DE ERUDITIONE HOMINIS INTERIORIS

• 1229D

What that dream of Nabuchodonosor signifies according to the letter, that most weighty exposition of Daniel teaches. But it ought not to displease, if a tropological discussion should effect eficiat out of the same matter something that may build up the reader unto the knowledge of truth or unto the discipline of morals. That I may therefore touch in few words upon the sum of his intention: 1230Dthe prophet in this place seems, out of a mystical vision, to signify how it befalls men of virtues little by little to flow away, and by certain steps of decline to fall down into the lowest things, and at some time, through visiting grace, to rise again to their former, or rather to a stronger, state of spirit. Now this corruption of change, or this remedy of repair, is wont assuredly to happen in either life, that is, as well in the active as in the contemplative. Of both, unless I am mistaken, the type is expressed in this one vision, 1231Aif it be rightly weighed. For what is it that Nabuchodonosor received a mystical vision, lost it, and afterward again came to know it more abundantly. For he deserved at the last to receive it together with its own interpretation. What, I say, is hinted to us in all these things, unless that the grace of contemplation is at one time divinely given, at times withdrawn, and at last repaired more manifoldly. But the declines of the active life are signified in the statue, which, begun from gold, ends in clay: at the top golden, in the middle silver or bronze, at the bottom iron or of clay. Behold, as thou seest, by how much the lower, by so much is it always found worse than itself. In the varied change of the metals are marked the varied declines of kingdoms, and in both the manifold failure of morals or of merits. 1231BBut behold, after the manifold failure of the kingdoms, that kingdom is raised up which shall not be scattered for ever. So often the human mind, after manifold ruin, pricked with compunction by divine inspiration, returns to righteousness; and, instructed and humbled by its own very fall, by how much the more instructed and by how much the more humble, by so much the stronger also does it rise again.

This also is to be noted, that the grace of the contemplative life slips away than [quam; read facilius quam, "more easily than"] that of the active, but is repaired with much greater difficulty. Hence it is that Nabuchodonosor recovered with so great difficulty the vision of the dream which he had lost so easily. Hence it is that the decline of the kingdoms is described more at large, and is distinguished by steps, while the bringing in of the indestructible kingdom 1231Cis touched upon in few words, and is brought in suddenly indeed, and without any gradation. And perhaps what is said of either grace of the twofold life is given to be understood of both. For Holy Scripture often says one thing and hints another. And so both are wont by turns to befall: namely, that a man exercised in the active life should fall suddenly and unlooked for, and likewise that one cast down from the contemplative should rise again, through visiting grace, with wonderful ease. But fittingly enough in this place, where the fall or the repair of either life is treated, fittingly, I say, he has expressed the property of each, and has shown by what proportion they answer to one another. For from the contemplative we fall away more easily, and to the active we rise again more easily. Now this vision of King Nabuchodonosor (like the rest of his own) shows plainly enough how aptly 1231Dhe received such a name. For beyond doubt the dream which he saw was a foretoken of things to come. And that also which through the foretoken he foresaw as future was none the less a sign of other things: for it expressed the accidents of morals. See then how rightly he obtains such a name. For Nabuchodonosor is interpreted prophesying a sign of this sort. Was not Nabuchodonosor prophesying through the mystical vision, whence also his vision was a prophecy, which portended the varied failures of kingdoms? And who does not know that all things befell them in figure? Therefore that change of kingdoms was a figure, because it signified something else through a mystery; and it was a sign of spiritual things. And so he was prophesying a sign, who in the foretoken of things to come was foreseeing figures of spiritual things. But what kind of sign? 1232AA sign of this sort, that is, such a sign that what it is, or how true it is, can be proved by experience and shown as it were to the eye; or a sign of this sort, as it were of that thing which can be shown with the finger. For if in the decline of kingdoms the decline of morals is said to be understood, in what place, I ask, or at what time could this not be shown, could this not be seen. And this interpretation of the name indeed agrees with him well enough, according to what befell him. For there is another also, no less fitting, according to what he did: for Nabuchodonosor is interpreted a sitting in the acknowledgement of anguish. What is it to sit, unless to humble oneself? But consider how greatly this king humbled himself, who adored Daniel, a servant made over to him out of captivity, when he came to know the casting down of his kingdom 1232B(which he could not know without anguish) by that man's own exposition. And so he sat in the acknowledgement of anguish, who, when he had heard of the imminent peril, humbly prostrated himself at the feet of him that prophesied. Now these things which have been said concerning the interpretation of the name seem to allude to the history; but none the less this too is to be considered, how they may be able to agree with the mystery. For what else does this so great person signify, who seems to be at once king and prophet, unless a spirit endowed with a twofold grace and fully exercised as well in the active life as in the contemplative? Does not the human spirit seem to thee to bear in itself in some manner a kingly person, when it has begun to preside strongly over the affections and the passions (both by the right of free will and by the bestowal of grace), and to command with authority, and 1232Cmanfully to claim that kingdom of heaven which is within us? Does it not seem to thee to be strong with a certain gift as it were of prophecy, when now by the endowment of foresight it has received power to foresee and to foretell imminent perils; but most of all when it has now begun, through the grace of contemplation, to search into the deep things of the mysteries, and through excess of mind, and as it were through a dream, to marvel at the secrets of the divine judgments? And rightly is he also called Nabuchodonosor who is endowed with the gift of foresight; and then does he truly prophesy a sign of this kind, when from preceding causes he foresees the declines of morals. For the declines of merits always signify the declines of rewards. For beyond doubt, by how much is taken away from 1232Dmerit, by so much is always taken away from the reward also. He therefore prophesies a sign, and a sign of this sort, who foretells a sign of this kind, or a sign of that thing which — of what sort they be — can in some manner be shown with the finger and proved by experience. But often the failure of good desires foreshows the failure of good works. For, when the will grows torpid, the spirit must afterward grow lukewarm from good zeal. But it is wont to befall conversely also. But to him to whom it is given to be able to foresee imminent perils and evils yet to come, if he takes care and is busy to bring them with grief and anguish of spirit into consideration, and to humble himself in the expectation of them, the same name can fit him according to the other interpretation. For Nabuchodonosor, as has been said, is interpreted 1233Aa sitting in the acknowledgement of anguish. But let no one wonder that by an unjust king a manly spirit and a man of virtues is said to be understood. For who does not know (unless he be unskilled in the sacred letters) how often in the Scriptures the serpent, a venomous animal, and the lion, a most ferocious animal, signify Christ? And if we believe blessed Gregory expounding it, in David the adulterer Christ is understood through a mystery, and in innocent Uriah is understood that faithless Jewish people. What wonder therefore if by the unjust king whom we disapprove we understand a just thing which we approve? And indeed in the unjust king, although the will was disordered, yet the power belonging to him was ordered. For there is no power but from God. And the things which are from God, the Apostle bearing witness, are ordered (Rom. XIII). [Vulg. Rom. 13:1 quae autem sunt, a Deo ordinatae sunt, "the powers that are, are ordained by God"; Migne draws the agent into the relative clause and prints the neuter participle] 1233BAnd so fittingly enough the royal power signifies the spirit of virtues, which claims for itself that inward kingdom by its morals; or free will, through which, by cooperating grace, the spirit commands its own affections and passions.

In the second year of the reign of Nabuchodonosor, Nabuchodonosor saw a dream, and his spirit was terrified, and his dream fled from him (Dan. II). The first zeal of a manly spirit ought to be that it may have dominion over the affections; the second, that it may command the thoughts; the third, therefore — the spirit, and the soul that is victor over its own vices, 1233Cbegins from that time already to have in its own kingdom all spiritual things whatsoever, when, its excesses being now subdued, it prevails to command not only the affections but also the thoughts, so that it may be able to restrain both, the former from unlawful concupiscence and the latter from unfitting wandering. But what is it to see a dream, and to foresee the foretokens of things to come or the mysteries of hidden things, unless to receive divinely the grace of contemplation, and through excess of mind to perceive out of divine revelation the knowledge of the divine judgments? And rightly did this king see the dream in the second year, because every spiritual man, after the taming of concupiscence and the discipline of his knowings, at length at some time prevails and grows accustomed to be at leisure for the zeal of contemplation. 1233DBut it often comes to pass that, while the human spirit is led to contemplate the subtlety, or even the strictness, of the divine judgments, it is shaken to the marrow with a sudden fear out of that very consideration of the divine strictness which it perceives. For while a mind that is untrained, and less instructed in heavenly disciplines, still presumes all things upon its own effort rather than upon divine grace, it easily falls into this fear from the contemplation of the divine severity and the consideration of that equity. For a presumptuous mind, when with wondrous subtlety it beholds how far it is above human virtue to answer to the divine benefits, and how strictly the divine severity, by the right of equity, may and ought to deal with us, is often wont to hurl itself into an immense dread 1234A(nay, almost even into despair). But while the trembling spirit is confounded with a dread of this sort (to say nothing of how justly, beyond all doubt, and as mercifully as profitably), under this crisis of necessity the grace of contemplation is withdrawn, lest by the excess of its own subtlety it be hurled wholly into the pit of despair. And so the dream as it were flees from him, while he loses that light of contemplation which he was wont to see through excess of mind.

