a
reasonable truce, find a way to loose those bonds wherewith
the subtleties of error have enchained our more flexible and
tender judgements. In Philosophy, where Truth seems double-
fac'd, there is no man more Paradoxical than my self: but in
Divinity I love to keep the Road; and, though not in an
implicite, yet an humble faith, follow the great wheel of the
Church, by which I move, not reserving any proper Poles
or motion from the Epicycle of my own brain. By this means
I leave no gap for Heresies, Schismes, or Errors, of which at
present I hope I shall not injure Truth to say I have no taint
or tincture. I must confess my greener studies have been
polluted with two or three; not any begotten in the latter

328 Sir Thomas Browne

Centuries, but old and obsolete, such as could never have been
revived, but by such extravagant and irregular heads as mine:
for indeed Heresies perish not with their Authors, but, like
the river Arethusa, though they lose their currents in one place,
they rise up again in another. One General Council is not able
to extirpate one single Heresie: it may be cancell'd for the
present; but revolution of time, and the like aspects from
Heaven, will restore it, when it will flourish till it be con-
demned again. For as though there were a Metempsuchosis,
and the soul of one man passed into another, Opinions do find,
after certain Revolutions, men and minds like those that first
begat them. To see our selves again, we need not look for
Plato J s year: every man is not only himself; there hath been
many Diogenes, and as many Timons, though but few of
that name: men are liv'd over again, the world is how as it
was in Ages past; there was none then, but there hath been
some one since that parallels him, and is, as it were, his re-
vived self.

Now the first of mine was that of the Arabians, That the
Souls of men perished with their Bodies, but should yet be
raised again at the last day. Not that I did absolutely con-
ceive a mortality of the Soul; but if that were, (which Faith,
not Philosophy, hath yet throughly disproved), and that
both entred the grave together, yet I held the same conceit
thereof that we all do of the body, that it should rise again.
Surely it is but the merits of our unworthy Natures, if we
sleep in darkness until the last Alarum. A serious reflex upon
my own unworthiness did make me backward from challeng-
ing this prerogative of my Soul: so that I might enjoy my
Saviour at the last, I could with patience be nothing almost
unto Eternity.

The second was that of Origen, That GOD would not persist
in His vengeance for ever, but after a definite time of His
wrath, He would release the damned Souls from torture.
Which error I fell into upon a serious contemplation of the
great Attribute of GOD, His Mercy; and did a little cherish
it in my self, because I found therein no malice, and a ready

Religio Medici 329

weight to sway me from the other extream of despair, where-
unto Melancholy and Contemplative Natures are too easily
disposed.

A third there is, which I did never positively maintain or
practise, but have often wished it had been consonant to
Truth, and not offensive to my Religion, and that is, the
Prayer for the Dead; whereunto I was inclined from some
charitable inducements, whereby I could scarce contain my
Prayers for a friend at the ringing of a Bell, or behold his
Corps without an Orison for his Soul. 'Twas a good way,
methought, to be remembred by posterity, and far more noble
than an History.

These opinions I never maintained with pertinacy, or en-
deavoured to enveagle any mans belief unto mine, nor so
much as ever revealed or disputed them with my dearest
friends; by which means I neither propagated them in others,
nor confirmed them in my self; but suffering them to flame
upon their own substance, without addition of new fuel, they
went out insensibly of themselves. Therefore these Opinions,
though condemned by lawful Councels, were not Heresies in
me, but bare Errors, and single Lapses of my understanding,
without a joynt depravity of my will. Those have not onely
depraved understandings, but diseased affections, which can-
not enjoy a singularity without an Heresie, or be the Author
of an Opinion without they be of a Sect also. This was the
villany of the first Schism of Lucifer, who was not content to
err alone, but drew into his Faction many Legions of Spirits;
and upon this experience he tempted only Eve, as well under-
standing the Communicable nature of Sin, and that to deceive
but one, was tacitely and upon consequence to delude them
both.

That Heresies should arise, we have the Prophesie of
CHRIST; but that old ones should be abolished, we hold no
prediction. That there must be Heresies, is true, not only in
our Church, but also in any other: even in doctrines heretical,
there will be super-heresies; and Arians not only divided from
their Church, but also among themselves. For heads that are

330 Sir Thomas Browne

disposed unto Schism and complexionally prepense to innova-
tion, are naturally indisposed for a community, nor will be
ever confined unto the order or ceconomy of one body; and,
therefore, when they separate from others, they knit but
loosely among themselves; nor contented with a general
breach or dichotomy with their Church do subdivide and
mince themselves almost into Atoms. Tis true, that men of
singular parts and humours have not been free from singular
opinions and conceits in all Ages; retaining something, not
only beside the opinion of his own Church or any other, but
also any particular Author; which, notwithstanding, a sober
Judgment may do without offence or heresie; for there is yet,
after all the Decrees of Councils and the niceties of the Schools,
many things untouch'd, unimagin'd, wherein the liberty of
an honest reason may play and expatiate with security, and
far without the circle of an Heresie.

As for those wingy Mysteries in Divinity, and airy subtle-
ties in Religion, which have unhing'd the brains of better
heads, they never stretched the Pia Mater of mine. Me thinks
there be not impossibilities enough in Religion for an active
faith; the deepest Mysteries ours contains have not only been
illustrated, but maintained, by Syllogism and the rule of
Reason. I love to lose my self in a mystery, to pursue my
Reason to an altitudo! 'Tis my solitary recreation to pose
my apprehension with those involved ^Enigmas and riddles
of the Trinity, with Incarnation, and Resurrection. I can
answer all the Objections of Satan and my rebellious reason
with that odd resolution I learned of Tertullian, Certum est,
quia impossibile est. I desire to exercise my faith in the diffi-
cultest point; for to credit ordinary and visible objects is not
faith, but perswasion. Some believe the better for seeing
CHRIST'S Sepulchre; and, when they have seen the Red Sea,
doubt not of the Miracle. Now, contrarily, I bless my self
and am thankful that I lived not in the days of Miracles, that
I never saw CHRIST nor His Disciples. I would not have been
one of those Israelites that pass'd the Red Sea, nor one of
CHRIST'S patients on whom He wrought His wonders; then

Religio Medici 33 1

had my faith been thrust upon me, nor should I enjoy that
greater blessing pronounced to all that believe and saw not.
Tis an easie and necessary belief, to credit what our eye and
sense hath examined. I believe He was dead, and buried, and
rose again; and desire to see Him in His glory, rather than
to contemplate Him in His Cenotaphe or Sepulchre. Nor is
this much to believe; as we have reason, we owe this faith
unto History: they only had the advantage of a bold and noble
Faith, who lived before His coming, who upon obscure prophe-
sies and mystical Types could raise a belief, and expect ap-
parent impossibilities.

'Tis true, there is an edge in all firm belief, and with an
easie Metaphor we may say, the Sword of Faith; but in these
obscurities I rather use it in the adjunct the Apostle gives it,
a Buckler; under which I conceive a wary combatant may
lye invulnerable. Since I was of understanding to know we
knew nothing, my reason hath been more pliable to the will
of Faith; I am now content to understand a mystery without
a rigid definition, in an easie and Platonick description. That
allegorical description of Hermes pleaseth me beyond all the
Metaphysical definitions of Divines. Where I cannot satisfy
my reason, I love to humour my fancy: I had as live you tell
me that anima est angelus hominis, est Corpus DEI, as En-
telechia;Lux est umbra DEI, as actus perspicui. Where
there is an obscurity too deep for our Reason, 'tis good to sit
down with a description, periphrasis, or adumbration; for by
acquainting our Reason how unable it is to display the visible
and obvious effects of Nature, it becomes more humble and
submissive unto the subtleties of Faith; and thus I teach
my haggard and unreclaimed Reason to stoop unto the lure
of Faith. I believe there was already a tree whose fruit our
unhappy Parents tasted, though, in the same Chapter when
GOD forbids it, 'tis positively said, the plants of the field were
not yet grown, for GOD had not caus'd it to rain upon the earth.
I believe that the Serpent, (if we shall literally understand it) ,
from his proper form and figure, made his motion on his belly
before the curse. I find the tryal of the Pucellage and virginity

332 Sir Thomas Browne

of Women, which GOD ordained the Jews, is very fallible.
Experience and History informs me, that not onely many
particular Women, but likewise whole Nations, have escaped
the curse of Childbirth, which GOD seems to pronounce upon
the whole Sex. Yet do I believe that all this is true, which
indeed my Reason would perswade me to be false; and this
I think is no vulgar part of Faith, to believe a thing not only
above but contrary to Reason, and against the Arguments of
our proper Senses.

In my solitary and retired imagination

(neque enim cum portkus aut me
Lectulus accepit, desum mihi,)

I remember I am not alone, and therefore forget not to con-
template Him and His Attributes Who is ever with me, espe-
cially those two mighty ones, His Wisdom and Eternity. With
the one I recreate, with the other I confound, my under-
standing; for who can speak of Eternity without a solcecism,
or think thereof without an Extasie? Time we may compre-
hend; 'tis but five days elder then our selves, and hath the
same Horoscope with the World; but to retire so far back
as to apprehend a beginning, to give such an infinite start
forwards as to conceive an end, in an essence that we affirm
hath neither the one nor the other, it puts my Reason to St.
Paul's Sanctuary. My Philosophy dares not say the Angels
can do it. GOD hath not made a Creature that can comprehend
Him; 'tis a privilege of His own nature. I AM THAT I AM, was
His own definition unto Moses; and 'twas a short one, to
confound mortality, that durst question GOD, or ask Him
what He was. Indeed, He onely is; all others have and shall
be. But in Eternity there is no distinction of Tenses; and
therefore that terrible term Predestination, which hath trou-
bled so many weak heads to conceive, and the wisest to
explain, is in respect to GOD no prescious determination of
our Estates to come, but a definitive blast of His Will already
fulfilled, and at the instant that He first decreed it; for to
His Eternity, which is indivisible and all together, the last

Religio Medki 333

Trump is already sounded, the reprobates in the flame, and
the blessed in Abraham's bosome. St. Peter speaks modestly,
when he saith, a thousand years to GOD are but as one day;
for, to speak like a Philosopher, those continued instances of
time which flow into a thousand years, make not to Him one
moment: what to us is to come, to His Eternity is present,
His whole duration being but one permanent point, without
Succession, Parts, Flux, or Division.

There is no Attribute that adds more difficulty to the mys-
tery of the Trinity, where, though in a relative way of Father
and Son, we must deny a priority. I wonder how Aristotle
could conceive the World eternal, or how he could make good
two Eternities. His similitude of a Triangle comprehended
in a square doth somewhat illustrate the Trinity of our Souls,
and that the Triple Unity of GOD; for there is in us not three,
but a Trinity of Souls; because there is in us, if not three
distinct Souls, yet differing faculties, that can and do subsist
apart in different Subjects, and yet in us are so united as to
make but one Soul and substance. If one Soul were so perfect
as to inform three distinct Bodies, that were a petty Trinity:
conceive the distinct number of three, not divided nor sepa-
rated by the intellect, but actually comprehended in its Unity,
and that is a perfect Trinity. I have often admired the mysti-
cal way of Pythagoras, and the secret Magick of numbers.
Beware of Philosophy, is a precept not to be received in too
large a sense; for in this Mass of Nature there is a set of
things that carry in their Front (though not in Capital Let-
ters, yet in Stenography and short Characters), something of
Divinity, which to wiser Reasons serve as Luminaries in the
Abyss of Knowledge, and to judicious beliefs as Scales and
Roundles to mount the Pinacles and highest pieces of Divinity.
The severe Schools shall never laugh me out of the Philosophy
of Hermes, that this visible World is but a Picture of the
invisible, wherein, as in a Pourtraict, things are not truely, but
in equivocal shapes, and as they counterfeit some more real
substance in that invisible fabrick.

That other Attribute wherewith I recreate my devotion,

334 Sir Thomas Browne

is His Wisdom, in which I am happy; and for the contem-
plation of this only, do not repent me that I was bred in the
way of Study: the advantage I have of the vulgar, with the
content and happiness I conceive therein, is an ample recom-
pence for all my endeavours, in what part of knowledge soever.
Wisdom is His most beauteous Attribute; no man can attain
unto it, yet Solomon pleased GOD when he desired it. He is
wise, because He knows all things; and He knoweth all things,
because He made them all: but His greatest knowledge is in
comprehending that He made not, that is, Himself. And this
is also the greatest knowledge in man. For this do I honour
my own profession, and embrace the Counsel even of the
Devil himself: had he read such a Lecture in Paradise as he
did at Delphos, we had better known our selves, nor had we
stood in fear to know him. I know He is wise in all, wonderful
in what we conceive, but far more in what we comprehend
not; for we behold Him but asquint, upon reflex or shadow;
our understanding is dimmer than Moses Eye; we are ig-
norant of the back-parts or lower side of His Divinity; there-
fore to prie into the maze of His Counsels is not only folly in
man, but presumption even in Angels. Like us, they are His
Servants, not His Senators; He holds no Counsel, but that
mystical one of the Trinity, wherein, though there be three
Persons, there is but one mind that decrees without contradic-
tion. Nor needs He any: His actions are not begot with delib-
eration, His Wisdom naturally knows what's best; His
intellect stands ready fraught with the superlative and purest
Ideas of goodness; consultation and election, which are two
motions in us, make but one in Him, His actions springing
from His power at the first touch of His will. These are Con-
templations metaphysical: my humble speculations have an-
other Method, and are content to trace and discover those
expressions He hath left in His Creatures, and the obvious
effects of Nature. There is no danger to profound these mys-
teries, no sanctum sanctorum in Philosophy. The World was
made to be inhabited by Beasts, but studied and contem-
plated by Mao: 'tis the Debt of our Reason we owe unto

Religio Medki 335

GOD, and the homage we pay for not being Beasts. Without
this, the World is still as though it had not been, or as it was
before the sixth day, when as yet there was not a Creature
that could conceive or say there was a World. The Wisdom
of GOD receives small honour from those vulgar Heads that
rudely stare about, and with a gross rusticity admire His
works: those highly magnifie Him, whose judicious inquiry
into His Acts, and deliberate research into His Creatures,
return the duty of a devout and learned admiration. There-
fore,

Search while thou wilt, and let thy Reason go,

To ransome Truth, even to th' Abyss below;

Rally the scattered Causes; and that line,

Which Nature twists, be able to untwine.

It is thy Makers will, for unto none

But unto Reason can He e'er be known.

The Devils do know Thee, but those damned Meteors

Build not Thy Glory, but confound Thy Creatures.

Teach my indeavours so Thy works to read,

That learning them in Thee, I may proceed.

Give Thou my reason that instructive flight,

Whose weary wings may on Thy hands still light.

Teach me to soar aloft, yet ever so

When neer the Sun, to stoop again below.

Thus shall my humble Feathers safely hover,

And, though near Earth, more than the Heavens discover.

And then at last, when homeward I shall drive,

Rich with the Spoils of Nature, to my Hive,

There will I sit like that industrious Flie,

Buzzing Thy praises, which shall never die,

Till Death abrupts them, and succeeding Glory

Bid me go on in a more lasting story.

And this is almost all wherein an humble Creature may
endeavour to requite and some way to retribute unto his
Creator: for if not he that saith, "Lord, Lord," but he that
doth the will of his Father, shall be saved; certainly our wills

336 Sir Thomas Browne

must be our performances, and our intents make out our
Actions; otherwise our pious labours shall find anxiety in our
Graves, and our best endeavours not hope, but fear, a resur-
rection.

There is but one first cause, and four second causes of all
things. Some are without efficient, as GOD; others without
matter, as Angels; some without form, as the first matter:
but every Essence, created or uncreated, hath its final cause,
and some positive end both of its Essence and Operation. This
is the cause I grope after in the works of Nature; on this
hangs the Providence of GOD. To raise so beauteous a struc-
ture as the World and the Creatures thereof, was but His
Art; but their sundry and divided operations, with their
predestinated ends, are from the Treasure of His Wisdom. In
the causes, nature, and affections of the Eclipses of the Sun
and Moon, there is most excellent speculation; but to pro-
found farther, and to contemplate a reason why His Provi-
dence hath so disposed and ordered their motions in that vast
circle as to conjoyn and obscure each other, is a sweeter piece
of Reason, and a diviner point of Philosophy. Therefore
sometimes, and in some things, there appears to me as much
Divinity in Galen his books De Usu Partium, as in Suarez
Metaphysicks. Had Aristotle been as curious in the enquiry
of this cause as he was of the other, he had not left behind
him an imperfect piece of Philosophy, but an absolute tract
of Divinity.

Natura nihil agit jrustra, is the only indisputed Axiome
in Philosophy. There are no Grotesques in Nature; not any-
thing framed to fill up empty Cantons, and unnecessary
spaces. In the most imperfect Creatures, and such as were
not preserved in the Ark, but, having their Seeds and Prin-
ciples in the womb of Nature, are everywhere, where the
power of the Sun is, in these is the Wisdom of His hand dis-
covered. Out of this rank Solomon chose the object of his
admiration. Indeed, what Reason may not go to School to
the wisdom of Bees, Ants, and Spiders? what wise hand
teacheth them to do what Reason cannot teach us? Ruder

Religio Medici 337

heads stand amazed at those prodigious pieces of Nature,
Whales, Elephants, Dromidaries and Camels; these, I con-
fess, are the Colossus and majestick pieces of her hand: but
in these narrow Engines there is more curious Mathematicks;
and the civility of these little Citizens more neatly sets forth
the Wisdom of their Maker. Who admires not Regio-Mon-
tanus his Fly beyond his Eagle, or wonders not more at the
operation of two Souls in those little Bodies, than but one
in the Trunk of a Cedar? I could never content my contempla-
tion with those general pieces of wonder, the Flux and Reflux
of the Sea, the increase of Nile, the conversion of the Needle
to the North; and have studied to match and parallel those
in the more obvious and neglected pieces of Nature, which
without further travel I can do in the Cosmography of myself.
We carry with us the wonders we seek without us: there is
all Africa and her prodigies in us; we are that bold and ad-
venturous piece of Nature, which he that studies wisely learns
in a compendium what others labour at in a divided piece and
endless volume.

