[Sidenote: 37.4--39.13]

_A._ I desire none of those meats which I have renounced; I desire those which I have thought right to eat, when I see them. What shall I say more either about meat, or drink, or baths, _or riches, or honor, or any worldly l.u.s.ts_? Nor do I wish any more of these than I shall need to have for my bodily comfort and to keep my strength. _Howbeit I need much more for the wants of those men which I must take care of, and moreover this I needs must have._

_R._ Thou art right. But I would know whether thy old _covetousness and greediness be entirely extirpated and uprooted from thy mind, so that it can not still grow_.

_A._ _Why askest thou that?_

_R._ I speak of the things which thou before saidst to me that thou hadst decided to leave off and for nothing would turn back to again, namely: overmuch wealth, and _immoderate honor, and inordinately rich and luxurious living_; and therefore I now ask whether, either for the love of them or for the love of any thing, thou wilt return to them again. I heard formerly that thou saidst that thou lovedst thy friends, next to G.o.d and thine own reason, above other things. Now I would know whether thou, for their love, wouldst lay hold of these things again.

_A._ I will lay hold of all again for their love, if I can not else have their companionship--_yet it doth not please me so to do_.

_R._ Very reasonably thou dost answer me and very rightly. _Howbeit I understand that the l.u.s.ts of the world are not entirely uprooted from thy mind, although the trench be prepared; for the roots can sprout thence again._ Yet I impute that not to thee as a fault, for thou layest hold of it not for the love of those things but for the love of this thing which it is more right to love than that. _I never ask about any man, what he doth; but yet I ask thee now why thou lovest thy friends so much, or what thou lovest in them, or whether thou lovest them for their own sake or for some other thing._

[Sidenote: 39.14--41.19]

_A._ I love them for friendship and for companionship, _and above all others I love those who most help me to understand and to know reason and wisdom, most of all about G.o.d and about our souls; for I know that I can more easily seek after Him with their help than I can without_.

_R._ How then if they do not wish to inquire _after the One whom thou seekest_?

_A._ I shall teach them so that they will.

_R._ But how then if thou canst not, and if they be so foolish as to love other things more than that which thou lovest, and say that they can not or will not?

_A._ _I, nevertheless, will have them_: they will be helpful to me in some things and I likewise to them.

_R._ But how then if they disturb thee, _and if the infirmities of the body hinder thee_?

_A._ That is true; _howbeit I would not fear at all the infirmities, if it were not for three things: One of these is heavy sorrow; another is death; the third is that I can not seek nor truly find what I desire just as thou madest me know_. Toothache hindered me from all learning, but yet it did not altogether s.n.a.t.c.h from me the remembrance of that which I formerly learned. Howbeit I suppose, if I should understand certainly that which I yearn to understand, sorrow would seem to me very little, or else naught, compared with faith. Yet I know many a pain is much sharper than toothache, albeit I never suffered any sharper. I learned that Cornelius Celsus taught _in his books_ that in every man wisdom is the highest good and sickness the greatest evil. The saying appeareth to me very true. Concerning the same thing the same Cornelius saith: 'Of two things we are what we are, to wit, of soul and of body.

_The soul is spiritual, and the body earthy._ The best faculty of the soul is wisdom, and the worst affliction of the body is sickness.'

Methinks moreover that this is not false.

[Sidenote: 41.19--43.12]

_R._ Have we not now shown clearly enough that wisdom is the highest good? Is it not also beyond a doubt that it is to every man the best of all the virtues? And is it not his best work to search after wisdom, and love it whenever he findeth it? But I would that we two might now search out who the lovers of this wisdom should be. _Dost thou not know that every man who loveth another very much liketh better to caress and kiss the other on the bare body than where the clothes come between? Now I understand that thou lovest wisdom very much, and wishest so much to know and feel it naked that thou wouldst not that any cloth were between; but it will seldom so openly reveal itself to any man. At those times when it will show any limb thus bare, it doth so to very few men; but I know not how thou canst receive it with gloved hands. Thou must also place the bare body against it, if thou wilt feel it._ But tell me now, if thou lovedst a certain beautiful woman very immoderately and above all other things, and if she _fled from thee_ and would reciprocate thy love on no other condition than that thou wouldst renounce every other love for hers alone, _wouldst thou then do as she wished_?