But the king commanded that the soothsayers, and the magicians, and the sorcerers, and the Chaldeans should be called together, that they might declare to the king his dreams sommia. He assuredly bears a kingly spirit who is wont to command his own desires, and to dispose his zeals and his exercises according to the judgment of deliberation. 1234BAnd so a kingly spirit of this sort makes all the wise men of Babylon come together into one, and in a manner drives diverse sects into one by scrutiny, when it spends upon the one and only business of heavenly doctrine all that solicitude and searching which it was wont to scatter through varied zeals and exercises. But from wise men of this sort, coming together as it were into one, we seek back as it were our lost dreams, when we busy ourselves to repair, by the manifold and untiring urgency of our zeals, the spectacles of our contemplation that have been withdrawn. Who, when they had come, set up before the king. [Vulg. Dan. 2:2 steterunt, "they stood"; the word Migne prints is transitive and leaves the clause without an object] Behold what is said; behold what manner of assembly is declared to stand before the king. Thou mayest reckon that thou hast not yet a kingly spirit, if thou art not yet able to gather from every side, at thy wish, those most subtle points of thy thoughts, 1234Cand, by the liberty of thy judgment, to fix them unmovably upon the zeal of whatever intention thou wilt. And the king said to them: I saw a dream, and being confounded in mind I know not what I saw. We address the assembly of our wise men when in our inmost parts we rebuke the wandering of our searchings, or inflame it to the investigation of sublime things. But let us be zealous, after the likeness of this man, not to neglect the losses of our advances, but rather to stir up our zeals unto their repair.

This surely is to be noted, that above he says that he was terrified, but here that he was confounded in mind. But it is to be known that the human mind, while it is lifted up to contemplate more clearly the steep things of the divine equity, 1234Dis, by the beating back of its own infirmity, at one and the same time confounded from that same source whence it is terrified. For beyond doubt, in the consideration of the divine justice and in the comparison of human weakness, a man shudders at his own infirmity, and equally blushes at it. And the Chaldeans answered the king in Syriac: O king, live for ever. Tell the dream to thy servants, and we will declare the interpretation thereof. In the first place it must be considered to whom and in what manner they answered. Namely, to a Chaldean king, in Syriac — which indeed is the same thing, as Jerome has determined upon this same place, as in Chaldee. What then is it to answer the king in his own tongue, unless expressly and manifestly to convey that which it behooves to be known? For when anything is said to a man in 1235Aa foreign and unknown tongue, the noise of the voice indeed comes to the ears, but the sense of it does not enter as far as the spirit. Therefore answer is made as it were in one's own and known tongue, when that which the occasion demands is fittingly made known. But if we have recourse to the interpretation of the name, we are beyond doubt brought back to the same meaning. For Syria is interpreted sublime. What then will it be to answer in Syriac, unless to answer sublimely? and what will it be to answer sublimely, unless to answer fittingly and sufficiently? But the spirit knows nothing better, nothing more certain, and nothing more sublime than what it has learned through experience; and perhaps this is the proper and chief, and altogether the most sublime, manner of learning belonging to the human soul, when by our own experience 1235Bwe prove something. Do not thy own thoughts or occupations answer thee as properly as openly, and instruct thee unto the truth sublimely enough, when out of their own failure they teach, and as it were through experience declare, how vainly and how rashly anything above the human measure is presumed upon one's own effort? Surely the whole answer of these men seems chiefly to contain this (namely, that) they were altogether unable to do what the king was violently demanding. In wise men of this sort therefore, such as we have showed thee above, this will be, as I judge, their answering: to teach their own impossibility by their own experience. But let us handle the several parts of their answer, and first let us see concerning the first.

• 1235C

O king, they say, live for ever (Dan. II). That we may therefore compare together outward things with inward, bodily with spiritual: would that we had that inward household as well disciplined as we have known this outward one to be disciplined. We have heard what they answer at the first to their king, and perhaps he himself had taught them this very thing; let us also teach our own household (namely, in every endeavour of ours) to answer things most like: O king, live for ever. Yet what will this be, I ask, a wish, or an admonition? A wish, that he may avail for this; or an admonition, that he may spend all zeal upon this very thing? But what is 1235Dthe life of that inward prince, and lord of that inward household? What, I say, is the life of that which is chief in the soul (namely, of the human mind), unless a good intention? Whatever a man may do, even if it be good, yet it will be unprofitable unless it be done with a good intention. But then the mind of a man dies even amid good works, when the intention is corrupted. It is the Truth's own attestation: Because, if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be darksome (Matth. VI). What therefore will it be to live for ever, unless to have a good intention in every good work? Would that at every endeavour of ours, at every good beginning, this answer might first meet us; that all our thought might sigh and busy itself for this, that we may live for ever, which indeed will then come to pass, 1236Aif we do nothing but what is good, and nothing without a good intention. For, to say nothing of the rest: oh, how often do we seek the truth itself, not for truth but for vanity, and the truth once found we love, not in truth, but unto vanity; and, what is most wretched, in the words of life we traffic for the gains of death; or at any rate we rightly understand the life of the inner man to be divine grace! For as the body can do nothing without its own life, that is, without the soul, so our inner man can do no good thing without divine grace: By the grace, of God, says the apostle, I am what I am (Cor. XV). And the Truth himself concerning himself: Without me you can do nothing (Joan. XV). What therefore is it to say, to live for ever, unless unceasingly to cleave to grace? Whatever thou mayest purpose, presume not of thine own effort, but of divine grace. 1236BWhatever thou accomplishest, ascribe to him, not to thyself this assuredly was to be said to that king, and at that time above all, because he was seeking in a human way that which he had received divinely, and for the other thing that was hoped for was leaning upon human effort rather than upon divine grace. But this is very marvellous (nay, astonishing beyond the human measure), that often, when we say these things silently within ourselves and feel them inwardly, none the less, and at the very same time, we lean upon our own effort, as if we were wholly ignorant of cooperating grace. Often, when we say something subtly to our neighbours concerning the commendation of divine grace, we glory within ourselves over the subtlety of our own speaking. O infinite folly of man, 1236Cand dost thou indeed rightly say that a man can do nothing without grace? But if thou speakest the truth, whence dost thou glory? Let us therefore teach those most subtle searchers-out of hidden things, namely, those thoughts of ours, that in all our zeal, in every business, they busy themselves first and chiefly with this, that they first beget in us this solicitude: that we be zealous to presume of grace all that we propose, and to ascribe to divine grace all that we accomplish; and this belongs to living for ever.

Tell, says he, the dream to thy servants, and we will declare the interpretation 1236Dthereof (Dan, II). Mark what they say. One thing they demand, and another they promise. They demand of the king the vision, and they promise its interpretation. And yet as vainly as they demand, so falsely do they promise. But there was one thing which they might have said truly, if they had been willing to confess the truth: namely, that they in no wise knew the vision, nor could of themselves have known it at all. They therefore who profess false things, why do they not at least confess true ones? A common modesty; a general shamelessness. It is common modesty to conceal one's own impossibility; it is general shamelessness to presume beyond possibility. And the king answering said to the Chaldeans: The word has departed from me. Unless you declare to me the dream and the conjecture of it, you shall perish, and your houses shall be made public. But if you shall relate the dream and the conjecture 1237Aof it, you shall receive from me rewards, and gifts, and much honour. Who, I ask, would not freely rebuke King Nabuchodonosor, that for such a cause he consigns his wise men to destruction, when perhaps he himself does the like, or worse? For what is it to destroy one's own wise men of one's own accord, unless utterly to lay aside the zeals of wisdom, and to be now unwilling to exercise those most subtle points of one's wit any further in the investigation of some doctrine? But what is it to make public the houses of the wise men, and to reduce them to the common use of all? Now by houses we are wont to mean that place of our dwelling to which, after manifold labours and runnings to and fro, we are always accustomed to return for the sake of rest. What therefore is more rightly given to be understood by the house of the wise men 1237Bthan those private and secret leisures of their rest, wherein all the studious are wont to be free for the zeals of doctrine? The houses of our wise men therefore are in a manner made public, when those studious leisures of our rest are exposed to every wandering of dissoluteness, and the secret inner chambers of doctrine are prostituted to every care or curiosity. How many do we see, after the glorious marks of their zeals and the great things of their knowledge, when perchance they have been promoted to some step of honour, or perchance have taken up the care of some administration, straightway despise all the discipline of their doctrines, be free for secular affairs only and always, destroy in one day all the cultivators of wisdom, and make public their hidden secrets? 1237CWhat would these men do if they received the kingdom of Nabuchodonosor? How many likewise do we see, after much urgency of spiritual exercises, after having at last received the grace of contemplation, when perchance they have been cast down from that state of their sublimity by some temptation or by weariness of whatever kind, and have perceived that they cannot return to that art of their height without some, or perchance without great, labour, straightway lay down or condemn all the effort of spiritual zeals, and expose themselves at every hour to all vagrant and empty runnings to and fro. Thou mayest see them not only not seek again those leisures of their contemplation, but even utterly lay aside all urgency of meditation or of reading. What 1237Delse do these men do than slay their own wise men, who overspread all spiritual understandings within themselves by the varied fluctuation of their own desires? Behold, we have heard concerning the threats; let us see concerning the promises. But if the dream, says he, and the conjecture of it you shall relate, you shall receive rewards and gifts, and much honour from me. A reward is when we receive that which we have deserved; a gift, when we receive that which we have not yet deserved; but an honour, when we obtain even that for the deserving of which we are less fit. And so a reward is what is rendered to merits; a gift, what is bestowed freely; an honour, what is conferred from dignity alone: rewards, says he, and gifts, and much honour you shall receive from me. Nothing, brethren, is truer: how gladly do we bestow upon our wise men the wages of their merits, 1238Ahow thankfully do we confer upon them honour due or gratuitous? And that I may more fully declare what I think thereon: I look for nothing more certain, I fear nothing more, than that every man should busy himself that too much honour, and greater reverence than is fitting, be bestowed upon wise men of this sort, when perchance they have satisfied his desires and have answered his wishes according to his wish. Who would not ascribe more to his own zeals and disciplines than the Truth itself dictates? Who, I ask, would not wish to extend the reputation of his own knowledge and wisdom, not only according to the measure of equity, but even beyond, nay above, what equity owes? And so as often as the spirit gladly presses on in its own zeals, and thence promises itself an enlargement of fame and glory, it speaks in a manner to its own wise men: both rewards, and gifts; 1238Band much honour you shall receive.