Thus there are two Books from whence I collect my Di-
vinity; besides that written one of GOD, another of His
servant Nature, that universal and publick Manuscript, that
lies expans'd unto the Eyes of all: those that never saw him
in the one, have discovered Him in the other. This was the
Scripture and Theology of the Heathens: the natural motion
of the Sun made them more admire Him than its supernatural
station did the Children of Israel; the ordinary effects of
Nature wrought more admiration in them than in the other
all His Miracles. Surely the Heathens knew better how to
joyn and read these mystical Letters than we Christians, who
cast a more careless Eye on these common Hieroglyphicks,
and disdain to suck Divinity from the flowers of Nature. Nor
do I so forget GOD as to adore the name of Nature; which
I define not, with the Schools, to be the principle of motion
and rest, but that streight and regular line, that settled and
constant course the Wisdom of GOD hath ordained the actions
of His creatures, according to their several kinds. To make

338 Sir Thomas Browne

a revolution every day is the Nature of the Sun, because of
that necessary course which GOD hath ordained it, from which
it cannot swerve but by a faculty from that voice which first
did give it motion. Now this course of Nature GOD seldome
alters or perverts, but, like an excellent Artist, hath so con-
trived His work, that with the self same instrument, without
a new creation, He may effect His obscurest designs. Thus
He sweetneth the Water with a Wood, preserveth the Crea-
tures in the Ark, which the blast of His mouth might have as
easily created; for GOD is like a skilful Geometrician, who,
when more easily and with one stroak of his Compass he
might describe or divide a right line, had yet rather do this
in a circle or longer way, according to the constituted and
fore-laid principles of his Art. Yet this rule of His He doth
sometimes pervert, to acquaint the World with His Preroga-
tive, lest the arrogancy of our reason should question His
power, and conclude He could not. And thus I call the effects
of Nature the works of GOD, Whose hand and instrument she
only is; and therefore to ascribe His actions unto her, is to
devolve the honour of the principal agent upon the instru-
ment; which if with reason we may do, then let our hammers
rise up and boast they have built our houses, and our pens
receive the honour of our writings. I hold there is a general
beauty in the works of GOD, and therefore no deformity in
any kind or species of creature whatsoever. I cannot tell by
what Logick we call a Toad, a Bear, or an Elephant ugly;
they being created in those outward shapes and figures which
best express the actions of their inward forms, and having past
that general Visitation of GOD, Who saw that all that He had
made was good, that is, conformable to His Will, which abhors
deformity, and is the rule of order and beauty. There is no
deformity but in Monstrosity; wherein, notwithstanding,
there is a kind of Beauty; Nature so ingeniously contriving
the irregular parts, as they become sometimes more re-
markable than the principal Fabrick. To speak yet more
narrowly, there was never any thing ugly or mis-shapen, but
the Chaos; wherein, notwithstanding, (to speak strictly),

Religio Medici 339

there was no deformity, because no form; nor was it yet im-
pregnant by the voice of GOD. Now Nature is not at variance
with Art, nor Art with Nature, they being both servants of
His Providence. Art is the perfection of Nature. Were the
World now as it was the sixth day, there were yet a Chaos.
Nature hath made one World, and Art another. In brief, all
things are artificial ; for Nature is the Art of GOD.

This is the ordinary and open way of His Providence, which
Art and Industry have in a good part discovered ; whose effects
we may foretel without an Oracle: to foreshew these, is not
Prophesie, but Prognostication. There is another way, full
of Meanders and Labyrinths, whereof the Devil and Spirits
have no exact Ephemerides; and that is a more particular
and obscure method of His Providence, directing the opera-
tions of individuals and single Essences: this we call Fortune,
that serpentine and crooked line, whereby He draws those
actions His Wisdom intends, in a more unknown and secret
way. This cryptick and involved method of His Providence
have I ever admired ; nor can I relate the History of my life,
the occurrences of my days, the escapes of dangers, and hits
of chance, with a Bezo las Manos to Fortune, or a bare Gram-
ercy to my good Stars. Abraham might have thought the Ram
in the thicket came thither by accident; humane reason would
have said that meer chance conveyed Moses in the Ark to
the sight of Pharaoh's Daughter: what a Labyrinth is there
in the story of Joseph, able to convert a Stoick! Surely there
are in every man's Life certain rubs, doublings, and wrenches,
which pass a while under the effects of chance, but at the
last, well examined, prove the meer hand of GOD. Twas not
dumb chance, that, to discover the Fougade or Powder-plot,
contrived a miscarriage in the Letter. I like the Victory of
'88 the better for that one occurrence, which our enemies im-
puted to our dishonour and the partiality of Fortune, to wit,
the tempests and contrariety of Winds. King Philip did not
detract from the Nation, when he said, he sent his Armada
to fight with men, and not to combate with the Winds. Where
there is a manifest disproportion between the powers and

340 Sir Thomas Browne

forces of two several agents, upon a Maxime of reason we
may promise the victory to the Superior; but when unexpected
accidents slip in, and unthought of occurrences intervene,
these must proceed from a power that owes no obedience to
those Axioms; where, as in the writing upon the wall, we
may behold the hand, but see not the spring that moves it.
The success of that petty Province of Holland (of which the
Grand Seignour proudly said, if they should trouble him as
they did the Spaniard , he would send his men with shovels
and ptck-axes, and throw it into the Sea), I cannot altogether
ascribe to the ingenuity and industry of the people, but the
mercy of GOD, that hath disposed diem to such a thriving
Genius; and to the will of His Providence, that disposeth her
favour to each Country in their pre-ordinate season. All can-
not be happy at once; for, because the glory of one State de-
pends upon the ruine of another, there is a revolution and
vicissitude of their greatness, and must obey the swing of
that wheel, not moved by Intelligences, but by the hand of
GOD, whereby all Estates arise to their Zenith and Vertical
points according to their predestinated periods. For the lives,
not only of men, but of Commonwealths, and the whole
World, run not upon an Helix that still enlargeth, but on a
Circle, where, arriving to their Meridian, they decline in ob-
scurity, and fall under the Horizon again.

These must not therefore be named the effects of Fortune,
but in a relative way, and as we term the works of Nature.
It was the ignorance of man's reason that begat this very
name, and by a careless term miscalled the Providence of
GOD; for there is no liberty for causes to operate in a loose
and straggling way; nor any effect whatsoever, but hath its
warrant from some universal or superiour Cause. 'Tis not a
ridiculous devotion to say a prayer before a game at Tables;
for even in sortttegies and matters of greatest uncertainty,
there is a setled and pre-ordered course of effects. It is we
that are blind, not Fortune: because our Eye is too dim to
discover the mystery of her effects, we foolishly paint her
blind, and hoodwink the Providence of the Almighty. I can-

Religio Medici 341

not justifie that contemptible Proverb, That fools only are
Fortunate, or that insolent Paradox, That a wise man is out
of the reach of Fortune; much less those approbrious epithets
of Poets, Whore, Bawd, and Strumpet. Tis, I confess, the
common fate of men of singular gifts of mind to be destitute
of those of Fortune, which doth not any way deject the Spirit
of wiser judgements, who thoroughly understand the justice
of this proceeding; and being inriched with higher donatives,
cast a more careless eye on these vulgar parts of felicity. It
is a most unjust ambition to desire to engross the mercies of
the Almighty, not to be content with the goods of mind, with-
out a possession of those of body or Fortune; and it is an
error worse than heresie, to adore these complemental and
circumstantial pieces of felicity, and undervalue those per-
fections and essential points of happiness wherein we resem-
ble our Maker. To wiser desires it is satisfaction enough to
deserve, though not to enjoy, the favours of Fortune: let
Providence provide for Fools. 'Tis not partiality, but equity
in GOD, Who deals with us but as our natural Parents: those
that are able of Body and Mind He leaves to their deserts;
to those of weaker merits He imparts a larger portion, and
pieces out the defect of one by the excess of the other. Thus
have we no just quarrel with Nature for leaving us naked;
or to envy the Horns, Hoofs, Skins, and Furs of other Crea-
tures, being provided with Reason, that can supply them all.
We need not labour with so many Arguments to confute
Judicial Astrology; for, if there be a truth therein, it doth
not injure Divinity. If to be born under Mercury disposeth
us to be witty, under Jupiter to be wealthy; I do not owe a
Knee unto these, but unto that merciful Hand that hath
ordered my indifferent and uncertain nativity unto such
benevolous Aspects. Those that hold that all things are gov-
erned by Fortune, had not erred, had they not persisted there.
The Romans, that erected a Temple to Fortune, acknowledged
therein, though in a blinder way, somewhat of Divinity; for,
in a wise supputation, all things begin and end in the Al-
mighty. There is a nearer way to Heaven than Homer's Chain ;

34* Sir Thomas Browne

an easie Logic may conjoyn Heaven and Earth in one Argu-
ment, and with less than a Sorites resolve all things into GOD.
For though we christen effects by their most sensible and
nearest Causes, yet is GOD the true and infallible Cause of all;
whose concourse, though it be general, yet doth it subdivide
itself into the particular Actions of every thing, and is that
Spirit, by which each singular Essence not only subsists, but
performs its operation.

The bad construction and perverse comment on these pair
of second Causes, or visible hands of GOD, have perverted the
Devotion of many unto Atheism; who, forgetting the honest
Advisoes of Faith, have listened unto the conspiracy of Pas-
sion and Reason. I have therefore always endeavoured to
compose those Feuds and angry Dissentions between Affec-
tion, Faith, and Reason; for there is in our Soul a kind of
Triumvirate, or triple Government of three Competitors,
which distract the Peace of this our Commonwealth, not less
than did that other the State of Rome.

As Reason is a Rebel unto Faith, so Passion unto Reason:
as the propositions of Faith seem absurd unto Reason, so the
Theorems of Reason unto Passion, and both unto Reason.
Yet a moderate and peaceable discretion may so state and
order the matter, that they may be all Kings, and yet make
but one Monarchy, every one exercising his Soveraignty and
Prerogative in a due time and place, according to the restraint
and limit of circumstance. There is, as in Philosophy, so in
Divinity, sturdy doubts and boisterous Objections, where-
with the unhappiness of our knowledge too nearly acquainteth
us. More of these no man hath known than myself, which I
confess I conquered, not in a martial posture, but on my Knees.
For our endeavours are not only to combat with doubts, but
always to dispute with the Devil. The villany of that Spirit
takes a hint of Infidelity from our Studies, and, by demon-
strating a naturality in one way, makes us mistrust a miracle
in another. Thus, having perused the Archidoxis and read the
secret Sympathies of things, he would disswade my belief
from the miracle of the Brazen Serpent, make me conceit

Religio Medki 343

that Image worked by Sympathy, and was but an Egyptian
trick to cure their Diseases without a miracle. Again, having
seen some experiments of Bitumen, and having read far more
of Naphtha, he whispered to my curiosity the fire of the Altai
might be natural; and bid me mistrust a miracle in Elias f
when he entrenched the Altar round with Water; for that
inflamable substance yields not easily unto Water, but flames
in the Arms of its Antagonist. And thus would he inveagle my
belief to think the combustion of Sodom might be natural,
and that there was an Asphaltick and Bituminous nature in
that Lake before the Fire of Gomorrah. I know that Manna
is now plentifully gathered in Calabria; and Josephus tells
me, in his days it was as plentiful in Arabia; the Devil there-
fore made the quaere, Where was then the miracle in the days
of Moses? the Israelites saw but that in his time, the Native*
of those Countries behold in ours. Thus the Devil played at
Chess with me, and yielding a Pawn, thought to gain a Queen
of me, taking advantage of my honest endeavours; and whilst
I laboured to raise the structure of my Reason, he strived to
undermine the edifice of my Faith.

Neither had these or any other ever such advantage of me,
as to incline me to any point of Infidelity or desperate posi-
tions of Atheism; for I have been these many years of opinion
there was never any. Those that held Religion was the dif-
ference of Man from Beasts, have spoken probably, and pro-
ceed upon a principle as inductive as the other. That doctrine
of Epicurus, that denied the Providence of GOD, was no Athe-
ism, but a magnificent and high strained conceit of His
Majesty, which he deemed too sublime to mind the trivial
Actions of those inferiour Creatures. That fatal Necessity of
the Stoicks is nothing but the immutable Law of His Will.
Those that heretofore denied the Divinity of the HOLY GHOST,
have been condemned but as Hereticks; and those that now
deny our Saviour, (though more than Hereticks), are not so
much as Atheists; for, though they deny two persons in the
Trinity, they hold, as we do, there is but one GOD.

That Villain and Secretary of Hell, that composed that

344 Sir Thomas Browne

miscreant piece Of the Three Impostors, though divided from
all Religions, and was neither Jew, Turk, nor Christian, was
not a positive Atheist. I confess every Country hath its
Machiavel, every Age its Lucian, whereof common Heads
must not hear, nor more advanced Judgments too rashly ven-
ture on: it is the Rhetorick of Satan, and may pervert a loose
or prejudicate belief.

I confess I have perused them all, and can discover nothing
that may startle a discreet belief ; yet are there heads carried
off with the Wind and breath of such motives. I remember a
Doctor in Physick, of Italy, who could not perfectly believe
the immortality of the Soul, because Galen seemed to make
a doubt thereof. With another I was familiarly acquainted in
France, a Divine, and a man of singular parts, that on the
same point was so plunged and gravelled with three lines of
Seneca, that all our Antidotes, drawn from both Scripture and
Philosophy, could not expel the poyson of his errour. There
are a set of Heads, that can credit the relations of Mariners,
yet question the Testimonies of St. Paul; and peremptorily
maintain the traditions of yElian or Pliny, yet in Histories of
Scripture raise Queries and Objections, believing no more than
they can parallel in humane Authors. I confess there are in
Scripture Stories that do exceed the Fables of Poets, and to
a captious Reader sound like Garagantua or Bevis. Search all
the Legends of times past, and the fabulous conceits of these
present, and 'twill be hard to find one that deserves to carry
the Buckler unto Sampson; yet is all this of an easie pos-
sibility, if we conceive a Divine concourse, or an influence
but from the little Finger of the Almighty. It is impossible that
either in the discourse of man, or in the infallible Voice of
GOD, to the weakness of our apprehensions, there should not
appear irregularities, contradictions, and antinomies: my self
could shew a Catalogue of doubts, never yet imagined nor
questioned, as I know, which are not resolved at the first
bearing ; not fantastick Queries or Objections of Air; for I
lannot hear of Atoms in Divinity. I can read the History of
the Pigeon that was sent out of the Ark, and returned no more,

Religio Medici 345

yet not question how she found out her Mate that was left
behind: that Lazarus was raised from the dead, yet not de-
mand where in the interim his Soul awaited ; or raise a Law-
case, whether his Heir might lawfully detain his inheritance
bequeathed unto him by his death, and he, though restored
to life, have no Plea or Title unto his former possessions.
Whether Eve was framed out of the left side of Adam, I dis-
pute not; because I stand not yet assured which is the right
side of a man, or whether there be any such distinction in
Nature: that she was edified out of the Rib of Adam I be-
lieve, yet raise no question who shall arise with that Rib at
the Resurrection. Whether Adam was an Hermaphrodite, as
the Rabbins contend upon the Letter of the Text, because it
is contrary to reason, there should be an Hermaphrodite be-
fore there was a Woman, or a composition of two Natures
before there was a second composed. Likewise, whether the
World was created in Autumn, Summer, or the Spring, because
it was created in them all; for whatsoever Sign the Sun pos-
sesseth, those four Seasons are actually existent. It is the
nature of this Luminary to distinguish the several Seasons of
the year, all which it makes at one time in the whole Earth,
and successive in any part thereof. There are a bundle of
curiosities, not only in Philosophy, but in Divinity, proposed
and discussed by men of most supposed abilities, which indeed
are not worthy our vacant hours, much less our serious
Studies: Pieces only fit to be placed in Pantagruel's Library,
or bound up with Tartaretus De modo Cacandi.

These are niceties that become not those that peruse so
serious a Mystery. There are others more generally questioned
and called to the Bar, yet methinks of an easie and possible
truth.

7 Tis ridiculous to put off or drown the general Flood of
Noah in that particular inundation of Deucalion. That there
was a Deluge once, seems not to me so great a Miracle, as
that there is not one always. How all the kinds of Creatures,
not only in their own bulks, but with a competency of food
and sustenance, might be preserved in one Ark, and within

346 Sir Thomas Browne

the extent of three hundred Cubits, to a reason that rightly
examines it, will appear very feasible. There is another secret,
not contained in the Scripture, which is more hard to compre-
hend, and put the honest Father to the refuge of a Miracle;
and that is, not only how the distinct pieces of the World, and
divided Islands, should be first planted by men, but inhabited
by Tigers, Panthers, and Bears. How America abounded with
Beasts of prey and noxious Animals, yet contained not in it
that necessary Creature, a Horse, is very strange. By what
passage those, not only Birds, but dangerous and unwelcome
Beasts, came over; how there be Creatures there, which are
not found in this Triple Continent; (all which must needs
be strange unto us, that hold but one Ark, and that the Crea-
tures began their progress from the Mountains of Ararat):
they who, to salve this, would make the Deluge particular,
proceed upon a principle that I can no way grant; not only
upon the negative of Holy Scriptures, but of mine own Rea-
son, whereby I can make it probable, that the world was as
well peopled in the time of Noah as in ours; and fifteen hun-
dred years to people the World, as full a time for them, as
four thousand years since have been to us.

There are other assertions and common Tenents drawn
from Scripture, and generally believed as Scripture, whereunto,
notwithstanding, I would never betray the liberty of my Rea-
son. 'Tis a Postulate to me, that Methusalem was the longest
liv'd of all the Children of Adam; and no man will be able
to prove it, when, from the process of the Text, I can manifest
it may be otherwise. That Judas perished by hanging himself,
there is no certainty in Scripture: though in one place it seems
to affirm it, and by a doubtful word hath given occasion to
translate it; yet in another place, in a more punctual descrip-
tion, it makes it improbable, and seems to overthrow it. That
our Fathers, after the Flood, erected the Tower of Babel to
preserve themselves against a second Deluge, is generally
opinioned and believed ; yet is there another intention of theirs
expressed in Scripture: besides, it is improbable from the cir-
cumstance of the place, that is, a plain in the Land of Shinar.