_A._ Alas! what a hard thing thou dost enjoin upon me! _Didst thou not formerly admit that I loved nothing above wisdom, and moreover I too admitted it, albeit thou saidst then that_ whoever loveth one thing for the sake of another, he doth not of a truth love that former thing for which he professeth love, _but really that for which he loved the former thing and thought to obtain it_. Therefore I a.s.sert that I love wisdom for no other thing than for its own sake. I love all the world--each thing as I consider it profitable, and especially that thing most which helpeth me to wisdom; and moreover those things which I fear most to lose. Howbeit I do not love any thing else in such wise as I love wisdom. Every thing which I love most I grant, while I love it most, to no man but to myself, _except wisdom alone_. It I love above all other things, and yet of my free will I would grant it to every man, so that all who are on this earth might love it and search after it, yea, find it, and then use it; for I know that each of us would love the other by so much more as our will and our love were more in unison.

[Sidenote: 43.13--44.24]

_R._ _Said I not formerly that he who would feel the bare body must feel it with bare hands? And I say also, if thou wilt behold wisdom itself thus bare, that thou must not allow any cloth between thine eyes and it, nor even any mist; albeit to that thou canst not come in this present life, though I enjoin it upon thee, and though thou wish it._ Wherefore no man ought to despair, though he have not so sound eyes as he who can look the sharpest; even he who can look the sharpest of all can not himself see the sun just as it is while he is in this present life. Yet no man hath such weak eyes that he can not live by the sun and use it, if he can see at all, unless he be purblind. _Moreover, I can teach unto thee other parables about wisdom. Consider now whether any man seeketh there the king's home where he is in town, or his court, or his army, or whether it seemeth to thee that they all must come thither by the same road; on the contrary, I suppose they would come by very many roads: some would come from afar, and would have a road very long and very bad and very difficult; some would have a very long and very direct and very good road; some would have a very short and yet hard and strait and foul one; some would have a short and smooth and good one; and yet they all would come to one and the same lord, some more easily, some with more difficulty; neither do they come thither with like ease, nor are they there alike at ease. Some are in more honor and in more ease than others; some in less, some almost without, except the one that he loveth. So is it likewise with wisdom. Each one who wisheth it and who anxiously prayeth for it, he can come to it and abide in its household and live near it; yet some are nearer it, others farther from it; just so is every king's court: some dwell in cottages, some in halls, some on the threshing-floor, some in prison; and yet they all live by the favor of one lord, just as all men live under one sun, and by its light see what they see. Some look very carefully and very clearly; some see with great difficulty; others are stark blind, yet use the sun. But just as the visible sun lighteth the eyes of our body, so wisdom lighteth the eyes of our mind, which is our understanding. And just as the eyes of the body are more sound, thus to use more of the sun's light_, so is it also with the mind's eyes, that is, the understanding: just by so much as that is sounder, by so much more may it see the eternal sun, which is wisdom. Every man that hath sound eyes needeth no other guide nor teacher to see the sun, except health. If he hath sound eyes, he may himself look at the sun. On the contrary, if he hath unsound eyes, then he needeth that one teach him to look first on the wall, then on gold, and on silver; when he can more easily look on that, [then let him look][10] on fire, before he looketh at the sun. Then after he hath learned that his eyes do not at all avoid the fire, let him look on the stars and on the moon, then on sunshine, before he looketh on the sun itself. And just so with the other sun that we formerly spake of, that is, wisdom. He who wisheth to see it with his mind's eyes must begin very gradually, and then little by little mount nearer and nearer by steps, _just as if he were climbing on a ladder and wished to ascend some sea-cliff. If he then ever cometh up on the cliff, he may look both over the sh.o.r.e and over the sea, which then lieth beneath him, and also over the land that formerly was above him._ But if it seemeth good to us, let us stop here for this day, and to-morrow seek further after the same thing which we before sought after.

[10] Supplied by translator.

[Sidenote: 44.25--46.10]

_A._ _Nay, not at all; but I humbly pray thee that thou weary not, nor leave off the conversation here; but say somewhat more clearly about it so that I may more clearly feel and understand something concerning this wisdom, and bid me what thou wilt._ I will understand it, if it lies in my power.

_R._ I know not anything to command thee of which thou hast more need for the science which thou wishest to know, than that thou despise, so much as thou art able, worldly honors, _and especially intemperate and unlawful ones_, because I fear that they may bind thy mind to themselves and take it with their snare, just as one catcheth wild beasts or fowls, so that thou canst not accomplish what thou wishest; for I know that the freer thou art from the things of this world, the more clearly thou shalt understand about the wisdom which thou desirest; and if it ever happen that thou canst so entirely forsake them that thou desirest naught of them, then shall I be able to say to thee forsooth (believe me if thou wilt), that in that very hour thou shalt know all that thou wishest now to know, and shalt have all that thou wishest to have.