The reward being set forth, the king straightway subjoins and says: Tell me therefore the dream and the interpretation of it (Dan. II). Two things he seeks: the dream, and the interpretation of it. It is one thing to know the secrets of the divine judgments out of divine revelation, and another to have been able to weigh or to penetrate the reason of the same. This belongs to the knowledge of the dream, that to the interpretation of it. How many of the divine judgments do we know, whose reason we penetrate by no discussion of ours. They answered a second time 1238Cand said: Let the king tell the dream to his servants, and we will declare the interpretation of it. What is it to answer again, unless to teach their own impossibility more fully and more perfectly by the repeated failure of their own conanimis? O how hardly is human shamelessness restrained from its own presumption. Behold, after many experiences, still impossible things are demanded, still impossible things are promised. But let us see what follows: The king answered and said: I know for certain that you buy up the time, knowing that the word has departed from me. If therefore you shall not declare to me the dream, there is one sentence concerning you, that you have framed an interpretation also that is deceitful and full of deception, that you may speak to me until the time pass away. Tell me therefore the dream, that I may know that you speak a true interpretation 1238Dof it also. Behold, from his urgency the king profited not nothing, who at length at some time detected their duplicity; and do not thou think that thou hast profited but little, when thou shalt be able clearly to detect the duplicity of thine own heart. How many things do we often feign, how many do we dissemble. Our weaknesses we gladly dissemble, and those good things which we are altogether unable to do we feign that we can do or have: and it is very marvellous that the spirit gladly deceives itself, and not unwillingly hides its own vice from itself. Behold, the king detected both vices, of simulation and of dissimulation, in his subjects: that of dissimulation indeed in that he says, I know for certain that you buy up the time. That of simulation, in that after a few words he adds, There is one sentence concerning you, that you have framed a deceitful interpretation 1239Aalso. They dissembled their own ignorance, and were willing [volebant; read nolebant, "were unwilling"] to confess it openly, and in this they were buying up the time, and yet concerning the interpretation of the dream they were promising false things. But the evil of dissimulation in them the king proved by experience, while the evil of simulation he knew from reason, gathering the one vice out of the other. For if they could not do even that which was the less, how could they have done that whereby it was the greater? From these things, as I judge, thou weighest and observest that some things in us we prove by experience, and others assuredly we gather from reason. The Chaldeans therefore answered before the king and said: There is not a man upon earth that can fulfil thy word, O king. Behold, now a third time they answer, and at length at some time they manifestly teach their own failure. And that 1239Bwe may distinguish by steps the three alternations of the answer, see whether perchance that first answer be of doubt, the second of fear, the third of despair. And at the first endeavour indeed, when we begin something and yet do not finish it, we often begin to doubt of the consummation of what we have begun. But at the second, to dread the more. But at the third endeavour, when we obtain no effect, we are wont utterly to despair.

And note that doubt and dread have an ambiguous answer, but despair has a manifest answer. So assuredly at the first and the second those men rather lessen their own ignorance than speak it. But at the third, they now openly profess the light. Yet let us hear how falsely they speak true things: There 1239Cis not, say they, a man upon earth that can fulfil thy word. They do not say simply, We cannot, which assuredly was true, but, There is not a man upon earth that can, which beyond doubt was false. For Daniel also was a man, and was upon earth, who was able to do this, as the outcome of the matter afterward proved. Yet he was able, not of his own effort, but of divine grace. Who would say that he could not do what he was able to obtain by praying? See in how many ways, and how often, the human spirit deceives itself; but who would suffice to explain this fully? How many things do we often presume that we can do, which yet we altogether cannot; and how many things which we altogether cannot do, do we think that no one can? What is it, I ask, 1239Dthat the human spirit, according to the good which it approves in itself, does not at all proclaim others, and yet, according to the evil which it finds in itself, adds others? Behold, what these wise men presumed concerning the interpretation of the dream, they did not yet attribute equally to all in common. But nevertheless, what they could not do concerning the recovery of the dream, they affirm that no one can do. But that we may consider all this according to one and the same spirit: surely we ought neither rashly to presume anything in ourselves, nor rashly to despair. For often what we cannot do in one way, we easily accomplish in another. How many things which we often cannot get by doing, we obtain by praying.

• 1240A

Yet let us see what these men further add, subtly discussing what they say faultily, or what perchance they say truly. For things uttered incautiously avail for our caution, and things rightly uttered have wherewith to form us unto the zeal of imitation. But neither doth any of the kings, say they, great and mighty, inquire such a word of every soothsayer, and magician, and Chaldean (Dan. II). He is rightly called a king who is exalted unto a kingdom. But what says that King, truly King of kings and Lord of lords? The kingdom of heaven, says he, is within you (Luc. XVII). [Vulg. Luc. 17:21 reads regnum Dei, "the kingdom of God"] Unto this kingdom surely we can be exalted, 1240Bif we perfectly will it. This kingdom, existing within us, surely has many inhabitants and dwellers without number. But by how much the more each man enlarges such a kingdom, more faithfully dispenses it, more strictly rules it, more prudently orders it, by so much the mightier is he made, by so much the greater is he judged. But unto this kingdom poverty of spirit advances and conducts more than abundance of sense: for Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matth. V). He who receives such a kingdom sings confidently, when he says: But I am appointed king by him (Psal. II). And well is it said of kings of this sort. But neither doth any of the kings, great and mighty, inquire a word of this kind of every soothsayer, and magician, and Chaldean. But in this the said kings are great, and defend their own power for themselves, 1240Cthat they presume nothing of their own virtue: how much less those things which are above man? Certainly the king had received that word divinely, and it was altogether such that it could not be known unless from God's revelation. That therefore which could not be known save from God, with what rashness is it presumed of a man, a soothsayer, a magician, or a Chaldean? What therefore is it to be unwilling, and not to be bound, to inquire a word of this kind of any wise man of this sort, unless that those things which are above man ought to be presumed of no human effort or art? Hence it is that it is added, when it is said: For the word which thou, O king, seekest is grievous, neither shall there be found any one that may declare it in the sight of the king, except the gods, whose conversation is not with men. Certainly 1240Dwhat was above man, the king ought not to have demanded of man. But what is more grievous, or what more burdensome, than that a man should demand of a man things impossible for a man, and should wish to wrest from human possibility things that are above the human measure? But the things that are impossible with men are possible with God. Except, say they, the gods, whose conversation is not with men. Rightly enough in this place do we understand by the gods the holy angels. For if because of the participation of the image, or even of the likeness, men have been called gods, how much more rightly the angels? I have said: you are gods and sons of the Most High (Psal. LXXXI); and angels indeed are engaged among men at every hour, nay at almost every moment, and yet they do not converse with men, because even then, when they are among men, 1241Athey live not in a human way, but in a heavenly, and truly in a divine way. Who would deny or not know that angels have been able to reveal to men many things which are above men, and are wont to reveal them? But that we may still draw a likeness from outward things to our inmost parts, so often the things which we penetrate by no investigation of ours, we come to know from divine revelations and inspirations. But if any one should wish that by the gods there be understood not angels, but men divinely inspired, whose conversation is now not with men (that is, with such as savour of human things), in that they can now truly say, Our conversation is in heaven, nothing truer can be said. For they come to know many things from divine inspiration which exceed human investigation. But if that former sentence be accommodated to this sense, 1241Bnothing in it seems to sound but what is right, where it is said. There is not a man upon earth that can fulfil thy word, O king: as if it were said, None of those who are upon earth, save only those who by a heavenly conversation ascend the heavens.

And when this was heard, the king in fury and in great wrath commands that all the wise men of Babylon should perish. And when the sentence had gone forth, the wise men were being slain (Dan. II). Behold what we have already spoken of above. After the king had despaired of the recovery of his dream, in fury 1241Cand wrath he decreed that all his wise men should perish. As we have already said, this is to destroy his wise men: no longer to seek out, according to the former custom and the accustomed exercise, those keen and subtle apprehensions of knowledge and of wisdom, and to spend no labor at all upon the studies of any teaching whatever, nor to bestow care upon them. The dream that was seen is as it were lost when that grace of contemplation by which the mind was frequently lifted up to sublime things is withdrawn; and then indeed we as it were despair of its recovery, when, laboring long and much and profiting nothing, we distrust that we can any longer recover that delight of our spiritual sights. But it often happens that, when the spirit loses that gazing upon divine revelations which it had been 1241Dwont to love, being now broken by long weariness, it lays aside the care not only of that in whose restoration it failed, but of studies of every kind, and in a manner disposes to destroy all its wise men. In fury, he says, and in great wrath. Fury is a disturbance of the mind wholly devoid of reason. Wrath is a great disturbance of the mind, yet not utterly alien from reason. We are driven and driven about as it were out of fury, when, with no regard to reason, we cast ourselves headlong into that which ought not to be done. Often, moved by wrath, we understand what ought to be done, though it cannot be reined in, if it be great. And so in the first onset of our disturbance we often do not so much as look back to reason; but afterwards we do indeed see reason, 1242Ayet cannot follow it; and at last we both behold it and follow it. Rightly therefore is fury set first, and wrath afterwards.