Religio Medici 347

These are no points of Faith, and therefore may admit a free
dispute.

There are yet others, and those familiarly concluded from
the text, wherein (under favour), I see no consequence. The
Church of Rome confidently proves the opinion of Tutelary
Angels from that Answer, when Peter knockt at the Door,
9 Tis not he, but his Angel; that is, (might some say), his
Messenger, or some body from him; for so the Original signi-
fies, and is as likely to be the doubtful Families meaning. This
exposition I once suggested to a young Divine, that answered
upon this point; to which I remember the Franciscan Op-
ponent replyed no more, but That it was a new, and no au-
thentick interpretation.

These are but the conclusions and fallible discourses of man
upon the Word of GOD, for such I do believe the Holy Scrip-
tures: yet, were it of man, I could not chuse but say, it was
the singularest and superlative piece that hath been extant
since the Creation. Were I a Pagan, I should not refrain th
Lecture of it; and cannot but commend the judgment of
Ptolomy, -that thought not his Library compleat without it.
The Alcoran of the Turks (I speak without prejudice), is an
ill composed Piece, containing in it vain and ridiculous Errors
in Philosophy, impossibilities, fictions, and vanities beyond
laughter, maintained by evident and open Sophisms, the Policy
of Ignorance, deposition of Universities, and banishment of
Learning, that hath gotten Foot by Arms and violence: this
without a blow hath disseminated it self through the whole
Earth. It is not unremarkable what Philo first observed, that
the Law of Moses continued two thousand years without the
least alteration; whereas, we see the Laws of other Common-
weals do alter with occasions; and even those that pretended
their original from some Divinity, to have vanished without
trace or memory. I believe, besides Zoroaster, there were
divers that writ before Moses, who, notwithstanding, have
suffered the common fate of time. Mens Works have an age
like themselves; and though they out-live their Authors, yet
have they a stint and period to their duration: this only i

Sir Thomas Browne

A work too hard for the teeth of time, and cannot perish but
in the general Flames, when all things shall confess their
Ashes.

I have heard some with deep sighs lament the lost lines of
Cicero; others with as many groans deplore the combustion
of the Library of Alexandria: for my own part, I think there
be too many in the World, and could with patience behold
the urn and ashes of the Vatican, could I, with a few others,
recover the perished leaves of Solomon. I would not omit a
Copy of Enoch^ Pillars, had they many nearer Authors than
Josephus, or did not relish somewhat of the Fable. Some men
have written more than others have spoken; Pineda quotes
fciore Authors in one work, than are necessary in a whole
World. Of those three great inventions in Germany, there are
two which are not without their incommodities, and 'tis dis-
putable whether they exceed not their use and commodities.
Tis not a melancholy Utinam of my own, but the desires of
better heads, that there were a general Synod; not to unite
the incompatible difference of Religion, but for the benefit of
learning, to reduce it as it lay at first, in a few and solid Au-
thors; and to condemn to the fire those swarms and millions
of Rhapsodies, begotten only to distract and abuse the weaker
judgements of Scholars, and to maintain the trade and mys-
tery of Typographers.

I cannot but wonder with what exception the Samaritans
could confine their belief to the Pentateuch, or five Books of
Moses. I am ashamed at the Rabbinical Interpretation of the
Jews upon the Old Testament, as much as their defection from
the New: and truly it is beyond wonder, how that contemptible
and degenerate issue of Jacob, once so devoted to Ethnick
Superstition, and so easily seduced to the Idolatry of their
Neighbours, should now in such an obstinate and peremptory
belief adhere unto their own Doctrine, expect impossibilities,
and, in the face and eye of the Church, persist without the
least hope of Conversion. This is a vice in them, that were a
rertue in us; for obstinacy in a bad Cause is but constancy
ia a food And herein I must accuse those of my ova Religion,

Religio Medici 349

for there is not any of such a fugitive Faith, such an unstable
belief, as a Christian; none that do so oft transform them-
selves, not unto several shapes of Christianity and of the same
Species, but unto more unnatural and contrary Forms of Jew
and Mahometan; that, from the name of Saviour, can con-
descend to the bare term of Prophet; and, from an old belief
that He is come, fall to a new expectation of His coming. It
is the promise of CHRIST to make us all one Flock; but how
and when this Union shall be, is as obscure to me as the last
day. Of those four Members of Religion we hold a slender
proportion. There are, I confess, some new additions, yet small
to those which accrew to our Adversaries, and those only
drawn from the revolt of Pagans, men but of negative Im-
pieties, and such as deny CHRIST, but because they never
heard of Him. But the Religion of the Jew is expressly against
the Christian, and the Mahometan against both. For the Turk,
in the bulk he now stands, he is beyond all hope of conversion;
if he fall asunder, there may be conceived hopes, but not with-
out strong improbabilities. The Jew is obstinate in all fortune;
the persecution of fifteen hundred years hath but confirmed
them in their Errour: they have already endured whatsoever
may be inflicted, and have suffered in a bad cause, even to the
condemnation of their enemies. Persecution is a bad and in-
direct way to plant Religion: it hath been the unhappy method
of angry Devotions, not only to confirm honest Religion, but
wicked Heresies, and extravagant Opinions. It was the first
stone and Basis of our Faith; none can more justly boast of
Persecutions, and glory in the number and valour of Martyrs.
For, to speak properly, those are true and almost only exam-
ples of fortitude: those that are fetch'd from the field, or
drawn from the actions of the Camp, are not oft-times so
truely precedents of valour as audacity, and at the best attain
but to some bastard piece of fortitude. If we shall strictly
examine the circumstances and requisites which Aristotle re*
quires to true and perfect valour, we shall find the name only
in his Master, Alexander, and as little in that Roman Worthy,
Julius Caesar; and if any in that easie and active way have

3SO Sir Thomas Browne

done so nobly as to deserve that name, yet in the passive and
more terrible piece these have surpassed, and in a more he-
roical way may claim the honour of that Title. Tis not in the
power of every honest Faith to proceed thus far, or pass to
Heaven through the flames. Every one hath it not in that full
measure, nor in so audacious and resolute a temper, as to
endure those terrible tests and trials; who, notwithstanding,
in a peaceable way, do truely adore their Saviour, and have
(no doubt), a Faith acceptable in the eyes of GOD.

Now, as all that dye in the War are not termed Souldiers;
so neither can I properly term all those that suffer in matters
of Religion, Martyrs. The Council of Constance condemns
John Huss for an Heretick; the Stories of his own Party stile
him a Martyr: he must needs offend the Divinity of both,
that says he was neither the one nor the other. There are many
(questionless), canonized on earth, that shall never be Saints
in Heaven; and have their names in Histories and Martyr-
ologies, who in the eyes of GOD are not so perfect Martyrs as
was that wise Heathen, Socrates, that suffered on a funda-
mental point of Religion, the Unity of GOD. I have often pitied
the miserable Bishop that suffered in the cause of Antipodes;
yet cannot chuse but accuse him of as much madness, for ex-
posing his living on such a trifle, as those of ignorance and
folly, that condemned him. I think my conscience will not give
tne the lye, if I say there are not many extant that in a noble
way fear the face of death less than myself; yet, from the
moral duty I owe to the Commandment of GOD, and the
natural respects that I tender unto the conservation of my
essence and being, I would not perish upon a Ceremony, Poli-
tick points, or indifferency : nor is my belief of that untractible
temper, as not to bow at their obstacles, or connive at mat-
ters wherein there are not manifest impieties. The leaven,
therefore, and ferment of all, not only civil but Religious
actions, is Wisdom; without which, to commit ourselves to
the flames is Homicide, and (I fear) , but to pass through one
fire into another.

That Miracles are ceased, I can neither prove, nor abso-

Religio Medici 351

lutely deny, much less define the time and period of their
cessation. That they survived CHRIST, is manifest upon the
Record of Scripture; that they outlived the Apostles also,
and were revived at the Conversion of Nations many years
after, we cannot deny, if we shall not question those Writers
whose testimonies we do not controvert in points that make
for our own opinions. Therefore that may have some truth
in it that is reported by the Jesuites of their Miracles in the
Indies; I could wish it were true, or had any other testimony
than their own Pens. They may easily believe those Miracles
abroad, who daily conceive a greater at home, the transmuta-
tion of those visible elements into the Body and Blood of our
Saviour. For the conversion of Water into Wine, which He
wrought in Cana, or, what the Devil would have had Him
done in the Wilderness, of Stones into Bread, compared to
this, will scarce deserve the name of a Miracle: though indeed,
to speak properly, there is not one Miracle greater than an-
other, they being the extraordinary effects of the Hand of
GOD, to which all things are of an equal facility; and to create
the World, as easie as one single Creature. For this is also a
Miracle, not onely to produce effects against or above Nature,
but before Nature; and to create Nature, as great a Miracle
as to contradict or transcend her. We do too narrowly define
the Power of GOD, restraining it to our capacities. I hold that
GOD can do all things; how He should work contradictions,
I do not understand, yet dare not therefore deny. I cannot see
why the Angel of GOD should question Esdras to recal the
time past, if it were beyond His own power; or that GOD
should pose mortality in that which He was not able to per-
form Himself. I will not say GOD cannot, but He will not,
perform many things, which we plainly affirm He cannot.
This, I am sure, is the mannerliest proposition, wherein, not-
withstanding, I hold no Paradox; for, strictly, His power is
the same with His will, and they both, with all the rest, do
make but one GOD.

Therefore that Miracles have been, I do believe; that they
may yet be wrought by the living, I do not deny; but have

.35* Sir Thomas Browne

DO confidence in those which are fathered on the dead. And
this hath ever made me suspect the efficacy of reliques, to
examine the bones, question the habits and appurtenances of
Saints, and even of CHRIST Himself. I cannot conceive why
the Cross that Helena found, and whereon CHRIST Himself
dyed, should have power to restore others unto life. I excuse
not Constantine from a fall off his Horse, or a mischief from
his enemies, upon the wearing those nails on his bridle, which
our Saviour bore upon the Cross in His Hands. I compute
among your Fix jraudes, nor many degrees before consecrated
Swords and Roses, that which Baldwyn, King of Jerusalem,
returned the Genovese for their cost and pains in his War, to
Wit, the ashes of John the Baptist. Those that hold the sanctity
of their Souls doth leave behind a tincture and sacred faculty
on their bodies, speak naturally of Miracles, and do not salve
the doubt. Now one reason I tender so little Devotion unto
Reliques, is, I think, the slender and doubtful respect I have
always held unto Antiquities. For that indeed which I admire,
is far before Antiquity, that is, Eternity; and that is, GOD
Himself; Who, though He be styled the Ancient of Days,
cannot receive the adjunct of Antiquity; Who was before the
World, and shall be after it, yet is not older than it; for in
His years there is no Climacter; His duration is Eternity, and
far more venerable than Antiquity,

But above all things I wonder how the curiosity of wiser
heads could pass that great and indisputable Miracle, the
cessation of Oracles; and in what swoun their Reasons lay,
to content themselves and sit down with such a far-fetch'd
and ridiculous reason as Plutarch alleadgeth for it. The Jews,
that can believe the supernatural Solstice of the Sun in the
days of Joshua, have yet the impudence to deny the Eclipse,
which every Pagan confessed, at His death: but for this, it
is evident beyond all contradiction, the Devil himself con-
fessed it. Certainly it is not a warrantable curiosity, to ex-
amine the verity of Scripture by the concordance of humane
history, or seek to confirm the Chronicle of Hester or Daniel,
by the authority of Megasthenes or Herodotus. I confess, I

Religio Medici 353

have had an unhappy curiosity this way, till I laughed my
self out of it with a piece of Justine, where he delivers that the
Children of Israel for being scabbed were banished out of
Egypt. And truely since I have understood the occurrences
of the World, and know in what counterfeit shapes and deceit-
ful vizards times present represent on the stage things past,
I do believe them little more then things to come. Some have
been of my opinion, and endeavoured to write the History of
their own lives; wherein Moses hath outgone them all, and
left not onely the story of his life, but (as some will have it),
of his death also.

It is a riddle to me, how this story of Oracles hath not
worm'd out of the World that doubtful conceit of Spirits and
Witches; how so many learned heads should so far forget
their Metaphysicks, and destroy the ladder and scale of crea-
tures, as to question the existence of Spirits. For my part, I
have ever believed and do now know, that there are Witches:
they that doubt of these, do not onely deny them, but Spirits;
and are obliquely and upon consequence a sort not of Infidels,
but Atheists. Those that to confute their incredulity desire
to see apparitions, shall questionless never behold any, nor
have the power to be so much as Witches; the Devil hath them
already in a heresie as capital as Witchcraft; and to appear
to them, were but to convert them. Of all the delusions where-
with he deceives mortality, there is not any that puzzleth me
more than the Legerdemain of Changelings. I do not credit
those transformations of reasonable creatures into beasts, or
that the Devil hath a power to transpeciate a man into a
Horse, who tempted CHRIST (as a trial of His Divinity), to
convert but stones into bread. I could believe that Spirits use
with man the act of carnality, and that in both sexes; I con-
ceive they may assume, steal, or contrive a body, wherein
there may be action enough to content decrepit lust, or passion
to satisfie more active veneries; yet, in both, without a pos-
sibility of generation: and therefore that opinion that Anti-
christ should be born of the Tribe of Dan by conjunction with
the Devil, is ridiculous, and a conceit fitter for a Rabbin than

354 Sir Thomas Browne

a Christian. I hold that the Devil doth really possess some
men, the spirit of Melancholly others, the spirit of Delusion
others; that, as the Devil is concealed and denyed by some,
so GOD and good Angels are pretended by others, whereof the
late defection of the Maid of Germany hath left a pregnant
example.

Again, I believe that all that use sorceries, incantations,
and spells, are not Witches, or, as we term them, Magicians.
I conceive there is a traditional Magick, not learned imme-
diately from the Devil, but at second hand from his Scholars,
who, having once the secret betrayed, are able, and do em-
perically practise without his advice, they both proceeding
upon the principles of Nature; where actives, aptly con-
joyned to disposed passives, will under any Master produce
their effects. Thus I think at first a great part of Philosophy
was Witchcraft; which, being afterward derived to one an-
other, proved but Philosophy, and was indeed no more but
the honest effects of Nature: what, invented by us, is Philoso-
phy, learned from him, is Magick. We do surely owe the
discovery of many secrets to the discovery of good and bad
Angels. I could never pass that sentence of Paracelsus without
an asterisk or annotation; Ascendens corfstellatum multa
revelat quxrentibus magnolia naturx, (i.e. opera DEI). I do
think that many mysteries ascribed to our own inventions
have been the courteous revelations of Spirits; (for those
noble essences in Heaven bear a friendly regard unto their
fellow Natures on Earth); and therefore believe that those
many prodigies and ominous prognosticks, which fore-run the
ruines of States, Princes, and private persons, are the char-
itable premonitions of good Angels, which more careless en-
quiries term but the effects of chance and nature.

Now, besides these particular and divided Spirits, there
may be (for ought I know), an universal and common Spirit
to the whole World. It was the opinion of Plato, and it is yet
of the Hermetical Philosophers. If there be a common nature
that unites and tyes the scattered and divided individuals
into one species, why may there not be one that unites them

Religio Medici 355

all? However, I am sure there is a common Spirit that plays
within us, yet makes no part of us; and that is, the Spirit of
GOD, the fire and scintillation of that noble and mighty Es-
sence, which is the life and radical heat of Spirits, and those
essences that know not the vertue of the Sun; a fire quite
contrary to the fire of Hell. This is that gentle heat that
brooded on the waters, and in six days hatched the World;
this is that irradiation that dispels the mists of Hell, the clouds
of horrour, fear, sorrow, despair; and preserves the region of
the mind in serenity. Whosoever feels not the warm gale and
gentle ventilation of this Spirit, though I feel his pulse, I dare
not say he lives: for truely, without this, to me there is no
heat under the Tropick; nor any light, though I dwelt in the
body of the Sun.

As, when the labouring Sun hath wrought his track

Up to the top of lofty Cancers back,

The ycie Ocean cracks, the frozen pole

Thaws with the heat of the Celestial coale;

So, when Thy absent beams begin t' impart

Again a Solstice on my frozen heart,

My winter's ov'r, my drooping spirits sing,

And every part revives into a Spring.

But if Thy quickning beams a while decline,

And with their light bless not this Orb of mine,

A chilly frost surpriseth every member,

And in the midst of June I feel December.

O how this earthly temper both debase

The noble Soul, in this her humble place;

Whose wingy nature ever doth aspire

To reach that place whence first it took its fire.

These flames I feel, which in my heart do dwell,

Are not Thy beams, but take their fire from Hell:

quench them all, and let Thy Light divine

Be as the Sun to this poor Orb of mine;

And to Thy sacred Spirit convert those fires,

Whose earthly fumes choak my devout aspires.