[Sidenote: 46.10--48.6]

_A._ When shall that be? I do not believe that it will ever be that I shall not yearn at all after this world's honors, unless one thing happen, namely: that I see _those honors which thou promisest me.

Howbeit I know not that it would please me so well to yearn no more after this world's honors._

_R._ Now methinks thou dost not answer me with reason. Methinks that thou speakest very much as if thine eyes should say to thy mind: 'We will never avoid the darkness of the night until we can see the sun itself.' Thus, methinks, the eyes do, if they avoid that part of the sun's light which they can see. It can not happen even to the soundest of all eyes that they can look from this world and see the sun as it is.

By this thou mayest conclude that thou oughtest not to sigh though thou canst not see wisdom naked with the eyes of thy mind just as it is; for thou canst never do that _while thou art in the darkness of thy sins.

But enjoy the wisdom which thou hast, and have joy in the part which thou canst understand, and seek more with thy whole heart. Wisdom itself knoweth what thou art worthy of, and how much it may show itself to thee. There is naught worse in a man than to suppose that he is worthy of what he is not. The physician knoweth better than the sick whether he can be healed or not, or whether he can be healed by mild or by severe treatment. Therefore thou must not excuse thyself too much, nor sigh too much after aught. The eyes of thy mind are not so wholly sound as thou dost suppose._

[Sidenote: 48.7--49.18]

_A._ Cease, O cease! Do not vex me, nor increase my sorrow. Enough have I, though thou increase it not. _Thou seekest it at times so high, at times so deep, that I understand now that I am not such as I supposed, but I am ashamed that I supposed that which was not. Truly enough thou hast said. The Physician_ whom I wish to heal me knoweth how _sound my eyes_ are. He knoweth what He wisheth to show me. To Him I commit myself, and to His goodness I entrust myself. May He do unto me according to His will! On Him I call, that He may make fast my soul to Him. I will never again say that I have _sound eyes until I see wisdom itself_.

_R._ I know no better advice for thee than thou formerly saidst. But leave off woe and sorrow, _and be measurably happy_. Thou wert formerly too immoderately sorrowful, _for sorrow injureth both mind and body_.

_A._ Thou wouldst restrain my weeping and my sorrow, and still I perceive no limit to my misery and misfortunes. Thou bidst me leave off sorrow lest I, _either in mind_ or in body, be weaker; yet I find no strength, _either in mind_ or body, but am full nigh in despair. But I beseech thee, if thou in any wise canst, to lead me by some shorter way, somewhat nearer the light _of the understanding_ which I long ago desired and yet could not come by in my ignorance; notwithstanding that I may afterwards be ashamed to look again toward the darkness which I formerly desired to forsake, if ever I draw nigh to the light.

_R._ Let us now end this book here properly, and name a shorter way in another book, if we can.

_A._ Nay, nay; let us not leave this book yet until I am able to understand that which we are after.

_R._ Methinks I ought to do as thou bidst me. Something draweth me on, I know not what, _but I surmise it is the G.o.d thou seekest after_.

_A._ _Thanks be to Him that adviseth thee, and to thee also, if thou praise Him._ Lead whither thou wilt: _I will follow after thee if I can_.

[Sidenote: 49.19--52.2]

_R._ Methinks thou desirest still to know that same thing about G.o.d and thy soul which thou didst formerly desire.

_A._ Yea, that alone I desire.

_R._ Wishest thou aught more? Wishest thou not to know truth?

_A._ How can I, without truth, know aught of truth, _or what wilt thou say, without truth, that G.o.d is? For we hear it read in the Gospel that Christ said that He is the way, the truth, and the life._

_R._ Rightly thou sayest; but I would know whether it seemeth to thee that the true and truth are one [and the same thing].

_A._ Two things, methinks, they are, _just as wisdom is one thing, and that which is wise is another_; and likewise chast.i.ty is one thing, and that which is chaste is another.

_R._ Which, then, doth seem to thee better, the true or truth?

_A._ Truth; for all that is true is so because of truth; and every thing that is chaste is so because of chast.i.ty; _and he who is wise is so because of wisdom_.

_R._ _Thanks be to G.o.d that thou understandest it so well. Howbeit I would know whether thou suppose, if a wise man were dead, wisdom would be dead._ Or again, if a chaste man were dead, chast.i.ty would be dead.

Or if a truthful man were dead, would truth then be dead.

_A._ Nay, nay, verily; that can not come to pa.s.s.

_R._ _Well dost thou understand it._ But I would know whether thou suppose that wisdom is gone, or chast.i.ty, or truth, when the man pa.s.seth away; _or whence they formerly came, or where they are, if they exist?