It is certainly to be noted that those who in this place are commanded to perish are called the wise men of Babylon. I think that the wise men of the Babylonians are one thing, and the wise men of the Jews another. The former, indeed, are occupied about earthly things, the latter about divine. The former follow after the wisdom of the world, which is foolishness with God; the latter search even the deep things of God, being spiritual, and comparing spiritual things with spiritual. What then do we understand by the wise men of the Babylonians, but secular sciences? and what by the wise men of the Jews, but spiritual teachings? So then we as it were consign the wise men of Babylon to condemnation, when we cut off the secular disciplines from our 1242Bstudies. Our conscience acquiesces more easily in the cutting off of these, and the more lightly consents to their being cast away, the more it observes them (however useful for something to human salvation) to be in no way necessary. First, then, the wise men of Babylon are slaughtered; whence it is that of them it is said: And when the sentence had gone forth, the wise men were being slain. The sentence goes forth when at length a man manifests in deed what he had deliberated and determined in his mind. That is as it were still within which is still turned over and lies hidden in the mind; and it begins as it were to be already put into practice when it now appears in deed. There follows: And Daniel and his companions were sought, that they might perish. Behold how the evil spreads. We have heard above how the wise men of Babylon were being slain; behold, now the wise men 1242Cof the Jews are sought, that they may be slain. Behold by what steps a studious mind is often loosened from its own liveliness, and slips back little by little from the highest things to worse ones: first it lays aside the care of secular, afterwards of spiritual teachings doctrinam, and exposes itself wholly to outward business alone, and slays within itself as it were all the cultivators of knowledge and of wisdom, while after its contempt for the human arts it utterly forsakes the urgency of contemplation, of meditation, of reading and of prayer.

It is to be noted, however, that of the wise men of the Jews it is said that they were sought for destruction. What, I ask, is it to seek a place where wise men of this sort may be found for destruction, but to snatch at an occasion, 1242Dor even at the opportunity of some excuse, whereby a dissolute mind may the more safely and the more freely, and with a more secure conscience, cast away even the pursuits of sacred instruction? For we often plead infirmity of the body when we cast away spiritual exercises. Often we pretend this to be charity, that, forsaking the contemplative life, we utterly expose ourselves to outward business. In this way an occasion, and as it were the opportunity of a place, is sought, where Daniel with the rest of the wise men of the Jews may be found for slaying. If we consult the deeds of this Daniel, what shall we more rightly find figured in him than the devotion of the heart? See how, under every adversity and in whatever necessity, he always has recourse to the Lord and consults him, implores and receives the divine aid. 1243AAnd who does not know that it belongs to true devotion, under every crisis of necessity, to flee to the divine defenses, and in doubtful matters as well as in adverse ones humbly to ask counsel from the one side and aid from the other, and effectually to obtain it? But we know that the mind never prays inwardly and devoutly which does not first rouse itself to devotion by diligent premeditations. For these are the inseparable companions of true devotion: circumspect, discerning and provident thoughts. For without companions and fellow workers of this kind, whatever devotion is ours neither knows nor is able to pray as it ought.

• 1243B

Then Daniel inquired concerning the law and the sentence from Arioch, the prince of the king's soldiery, who had gone forth to slay the wise men of Babylon; and he questioned him who had received power from the king, for what cause so cruel a sentence had gone forth from the king's face. When therefore Arioch had made the matter known to Daniel, Daniel went in and asked the king that he would give him time to declare the solution to the king (Dan. II). As in Daniel the fervor of devotion is understood, so by the prince of the soldiery we rightly, as I judge, understand the zeal of rectitude and the rigor of strict severity. Certainly, without the rigor of just severity, not even that kingdom may be possessed in peace or in security in which men are wont to command men, and in which men are wont to disturb the peace 1243Cof those who possess it. What ruler was ever able to enjoy a lasting peace, or to rejoice in it, who was unwilling strictly to judge and strongly to strike the adversaries of peace, when he could and when he ought? But how much more in that kingdom, in which our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual things of wickedness in the heavenly places; how much more, I say, in a kingdom of this sort ought we to act strongly, and with strict punishment to strike all the tumults of clamorous thoughts or affections, and whatever disturbers there be of inward peace? Good indeed is this prince of the soldiery (namely rigor; and the severity of justice), whose laws or disciplines whoever does not obey estranges himself 1243Dfrom that fellowship of the heavenly soldiery. And rightly, as I judge, is this prince of the soldiery called Arioch. For Arioch is interpreted reducing to solitude. We know that the kingdom of heaven is within us [Vulg. Luke 17:21 regnum Dei intra vos est, "the kingdom of God is within you"]. And so this prince of the soldiery ought, whatever kingdom or region he sees rising up or rebelling against this kingdom and not obeying the laws of the eternal King, to overthrow it by a strong assault, and to reduce it to everlasting solitude, and, if it can be done, to blot it out forever. If therefore by Daniel we ought to understand devotion, and by Arioch the zeal of rectitude, what is it for Daniel to inquire of Arioch concerning the law and the sentence of the king, but for a mind stricken with compunction to consult the judgment of equity, and out of great devotion vehemently to examine whether that be perhaps just or unjust which it remembers itself 1244Ato have formerly determined through the impulse of its own spirit? For in the time of compunction and of prayer the mind of man finds many things to be evil and unjust which it had formerly defined out of the impulse of its spirit, and as it were headlong, and which nevertheless it did not perceive at that time to be unjust; and often, out of that same impulse of his spirit, a man dictates many things against his own conscience, and yet afterwards, in the time of his prayer and of his devotion, he tempers that same headlong haste of his spirit, and reforms it to a sounder judgment. And so we ought afterwards diligently to examine those things which we have decreed headlong rather than prudently, and which we greatly fear to be evil, and to search out by shrewd reconsideration whether they be just or unjust, useful or useless; and in this way the office 1244Bof Arioch is as it were inquired of through Daniel concerning the law or the sentence given, when at length, out of great devotion, the rule of true equity and of the highest discretion is consulted concerning any less considered purpose of the mind. But what it is to go forth to slay the wise men can easily be weighed from what has gone before. It is to be known, however, that we often more easily detect, and more fully dread, the determination or the quality of an ill-considered sentence at that time when we now prove by the deed itself, and as it were by experiment, what sort it is. Hence it is that Arioch in this place is consulted about the giving of the sentence then first, when he is already going forth on occasion of it.

• 1244C

But if by Arioch the strictness of equity is rightly understood, it will perhaps seem strange to someone, and not without reason, how the execution of a sentence of this kind is said to belong to the office of Arioch, since that same sentence is by no means judged just, either according to the history or according to the mystical understanding. Or did the king perhaps, according to the history, being troubled with fury, believe that to be just which was not truly just, in that he might then truly have said: My eye is troubled with fury? Just so, indeed, certain men after the type of this likeness, begetting a zeal of rectitude but not having it according to knowledge, believe it to be right, or feign it to be right, 1244Dthat they slay their own wise men, setting before themselves or promising themselves greater gains of merit to be acquired from bodily exercises than from spiritual ones, in which meanwhile they cannot make as much progress, or as easily, as they wish. But if we look still more deeply, and have recourse to the divine judgments, we shall at once see that many things which a man disposes or does unjustly, God permits to be done in no way but justly. Why then should not those things also be said to pertain to the office of Arioch which, according to this consideration, are proved by the equity of the divine strictness to answer to our merits? And he questioned, he says, him who had received power from the king. Mark, then, that this Arioch received power from the king, because whatever 1245Abefalls us, whether profitably or unprofitably, comes down from the merit or the fault of free will. And Arioch receives from the king the power of executing a sentence now profitable, now unprofitable: sometimes from one who knows and wills, sometimes from one who knows and does not will, sometimes from one who does not know and wills, sometimes from one who neither knows nor wills. For, as has been said, what is wont to befall each man answers, by God's dispensation, to the free choice of liberty according to the quality of merits. Whatever therefore is done concerning us is regulated, for the requital of merits and by the right of equity, by the just judgment of God. But that provident gaze of the spirit often, under the onset of its own great disturbance, recognizes the good pleasure or judgment of the Almighty and acquiesces in it. Sometimes it recognizes it and does not acquiesce; but sometimes 1245Bit is so wrought that it desires the will of God alone to be done concerning itself, although meanwhile it does not fully understand it; and sometimes it is so affected that it cannot at all acquiesce in the will of God, even if it had been able fully to know that will (which meanwhile it cannot know). But what wonder if the human spirit cannot always acquiesce even in a divine will that is known, since indeed it often cannot acquiesce even in its own advantage? For often through impatience it dictates a sentence which it is in no way ignorant to be contrary to its own advantage. Therefore that prince of the soldiery which we have named receives from his king the power of executing a sentence not then only, when a king of this sort disposes something justly and usefully, but even now indeed, when he ordains something through shamelessness or even 1245Cthrough impatience which, by God's disposition and his own preceding merits, answers to the requital of equity; nay, even then, when he does something whereby he incurs a hateful, though just, sentence.