35 6 Sir Thomas Browne

Therefore for Spirits, I am so far from denying their ex-
istence, that I could easily believe, that not onely whole
Countries, but particular persons, have their Tutelary and
Guardian Angels. It is not a new opinion of the Church of
Rome, but an old one of Pythagoras and Plato; there is no
heresie in it; and if not manifestly defin'd in Scripture, yet
is it an opinion of a good and wholesome use in the course
and actions of a mans life, and would serve as an Hypothesis
to salve many doubts, whereof common Philosophy affordeth
no solution. Now, if you demand my opinion and Meta-
physicks of their natures, I confess them very shallow; most
of them in a negative way, like that of GOD; or in a compara-
tive, between ourselves and fellow-creatures; for there is in
this Universe a Stair, or manifest Scale of creatures, rising
not disorderly, or in confusion, but with a comely method
and proportion. Between creatures of meer existence, and
things of life, there is a large disproportion of nature; between
plants, and animals or creatures of sense, a wider difference;
between them and Man, a far greater: and if the proportion
hold one, between Man and Angels there should be yet a
greater. We do not comprehend their natures, who retain the
first definition of Porphyry, and distinguish them from our
selves by immortality; for before his Fall, 'tis thought, Man
also was Immortal; yet must we needs affirm that he had a
different essence from the Angels. Having therefore no certain
knowledge of their Natures, 'tis no bad method of the Schools,
whatsoever perfection we find obscurely in our selves, in a
more compleat and absolute way to ascribe unto them. I be-
lieve they have an extemporary knowledge, and upon the
first motion of their reason do what we cannot without study
or deliberation; that they know things by their forms, and
define by specifical difference what we describe by accidents
and properties; and therefore probabilities to us may be dem-
onstrations unto them: that they have knowledge not onely
of the specifical, but numerical forms of individuals, and un-
derstand by what reserved difference each single Hypostasis
(besides the relation to its species), becomes its numerical

Religio Medici 357

self: that, as the Soul hath a power to move the body it in-
forms, so there's a faculty to move any, though inform none:
ours upon restraint of time, place, and distance; but that in-
visible hand that conveyed Habakkuk to the Lyons Den, or
Philip to Azotus, infringeth this rule, and hath a secret con-
veyance, wherewith mortality is not acquainted. If they have
that intuitive knowledge, whereby as in reflexion they behold
the thoughts of one another, I cannot peremptorily deny but
they know a great part of ours. They that, to refute the Invo-
cation of Saints, have denied that they have any knowledge
of our affairs below, have proceeded too far, and must pardon
my opinion, till I can thoroughly answer that piece of Scrip-
ture, At the conversion of a sinner the Angels in Heaven re-
joyce. I cannot, with those in that great Father, securely
interpret the work of the first day, Fiat lux, to the creation of
Angels; though I confess, there is not any creature that hath
so neer a glympse of their nature as light in the Sun and
Elements. We stile it a bare accident; but, where it subsists
alone, 'tis a spiritual Substance, and may be an Angel: in brief,
conceive light invisible, and that is a Spirit.

These are certainly the Magisterial and masterpieces of
the Creator, the Flower, or (as we may say), the best part of
nothing; actually existing, what we are but in hopes and
probability. We are onely that amphibious piece between a
corporal and spiritual Essence, that middle form that links
those two together, and makes good the Method of GOD and
Nature, that jumps not from extreams, but unites the incom-
patible distances by some middle and participating natures.
That we are the breath and similitude of GOD, it is indis-
putable, and upon record of Holy Scripture; but to call our-
selves a Microcosm, or little World, I thought it only a pleasant
trope of Rhetorick, till my neer judgement and second
thoughts told me there was a real truth therein. For first we
are a rude mass, and in the rank of creatures which onely
are, and have a dull kind of being, not yet priviledged with
life, or preferred to sense or reason; next we live the life of
Plants, the life of Animals, the life of Men, and at last the

358 Sir Thomas Browne

life of Spirits, running on in one mysterious nature those five
kinds of existences, which comprehend the creatures, not
onely of the World, but of the Universe. Thus is Man that
great and true Amphibium, whose nature is disposed to live,
not onely like other creatures in divers elements, but in di-
vided and distinguished worlds: for though there be but one
to sense, there are two to reason, the one visible, the other
invisible; whereof Moses seems to have left description, and
of the other so obscurely, that some parts thereof are yet in
controversie. And truely, for the first chapters of Genesis, I
must confess a great deal of obscurity; though Divines have
to the power of humane reason endeavoured to make all go
in a literal meaning, yet those allegorical interpretations are
also probable, and perhaps the mystical method of Moses bred
up in the Hieroglyphical Schools of the Egyptians.

Now for that immaterial world, methinks we need not
wander so far as beyond the first moveable; for even in this
material Fabrick the Spirits walk as freely exempt from the
affection of time, place, and motion, as beyond the extreamest
circumference. Do but extract from the corpulency of bodies,
or resolve things beyond their first matter, and you discover
the habitation of Angels, which if I call the ubiquitary and
omnipresent Essence of GOD, I hope I shall not offend Di-
vinity: for before the Creation of the World GOD was really
all things. For the Angels He created no new World, or de-
terminate mansion, and therefore they are everywhere where
is His Essence, and do live at a distance even in Himself,
That GOD made all things for Man, is in some sense true, yet
not so far as to subordinate the Creation of those purer Crea-
tures unto ours, though as ministring Spirits they do, and are
willing to fulfil the will of GOD in these lower and sublunary
affairs of Man. GOD made all things for Himself, and it is
impossible He should make them for any other end than His
own Glory; it is all He can receive, and all that is without
Himself. For, honour being an external adjunct, and in the
honourer rather than in the person honoured, it was neces-
sary to make a Creature, from whom He might receive this

Religio Medici 359

homage; and that is, in the other world, Angels, in this, Man;
which when we neglect, we forget the very end of our Crea-
tion, and may justly provoke GOD, not onely to repent that
He hath made the World, but that He hath sworn He would
not destroy it. That there is but one World, is a conclusion
of Faith: Aristotle with all his Philosophy hath not been able
to prove it, and as weakly that the World was eternal. That
dispute much troubled the Pen of the ancient Philosophers,
but Moses decided that question, and all is salved with the
new term of a Creation, that is, a production of something
out of nothing. And what is that? whatsoever is opposite to
something; or more exactly, that which is truely contrary
unto GOD: for He onely is, all others have an existence with
dependency, and are something but by a distinction. And
herein is Divinity conformant unto Philosophy, and genera-
tion not onely founded on contrarieties, but also creation;
GOD, being all things, is contrary unto nothing, out of which
were made all things, and so nothing became something, and
Omneity informed Nullity into an Essence.

The whole Creation is a Mystery, and particularly that of
Man. At the blast of His mouth were the rest of the Creatures
made, and at His bare word they started out of nothing: but
in the frame of Man (as the Text describes it), He played
the sensible operator, and seemed not so much to create, as
make him. When He had separated the materials of other
creatures, there consequently resulted a form and soul; but,
having raised the walls of Man, He was driven to a second
and harder creation of a substance like Himself, an incor-
ruptible and immortal Soul. For these two affections we have
the Philosophy and opinion of the Heathens, the flat affirma-
tive of Plato, and not a negative from Aristotle. There is
another scruple cast in by Divinity concerning its production,
much disputed in the Germane auditories, and with that in-
differency and equality of arguments, as leave the controversie
undetermined. I am not of Paracelsus mind, that boldly de-
livers a receipt to make a man without conjunction; yet can-
not but wonder at the multitude of heads that do deny

360 Sir Thomas Browne

traduction, having no other argument to confirm their belief
then that Rhetorical sentence and Antimetathesis of Augus-
tine, Creando infunditur, injundendo creatur. Either opinion
will consist well enough with Religion: yet I should rather
incline to this, did not one objection haunt me, (not wrung
from speculations and subtilties, but from common sense and
observation; not pickt from the leaves of any Author, but
bred amongst the weeds and tares of mine own brain) ; and
this is a conclusion from the equivocal and monstrous pro-
ductions in the conjunction of Man with Beast: for if the
Soul of man be not transmitted and transfused in the seed of
the Parents, why are not those productions meerly beasts,
but have also an impression and tincture of reason in as high
a measure as it can evidence it self in those improper Organs?
Nor, truely, can I peremptorily deny that the Soul, in this
her sublunary estate, is wholly and in all acceptions inorgani-
cal; but that for the performance of her ordinary actions there
is required not onely a symmetry and proper disposition of
Organs, but a Crasis and temper correspondent to its opera-
tions: yet is not this mass of flesh and visible structure the
instrument and proper corps of the Soul, but rather of Sense,
and that the hand of Reason. In our study of Anatomy there
is a mass of mysterious Philosophy, and such as reduced the
very Heathens to Divinity: yet, amongst all those rare dis-
coveries and curious pieces I find in the Fabrick of Man, I
do not so much content myself, as in that I find not, there is
no Organ or Instrument for the rational Soul; for in the brain,
which we term the seat of Reason, there is not any thing of
moment more than I can discover in the crany of a beast:
and this is a sensible and no inconsiderable argument of the
inorganity of the Soul, at least in that sense we usually so
receive it. Thus we are men, and we know not how: there
is something in us that can be without us, and will be after us;
though it is strange that it hath no history what it was before
as, nor cannot tell how it entred in us.

Now, for these walls of flesh, wherein the Soul doth seem
to be immured before the Resurrection, it is nothing but an

Religio Medici 361

elemental composition, and a Fabrick that must fall to ashes.
All flesh is grass, is not onely metaphorically, but literally,
true; for all those creatures we behold are but the herbs of
the field, digested into flesh in them, or more remotely carni-
fied in our selves. Nay further, we are what we all abhor,
Anthropophagi and Cannibals, devourers not onely of men,
but of our selves; and that not in an allegory, but a positive
truth; for all this mass of flesh which we behold, came in at
our mouths; this frame we look upon, hath been upon our
trenchers; in brief, we have devour 'd our selves. I cannot be-
lieve the wisdom of Pythagoras did ever positively, and in
a literal sense, affirm his Metempsychosis, or impossible trans-
migration of the Souls of men into beasts. Of all Metamor-
phoses or transmigrations, I believe only one, that is of Lots
wife; for that of Nebuchodonosor proceeded not so far: in
all others I conceive there is no further verity than is con-
tained in their implicite sense and morality. I believe that the
whole frame of a beast doth perish, and is left in the same
state after death as before it was materialled unto life: that
the Souls of men know neither contrary nor corruption; that
they subsist beyond the body, and outlive death by the privi-
ledge of their proper natures, and without a Miracle; that
the Souls of the faithful, as they leave Earth, take possession
of Heaven: that those apparitions and ghosts of departed
persons are not the wandring souls of men, but the unquiet
walks of Devils, prompting and suggesting us unto mischief,
blood, and villainy; instilling and stealing into our hearts
that the blessed Spirits are not at rest in their graves, but
wander sollicitous of the affairs of the World. But that those
phantasms appear often, and do frequent Coemeteries,
Charnel-houses, and Churches, it is because those are the
dormitories of the dead, where the Devil, like an insolent
Champion, beholds with pride the spoils and Trophies of his
Victory over Adam.

This is that dismal conquest we all deplore, that makes us
so often cry, Adam, quid fecisti? I thank GOD I have not
those strait ligaments, or narrow obligations to the World, as

362 Sir Thomas Browne

to dote on life, or be convulst and tremble at the name of
death. Not that I am insensible of the dread and horrour
thereof; or by raking into the bowels of the deceased, con-
tinual sight of Anatomies, Skeletons, or Cadaverous reliques,
like Vespilloes, or Grave-makers, I am become stupid, or have
forgot the apprehension of Mortality; but that, marshalling
all the horrours, and contemplating the extremities thereof,
I find not anything therein able to daunt the courage of a
man, much less a well-resolved Christian; and therefore am
not angry at the errour of our first Parents, or unwilling to
bear a part of this common fate, and like the best of them to
dye, that is, to cease to breathe, to take a farewel of the ele-
ments, to be a kind of nothing for a moment, to be within
one instant of a Spirit. When I take a full view and circle of
my self without this reasonable moderator, and equal piece of
Justice, Death, I do conceive my self the miserablest person
extant. Were there not another life that I hope for, all the
vanities of this World should not intreat a moments breath
from me: could the Devil work my belief to imagine I could
never dye, I would not outlive that very thought. I have so
abject a conceit of this common way of existence, this retain-
ing to the Sun and Elements, I cannot think this is to be a
Man, or to live according to the dignity of humanity. In
exspectation of a better, I can with patience embrace this life,
yet in my best meditations do often defie death; I honour any
man that contemns it, nor can I highly love any that is afraid
of it: this makes me naturally love a Souldier, and honour
those tattered and contemptible Regiments that will die at
the command of a Sergeant. For a Pagan there may be some
motives to be in love with life; but for a Christian to be
amazed at death, I see not how he can escape this Dilemma,
that he is too sensible of this life, or hopeless of the life to
come.

Some Divines count Adam thirty years old at his Creation,
because they suppose him created in the perfect age and
stature of man. And surely we are all out of the computation
of our age, and every man in some months elder than he be-

Religio Medici 363

thinks him; for we live, move, have a being, and are subject
to the actions of the elements, and the malice of diseases, in
that other World, the truest Microcosm, the Womb of our
Mother. For besides that general and common existence we
are conceived to hold in our Chaos, and whilst we sleep within
the bosome of our causes, we enjoy a being and life in three
distinct worlds, wherein we receive most manifest graduations.
In that obscure World and Womb of our Mother, our time
is short, computed by the Moon, yet longer than the days of
many creatures that behold the Sun; our selves being not yet
without life, sense, and reason; though for the manifestation
of its actions, it awaits the opportunity of objects, and seems
to live there but in its root and soul of vegetation. Entring
afterwards upon the scene of the World, we arise up and be-
come another creature, performing the reasonable actions of
man, and obscurely manifesting that part of Divinity in us;
but not in complement and perfection, till we have once more
cast our secondine, that is, this slough of flesh, and are de-
livered into the last World, that is, that ineffable place of
Paul, that proper ubi of Spirits. The smattering I have of the
Philosophers Stone (which is something more then the perfect
exaltation of gold), hath taught me a great deal of Divinity,
and instructed my belief, how that immortal spirit and incor-
ruptible substance of my Soul may lye obscure, and sleep a
while within this house of flesh. Those strange and mystical
transmigrations that I have observed in Silkworms, turned
my Philosophy into Divinity. There is in these works of na-
ture, which seem to puzzle reason, something Divine, and hath
more in it than the eye of a common spectator doth discover.
I am naturally bashful; nor hath conversation, age, or
travel, been able to effront or enharden me; yet I have one
part of modesty which I have seldom discovered in another,
that is, (to speak truely), I am not so much afraid of death,
as ashamed thereof. 'Tis the very disgrace and ignominy of
our natures, that in a moment can so disfigure us, that our
nearest friends, Wife, and Children, stand afraid and start
at us: the Birds and Beasts of the field, that before in a natural

564 Sir Thomas Browne

fear obeyed us, forgetting all allegiance, begin to prey upon
us. This very conceit hath in a tempest disposed and left me
willing to be swallowed up in the abyss of waters, wherein I
had perished unseen, unpityed, without wondering eyes, tears
of pity, Lectures of mortality, and none had said,

Quantum mutatus ab illo/

Not that I am ashamed of the Anatomy of my parts, or can
accuse Nature for playing the bungler in any part of me, or
my own vitious life for contracting any shameful disease upon
me, whereby I might not call my self as wholesome a morsel
for the worms as any.

Some, upon the courage of a fruitful issue, wherein, as ip
the truest Chronicle, they seem to outlive themselves, can
with greater patience away with death. This conceit and
counterfeit subsisting in our progenies seems to me a meer
fallacy, unworthy the desires of a man that can but conceive
a thought of the next World ; who, in a nobler ambition, should
desire to live in his substance in Heaven, rather than his name
and shadow in the earth. And therefore at my death I mean
to take a total adieu of the World, not caring for a Monu-
ment, History, or Epitaph, not so much as the bare memory
of my name to be found any where but in the universal Reg-
ister of GOD. I am not yet so Cynical as to approve the Testa-
ment of Diogenes; nor do I altogether allow that Rodomon-
tado of Lucan,

Cxlo tegitur, qui non habet urnam.

He that unburied lies wants not his Herse,
For unto him a Tomb's the Universe.

but commend in my calmer judgement those ingenuous inten-
tions that desire to sleep by the urns of their Fathers, and
strive to go the neatest way unto corruption. I do not envy
the temper of Crows and Daws, nor the numerous and weary
days of our Fathers before the Flood. If there be any truth
in Astrology, I may outlive a Jubilee: as yet I have not seen

Religio Medici 365

one revolution of Saturn, nor hath my pulse beat thirty years;
and yet, excepting one, have seen the Ashes and left under
ground all the Kings of Europe; have been contemporary to
three Emperours, four Grand Signiours, and as many Popes.
Methinks I have outlived my self, and begin to be weary of
the Sun; I have shaken hands with delight, in my warm blood
and Canicular days, I perceive I do anticipate the vices of
age; the Wotld to me is but a dream or mock-show, and we
all therein but Pantalones and Anticks, to my severer con-
templations.

It is not, I confess, an unlawful Prayer to desire to surpass
the days of our Saviour, or wish to outlive that age wherein
He thought fittest to dye; yet if (as Divinity affirms), there
shall be no gray hairs in Heaven, but all shall rise in the perfect
state of men, we do but outlive those perfections in this World,
to be recalled unto them by a greater Miracle in the next,
and run on here but to be retrograde hereafter. Were there
any hopes to outlive vice, or a point to be superannuated from
sin, it were worthy our knees to implore the days of Methuse-
lah. But age doth not rectify, but incurvate our natures,
turning bad dispositions into worser habits, and (like dis-
eases), brings on incurable vices; for every day as we grow
weaker in age, we grow stronger in sin, and the number of
our days doth but make our sins innumerable. The same vice
committed at sixteen, is not the same, though it agree in all
other circumstances, at forty, but swells and doubles from
the circumstance of our ages; wherein, besides the constant
and inexcusable habit of transgressing, the maturity of our
judgment cuts off pretence unto excuse or pardon. Every sin.
the of tner it is committed, the more it acquireth in the quality
of evil; as it succeeds in time, so it proceeds in degrees of
badness; for as they proceed they ever multiply, and, like
figures in Arithmetick, the last stands for more than all that
went before it. And though I think no man can live well once,
but he that could live twice, yet for my own part I would
not live over my hours past, or begin again the thread of my

366 Sir Thomas Browne

days: not upon Cicero's ground, because I have Hved them
well, but for fear I should live them worse. I find my growing
Judgment daily instruct me how to be better, but my untamed
affections and confirmed vitiosity makes me daily do worse.
I find in my confirmed age the same sins I discovered in my
youth; I committed many then, because I was a Child; and
because I commit them still, I am yet an infant. Therefore I
perceive a man may be twice a Child, before the days of
dotage; and stand in need of ^Esons Bath before threescore.

And truly there goes a great deal of providence to produce
a mans life unto threescore: there is more required than an
able temper for those years; though the radical humour con-
tain in it sufficient oyl for seventy, yet I perceive in some it
gives no light past thirty: men assign not all the causes of
long life, that write whole Books thereof. They that found
themselves on the radical balsome, or vital sulphur of the
parts, determine not why Abel lived not so long as Adam.
There is therefore a secret glome or bottome of our days : 'twas
His wisdom to determine them, but His perpetual and waking
providence that fulfils and accomplisheth them; wherein the
spirits, ourselves, and all the creatures of GOD in a secret and
disputed way do execute His will. Let them not therefore com-
plain of immaturity that die about thirty; they fall but like
the whole World, whose solid and well-composed substance
must not expect the duration and period of its constitution:
when all things are completed in it, its age is accomplished;
and the last and general fever may as naturally destroy it
before six thousand, as me before forty. There is therefore
some other hand that twines the thread of life than that of
Nature: we are not onely ignorant in Antipathies and occult
qualities; our ends are as obscure as our beginnings; the line
of our days is drawn by night, and the various effects therein
by a pensil that is invisible; wherein though we confess our
ignorance, I am sure we do not err if we say it is the hand of
GOD.

I am much taken with two verses of Lucan, since I have

Religio Medici 367

been able not onely, as we do at School, to construe, but un-
derstand:

Victurosque Dei celant, ut vivere durent,
Felix esse mori.

We're all deluded, vainly searching ways
To make us happy by the length of days ;
For cunningly to make's protract this breath,
The Gods conceal the happiness of Death.

There be many excellent strains in that Poet, wherewith his
Stoical Genius hath liberally supplied him; and truely there
are singular pieces in the Philosophy of Zeno, and doctrine
of the Stoicks, which I perceive, delivered in a Pulpit, pass
for current Divinity: yet herein are they in extreams, that
can allow a man to be his own Assassine, and so highly extol
the end and suicide of Cato. This is indeed not to fear death,
but yet to be afraid of life. It is a brave act of valour to con-
temn death; but where life is more terrible than death, ft is
then the truest valour to dare to live. And herein Religion
hath taught us a noble example; for all the valiant acts of
Curtius, Scevola, or Codrus, do not parallel or match that
one of Job; and sure there is no torture to the rack of a
disease, nor any Ponyards in death it self like those in the
way or prologue to it.

Emori nolo, sed me esse mortuum nihU euro.

I would not die, but care not to be dead.

Were I of Caesar's Religion, I should be of his desires, and
wish rather to go off at one blow, then to be sawed in pieces
by the grating torture of a disease. Men that look no farther
than their outsides, think health an appurtenance unto life,
and quarrel with their constitutions for being sick; but I,
that have examined the parts of man, and know upon what
tender filaments that Fabrick hangs, do wonder that we are
not always so; and, considering the thousand doors that lead

368 Sir Thomas Browne

to death, do thank my GOD that we can die but once. Tis not
onely the mischief of diseases, and the villany of poysons, that
make an end of us; we vainly accuse the fury of Guns, and
the new inventions of death ; it is in the power of every hand
to destroy us, and we are beholding unto every one we meet,
he doth not kill us. There is therefore but one comfort left,
that, though it be in the power of the weakest arm to take
away life, it is not in the strongest to deprive us of death:
GOD would not exempt Himself from that, the misery of im-
mortality in the flesh, He undertook not that was immortal.
Certainly there is no happiness within this circle of flesh, nor
is it in the Opticks of these eyes to behold felicity. The first
day of our Jubilee is Death; the Devil hath therefore failed
of his desires: we are happier with death than we should have
been without it: there is no misery but in himself, where there
is no end of misery; and so indeed, in his own sense, the Stoick
is in the right. He forgets that he can dye who complains of
misery; we are in the power of no calamity while death is in
our own.

Now, besides this literal and positive kind of death, there
are others whereof Divines make mention, and those, I think,
not meerly Metaphorical, as mortification, dying unto sin
and the World. Therefore, I say, every man hath a double
Horoscope, one of his humanity, his birth; another of his
Christianity, his baptism; and from this do I compute or
calculate my Nativity, not reckoning those Horx combust &
and odd days, or esteeming my self any thing, before I was
my Saviours, and inrolled in the Register of CHRIST. Whoso-
ever enjoys not this life, I count him but an apparition, though
he wear about him the sensible affections of flesh. In these
moral acceptions, the way to be immortal is to dye daily: nor
can I think I have the true Theory of death, when I contem-
plate a skull, or behold a Skeleton, with those vulgar imagina-
tions it casts upon us; I have therefore enlarged that common
Memento mori f wto a more Christian memorandum, Memento
quatuor Novissima, those four inevitable points of us all,
Death, Judgement, Heaven, and Hell. Neither did the con-

Religio Medici 369

temptations of the Heathens rest in their graves, without a
further thought of Rhadamanth, or some judicial proceeding
after death, though in another way, and upon suggestion of
their natural reasons. I cannot but marvail from what Sibyl
or Oracle they stole the Prophesie of the Worlds destruction
by fire, or whence Lucan learned to say,

Communis mundo superest rogus, ossibus astra
Misturus.

There yet remains to th' World one common Fire,
Wherein our bones with stars shall make one Pyre.

I believe the World grows near its end, yet is neither old nor
decayed, nor shall ever perish upon the mines of its own
Principles. As the work of Creation was above Nature, so is
its adversary, annihilation; without which the World hath
not its end, but its mutation. Now what force should be able
to consume it thus far, without the breath of GOD, which is
the truest consuming flame, my Philosophy cannot inform
me. Some believe there went not a minute to the Worlds crea-
tion, nor shall there go to its destruction; those six days, so
punctually described, make not to them one moment, but
rather seem to manifest the method and Idea of the great
work of the intellect of GOD, than the manner how He pro-
ceeded in its operation. I cannot dream that there should be
at the last day any such Judicial proceeding, or calling to the
Bar, as indeed the Scripture seems to imply, and the literal
Commentators do conceive: for unspeakable mysteries in the
Scriptures are often delivered in a vulgar and illustrative
way; and, being written unto man, are delivered, not as they
truely are, but as they may be understood; wherein, notwith-
standing, the different interpretations according to different
capacities may stand firm with our devotion, nor be any way
prejudicial to each single edification.

Now to determine the day and year of this inevitable time,
is not onely conyincible and statute-madness, but also mani-
feft impiety, Etar ihatt we interpret Ellas six thousand yean,

370 Sir Thomas Browne

or imagine the secret communicated to a Rabbi, which GOD
hath denyed unto His Angels? It had been an excellent Quaere
to have posed the Devil of Delphos, and must needs have
forced him to some strange amphibology. It hath not onely
mocked the predictions of sundry Astrologers in Ages past, but
the prophesies of many melancholy heads in these present;
who, neither understanding reasonably things past or present,
pretend a knowledge of things to come; heads ordained onely
to manifest the incredible effects of melancholy, and to fulfil
old prophecies rather than be the authors of new. In those
days there shall come Wars and rumours of Wars, to me seems
no prophecy, but a constant truth, in all times verified since
it was pronounced. There shall be signs in the Moon and Stars;
how comes He then like a Thief in the night, when He gives
an item of His coming? That common sign drawn from the
revelation of Antichrist, is as obscure as any: in our common
compute He hath been come these many years: but for my
own part, (to speak freely), I am half of opinion that Anti-
christ is the Philosopher's stone in Divinity, for the discovery
and invention whereof, though there be prescribed rules and
probable inductions, yet hath hardly any man attained the
perfect discovery thereof. That general opinion that the World
grows near its end, hath possessed all ages past as nearly as
ours. I am afraid that the Souls that now depart, cannot escape
that lingring expostulation of the Saints under the Altar,
Quousque, DOMINE? How long, LORD? and groan in the
expectation of that great Jubilee.

This is the day that must make good that great attribute
of GOD, His Justice; that must reconcile those unanswerable
doubts that torment the wisest understandings; and reduce
those seeming inequalities and respective distributions in this
world, to an equality and recompensive Justice in the next.
This is that one day, that shall include and comprehend all
that went before it; wherein, as in the last scene, all the Actors
must enter, to compleat and make up the Catastrophe of this
great piece. This is the day whose memory hath onely power

Religio Medici 371

to make us honest in the dark, and to be vertuous without a
witness.

Ipsa sui pretium virtus sibi,

that Vertue is her own reward, is but a cold principle, and
not able to maintain our variable resolutions in a constant
and settled way of goodness. I have practised that honest
artifice of Seneca, and in my retired and solitary imaginations,
to detain me from the foulness of vice, have fancied to my
self the presence of my dear and worthiest friends, before
whom I should lose my head, rather than be vitious: yet herein
I found that there was nought but moral honesty, and this
was not to be vertuous for His sake Who must reward us at
the last. I have tryed if I could reach that great resolution of
his, to be honest without a thought of Heaven or Hell: and
indeed I found, upon a natural inclination and inbred loyalty
unto virtue, that I could serve her without a livery; yet not
in that resolved and venerable way, but that the frailty of my
nature, upon an easie temptation, might be induced to forget
her. The life, therefore, and spirit of all our actions is the
resurrection, and a stable apprehension that our ashes shall
enjoy the fruit of our pious endeavours: without this, all
Religion is a Fallacy, and those impieties of Lucian, Euripides,
and Julian, are no blasphemies, but subtle verities, and Athe^
ists have been the onely Philosophers.

How shall the dead arise, is no question of my Faith; to
believe only possibilities, is not Faith, but meer Philosophy.
Many things are true in Divinity, which are neither inducible
by reason, nor confirmable by sense; and many things in
Philosophy confirmable by sense, yet not inducible by reason.
Thus it is impossible by any solid or demonstrative reasons to
perswade a man to believe the conversion of the Needle to
the North; though this be possible, and true, and easily
credible, upon a single experiment unto the sense. I believe
that our estranged and divided ashes shall unite again; that
our separated dust, after so many Pilgrimages and transforma-
tions into the parts of Minerals, Plants, Animals, Elements,

37* Sir Thomas Browne

shall at the Voice of GOD return into their primitive shapes,
and joyn again to make up their primary and predestinate
forms. As at the Creation there was a separation of that con-
fused mass into its species; so at the destruction thereof there
shall be a separation into its distinct individuals. As at the
Creation of the World, all the distinct species that we behold
lay involved in one mass, till the fruitful Voice of GOD separ-
ated this united multitude into its several species; so at the
last day, when those corrupted reliques shall be scattered in
the Wilderness of forms, and seem to have forgot their proper
habits, GOD by a powerful Voice shall command them back
into their proper shapes, and call them out by their single
individuals. Then shall appear the fertility of Adam, and the
magick of that sperm that hath dilated into so many millions.
I have often beheld as a miracle, that artificial resurrection
and revivification of Mercury, how being mortified into a
thousand shapes, it assumes again its own, and returns into its
numerical self. Let us speak naturally and like Philosophers;
the forms of alterable bodies in these sensible corruptions
perish not; nor, as we imagine, wholly quit their mansions, but
retire and contract themselves into their secret and unacces-
sible parts, where they may best protect themselves from the
action of their Antagonist, A plant or vegetable consumed to
ashes to a contemplative and school-Philosopher seems utterly
destroyed, and the form to have taken his leave for ever; but
to a sensible Artist the forms are not perished, but withdrawn
into their incombustible part, where they lie secure from the
action of that devouring element. This is made good by ex-
perience, which can from the Ashes of a Plant revive the plant,
and from its cinders recall it into its stalk and leaves again.
What the Art of man can do in these inferiour pieces, what
blasphemy is it to affirm the finger of GOD cannot do in these
more perfect and sensible structures! This is that mystical
Philosophy, from whence no true Scholar becomes an Atheist,
but from the visible effects of nature grows up a real Divine,
and beholds not in a dream, as Ezekiel, but in an ocular and
visible object, the types of his resurrection.

Religio Medici 373

Now, the necessary Mansions of our restored selves are
those two contrary and incomparable places we call Heaven
and Hell. To define them, or strictly to determine what and
where these are f surpasseth my Divinity. That elegant Apostle,
which seemed to have a glimpse of Heaven, hath left but a
negative description thereof; which neither eye hath seen, nor
ear hath heard, nor can enter into the heart of man: he was
translated out of himself to behold it; but, being returned into
himself, could not express it. St. John's description by Emer-
als, Chrysolites, and precious Stones, is too weak to express
the material Heaven we behold. Briefly therefore, where the
Soul hath the full measure and complement of happiness;
where the boundless appetite of that spirit remains compleatly
satisfied, that it can neither desire addition nor alteration;
that, I think, is truly Heaven: and this can onely be in the
injoyment of that essence, whose infinite goodness is able to
terminate the desires of it self, and the unsatiable wishes of
ours: wherever GOD will thus manifest Himself, there is
Heaven, though within the circle of this sensible world. Thus
the Soul of man may be in Heaven any where, even within the
limits of his own proper body; and when it ceaseth to live in
the body, it may remain in its own soul, that is, its Creator:
and thus we may say that St. Paul, whether in the body, or
out of the body, was yet in Heaven. To place it in the Empy-
real, or beyond the tenth sphear, is to forget the world's de-
struction; for, when this sensible world shall be destroyed, all
shall then be here as it is now there, an Empyreal Heaven, a
quasi vacuity; when to ask where Heaven is, is to demand
where the presence of GOD is, or where we have the glory of
that happy vision. Moses, that was bred up in all the learning
of the Egyptians, committed a gross absurdity in Philosophy,
when with these eyes of flesh he desired to see GOD, and peti-
tioned his Maker, that is, Truth it self, to a contradiction.
Those that imagine Heaven and Hell neighbours, and conceive
a vicinity between those two extreams, upon consequence of
the Parable, where Dives discoursed with Lazarus in Abra-
ham's bosome, do too grosly conceive of those glorified crea-

374 Sir Thomas Browne

tares, whose eyes shall easily out-see the Sun, and behold
without a perspective the extreamest distances: for if there
shall be in our glorified eyes, the faculty of sight and reception
of objects, I could think the visible species there to be in as
unlimitable a way as now the intellectual. I grant that two
bodies placed beyond the tenth sphear, or in a vacuity, accord-
ing to Aristotle's Philosophy, could not behold each other,
because there wants a body or Medium to hand and transport
the visible rays of the object unto the sense; but when there
shall be a general defect of either Medium to convey, or light
to prepare and dispose that Medium, and yet a perfect vision,
we must suspend the rules of our Philosophy, and make all
good by a more absolute piece of opticks.

I cannot tell how to say that fire is the essence of Hell: I
know not what to make of Purgatory, or conceive a flame that
can either prey upon, or purifie the substance of a Soul. Those
flames of sulphur mentioned in the Scriptures, I take not to be
understood of this present Hell, but of that to come, where
fire shall make up the complement of our tortures, and have
a body or subject wherein to manifest its tyranny. Some, who
have had the honour to be textuary in Divinity, are of opinion
it shall be the same specifical fire with ours. This is hard to
conceive; yet can I make good how even that may prey upon
our bodies, and yet not consume us: for in this material World
there are bodies that persist invincible in the powerfullest
flames; and though by the action of fire they fall into ignition
and liquation, yet will they never suffer a destruction. I would
gladly know how Moses with an actual fire calcined or burnt
the Golden Calf unto powder: for that mystical metal of Gold,
whose solary and celestial nature I admire, exposed unto the
violence of fire, grows onely hot, and liquifies, but consumeth
not; so, when the consumable and volatile pieces of our bodies
shall be refined into a more impregnable and fixed temper like
Gold, though they suffer from the action of flames, they shall
never perish, but lye immortal in the arms of fire. And surely, if
this frame must suffer onely by the action of this element,
there will many bodies escape; and not onely Heaven, but

Religio Medici 375

Earth will not be at an end, but rather a beginning. For at
present it is not earth, but a composition of fire, water, earti^
and air; but at that time, spoiled of these ingredients, it shall
appear in a substance more like it self, its ashes. Philosophers
that opinioned the worlds destruction by fire, did never dream
of annihilation, which is beyond the power of sublunary
causes; for the last and proper action of that element is but
vitrification, or a reduction of a body into glass; and therefore
some of our Chymicks facetiously affirm, that at the last fire
all shall be christallized and reverberated into glass, which is
the utmost action of that element. Nor need we fear this term,
annihilation, or wonder that GOD will destroy the works of his
Creation; for man subsisting, who is, and will then truely
appear, a Microcosm, the world cannot be said to be destroyed,.
For the eyes of GOD, and perhaps also of our glorified selves,
shall as really behold and contemplate the World in its Epi-
tome or contracted essence, as now it doth at large and in its
dilated substance. In the seed of a Plant to the eyes of GOD,
and to the understanding of man, there exists, though in an
invisible way, the perfect leaves, flowers, and fruit thereof;
for things that are in posse to the sense, are actually existent
to the understanding. Thus GOD beholds all things, Who con-
templates as fully His works in their Epitome, as in their full
volume; and beheld as amply the whole world in that little
compendium of the sixth day, as in the scattered and dilated
pieces of those five before.

Men commonly set forth the torments of Hell by fire, and
the extremity of corporal afflictions, and describe Hell in the
same method that Mahomet doth Heaven. This indeed makes
a noise, and drums in popular ears: but if this be the terrible
piece thereof, it is not worthy to stand in diameter withHeaven,
whose happiness consists in that part that is best able to com-
prehend it, that immortal essence, that translated divinity and
colony of GOD, the Soul. Surely, though we place Hell under
Earth, the DeviPs walk and purlue is about it: men speak too
popularly who place it in those flaming mountains, which to
grosser apprehensions represent Hell. The heart of man is the

376 Sir Thomas Browne

place DevUs dwell in: I feel sometimes a Hell within my self;
Lucifer keeps his Court in my breast, Legion is revived in me.
There are as many Hells, as Anaxagoris conceited worlds.
There was more than one Hell in Magdalene, when there were
seven Devils, for every Devil is an Hell unto himself; he holds
enough of torture in his own ubi, and needs not the misery of
circumference to afflict him: and thus a distracted Conscience
here, is a shadow or introduction unto Hell hereafter. Who
can but pity the merciful intention of those hands that do
destroy themselves? the Devil, were it in his power, would
do the like; which being impossible, his miseries are endless,
and he suffers most in that attribute wherein he is impassible,
his immortality.