But let us further see what that is which Daniel again inquires of Arioch. For what cause so cruel a sentence had gone forth from the king's face. A fitting order, and diligently to be observed: first he is questioned concerning the law and the sentence, afterwards concerning the cause of that same sentence. Without doubt there must be diligent inquiry 1245Dand vehement examination (in matters doubtful, at all events, and most perilous) first concerning the quality of the action, and consequently concerning the quality of the intention. For often the fault that is contracted from the action is not a little lightened by the quality of the intention. Yet that he inquires concerning the cause of the sentence we can, as I judge, nay we ought, to refer to two things: namely, with what intention it is done, or by what disposition of God it happens to be done. And concerning the action it is asked whether it be advantageous or disadvantageous, just or unjust. But concerning the intention, whether it be perhaps pious or impious, discerning or undiscerning. And concerning God's disposition let each man especially search this out in the investigation of a dread or a hard sentence: whether he strikes us for our profit or for vengeance. For certainly, when he smites us 1246Aor permits us to be struck, he does it now for our instruction, now for our correction, now for our rebuke, now for our condemnation, or in yet some other way whatever. All these things are to be diligently inquired into and subtly examined. All these things strike in a profitable fear, and prick the mind with compunction in prayer. All these things humble the mind, and rouse our devotion, and inflame it to supplication. Thou seest surely how rightly, how discreetly Daniel inquires into all these things before he presses on in prayers or applies himself to supplication. Hence it is that it is said, when there is added: When therefore Arioch had made the matter known to Daniel, Daniel went in and asked the king But what is that aforesaid learning of Daniel from Arioch, but that the devoted mind, the rule of equity having been diligently and devoutly 1246Band strictly consulted, should at length, after much examination, more fully recognize the quality of the sentence sought and of its cause.

It remains now to ask what it is for Daniel to go in to the king. Rightly perhaps by the king, who presides and commands over all, we understand in this place the vehement motion of the spirit and the strong impulse of free will, to which any other affection whatever readily yields or gives obedience. And to how many (when they are vehemently affected or sharply moved) does it not occur at all to consult reason or discretion, how much less 1246Cto flee to prayer, or to admit any devotion? But what else do we say this to be, than that none of the wise men dares to appear before the king? Yet often those who are of this sort, after the impulse of the spirit has been settled, when they come back to themselves, have recourse to the judgment of discretion and to the office of devotion, busying themselves to correct the things in which they went beyond measure in the time of disturbance. But if we are diligent about the discipline of the heart, as we ought to be, let us teach and accustom our spirit, under any impulse whatever and in the time of disturbance, to flee to the counsels of discretion; and this is to lose the wise men before the king's sight. But because it often happens that by no attestation of reason can it soothe the headlong impulse of its own 1246Ddisturbance, the mind ought, under a crisis of necessity of this kind, to have recourse to the helps of devotion, and to obtain the supports of the divine mercy for the pacifying of the violence of its disturbance; and a remedy of devotion of this kind must be brought into use; and this is for Daniel to go in to the king. For Daniel as it were goes in to the king when, for the pacifying of the impulse of the spirit, devotion lends its support even under the very drive of headlong haste.

But it is to be noted that above he is said to have been brought in, whereas here it is simply set down that he went in. And I think that to be brought in by another and to go in by oneself are one thing and another; as is plain from what has gone before, to have the support of devout prayer ready at hand under every vehement impulse of the spirit, this is 1247Athat Daniel is not wanting in the presence of the raging king. But, as we all in common effect things by carefulness too, other things we obtain by prayers, by praying and beseeching God. When therefore by human shrewdness and by exercise the defense of devotion is made habitual for settling the impulse of the spirit, that Daniel of ours is in a manner brought into the presence of the aforesaid king by another's office. But when this is effected not so much by meditating as by praying, Daniel without doubt goes in to the king by himself. And so we ought by diligent and shrewd premeditation to rouse our mind to devotion; and this will be to bring Daniel in by another's office. Likewise, because often even when necessity demands and presses we cannot pray devoutly, let us pray in the time of the divine visitation and of our own compunction, 1247Bthat in the time of necessity we may be able to pray. If, then, the faculty of praying is obtained by prayer, Daniel assuredly goes in by himself. But neither is this to be passed over negligently, that he is read to have gone in during the time of the king's disturbance and fury. For at the time of his being brought in we assuredly receive not even any indication of the king's disturbance. For we must not believe that this king is always angry and troubled with some fury. It is one thing for the impulse of the spirit to be vehement, another for it to be headlong. One thing, I say, to be strong and unconquered, and another to be full of wrath and madness. One thing, finally, to be invincible and almost immovable; but another to be intolerable and plainly irrational. 1247CBut who, I ask, in the time of the royal fury would presume, or would dare, to lead Daniel before the king? I judge it to be above human effort and virtue to apply oneself to prayer in the time of so great and so inward a disturbance, since scarcely, or rather in no way at all, does it happen at that time even to remember it. It behooves therefore, in the manner we have said above, that Daniel go in by himself before the troubled king, if he wishes under the crisis of so great a necessity to fight back against the peril. And so let the mind that is diligent and solicitous about its own salvation, which as yet, when it has been disturbed, does not know how to fight back against its disturbance by praying, and has not yet obtained the practice or the grace of this kind, pray and obtain in a time of tranquillity that the grace of praying in a time of disturbance be given it from God. 1247DIn this way it will perhaps be granted to Daniel at some time to go in to the king by himself, and while he is still raging; and then he will perhaps be able, not once only but often and assiduously, to ask and to obtain a respite for the deferring of an evil sentence, to this end, that he may afterwards utterly blot it out. When, in the time of its inward disturbance, the devoted mind humbly asks and beseeches that the divine goodness not permit him, under the impulse of a roused fury, to do anything through impatience whereof he must afterwards repent, if it obtains what it desires, what else does the Daniel of our devotion seem to thee to do, than to soothe the madness of the raging king? But when it feels itself drawn by the vehemence of its headlong affection to something which meanwhile, under the cloud or the whirlwind of so great a disturbance of its own, it cannot fully recognize whether 1248Ait be right, if meanwhile it asks patience for itself until in the time of its tranquillity it can more rightly discern what is to be done, then, by receiving what it asks, what else does it seem to thee to accomplish, than to ask and receive a respite? Daniel, he says, went in and asked the king that he would give him time to declare the solution to the king. Thou seest surely that devotion piously and profitably presumes often upon the Lord's goodness for things which human effort could by no shrewdness of its own bring about; and how justly we presume great things upon the Lord's goodness, if for love of him, with his help, we conquer our own magnanimity.

• 1248B

But let us see what Daniel did after these things, or what is written of him: And having gone into his house, he made the matter known to Ananias, Misael, Azarias, his companions, that they might seek mercy from the face of the God of heaven concerning this sacrament, and that Daniel and his companions might not perish with the rest of the wise men of Babylon (Dan. II). By these three, Daniel's undivided companions and inseparable comrades, we understand circumspection, discretion, deliberation; without which we prove by daily experience that the office of true devotion can in no way be fulfilled. For if we wish to pray inwardly and devoutly, the first thing is that we look about upon our own 1248Clife. Let us see with what studies or exercises we have been accustomed to be occupied, or with what we are occupied still, or what purpose we have in these for the time to come. But what does it profit to bring these things into consideration, unless with the same solicitude we busy ourselves to discern each single thing by strong examination, and to separate the good from the bad by watchful shrewdness, that we may know for what things we ought to beseech the Lord, or even to give thanks? But when our good things or our evil ones are known, it still remains to search out by provident deliberation by what occupation or carefulness we may both make satisfaction for past evils, and extricate oneself from present ones, and more carefully exhibit caution concerning things to come. The first belongs to circumspection, the second to discretion, the third to deliberation. It belongs 1248Dto circumspection to bring the measure of our morals into consideration; it belongs to discretion to make judgment in all things; but to deliberation, to seek and to find counsel. Circumspection says: I will recount to thee all my years in the bitterness of my soul (Isai. XXXVIII). Discretion confesses: I have done judgment and justice (Psal. XCVIII). Deliberation speaks: What shall I render to the Lord for all the things that he hath rendered to me? (Psal. CXV.) She is called back to the pursuit of circumspection to whom it is said: Lift up thine eyes round about (Isai. XLIX), and see then where thou hast lain prostrate, harlot [Vulg. Jer. 3:2 vide ubi non prostrata sis, "see where thou hast not lain prostrate"; the received text carries the negative, which is absent here]. He wished to encourage us to the examination of discretion who said: If we judged ourselves, we should not indeed be judged (I Cor. XI). The office of deliberation is enjoined, or even commended, when it is said through the wise man: Do all things with counsel, 1249Aand unto eternity thou shalt not repent (Eccli. XXXII) [Vulg. Eccli. 32:24 Fili, sine consilio nihil facias, et post factum non poeniteberis, "Son, do nothing without counsel, and after the deed thou shalt not repent"]. But who does not see how necessary the offices of these are to true devotion? For who was ever able to pray inwardly and devoutly, if he has put off looking about upon his life, examining it, ordering it? As often therefore as necessity urges us to apply ourselves more vehemently to devout prayer, we must have recourse to the offices of circumspection and of discretion, or even of deliberation, and by such pursuits and busy meditations inflame our spirit to devotion; and this is for Daniel to take up the supports of his companions for the use of his prayer. And so Daniel as it were runs back to the inner chambers of his house, and seeks fellow workers, as it were, for the more perfect fulfilling of the business of his prayer, when, the time of prayer now pressing, or even the crisis of urgent 1249Bnecessity, the devoted mind seeks again the accustomed opportunity of its own quiet, necessary for that office, and strives to animate or to inflame its devotion by certain provident meditations, apt for such a use. To his companions, he says, he made the matter known. The matter is as it were made known by Daniel to Daniel's companions, when out of devotion it is brought about that the impending matter is brought into consideration, examination, consultation. But mercy is set forth as a thing to be obtained, if the mind stricken with compunction, in that which it devoutly performs, leans not upon its own merits, but upon the divine mercies.

It is certainly to be noted, according to the history, that Daniel the prophet calls that matter a sacrament; whence who would doubt that a mystical understanding of things lies hidden in it? 1249CAnd that Daniel, he says, and his companions might not perish with the rest of the wise men of Babylon. After the example of this thing, when we have seen our mind, after its contempt of secular studies, grow torpid toward the spiritual exercises also, and little by little fail, and the peril of our wise men press upon us, we too ought by all means to ask that of the Lord whereby we may be able to repair or to confirm the accustomed urgency of our studies. But there is, as we alike know, a very great labor both in the pursuit of praying and in that of meditating, and to minds that wander and are restless it is almost intolerable. But in contemplation the delight is wonderful and almost singular. When therefore the grace of contemplation is conferred upon diligent minds, 1249Dthat labor of the other studies is by its sweetness lightened or tempered just so far as it is sweetened. If therefore we have not yet received grace of this kind, or grieve that it has been withdrawn, we ought to seek it from the Lord for the confirming or the reforming of our studies. When therefore we do these things, what else, I ask, do we seem to have done than to seek the dreams of divine revelations, that we may have wherewith we can preserve in their integrity those wise men of ours designated above? Then the mystery was revealed to Daniel by a vision in the night. The revelation of a mystery is as it were perceived by night, when the illumination of truth is seen thinly indeed, and in part, and as it were by the light of the moon. We perceive the revelation of a mystery as it were by night, when concerning some 1250Asecret of the Godhead we ourselves indeed understand what is to be thought, but do not yet have ready to hand the reason by which we can prove it to others also. The light of revelation appears as it were in the night and as though in the midst of darkness, when a man is not able to unfold in speech, and as it were to bring forth into the open light, the declaration of the mystery which he sees through understanding. But when afterwards by long reconsideration we bring it to pass that we can declare to others by clear demonstration the received understanding of the truth, which we ourselves formerly could scarcely or but thinly see, what else do we bring forth under the light of day than what we perceived by night? Rightly therefore is no mention made afterwards of night, where Daniel at length speaks openly in the presence of the king what he had formerly received by night.

• 1250B

But, the revelation of the mystery having been received, let us further see what Daniel does or says: And Daniel blessed the God of heaven, and speaking said: Blessed be the name of the Lord from everlasting and even unto everlasting, for wisdom and fortitude are his, and he changeth times and ages, transferreth kingdoms and establisheth them (Dan. II). By this example let us learn what we ourselves ought to do when we receive the light of revealing grace. And so let us busy ourselves, after Daniel's example, to render glory and honor and thanksgiving to him from whom we have it to be wise 1250Cand to understand, and whatever of good it is agreed that we have. For there are many who, when they receive the light of truth, at once ascribe this to their own merits or studies, magnify and exalt themselves, and despise all others in comparison with themselves. A soul of this kind speaks within herself: I have understood above all my teachers. She strives to draw to herself that saying of Solomon, as imprudently as emptily: I have gone before in wisdom all who were before me (Eccle. I). On the contrary, let us give glory to him from whom we have received understanding. Let us be zealous always, at the very rising of revealing grace, at the very renewing of an illumined understanding, to render proclamations of praise worthy of God. Blow up the trumpet on the new moon, on the notable day of your solemnity. Neomenia, the new moon; the new moon, renewed for the understanding and divinely 1250Dinspired. We know that the moon has not light from itself, but receives it from the sun that it may be able to shine. So indeed the human understanding has received from God, that it may be able to shine back with the rays of the true light. As often therefore as we receive new rays of divine illumination, and know from divine revelation something that exceeds human understanding, we ought at once to rise up into thanksgiving, and with the trumpet of magnificence to resound in the proclamations of the divine goodness: Magnify, he says, the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together (Psal. XXXIII). Behold how the trumpet has sounded; behold how at the blast of the trumpet he has roused others also along with himself. He wished a blast of such a trumpet to be made at the new moon, or promised that he would make it, when he said: I will bless the Lord who hath given me understanding 1251A(Psal. XV). So Daniel, when he received the light of revealing grace, sounded as it were the trumpet of magnificence at the rising of the new moon, when he said: Blessed be the name of the Lord from everlasting and even unto everlasting, for wisdom and fortitude are his.

It is certainly to be noted that the office of true and perfect devotion is threefold. The first is the confession of the crime, the second the request for mercy, the third the glorification of him who shows mercy. The first is the accusing of the fault, the second the supplication for pardon, the third the magnifying of the divine munificence. All these things this Daniel of ours performs magnificently, as is known from his words. It is the confession and the accusing of fault, where in another place he speaks 1251Bto the Lord in prayer: We have sinned, we have done iniquity, we have acted impiously, and we have departed, and we have turned aside from thy commandments and thy judgments (Dan. IX). It is the supplication and the imploring of pardon, where thou readest, the same man saying: Hear, O Lord; be appeased, O Lord; attend, and do (ibid.). It is without doubt the glorification and magnifying of his Creator, and of him who shows mercy to him, that thou readest in this place: Blessed be the name of the Lord from everlasting and even unto everlasting, for wisdom, and fortitude are his, and he changeth times and ages, transferreth kingdoms, and establisheth them (Dan. II). Wisdom and fortitude are indeed goods of the one who receives them, but without doubt they are the goods of God who bestows them, since whoever have wisdom and fortitude, 1251Cwhoever have been able to act wisely and strongly, have received them from his gift. For what hast thou, says the Apostle, which thou hast not received? (I Cor. XIV). He, he says, changeth times and ages. We know that all things have their time, and that all things under heaven pass in their own spaces. A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted. After this manner it can be considered in other things also. And so from the occasion of the time we receive an opportunity, that we may be able to do now these things, now those, more profitably or more readily. And so he changes the times for our uses, when now he accommodates opportunity to the exercises of these virtues, of those. But what, I ask, does it profit to have received the opportunity of the things to be practiced, unless from the gift of that same bounty we receive also the faculty of performing them? But we know 1251Dthat different ages are more apt for different effects. Certainly the things we learn in boyhood we retain more deeply and bring forth more readily. In the age of youth the strength of the body is more robust, and the spirit bolder; and therefore that age is more effective for the practice of exercise. Up to a more advanced age both manifold teaching and manifold experience of things increase knowledge by daily advances; and therefore that age, beyond all the rest, is vigorous in counsels and strong in prudence. And so the first of the ages spoken of prevails for learning, the second for practicing, but the third for discerning. After the likeness of years we consider, so to speak, the ages of merits also; and according to the difference of the various advances we know that we have the efficacy of various virtues. 1252AAnd so differing efficacies and diverse faculties are in a manner the ages of years. That best governor of merits therefore alternates the measures of times and of ages, who by the dispensation of his goodness administers both the faculty and the opportunity, now of these virtues, now of those. He transferreth kingdoms and establisheth them, when, the tyranny of vices being overthrown, he makes the virtues to reign. Of these peoples of vices or of virtues, and of the destruction of the one as well as the exaltation of the other, it is mystically written, when it is said through the Prophet: Thou hast brought a vineyard out of Egypt; thou hast cast out the nations, and planted it (Psal. LXXIX). The vineyard is planted when a good purpose is fixed in a good intention. The nations are cast out when, by the edict of confession and the vow of profession, sins are threatened and vices are renounced. 1252BTo the same purport runs that which the same Prophet alios took heed of concerning the extirpation of vices, or the planting of virtues: Thou hast cast out the nations, and planted them; thou hast afflicted the peoples, and driven them out (ibid.) [Vulg. Ps. 43:3 opens Manus tua gentes disperdidit, "Thy hand destroyed the nations"; the opening clause as printed here is that of Ps. 79:9 just quoted, whose object is the vine, eam]. That hateful people of vices is driven out by the greatness of affliction, when at length the soul, long and much oppressed, is set free from the dominion of carnal desires as much by contrition of body as by compunction of heart. And so in this manner the author and protector of our salvation, while he destroys the dominion of vices in us and restores the virtues in their place, transferreth kingdoms and establisheth them. And rightly indeed, for the kingdom is the Lord's, and he shall rule over the nations: He giveth, he says, wisdom to the wise, and knowledge to them that understand instruction. He revealeth 1252Cdeep and hidden things, and knoweth what is set in darkness, and light is with him. Let no one, then, presume upon his own genius; let no one ascribe the knowledge of inward or of outward things to his own studies or merits. For it is he who gives wisdom to the wise, he equally who gives knowledge to them that understand instruction. To the same purport without doubt goes he who says: All wisdom is from the Lord God, and hath been with him always, and is before all time (Eccle. I). With both agrees he who says: Every best gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights (Jac. I). He revealeth deep and hidden things, and knoweth what is set in darkness. For those things which are truly deep, and exceed the measure of human understanding, the Apostle cries out 1252Dwhen he says: O the depth of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God, how incomprehensible are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! (Rom. XI.) [Vulg. O altitudo divitiarum sapientiae et scientiae Dei, "O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God"] Yet of these very sublime and deep things he does reveal, through his Spirit, as much as it behooves us to know, or is expedient for us. He reveals therefore the deep things and the secrets of his own hiddenness; nor these only, but also the hidden things of another's counsel, which an alien malice conceals from us, that it may the more easily deceive us. Thou hast heard what we ought to desire or to hope for concerning his revelation; hear further what we should fear concerning his knowledge. He knoweth what is set in darkness; he knows indeed our inmost things and whatever is hidden of our heart, and not only those things which we alone know of ourselves and wish to be hidden from others, but also those which we ourselves are not able to penetrate in the hiding places of our conscience. He reveals therefore his own things, he reveals 1253Aanother's, he knows ours. He reveals his own secrets, he reveals another's frauds, he knows our hidden things. He reveals the deep things of his own dispensation, he reveals the hidden things of the devil's fraud, he knows the dark things of the human conscience. He reveals his own deep things, that we may know what we ought to believe of him, what to hope from him. He reveals another's hidden things, that we may know what we ought to fear, what to beware of. He knows our dark things, lest we believe that anything can lie hidden from him, and deceive ourselves with a vain hope. He revealeth deep and hidden things, and knoweth what is set in darkness: The uncertain and hidden things of thy wisdom thou hast made manifest to me (Psal. L). Behold the revelation of deep things; and elsewhere he prays to the same effect: Unveil mine eyes, and I will consider the wondrous things of thy law (Psal. CXVIII). He feared another's hidden things who said: Thou wilt bring 1253Bme out of this snare which they have hidden for me (Psal. XXX). To the same thing looks what he sings elsewhere: With their tongues they acted deceitfully; the venom of asps is under their lips (Psal. XIII). Did they not wish to hide the venom which they carried under their tongue? He believed that our lurking places could not lie hidden from him, who said: But all things are naked and open to the eyes of God (Hebr. IV) [Vulg. Heb. 4:13 oculis ejus, "to his eyes"]. It is Solomon's judgment that he alone knows all things, or knows all the hearts of the sons of men (Sap. IX). With whose judgment he agrees who says: God searcheth the hearts and the reins (Psal. XII). But what did he mean by saying, and light is with him. Without doubt God is light, and in him there are no darknesses at all. Why then does he not say what he could truly have said, that God is light, but says, and with him is light? Or did he perhaps wish to teach us this, 1253Cthat where he himself has abided through indwelling grace, the light of necessary knowledge cannot be lacking? For the light indeed which he himself is, as it is in itself, we certainly cannot meanwhile see in this life; but the light which is with him we have been accustomed to receive, not only for solace, but also for support. But of what sort do we say this light to be, through which we recognize what we ought to do, what to avoid, what to love, what to hold in hatred, what to believe or to hope? Of what sort, I ask, is that light which knows deep and hidden things, he indeed revealing, he finally inspiring, who gives wisdom to the wise, and knowledge to them that understand instruction? Thus far Daniel has glorified God for the common good; but now for the special benefit specially bestowed 1253Dupon himself and upon his companions. To thee, he says, God of my fathers, I confess, and thee I praise, because thou hast given me wisdom and fortitude, and now thou hast shown me the things we asked of thee, because thou hast opened to us the word of the king. [Vulg. Dan. 2:23 Deus patrum nostrorum, "God of our fathers"] Above he said, he giveth wisdom to the wise. But here he says: Because thou hast given me wisdom and fortitude; and again: Because thou hast opened to us the word of the king. The chief order of charity, to prefer common goods to private ones. For charity seeketh not the things that are her own, but the things of others. He therefore who by the instinct of charity set common goods before his own, what wonder if he first offered the sacrifice of praise for those things which he loved more?