I thank GOD, and with joy I mention it, I was never afraid
of Hell, nor never grew pale at the description of that place. I
have so fixed my contemplations on Heaven, that I have
almost forgot the Idea of Hell, and am afraid rather to lose
the Joys of the one, than endure the misery of the other: to
be deprived of them is a perfect Hell, and needs, methinks, no
addition to compleat our afflictions. That terrible term hath
never detained me from sin, nor do I owe any good action to
the name thereof. I fear GOD, yet am not afraid of Him: His
Mercies make me ashamed of my sins, before His Judgements
afraid thereof. These are the forced and secondary method of
His wisdom, which He useth but as the last remedy, and upon
provocation; a course rather to deter the wicked, than incite
the virtuous to His worship. I can hardly think there was ever
any scared into Heaven; they go the fairest way to Heaven
that would serve GOD without a Hell; other Mercenaries, that
crouch into Him in fear of Hell, though they term themselves
the servants, are indeed but the slaves, of the Almighty.

And to be true, and speak my soul, when I survey the occur-
rences of my life, and call into account the Finger of GOD, I
can perceive nothing but an abyss and mass of mercies, either
in general to mankind, or in particular to my self. And
(whether out of the prejudice of my affection, or an inverting
and partial conceit of His mercies, I know not; but) those

Religio Medici 377

which others term crosses, afflictions, judgements, misfortunes,
to me, who inquire farther into them then their visible effects,
they both appear, and in event have ever proved, the secret
and dissembled favours of His affection. It is a singular piece
of Wisdom to apprehend truly, and without passion, the
Works of GOD, and so well to distinguish His Justice from His
Mercy, as not to miscall those noble Attributes: yet it is like-
wise an honest piece of Logick, so to dispute and argue the
proceedings of GOD, as to distinguish even His judgements into
mercies. For GOD is merciful unto all, because better to the
worst than the best deserve; and to say He punisheth none in
this World, though it be a Paradox, is no absurdity. To one
that hath committed Murther, if the Judge should only ordain
a Fine, it were a madness to call this a punishment, and to
repine at the sentence, rather than admire the clemency of
the Judge. Thus, our offences being mortal, and deserving not
only Death, but Damnation, if the goodness of GOD be content
to traverse and pass them over with a loss, misfortune, or
disease, what f rensie were it to term this a punishment rather
than an extremity of mercy, and to groan under the rod of His
Judgements, rather than admire the Scepter of His Mercies!
Therefore to adore, honour, and admire Him, is a debt of
gratitude due from the obligation of our nature, states, and
conditions; and with these thoughts, He that knows them best,
will not deny that I adore Him. That I obtain Heaven, and the
bliss thereof, is accidental, and not the intended work of my
devotion; it being a felicity I can neither think to deserve,
nor scarce in modesty to expect. For these two ends of us all,
either as rewards or punishments, are mercifully ordained and
disproportionably disposed unto our actions; the one being so
far beyond our deserts, the other so infinitely below our
demerits.

There is no Salvation to those that believe not in CHRIST,
that is, say some, since His Nativity, and, as Divinity affirm-
eth, before also; which makes me much apprehend the ends
of those honest Worthies and Philosophers which dyed before
His Incaraaiioa. It ifi hard to place those Souls in Hell, whoaa

378 Sir Thomas Browne

worthy lives do teach us Virtue on Earth; methinks, amongst
those many subdivisions of Hell, there might have been one
Limbo left for these. What a strange vision will it be to see
their Poetical fictions converted into Verities, and their imag-
ined and fancied Furies into real Devils! How strange to
them will sound the History of Adam, when they shall suffer
for him they never heard of! when they who derive their
genealogy from the Gods, shall know they are the unhappy
issue of sinful man! It is an insolent part of reason, to contro-
vert the Works of GOD, or question the Justice of His proceed-
ings. Could Humility teach others, as it hath instructed me,
to contemplate the infinite and incomprehensible distance
betwixt the Creator and the Creature; or did we seriously per-
pend that one simile of St. Paul, Shall the Vessel say to the
Potter 9 "Why hast thou made me thus?' 9 it would prevent
these arrogant disputes of reason; nor would we argue the
definitive sentence of GOD, either to Heaven or Hell. Men that
live according to the right rule and law of reason, live but in
their own kind, as beasts do in theirs; who justly obey the
prescript of their natures, and therefore cannot reasonably
demand a reward of their actions, as onely obeying the natural
dictates of their reason. It will, therefore, and must at last
appear, that all salvation is through CHRIST; which verity, I
fear, these great examples of virtue must confirm, and make it
good how the perf ectest actions of earth have no title or claim
unto Heaven.

Nor truely do I think the lives of these, or of any other,
were ever correspondent, or in all points conformable, unto
their doctrines. It is evident that Aristotle transgressed the
rule of his own Ethicks. The Stoicks that condemn passion,
and command a man to laugh at Phalaris his Bull, could not
endure without a groan a fit of the Stone or Colick. The Scep-
ticks that affirmed they knew nothing, even in that opinion
confute themselves, and thought they knew more than all the
World beside. Diogenes I hold to be the most vain-glorious
man of his time, and more ambitious in refusing all Honours,
than Alexander in rejecting none. Vice and the Devil put a

Religio Medici 379

Fallacy upon our Reasons, and, provoking us too hastily to
run from it, entangle and profound us deeper in it. The Duke
of Venice, that weds himself unto the Sea by a Ring of Gold,
I will not argue of prodigality, because it is a solemnity of
good use and consequence in the State: but the Philosopher
that threw his money into the Sea to avoid Avarice, was a
notorious prodigal. There is no road or ready way to virtue: it
is not an easie point of art to disentangle our selves from this
riddle, or web of Sin. To perfect virtue, as to Religion, there
is required a Panoplia, or compleat armour; that, whilst we
lye at close ward against one Vice, we lye not open to the
venny of another. And indeed wiser discretions that have the
thred of reason to conduct them, offend without pardon;
whereas under-heads may stumble without dishonour. There
go so many circumstances to piece up one good action, that it
is a lesson to be good, and we are forced to be virtuous by the
book. Again, the Practice of men holds not an equal pace, yea,
and often runs counter to their Theory: we naturally know
what is good, but naturally pursue what is evil: the Rhetorick
wherewith I perswade another, cannot perswade my self.
There is a depraved appetite in us, that will with patience
hear the learned instructions of Reason, but yet perform no
farther than agrees to its own irregular humour. In brief, we
all are monsters, that is, a composition of Man and Beast,
wherein we must endeavour to be as the Poets fancy that wise
man Chiron, that is, to have the Region of Man above that
of Beast, and Sense to sit but at the feet of Reason. Lastly, I
do desire with GOD that all, but yet affirm with men that few,
shall know Salvation; that the bridge is narrow, the passage
strait, unto life: yet those who do confine the Church of GOD,
either to particular Nations, Churches, or Families, have made
it far narrower than our Saviour ever meant it.

The vulgarity of those judgements that wrap the Church of
GOD in Strabo's cloak, and restrain it unto Europe, seem to
me as bad Geographers as Alexander, who thought he had
Conquer'd all the World, when he had not subdued the half
of any part thereof. For we cannot deny the Church of GOD

380 Sir Thomas Browne

both in Asia and Africa, if we do not forget the Peregrinations
of the Apostles, the deaths of the Martyrs, the Sessions of
many and (even in our reformed judgement) lawful Councils,
held in those parts in the minority and nonage of ours. Nor
must a few differences, more remarkable in the eyes of man
than perhaps in the judgement of GOD, excommunicate from
Heaven one another; much less those Christians who are in a
manner all Martyrs, maintaining their Faith in the noble way
of persecution, and serving GOD in the Fire, whereas we
honour him but in the Sunshine. Tis true we all hold there is
a number of Elect, and many to be saved; yet, take our
Opinions together, and from the confusion thereof there will
be no such thing as salvation, nor shall any one be saved. For
first, the Church of Rome condemneth us, we likewise them;
the Subreformists and Sectaries sentence the Doctrine of our
Church as damnable; the Atomist, or Familist, reprobates all
these; and all these, them again. Thus, whilst the Mercies of
GOD do promise us Heaven, our conceits and opinions exclude
us from that place. There must be, therefore, more than one
St. Peter: particular Churches and Sects usurp the gates of
Heaven, and turn the key against each other; and thus we go
to Heaven against each others wills, conceits, and opinions,
and, with as much uncharity as ignorance, do err, I fear, in
points not only of our own, but one anothers salvation.

I believe many are saved, who to man seem reprobated;
and many are reprobated, who, in the opinion and sentence
of man, stand elected. There will appear at the Last day
strange and unexpected examples both of His Justice and His
Mercy; and therefore to define either, is folly in man, and
insolency even in the Devils. Those acute and subtil spirits,
in all their sagacity, can hardly divine who shall be saved;
which if they could Prognostick, their labour were at an end,
nor need they compass the earth seeking whom they may de-
vour. Those who, upon a rigid application of the Law, sentence
Solomon unto damnation, condemn not onely him, but them-
selves, and the whole World: for, by the Letter and written
Word of GOD, we are without exception in the state of Death;

Religio Medici 381

but there is a prerogative of GOD, and an arbitrary pleasure
above the Letter of His own Law, by which alone we can pre-
tend unto Salvation, and through which Solomon might be as
easily saved as those who condemn him.

The number of those who pretend unto Salvation, and those
infinite swarms who think to pass through the eye of this
Needle, have much amazed me. That name and compilation
of little Flock, doth not comfort, but deject, my Devotion;
especially when I reflect upon mine own unworthiness, wherein,
according to my humble apprehensions, I am below them all.
I believe there shall never be an Anarchy in Heaven; but, as
there are Hierarchies amongst the Angels, so shall there be
degrees of priority amongst the Saints. Yet is it (I protest),
beyond my ambition to aspire unto the first ranks; my desires
onely are (and I shall be happy therein), to be but the last
man, and bring up the Rere in Heaven.

Again, I am confident and fully perswaded, yet dare not take
my oath, of my Salvation. I am as it were sure, and do believe
without all doubt, that there is such a City as Constantinople;
yet for me to take my Oath thereon were a kind of Perjury,
because I hold no infallible warrant from my own sense to
confirm me in the certainty thereof. And truly, though many
pretend an absolute certainty of their Salvation, yet, when an
humble Soul shall contemplate her own unworthiness, she shall
meet with many doubts, and suddenly find how little we stand
in need of the Precept of St. Paul, Work out your salvation
with fear and trembling. That which is the cause of my Elec-
tion, I hold to be the cause of my Salvation, which was the
mercy and beneplacit of GOD, before I was, or the foundation
of the World. Before Abraham was, I am, is the saying of
CHRIST; yet is it true in some sense, if I say it of my self; for
I was not onely before my self, but Adam, that is, in the Idea
of GOD, and the decree of that Synod held from all Eternity.
And in this sense, I say, the World was before the Creation,
and at an end before it had a beginning; and thus was I dead
before I was alive: though my grave be England, my dying

J82 Sir Thomas Browne

place was Paradise: and Eve miscarried of me before she con-
ceiv'd of Cain.

Insolent zeals, that do decry good Works and rely onely
upon Faith, take not away merit: for, depending upon the
efficacy of their Faith, they enforce the condition of GOD, and
in a more sophistical way do seem to challenge Heaven. It
was decreed by GOD, that only those that lapt in the water like
Dogs, should have the honour to destroy the Midianites ; yet
could none of those justly challenge, or imagine he deserved,
that honour thereupon. I do not deny but that true Faith, and
such as GOD requires, is not onely a mark or token, but also a
means, of our Salvation; but where to find this, is as obscure
to me as my last end. And if our Saviour could object unto
His own Disciples and Favourites, a Faith, that, to the quan-
tity of a grain of Mustard-seed, is able to remove Mountains;
surely, that which we boast of, is not any thing, or at the most,
but a remove from nothing. This is the Tenor of my belief;
wherein though there be many things singular, and to the
humour of my irregular self, yet, if they square not with ma-
turer Judgements, I disclaim them, and do no further father
them, than the learned and best judgements shall authorize
them.

THE SECOND PART

Now for that other Virtue of Charity, without which Faith is
a meer notion, and of no existence, I have ever endeavoured to
nourish the merciful disposition and humane inclination I
borrowed from my Parents, and regulate it to the written and
prescribed Laws of Charity. And if I hold the true Anatomy of
my self, I am delineated and naturally framed to such a piece
of virtue; for I am of a constitution so general, that it consorts
and sympathiseth with all things. I have no antipathy, or
rather Idiosyncrasie, in dyet, humour, air, any thing. I wonder
not at the French for their dishes of Frogs, Snails and Toad-
stools, nor at the Jews for Locusts and Grasshoppers; but
being amongst them, make them my common Viands, and I
find they agree with my Stomach as well as theirs. I could
digest a Salad gathered in a Church-yard, as well as in a
Garden. I cannot start at the presence of a Serpent, Scorpion,
Lizard, or Salamander: at the sight of a Toad or Viper, I find
in me no desire to take up a stone to destroy them. I feel not
in my self those common Antipathies that I can discover in
others: those National repugnances do not touch me, nor do
I behold with prejudice the French, Italian, Spaniard, or
Dutch: but where I find their actions in balance with my
Countrymen's, I honour, love, and embrace them in the same
degree. I was born in the eighth Climate, but seem for to be
framed and constellated unto all. I am no Plant that will not
prosper out of a Garden. All places, all airs, make unto me
one Countrey; I am in England every where, and under any
Meridian. I have been shipwrackt, yet am not enemy with the
Sea or Winds; I can study, play, or sleep in a Tempest. In
brief, I am averse from nothing: my Conscience would give
me the lye if I should say I absolutely detest or hate any
essence but the Devil ; or so at least abhor any thing, but that
we might come to composition. If there be any among those

383

384 Sir Thomas Browne

common objects of hatred I do contemn and laugh at, it is that
great enemy of Reason, Virtue and Religion, the Multitude:
that numerous piece of monstrosity, which, taken asunder,
seem men, and the reasonable creatures of GOD; but, confused
together, make but one great beast, and a monstrosity more
prodigious than Hydra. It is no breach of Charity to call these
Fools; it is the style all holy Writers have afforded them, set
down by Solomon in Canonical Scripture, and a point of our
Faith to believe so. Neither in the name of Multitude do I
onely include the base and minor sort of people; there is a
rabble even amongst the Gentry, a sort of Plebeian heads,
whose fancy moves with the same wheel as these; men in the
same Level with Mechanicks, though their fortunes do some-
what guild their infirmities, and their purses compound for
their follies. But as, in casting account, three or four men
together come short in account of one man placed by himself
below them; so neither are a troop of these ignorant Doradoes
of that true esteem and value, as many a forlorn person, whose
condition doth place him below their feet. Let us speak like
Politicians: there is a Nobility without Heraldry, a natural
dignity, whereby one man is ranked with another, another filed
before him, according to the quality of his Desert, and pre-
heminence of his good parts. Though the corruption of these
times and the byas of present practice wheel another way, thus
it was in the first and primitive Commonwealths, and is yet in
the integrity and Cradle of well-order'd Polities, till corrup-
tion getteth ground; ruder desires labouring after that which
wiser considerations contemn, every one having a liberty to
amass and heap up riches, and they a licence or faculty to do
or purchase any thing.

This general and indifferent temper of mine doth more neer-
ly dispose me to this noble virtue. It is a happiness to be born
and framed unto virtue, and to grow up from the seeds of
nature, rather than the inoculation and forced graffs of educa-
tion: yet if we are directed only by our particular Natures, and
regulate our inclinations by no higher rule than that of our
reasons, we are but Moralists; Divinity will still call us

Religio Medici 385

Heathens. Therefore this great work of charity must have
other motives, ends, and impulsions. I give no alms only to
satisfie the hunger of my Brother, but to fulfil and accom-
plish the Will and Command of my GOD: I draw not my purse
for his sake that demands it, but His That enjoyned it: I re-
lieve no man upon the Rhetorick of his miseries, hor to content
mine own commiserating disposition ; for this is still but moral
charity, and an act that oweth more to passion than reason.
He that relieves another upon the bare suggestion and bowels
of pity, doth not this, so much for his sake as for his own; for
by compassion we make others misery our own, and so, by
relieving them, we relieve our selves also. It is as erroneous a
conceit to redress other Mens misfortunes upon the common
considerations of merciful natures, that it may be one day
our own case; for this is a sinister and politick kind of charity,
whereby we seem to bespeak the pities of men in the like
occasions. And truly I have observed that those professed
Eleemosynaries, though in a croud or multitude, do yet di-
rect and place their petitions on a few and selected persons:
there is surely a Physiognomy, which those experienced and
Master Mendicants observe, whereby they instantly discover
a merciful aspect, and will single out a face wherein they spy
the signatures and marks of Mercy. For there are mysti-
cally in our faces certain Characters which carry in them the
motto of our Souls, wherein he that cannot read A. B. C. may
read our natures. I hold moreover that there is a Phytognomy,
or Physiognomy, not only of Men, but of Plants and Veg-
etables; and in every one of them some outward figures which
hang as signs or bushes of their inward forms. The Finger of
GOD hath left an Inscription upon all His works, not graphical
or composed of Letters, but of their several forms, constitu-
tions, parts, and operations, which, aptly joyned together,
do make one word that doth express their natures. By these
Letters GOD calls the Stars by their names; and by this Alpha-
bet Adam assigned to every creature a name peculiar to its
Nature. Now there are, besides these Characters in our Faces,
certain mystical figures in our Hands, which I dare not call

386 Sir Thomas Browne

meer dashes, strokes d la voUe, or at random, because deline-
ated by a Pencil that never works in vain; and hereof I take
more particular notice, because I carry that in mine own
hand which I could never read of nor discover in another.
Aristotle, I confess, in his acute and singular Book of Physiog-
nomy, hath made no mention of Chiromancy; yet I believe
the Egyptians, who were neerer addicted to those abstruse
and mystical sciences, had a knowledge therein, to which
those vagabond and counterfeit Egyptians did after pretend,
and perhaps retained a few corrupted principles, which some-
times might verifie their prognosticks.

It is the common wonder of all men, how among* so many
millions of faces, there should be none alike: now contrary,
I wonder as much how there should be any. He that shall
consider how many thousand several words have been care-
lesly and without study composed out of twenty-four Letters;
withal, how many hundred lines there are to be drawn in the
Fabrick of one Man, shall easily find that this variety is neces-
sary; and it will be very hard that they shall so concur as to
make one portract like another. Let a Painter carelessly limb
out a million of Faces, and you shall find them all different;
yea, let him have his Copy before him, yet after all his art
there will remain a sensible distinction; for the pattern or
example of every thing is the perfectest in that kind, whereof
we still come short, though we transcend or go beyond it,
because herein it is wide, and agrees not in all points unto
the copy. Nor doth the similitude of Creatures disparage the
variety of Nature, nor any way confound the Works of GOD.
For even in things alike there is diversity; and those that do
seem to accord do manifestly disagree. And thus is man like
GOD; for in the same things that we resemble Him, we are
utterly different from Him. There was never anything so like
another as in all points to concur: there will ever some re-
served difference slip in, to prevent the identity; without
which, two several things would not be alike, but the same,
which is impossible.

But to return from Philosophy to Charity: I hold not so

Religio Medici 387

narrow a conceit of this virtue, as to conceive that to give
Alms is onely to be Charitable, or think a piece of Liberality
can comprehend the Total of Charity. Divinity hath wisely
divided the act thereof into many branches, and hath taught
us in this narrow way many paths unto goodness; as many
ways as we may do good, so many ways we may be charitable.
There are infirmities not onely of Body, but of Soul, and For-
tunes, which do require the merciful hand of our abilities.
I cannot contemn a man for ignorance, but behold him with
as much pity as I do Lazarus. It is no greater Charity to cloath
his body, than apparel the nakedness of his Soul. It is an
honourable object to see the reasons of other men wear our
Liveries, and their borrowed understandings do homage to
the bounty of ours: it is the cheapest way of beneficence,
and, like the natural charity of the Sun, illuminates another
without obscuring itself. To be reserved and caitiff in this
part of goodness, is the sordidest piece of covetousness, and
more contemptible than pecuniary Avarice. To this (as call-
ing my self a Scholar), I am obliged by the duty of my con-
dition: I make not therefore my head a grave, but a treasure,
of knowledge; I intend no Monopoly, but a community, in
learning; I study not for my own sake only, but for theirs
that study not for themselves. I envy no man that knows
more than my self, but pity them that know less. I instruct
no man as an exercise of my knowledge, or with an intent
rather to nourish and keep it alive in mine own head then
beget and propagate it in his: and in the midst of all my
endeavours there is but one thought that dejects me, that my
acquired parts must perish with my self, nor can be Legacied
among my honoured Friends. I cannot fall out or contemn
a man for an errour, or conceive why a difference in Opinion
should divide an affection; for Controversies, Disputes, and
Argumentations, both in Philosophy and in Divinity, if they
meet with discreet and peaceable natures, do not infringe the
Laws of Charity. In all disputes, so much as there is of pas-
sion, so much as there is of nothing to the purpose; for then
Reason, like a bad Hound, spends upon a false Scent, and

388 Sir Thomas Browne

forsakes the question first started. And this is one reason why
Controversies are never determined; for, though they be
amply proposed, they are scarce at all handled, they do so
swell with unnecessary Digressions; and the Parenthesis on
the party is often as large as the main discourse upon the sub-
ject. The Foundations of Religion are already established,
and the Principles of Salvation subscribed unto by all: there
remains not many controversies worth a Passion; and yet
never any disputed without, not only in Divinity, but in in-
feriour Arts. What a ftarpaxofivofiaxia and hot skirmish is
betwixt S. and T. in LucianI How do Grammarians hack and
slash for the Genitive case in Jupiter! How do they break
their own pates to salve that of Priscian!

Si joret in terris, rideret Democritus.

Yea, even amongst wiser militants, how many wounds have
been given, and credits slain, for the poor victory of an
opinion, or beggarly conquest of a distinction 1 Scholars are
men of Peace, they bear no Arms, but their tongues are
sharper than Actius his razor; their Pens carry farther, and
give a louder report than Thunder: I had rather stand the
shock of a Basilisco, than the fury of a merciless Pen. It is
not meer Zeal to Learning, or Devotion to the Muses, that
wiser Princes Patron the Arts, and carry an indulgent aspect
unto Scholars; but a desire to have their names eternized by
the memory of their writings, and a fear of the revengeful
Pen of succeeding ages; for these are the men, that, when
they have played their parts, and had their exits, must step
out and give the moral of their Scenes, and deliver unto Pos-
terity an Inventory of their Virtues and Vices. And surely
there goes a great deal of Conscience to the compiling of an
History: there is no reproach to the scandal of a Story; it is
such an authentick kind of falshood that with authority belies
our good names to all Nations and Posterity.

There is another offence unto Charity, which no Author
hath ever written of, and few take notice of; and that's the
reproach, not of whole professions, mysteries, and conditions,

Religio Medici 389

but of whole Nations, wherein by opprobious Epithets we
miscall each other, and by an uncharitable Logick, from a
disposition in a few, conclude a habit in all.

Le mutin Anglois, et le bravache Escossois,

Et le fol Francois,

Le poultron Remain, le larron de Gascongne,
L'Espagnol superbe, et VAleman yvrongne.

St. Paul, that calls the Cretion lyars, doth it but indirectly,
and upon quotation of their own Poet. It is as bloody a thought
in one way, as Nero's was in another; for by a word we wound
a thousand, and at one blow assassine the honour of a Nation.
It is as compleat a piece of madness to miscal and rave against
the times, or think to recal men to reason by a fit of passion.
Democritus, that thought to laugh the times into goodness,
seems to me as deeply Hypochondriack as Heraclitus, that
bewailed them. It moves not my spleen to behold the multitude
in their proper humours, that is, in their fits of folly and
madness; as well understanding that wisdom is not prophan'd
unto the World, and 'tis the priviledge of a few to be Virtuous.
They that endeavour to abolish Vice, destroy also Virtue; for
contraries, though they destroy one another, are yet the life
of one another. Thus Virtue (abolish vice), is an Idea. Again,
the community of sin doth not disparage goodness; for when
Vice gains upon the major part, Virtue, in whom it remains,
becomes more excellent; and being lost in some, multiplies
its goodness in others which remain untouched and persist
in tire in the general inundation. I can therefore behold Vice
without a Satyr, content only with an admonition, or instruc-
tive reprehension; for Noble Natures, and such as are capable
of goodness, are railed into vice, that might as easily be ad-
monished into virtue; and we should all be so far the Orators
of goodness, as to protect her from the power of Vice, and
maintain the cause of injured truth. No man can justly cen-
sure or condemn another, because indeed no man truly knows
another. This I perceive in my self; for I am in the dark to
all the world, and my nearest friends behold me but in a

390 Sir Thomas Browne

cloud. Those that know me but superficially, think less of
me than I do of myself; those of my neer acquaintance think
more; GOD, Who truly knows me, knows that I am nothing;
lor He only beholds me and all the world, Who looks not on
us through a derived ray, or a trajection of a sensible species,
but beholds the substance without the helps of accidents, and
the forms of things as we their operations. Further, no man
can judge another, because no man knows himself: for we
censure others but as they disagree from that humour which
we fancy laudable in our selves, and commend others but for
that wherein they seem to quadrate and consent with us. So
that, in conclusion, all is but that we all condemn, Self-love.
Tis the general complaint of these times, and perhaps of
those past, that charity grows cold; which I perceive most
verified in those which most do manifest the fires and flames
of zeal; for it is a virtue that best agrees with coldest natures,
*nd such as are complexioned for humility. But how shall we
expect Charity towards others, when we are uncharitable to
our selves? Charity begins at home, is the voice of the World;
yet is every man his greatest enemy, and, as it were, his own
Executioner. Non occides, is the Commandment of GOD, yet
scarce observed by any man; for I perceive every man is his
own Atropos y and lends a hand to cut the thred of his own days.
Cain was not therefore the first Murtherer, but Adam, who
brought in death; whereof he beheld the practice and example
in his own son Abel, and saw that verified in the experience
of another, which faith could not perswade him in the Theory
of himself.

There is, I think, no man that apprehends his own miseries
less than my self, and no man that so neerly apprehends an-
others. I could lose an arm without a tear, and with few
groans, methinks, be quartered into pieces; yet can I weep
most seriously at a Play, and receive with true passion the
counterfeit grief of those known and professed Impostures.
It is a barbarous part of inhumanity to add unto any afflicted
parties misery, or indeavour to multiply in any man a passion
whose single nature is already above his patience. This was

Religio Medki 391

the greatest affliction of Job, and those oblique expostulations
of his Friends a deeper injury than the down-right blows of
the Devil. It is not the tears of our own eyes only, but of our
friends also, that do exhaust the current of our sorrows ; which,
falling into many streams, runs more peaceably, and is con-
tented with a narrower channel. It is an act within the power
of charity, to translate a passion out of one breast into another,
and to divide a sorrow almost out of it self; for an affliction,
like a dimension, may be so divided, as, if not indivisible, at
least to become insensible. Now with my friend I desire not to
share or participate, but to engross, his sorrows; that, by
making them mine own, I may more easily discuss them; for
in mine own reason, and within my self, I can command that
which I cannot intreat without my self, and within the circle
of another. I have often thought those noble pairs and ex-
amples of friendship not so truly Histories of what had been,
as fictions of what should be; but I now perceive nothing
in them but possibilities, nor any thing in the Heroick exam-
ples of Damon and Pythias, Achilles and Patroclus, which
methinks upon some grounds I could not perform within the
narrow compass of my self. That a man should lay down his
life for his Friend, seems strange to vulgar affections, and
such as confine themselves within that Worldly principle,
Charity begins at home. For mine own part I could never re-
member the relations that I held unto my self, nor the respect
that I owe unto my own nature, in the cause of GOD, my
Country, and my Friends. Next to these three, I do embrace
my self. I confess I do not observe that order that the Schools
ordain our affections, to love our Parents, Wives, Children,
and then our Friends; for, excepting the injunctions of Reli-
gion, I do not find in my self such a necessary and indissoluble
Sympathy to all those of my blood. I hope I do not break the
fifth Commandment, if I conceive I may love my friend before
the nearest of my blood, even those to whom I owe the prin-
ciples of life. I never yet cast a true affection on a woman;
but I have loved my friend as I do virtue, my soul, my Goix
From hence me thinks I do conceive how GOD loves man, what

39* Sir Thomas Browne

happiness there is in the love of GOD. Omitting all other, there
are three most mystical unions: i. two natures in one person;
2. three persons in one nature; 3. one soul in two bodies; for
though indeed they be really divided, yet are they so united,
as they seem but one, and make rather a duality than two
distinct souls.

There are wonders in true affection : it is a body of Enigma's,
mysteries, and riddles; wherein two so become one, as they
both become two. I love my friend before my self, and yet
methinks I do not love him enough: some few months hence
my multiplied affection will make me believe I have not loved
him at all. When I am from him, I am dead till I be with him;
when I am with him, I am not satisfied, but would still be
nearer him. United souls are not satisfied with imbraces, but
desire to be truly each other; which being impossible, their
desires are infinite, and must proceed without a possibility
of satisfaction. Another misery there is in affection, that
whom we truly love like our own selves, we forget their looks,
nor can our memory retain the Idea of their faces; and it is
no wonder, for they are our selves, and our affection makes
their looks our own. This noble affection falls not on vulgar
and common constitutions, but on such as are mark'd for
virtue: he that can love his friend with this noble ardour,
will in a competent degree affect all. Now, if we can bring
our affections to look beyond the body, and Cast an eye upon
the soul, we have found out the true object, not only of friend-
ship, but Charity; and the greatest happiness that we can
bequeath the soul, is that wherein we all do place our last
felicity, Salvation; which though it be not in our power to
bestow, it is in our charity and pious invocations to desire, if
not procure and further. I cannot contentedly frame a prayer
for my self in particular, without a catalogue for my friends;
nor request a happiness, wherein my sociable disposition doth
not desire the fellowship of my neighbour. I never hear the
Toll of a passing Bell, though in my mirth, without my prayers
and best wishes for the departing spirit; I cannot go to cure
the body of my patient, but I forget my profession, and call

Religio Medici 393

unto GOD for his soul; I cannot see one say his prayers, but,
in stead of imitating him, I fall into a supplication for him,
who perhaps is no more to me than a common nature: and if
GOD hath vouchsafed an ear to my supplications, there are
surely many happy that never saw me, and enjoy the blessing
of mine unknown devotions. To pray for Enemies, that is,
for their salvation, is no harsh precept, but the practice of
our daily and ordinary devotions. I cannot believe the story
of the Italian: our bad wishes and uncharitable desires pro-
ceed no further than this life; it is the Devil, and the un-
charitable votes of Hell, that desire our misery in the World
to come.

To do no injury, nor take none, was a principle, which to
my former years and impatient affections seemed to contain
enough of Morality; but my more setled years and Christian
constitution have fallen upon severer resolutions. I can hold
there is no such thing as injury; that, if there be, there is
no such injury as revenge, and no such revenge as the con-
tempt of an injury; that to hate another, is to malign him-
self; that the truest way to love another, is to despise our
selves. I were unjust unto mine own Conscience, if I should
say I am at variance with any thing like my self. I find there
are many pieces in this one f abrick of man ; this frame is raised
upon a mass of Antipathies. I am one methinks, but as the
World ; wherein notwithstanding there are a swarm of distinct
essences, and in them another World of contrarieties; we
carry private and domestick enemies within, publick and
more hostile adversaries without. The Devil, that did but
buffet St. Paul, plays methinks at sharp with me. Let me be
nothing, if within the compass of my self I do not find the
battail of Lepanto, Passion against Reason, Reason against
Faith, Faith against the Devil, and my Conscience against
all. There is another man within me, that's angry with me,
rebukes, commands, and dastards me. I have no Conscience
of Marble to resist the hammer of more heavy offences; nor
yet so soft and waxen, as to take the impression of each single
peccadillo or scrape of infirmity. I am of a strange belief,

394 Sir Thomas Browne

that it is as easie to be forgiven some sins, as to commit some
others. For my Original sin, I hold it to be washed away in
my Baptism: for my actual transgressions, I compute and
reckon with GOD but from my last repentance, Sacrament, or
general absolution; and therefore am not terrified with the
sins or madness of my youth. I thank the goodness of GOD,
I have no sins that want a name; I am not singular in of-
fences; my transgressions are Epidemical, and from the com-
mon breath of our corruption. For there are certain tempers
of body, which, matcht with an humorous depravity of mind,
do hatch and produce vitiosities, whose newness and mon-
strosity of nature admits no name: this was the temper of
that Lecher that fell in love with a Statua, and the constitu-
tion of Nero in his Spintrian recreations. For the Heavens
are not only fruitful in new and unheard-of stars, the Earth
in plants and animals, but mens minds also in villainy and
vices. Now the dulness of my reason, and the vulgarity of my
disposition, never prompted my invention, nor solicited my
affection unto any of these; yet even those common and
quotidian infirmities that so necessarily attend me, and do
seem to be my very nature, have so dejected me, so broken
the estimation that I should have otherwise of my self, that
I repute my self the most abjectest piece of mortality. Divines
prescribe a fit of sorrow to repentance: there goes indignation,
anger, sorrow, hatred, into mine; passions of a contrary na-
ture, which neither seem to sute with this action, nor my
proper constitution. It is no breach of charity to our selves,
to be at variance with our Vices, nor to abhor that part of us
which is an enemy to the ground of charity, our GOD; wherein
we do but imitate our great selves, the world, whose divided
Antipathies and contrary faces do yet carry a charitable re-
gard unto the whole, by their particular discords preserving
the common harmony, and keeping in fetters those powers,
whose rebellions, once Masters, might be the ruine of all.

I thank GOD, amongst those millions of Vices I do inherit
and hold from Adam, I have escaped one, and that a mortal
enemy to Charity, the first and father-sin, not onely of man,

Religio Medici 395

but of the devil, Pride: a vice whose name is comprehended
in a Monosyllable, but in its nature not circumscribed with
a World. I have escaped it in a condition that can hardly
avoid it. Those petty acquisitions and reputed perfections
that advance and elevate the conceits of other men, add no
feathers unto mine. I have seen a Grammarian towr and plume
himself over a single line in Horace, and shew more pride in
the construction of one Ode, than the Author in the com-
posure of the whole book. For my own part, besides the Jargon
and Patois of several Provinces, I understand no less than six
Languages; yet I protest I have no higher conceit of my self,
than had our Fathers before the confusion of Babel, when
there was but one Language in the World, and none to boast
himself either Linguist or Critick. I have not onely seen several
Countries, beheld the nature of their Climes, the Chorogra-
phy of their Provinces, Topography of their Cities, but under-
stood their several Laws, Customs, and Policies; yet cannot
all this perswade the dulness of my spirit unto such an opinion
of my self, as I behold in nimbler and conceited heads, that
never looked a degree beyond their Nests. I know the names,
and somewhat more, of all the constellations in my Horizon;
yet I have seen a prating Mariner, that could onely name the
pointers and the North Star, out-talk me, and conceit himself
a whole Sphere above me. I know most of the Plants of my
Countrey, and of those about me; yet methinks I do not know
so many as when I did but know a hundred, and had scarcely
ever Simpled further than Cheapside. For, indeed, heads of
capacity, and such as are not full with a handful or easie
measure of knowledge, think they know nothing till they know
all; which being impossible, they fall upon the opinion of
Socrates, and only know they know not any thing. I cannot
think that Homer pin'd away upon the riddle of the fishermen;
or that Aristotle, who understood the uncertainty of knowl-
edge, and confessed so often the reason of man too weak for
the works of nature, did ever drown himself upon the flux
and reflux of Euripus. We do but learn to-day what our better
advanced judgements will unteach to morrow; and Aristotle

396 Sir Thomas Browne

doth but instruct us, as Plato did him; that is, to confute
himself. I have run through all sorts, yet find no rest in any:
though our first studies and junior endeavours may style us
Peripateticks, Stoicks, or Academicks; yet I perceive the
wisest heads prove, at last, almost all Scepticks, and stand
like Janus in the field of knowledge. I have therefore one
common and authentick Philosophy I learned in the Schools,
whereby I discourse and satisfy the reason of other men; an-
other more reserved, and drawn from experience, whereby I
content mine own. Solomon, that complained of ignorance
in the height of knowledge, hath not only humbled my con-
ceits, but discouraged my endeavours. There is yet another
conceit that hath sometimes made me shut my books, which
tells me it is a vanity to waste our days in the blind pursuit
of knowledge; it is but attending a little longer, and we shall
enjoy that by instinct and infusion, which we endeavour at
here by labour and inquisition. It is better to sit down in a
modest ignorance, and rest contented with the natural bless-
ing of our own reasons, than buy the uncertain knowledge of
this life with sweat and vexation, which Death gives every
fool gratis, and is an accessary of our glorification.