But it is to be noted that those three things which we assigned above to Daniel's office we can equally 1254Amark in this one verse. Mark the voice of confession and of glorification in that which thou readest: To thee, God of my fathers, I confess, and thee I praise; and he shows that he offered the prayers of supplication in that which he says: And now thou hast shown to us the things we asked of thee. [Vulg. Dan. 2:23 has "hast shown ME" here, and the lemma printed above has it so too; this re-quotation gives "to us"] But in these three, unless I am mistaken, the office of true devotion is contained or fulfilled.

After this Daniel, going in to Arioch, whom the king had appointed to destroy the wise men of Babylon, spoke to him thus: Destroy not the wise men of Babylon; bring me in before the king, and I will tell the king the solution 1254B(Dan. II). If by Daniel the fervor of devotion is rightly understood, and by Arioch the strictness of equity, what else will it be to wish to go in to Arioch than to seek out more deeply the secretioria secrets of equity, and to wish to discern by innermost searching what strict justice demands? Now this business is rightly ascribed to Daniel at that time when the human mind is urged to this very thing out of a great devotion of spirit. Daniel therefore goes in to Arioch when devotion seeks out the counsels of equity. There is also yet another cause for going in to him (and perhaps not a less necessary one), namely when we wish to pour into him, to the very marrow, what we have recognized from divine revelation as needing correction in his senses. There we go in to him that, from much investigation and examination of justice, we may recognize what is right; here we enter in to him 1254Cthat what has been divinely recognized as right we may press home the more strictly with a zeal for rectitude. There, then, we enter for the sake of learning, here for the sake of teaching; or there for the sake of inquiring, here for the sake of persuading. But we perceive the cause of his entering the sooner if we attend to what he says: Destroy not the wise men of Babylon. Behold, what the king in his trouble commanded to be done, Daniel, divinely enlightened, forbade to be done; and it often happens that what, being troubled and carried by an impulse of the spirit, we discern as though it were right, and presume can or ought to be done as by the office of Arioch, afterwards, having turned to prayers and supplication and been divinely enlightened amid the tears of our compunction, we find to be unjust, which before we thought right. So devotion often finds that to be iniquitous, and forbids its being done, which a violent impulse of the spirit had decreed should be done as it were 1254Dunder a royal fury: Destroy not, he says, the wise men of Babylon. And he adds: Bring me in before the king, and I will tell the king the solution. Why, I ask, does he in this place beg to be brought in by another, who already above entered before the king's sight by himself? But above he entered that he might make supplication to the king; here, however, that he might teach the king. That was of humility, this of great sublimity. Of great sublimity, I say, was it to teach the king that which he could have learned from no one else. To the services of humility, therefore, he thrust himself willingly; to the offices of eminence he declined to thrust himself shamelessly. By his example let us learn what we ought to do in matters of this kind. When the place of mastery must be looked up to, whether from a command or for an office, 1255Alet the mind first enter in to Arioch. Let it seek out the counsels of justice, and by anxious examination let it look ahead, that it may carry out a good work well and justly. Do the good well, he says. The good is then done, when a good work rises from a good intention and proceeds in a fitting manner. It is easy for ambition or vainglory to drive us to a conspicuous and illustrious work. It is easy for the leaven of the Pharisees to corrupt the whole lump of our good work. In no way are we brought in by Arioch when we are driven to a good work by a sinister intention. As often, therefore, as we take up the place of teaching, let us look ahead to how justly, how orderly we are to fulfil the office we have taken up. Let us see to it that we say nothing false or frivolous, nothing inept or disordered. This rule of learning and of teaching, unless I am mistaken, 1255Bhe keeps to whom that word of the Psalmist could apply: Pleasant is the man who has mercy and lends; he shall order his words in judgment (Psal. CXI). And perhaps this will be to consult Arioch outwardly: to fortify ourselves beforehand with counsels of rectitude against the vices of speech or of work. But he is consulted as it were inwardly when inquiry is made concerning inward things, and the soul is fortified beforehand by the ordinances of justice against the corruption of thoughts or of afflictions. Above all at that time ought we to go in to Arioch, and to seek his leading by the hand, and to do nothing without the forethought or the fortification of justice; above all, I say, at that time when we must appear in a place of eminence, or fulfil an office of sublimity. Bring me in, he says, before the king, and I will tell the solution 1255Cto the king. Now our Daniel truly uses the leading by the hand of the said Arioch when, from the recollection of the divine strictness and the consideration of true justice, the spirit is pricked with compunction. And then he is brought in as it were before the royal presence by such a leader, when under any impulse of the spirit whatever, and as it were in the presence of royal power, the heart of man is easily inflamed to devotion by the regard of a strict examination.