I was never yet once, and commend their resolutions who
never marry twice: not that I disallow of second marriage;
as neither, in all cases, of Polygamy, which, considering some
times, and the unequal number of both sexes, may be also
necessary. The whole World was made for man, but the
twelfth part of man for woman: Man is the whole World, and
the Breath of GOD; Woman the Rib and crooked piece of
man. I could be content that we might procreate like trees,
without conjunction, or that there were any way to perpetuate
the World without this trivial and vulgar way of union: it
is the foolishest act a wise man commits in all his life; nor is
there any thing that will more deject his cooPd imagination,
when he shall consider what an odd and unworthy piece of
foDy he hath committed. I speak not in prejudice, nor am
averse from that sweet Sex, but naturally amorous of all that
is beautiful. I can look a whole day with delight upon a hand-

Religio Medici 397

some Picture, though it be but of an Horse. It is my temper
and I like it the better, to affect all harmony; and sure there
is musick even in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid
strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument. For there
is a musick where ever there is a harmony, order, or propor-
tion: and thus far we may maintain the music of the Sphears;
for those well-ordered motions, and regular paces, though
they give no sound unto the ear, yet to the understanding
they strike a note most full of harmony. Whosoever is har-
monically composed delights in harmony; which makes me
much distrust the symmetry of those heads which declaim
against all Church-Musick. For my self, not only from my
obedience, but my particular Genius, I do embrace it: for
even that vulgar and Tavern-Musick, which makes one man
merry, another mad, strikes in me a deep fit of devotion, and
a profound contemplation of the First Composer. There is
something in it of Divinity more than the ear discovers: it is
an Hieroglyphical and shadowed lesson of the whole World,
and creatures of GOD; such a melody to the ear, as the whole
World, well understood, would afford the understanding. In
brief, it is a sensible fit of that harmony which intellectually
sounds in the ears of GOD. I will not say, with Plato, the soul
is an harmony, but harmonical, and hath its nearest sympathy
unto Musick: thus some, whose temper of body agrees, and
humours the constitution of their souls, are born Poets, though
indeed all are naturally inclined unto Rhythme. This made
Tacitus, in the very first line of his Story, fall upon a verse;
and Cicero, the worst of Poets, but declaiming for a Poet, falls
in the very first sentence upon a perfect Hexameter. I feel
not in me those sordid and unchristian desires of my profes-
sion; I do not secretly implore and wish for Plagues, rejoyce
at Famines, revolve Ephemerides and Almanacks in expecta-
tion of malignant Aspects, fatal Conjunctions, and Eclipses.
I rejoyce not at unwholesome Springs, nor unseasonable Win-
ters: my Prayer goes with the Husbandman's; I desire every
thing in its proper season, that neither men nor the times be
put out of temper. Let me be sick my self, if sometimes the

398 Sir Thomas Browne

malady of my patient be not a disease unto me. I desire rather
to cure his infirmities than my own necessities. Where I do
him no good, methinks it is scarce honest gain; though I con-
fess 'tis but the worthy salary of our well-intended endeavours.
I am not only ashamed, but heartily sorry, that, besides death,
there are diseases incurable: yet not for my own sake, or
that they be beyond my Art, but for the general cause and
sake of humanity, whose common cause I apprehend as mine
own. And to speak more generally, those three Noble Pro-
fessions which all civil Commonwealths do honour, are raised
upon the fall of Adam, and are not any way exempt from their
infirmities; there are not only diseases incurable in Physick,
but cases indissolvable in Laws, Vices incorrigible in Divinity.
If General Councils may err, I do not see why particular
Courts should be infallible: their perfectest rules are raised
upon the erroneous reasons of Man, and the Laws of one do
but condemn the rules of another; as Aristotle oft-times the
opinions of his Predecessours, because, though agreeable to
reason, yet were not consonant to his own rules, and the
Logick of his proper Principles. Again, (to speak nothing of
the Sin against the HOLY GHOST, whose cure not onely, but
whose nature is unknown), I can cure the Gout or Stone in
some, sooner than Divinity, Pride, or Avarice in others. I can
cure Vices by Physick when they remain incurable by Di-
vinity, and shall obey my Pills when they contemn their
precepts. I boast nothing, but plainly say, we all labour against
our own cure; for death is the cure of all diseases. There is
no Catholicon or universal remedy I know, but this; which,
though nauseous to queasie stomachs, yet to prepared appe-
tites is. Nectar, and a pleasant potion of immortality.

For my Conversation, it is like the Sun's, with all men, and
with a friendly aspect to good and bad. Methinks there is no
man bad, and the worst, best; that is, while they are kept
within the circle of those qualities wherein they are good:
there is no man's mind of such discordant and jarring a tem-
per, to which a tunable disposition may not strike a harmony.
Magnx virtutts, nee minor a vitia; it is the posie of the best

Religio Medici 399

natures, and may be inverted on the worst; there are in the
most depraved and venomous dispositions, certain pieces that
remain untoucht, which by an Antiperistasis become more
excellent, or by the excellency of their antipathies are able
to preserve themselves from the contagion of their enemy vices,
and persist intire beyond the general corruption. For it is also
thus in nature: the greatest Balsomes do lie enveloped in the
bodies of most powerful Corrosives. I say, moreover, and I
ground upon experience, that poisons contain within them-
selves their own Antidote, and that which preserves them
from the venome of themselves, without which they were not
deleterious to others onely, but to themselves also. But it is
the corruption that I fear within me, not the contagion of
commerce without me. 'Tis that unruly regiment within me,
that will destroy me; 'tis I that do infect my self; the man
without a Navel yet lives in me; I feel that original canker
and corrode and devour me; and therefore Dejenda me Dios
de me, "LORD deliver me from my self," is a part of my Letany,
and the first voice of my retired imaginations. There is no
man alone, because every man is a Microcosm, and carries
the whole World about him. Nunquam minus solus quam cum
solus, though it be the Apothegme of a wise man, is yet true
in the mouth of a fool. Indeed, though in a Wilderness, a man
is never alone, not only because he is with himself and his
own thoughts, but because he is with the Devil, who ever con-
sorts with our solitude, and is that unruly rebel that musters
up those disordered motions which accompany our sequestred
imaginations. And to speak more narrowly, there is no such
thing as solitude, nor any thing that can be said to be alone
and by itself, but GOD, Who is His own circle, and can subsist
by Himself; all others, besides their dissimilary and Heter-
ogeneous parts, which in a manner multiply their natures,
cannot subsist without the concourse of GOD, and the society
of that hand which doth uphold their natures. In brief, there
can be nothing truly alone and by it self, which is not truly
one; and such is only GOD: all others do transcend an imity,
and so by consequence are many.

4oc Sir Thomas Browne

Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty years, which to
relate, were not a History, but a piece of Poetry, and would
sound to common ears like a Fable. For the World, I count
it not an Inn, but an Hospital; and a place not to live, but to
dye in. The world that I regard is my self; it is the Microcosm
of my own frame that I cast mine eye on; for the other, I use
it but like my Globe, and turn it round sometimes for my
recreation. Men that look upon my outside, perusing only
my condition and Fortunes, do err in my Altitude; for I am
above Atlas his shoulders. The earth is a point not only in
respect of the Heavens above us, but of that heavenly and
celestial part within us; that mass of Flesh that circumscribes
me, limits not my mind: that surface that tells the Heavens
it hath an end, cannot persuade me I have any: I take my
circle to be above three hundred and sixty; though the num-
ber of the Ark do measure my body, it comprehendeth not
my mind: whilst I study to find how I am a Microcosm, or
little World, I find my self something more than the great.
There is surely a piece of Divinity in us, something that was
before the Elements, and owes no homage unto the Sun.
Nature tells me I am the Image of GOD, as well as Scripture:
he that understands not thus much, hath not his introduction
or first lesson, and is yet to begin the Alphabet of man. Let
me not injure the felicity of others, if I say I am as happy
as any: Ruat cc&lum, fiat voluntas Tua, salveth all; so that
whatsoever happens, it is but what our daily prayers desire.
In brief, I am content; and what should Providence add more?
Surely this is it we call Happiness, and this do I enjoy; with
this I am happy in a dream, and as content to enjoy a happi-
ness in a fancy, as others in a more apparent truth and realty.
There is surely a neerer apprehension of any thing that de-
lights us in our dreams, than in our waked senses: without
this I were unhappy; for my awaked judgment discontents
me, ever whispering unto me, that I am from my friend; but
my friendly dreams in the night requite me, and make me
think I am'within his arms. I thank GOD for my happy dreams,
as I do for my good rest; for there is a satisfaction in them

Religio Medici 401

unto reasonable desires, and such as can be content with a
fit of happiness: and surely it is not a melancholy conceit to
think we are all asleep in this World, and that the conceits
of this life are as meer dreams to those of the next; as the
Phantasms of the night, to the conceits of the day. There is
an equal delusion in both, and the one doth but seem to be
the embleme or picture of the other: we are somewhat more
than our selves in our sleeps, and the slumber of the body
seems to be but the waking of the soul. It is the ligation of
sense, but the liberty of reason; and our waking conceptions
do not match the Fancies of our sleeps. At my Nativity my
Ascendant was the watery sign of Scorpius; I was born in
the Planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of
that Leaden Planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed
for the mirth and galliardize of company; yet in one dream
I can compose a whole Comedy, behold the action, apprehend
the jests, and laugh my self awake at the conceits thereof.
Were my memory as faithful as my reason is then fruitful,
I would never study but in my dreams; and this time also
would I chuse for my devotions: but our grosser memories
have then so little hold of our abstracted understandings, that
they forget the story, and can not relate to our awaked souls,
a confused and broken tale of that that hath passed. Aristotle,
who hath written a singular Tract 0} Sleep, hath not, me-
thinks, throughly defined it; nor yet Galen, though he seem
to have corrected it; for those Noctambuloes and night-
walkers, though in their sleep, do yet injoy the action of their
senses. We must therefore say that there is something in us
that is not in the jurisdiction of Morpheus; and that those
abstracted and ecstatick souls do walk about in their own
corps, as spirits with the bodies they assume, wherein they
seem to hear, see, and feel, though indeed the Organs are
destitute of sense, and their natures of those faculties that
should inform them. Thus it is observed, that men sometimes,
upon the hour of their departure, do speak and reason above
themselves; for then the soul, beginning to be freed from the

402 Sir Thomas Browne

ligaments of the body, begins to reason like her self, and to
discourse in a strain above mortality.

We term sleep a death; and yet it is waking that kills us,
and destroys those spirits that are the house of life. 'Tis in-
deed a part of life that best expresseth death; for every man
truely lives, so long as he acts his nature, or some way makes
good the faculties of himself. Themistocles, therefore, that
slew his Soldier in his sleep, was a merciful Executioner: 'tis
a kind of punishment the mildness of no laws hath invented:
I wonder the fancy of Lucan and Seneca did not discover it. It
is that death by which we may be literally said to dye daily;
a death which Adam dyed before his mortality; a death
whereby we live a middle and moderating point between life
and death: in fine, so like death, I dare not trust it without
my prayers, and an half adieu unto the World, and take my
farewel in a Colloquy with GOD.

The night is come, like to the day,
Depart not Thou, great GOD, away.
Let not my sins, black as the night,
Eclipse the lustre of Thy light:
Keep still in my Horizon; for to me
The Sun makes not the day, but Thee.
Thou, Whose nature cannot sleep,
On my temples Gentry keep;
Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes,
Whose eyes are open while mine dose.
Let no dreams my head infest,
But such as Jacob's temples blest.
While I do rest, my Soul advance;
Make my sleep a holy trance;
That I may, my rest being wrought,
Awake into some holy thought;
And with as active vigour run
My course, as doth the nimble Sun.
Sleep is a death; O make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die;

Religio Medki 403

And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.
Howere I rest, great GOD, let me
Awake again at last with Thee;
And thus assur'd, behold I lie
Securely, or to awake or die.
These are my drowsie days; in vain
I do now wake to sleep again:
O come that hour, when I shall never
Sleep again, but wake for ever.

This is the Dormative I take to bedward; I need no other
Laudanum than this to make me sleep; after which I close
mine eyes in security, content to take my leave of the Sun, and
sleep unto the Resurrection.

The method I should use in distributive Justice, I often
observe in commutative; and keep a Geometrical propor-
tion in both, whereby becoming equable to others, I become
unjust to my self, and supererogate in that common principle,
Do unto others as thou wouldst be done unto thy self. I was
not born unto riches, neither is it, I think, my Star to be
wealthy; or, if it were, the freedom of my mind, and frank-
ness of my disposition, were able to contradict and cross my
fates: for to me, avarice seems not so much a vice, as a deplor-
able piece of madness; to conceive ourselves pipkins, or be
perswaded that we are dead, is not so ridiculous, nor so many
degrees beyond the power of Hellebore, as this. The opinions
of Theory, and positions of men, are not so void of reason as
their practised conclusions. Some have held that Snow is
black, that the earth moves, that the Soul is air, fire, water;
but all this is Philosophy, and there is no delirium, if we do
but speculate the folly and indisputable dotage of avarice to
that subterraneous Idol, and God of the Earth. I do confess
I am an Atheist; I cannot perswade myself to honour that
the World adores; whatsoever virtue its prepared substance
may have within my body, it hath no influence nor operation
without. I would not entertain a base design, or an action that

404 Sir Thomas Browne

should call me villain, for the Indies; and for this only do I
love and honour my own soul, and have methinks two arms
too few to embrace myself. Aristotle is too severe, that will not
allow us to be truely liberal without wealth, and the bountiful
hand of Fortune. If this be true, I must confess I am charitable
t>nly in my liberal intentions, and bountiful well-wishes; but
if the example of the Mite be not only an act of wonder, but
an example of the noblest Charity, surely poor men may also
build Hospitals, and the rich alone have not erected Cathe-
drals. I have a private method which others observe not;
I take the opportunity of my self to do good ; I borrow occa-
sion of Charity from mine own necessities, and supply the
wants of others, when I am in most need my self: for it is
an honest stratagem to take advantage of our selves, and so
to husband the acts of virtue, that, where they are defective
in one circumstance, they may repay their want and multiply
their goodness in another. I have not Peru in my desires, but
a competence, and ability to perform those good works to
which He hath inclined my nature. He is rich, who hath
enough to be charitable; and it is hard to be so poor, that a
noble mind may not find a way to this piece of goodness. He
that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the LORD: there is more
Rhetorick in that one sentence, than in a Library of Sermons;
and indeed, if those Sentences were understood by the Reader,
with the same Emphasis as they are delivered by the Author,
we needed not those Volumes of instructions, but might be
honest by an Epitome. Upon this motive only I cannot behold
a Beggar without relieving his Necessities with my Purse, or
his Soul with my Prayers; these scenical and accidental dif-
ferences between us, cannot make me forget that common
and untoucht part of us both: there is under these Centoes and
miserable outsides, these mutilate and semi-bodies, a soul of
the same alloy with our own, whose Genealogy is GOD as well
as ours, and in as fair a way to Salvation as our selves. Statists
that labour to contrive a Common-wealth without poverty,
take away the object of charity, not understanding only the

Religio Medici 405

Common-wealth of a Christian, but forgetting the prophetic
of CHRIST.

Now, there is another part of charity, which is the Basis
and Pillar of this, and that is the love of GOD, for Whom we
love our neighbour; for this I think charity, to love GOD for
Himself, and our neighbour for GOD. All that is truly amiable
is GOD, or as it were a divided piece of Him, that retains a
reflex or shadow of Himself. Nor is it strange that we should
place affection on that which is invisible: all that we truly
love is thus; what we adore under affection of our senses, de-
serves not the honour of so pure a title. Thus we adore Virtue,
though to the eyes of sense she be invisible: thus that part
of our noble friends that we love, is not that part that we
imbrace, but that insensible part that our arms cannot em-
brace. GOD, being all goodness, can love nothing but Him-
self; He loves us but for that part which is as it were Himself,
and the traduction of His Holy Spirit. Let us call to assize the
loves of our parents, the affection of our wives and children,
and they are all dumb shows and dreams, without reality,
truth, or constancy. For first there is a strong bond of affection
between us and our Parents; yet how easily dissolved I We
betake our selves to a woman, forget our mother in a wife,
and the womb that bare us, in that that shall bear our Image.
This woman blessing us with children, our affection leaves the
level it held before, and sinks from our bed unto our issue
and picture of Posterity, where affection holds no steady
mansion. They, growing up in years, desire our ends; or apply-
ing themselves to a woman, take a lawful way to love another
better than our selves. Thus I perceive a man may be buried
alive, and behold his grave in his own issue.

I conclude therefore, and say, there is no happiness under
(or, as Copernicus will have it, above) the Sun, nor any
Crambe in that repeated verity and burthen of all the wis-
dom of Solomon, All is vanity and vexation of Spirit. There
is no felicity in that the World adores. Aristotle, whilst he
labours to refute the Idea's of Plato, falls upon one himself;
for his summum bonum is a Chimaera, and there is no such

406 Sir Thomas Browne

thing as his Felicity. That wherein GOD Himself is happy, the
holy Angels are happy, in whose defect the Devils are un-
na PPy> that dare I call happiness: whatsoever conduceth unto
this, may with an easy Metaphor deserve that name; whatso-
ever else the World terms Happiness, is to me a story out of
Pliny, a tale of Boccace or Malizspini, an apparition, or neat
delusion, wherein there is no more of Happiness than the
name. Bless me in this life with but peace of my Conscience,
command of my affections, the love of Thy self and my dearest
friends, and I shall be happy enough to pity Csesar. These are,
O LORD, the humble desires of my most reasonable ambition,
and all I dare call happiness on earth; wherein I set no rule
or limit to Thy Hand or Providence. Dispose of me according
to the wisdom of Thy pleasure: Thy will be done, though in
my own undoing.