And I will tell the king, he says, the solution. What is this solution of the mystic vision, but the easy unravelling and ready 1255Dexplication of the divine sacraments and mysteries? But if by the king we must understand the power of free will, what else will it be for such a solution to come to the royal cognizance, than to have the account of the divine mysteries openly and ready at hand? If therefore we have it free and ready and in our own power to bring forth in common the unravelling of hidden things whenever we will, we do not doubt that the learning and unravelling of the divine mysteries is already in our own choosing, and has already come, as it were, to the royal power. Now so great an enlargement of learning or of teaching is rightly ascribed to Daniel at that time when such grace is acquired and possessed by the merit of devotion. Let us see, then, by what steps of advancement the knowledge of divine things is enlarged. First of all Daniel received cognizance of the mystic vision from divine 1256Arevelation. Afterwards the same thing became known to his companions also, and at last the learning of that same thing came even to the king's cognizance. Of the first it is said: Then to Daniel the mystery was revealed by a vision in the night. [Vulg. per visum nocte, "by a sight in the night"] But afterwards Daniel professes, as much for himself as for his companions: Because the word, he says, of the king thou hast opened to us. And now the same man promises concerning the publishing to the king of the cognizance of that same thing. Bring me in before the king, and I will tell the king the solution. And that I may briefly discharge what I think upon these things: some in their prayer, some in their meditation. and others often in their very speaking, receive divine revelation, and come to know whatever things are sublime and profound out of divine inspiration. Nevertheless not only that which we penetrate subtly by praying, but that also which we penetrate by meditating 1256Bor by speaking, we then rightly attribute to Daniel, when we acquire any of these by the merit of devotion. There are certain men, then ita que, who can never ascend to the contemplating or the penetrating of sublime things save after inward compunction and as it were after a cleansing of the heart; whose person Job expressed in himself when he says: Before I eat I sigh, and like overflowing waters, so is my roaring (Job. III). He must needs sigh before he eats, who in no way can reach the inward refreshment of the soul and the pastures of truth save through the grace of compunction and after a pouring out of tears. Others in their meditations abound copiously 1256Cin divine revelations; and perhaps there are still such as cannot at all, without premeditation, either penetrate subtle things or discourse subtly. Those former, then, kindle for themselves the fire of divine revelation by their prayers, but these by their meditations: And in my meditation a fire shall flame out, says the Psalmist (Psal. XXXVIII). The fire flames out in meditation when the spirit advances, even by its own investigations, to the light of divine revelation and to the manifestation of hidden things. The fire flames out in meditation when, out of its own inquiry, the spirit grows white-hot toward the knowledge and the love of truth. But it is agreed that some have advanced to so great an instruction that they can at every hour discourse subtly upon any subtle matters whatever, and can answer sufficiently, almost always, to whatever is asked them (without any premeditation 1256D), being always ready, as it is written, to give satisfaction to everyone that asks a reason, and with that faith and hope which is in us (I Petr. III) [Vulg. de ea, quae in vobis est, spe, "concerning that hope which is in you"; the received text has no word for faith here, and reads "in you" for "in us"]. But certain of those who are of this kind have the light of divine revelation so familiar that many things are revealed to them even while they are speaking, out of those things which they themselves before knew not. As long, therefore, as the spirit obtains divine revelation through compunction of heart alone, Daniel as it were alone has thus far the cognizance of the mysteries. But when so divine a revelation occurs to our meditations, then the recognition of the mystic vision has come even to Daniel's companions. But when the mind has begun to have the illuminating grace so familiar and as it were at hand that 1257Ait can, at its own choosing and will, whenever it please, be sufficient at almost every hour for whatever things are to be discussed, established, defended, then the unravelling of hidden things begins to enlarge itself even to the royal cognizance. Is not the learning, or the instruction, of deeper things possessed as a faculty by a kind of royal right, when at the choice of the will one discourses easily and without any difficulty upon whatever mystic and profound matters? Behold to how great a perfection of learning the spirit is often led by the merit of devotion; behold what fruit often follows true devotion. This fruit of its devotion the provident mind often and prudently foresees before it obtains it, and confidently awaits. Whence it comes above all that it presses the more vehemently upon the zeal of devotion. I will tell the king, he says, the solution. And it is added: 1257BThen Arioch in haste brought Daniel in to the king, and said to him: I have found a man of the sons of the transmigration of Judas, who may signify the solution to the king. [Vulg. annuntiet, "may announce" — the reading Richard's own exposition re-quotes twice at 1257D and again at 1259A] Behold, as thou hearest, when the promise of that solution which the king greatly desired had been received, Arioch brought Daniel in to the king. As was said above, Daniel is led by the hand to Arioch when, from the sight of strict equity, the fervor of devotion is inflamed. Now the human spirit is pricked with compunction in many ways and in many regards. But almost the best mode of compunction is that which rises from the consideration of the strict examination. Daniel therefore is then brought in not by anyone whatever, but as it were by Arioch, when from the consideration of true justice too little kept, the spirit is inwardly pricked with compunction. He is brought in to the king 1257Cand stands as it were beside the royal power, when true devotion is possessed out of virtue, and the spirit uses it at its own choosing. He is brought in in haste when easily, and without delay when need requires, the spirit is softened to contrition of heart. Let him therefore be zealous to have such a faculty, or facility, of compunction and of devotion, who desires to attain to that enlargement of learning which we assigned above. For it comes first that Daniel enter in through Arioch, and with haste, before the desired word becomes known to the king.

I have found, says Arioch, a man of the sons of the transmigration 1257Dof Judas, who may announce the solution to the king. That is found by Arioch which by the judgment of equity is discerned to be just and right. Arioch therefore found Daniel fit, and worthy to receive so great a grace, to perceive the revelation of the mysteries from God, to announce the solution to the king. And perhaps the fact that he was of the sons of the transmigration of Judas, and bore that long captivity patiently, helped Daniel's merit toward this very thing, and showed him the fitter for the receiving of so great a grace. This Daniel had assuredly been carried captive from Jerusalem into Babylon, and perhaps had committed nothing such as to incur a captivity of this kind, save that the common lot enfolded him and another's malice unjustly oppressed him. Nonetheless he ascribed to his own merits the captivity 1258Awhich he bore without guilt. We have sinned, he says, we have committed iniquity, we have done wickedly, and we have departed, and we have turned aside from thy commandments and thy judgments (Dan. IX). Rightly, then, is he said to be of the sons of the transmigration of Judas, who even amid the scourges of an undeserved oppression humbly confesses to the Lord. For Judas too is interpreted confessing. See therefore how rightly he deserved to be divinely glorified, who in so great and such an affliction sought the divine glory (not his own) by living and by confessing. How many incur the mark of suspicion not so much by their own fault as by another's malice, and pass as it were from Hierusalem to Babylon, and as though from a place of peace and quiet to a place of confusion and captivity. For Hierusalem is interpreted a vision of peace, Babylon confusion. What, then, is it to pass unjustly, as a captive, from Jerusalem into 1258BBabylon, but to labor under a sinister, yet false, suspicion? It belongs to the depraved always to tear at the life of the good, and, when they cannot do it with true charges, to assail them nevertheless with false accusation; and when they fail at the defaming of their works, they overspread that simple eye of their intention, if they can, with the mark of a sinister suspicion. Just so, therefore, after the manner of Daniel, the mind of the just man is held under an unjust captivity at Babylon, when, laboring under a false suspicion, it is afflicted as shamelessly as irreverently by the reproach of an unjust confusion. Was he not groaning under a Babylonian affliction, so to speak, who said: All the day my shame is against me, and the confusion of my face has covered me (Psal. XLIII). Consider 1258Cnevertheless that captivity of his confusion which he then bore, which at that time he carried without guilt, who with a secure conscience could say: All these things came upon us, and we have not forgotten thee, and we have not dealt unjustly in thy testament (ibid.) But when, amid pressing scourges, we detect in ourselves no present fault, not even then ought we to be secure. To this he instructed us by his own example who says: I am conscious to myself of nothing, but I am not hereby justified (I Cor. IV). For often we are struck for a preceding fault, often for a present but hidden one, and indeed for such a fault as we believed to be no fault at all, or perhaps blotted out by satisfaction. And indeed, as must be altogether confessed, we are not always struck for correction or for purgation. But we are scourged now for instruction, 1258Dnow for testing, or in some other way whatever. But it belongs to true and perfect devotion always to ascribe to its own merits the punishment it suffers, and to fear from what is hidden the fault which it does not detect in itself. That fervor of devotion, therefore, has already reached as it were the highest summit of perfection, which ascribes to its own merits any unjust reproach of confusion, and whatever befalls it even beyond its desert; which glorifies the Lord in all its affliction, and accuses itself in all things without pretense. How rightly is that fervor of devotion reckoned among the sons of the transmigration of Judas, which amid whatever ignominies of unjust reproach always humbly confesses to the Lord. But often those who are of this kind, who seek the divine glory before all others, who see themselves scipsos 1259Awithout glory and do not shrink from being so seen, receive grace from God above the rest. I have found, he says, a man of the sons of the transmigration, who may announce the solution to the king.

The king answered, and said to Daniel, whose name was Balthasar: Thinkest thou that thou canst truly tell me the dream which I saw, and the interpretation thereof? For the king to answer Daniel and to show his own diffidence is nothing else than that such a vice of the spirit cannot lie hidden from true devotion. For often certain vices which at another time we cannot detect, we detect easily 1259Bin the hour of our compunction and amid the tears of our devotion. For perfect devotion sifts all things, discerns all things. For the spiritual man discerns all things, and he himself is judged by no one.

It is surely to be noted that Daniel, while he seeks out things profound and mystic, when he promises things sublime and subtle, is called Balthasar, which is interpreted a hair of the head. Now a hair of the head, as you know, is exceedingly long and subtle. What, then, is a hair of the head, but the subtle profundity and the profound subtlety of the mind? And perfect devotion assuredly both illuminates the mind unto profundity and sharpens it unto every subtlety. And a hair of the head is also an ornament; and the mind of man, assuredly, out of true devotion, in 1259Cso far as it is purged from vices, in so far as it is illuminated unto truth, in so far as it is inflamed unto virtue, in so far without doubt is it adorned, or ornamented. Note therefore that even he distrusted Balthasar's promise who had laid such a name upon him. For it was from the king assuredly that he received such a name. And it does happen that the mind feels and understands itself to be sharpened unto a wondrous subtlety out of much devotion, and yet in a time of necessity presumes less upon the virtue of devotion than it is able, or than it ought. Thinkest thou, he says, that thou canst truly tell me the dream which I saw, and the interpretation thereof? And Daniel above: Bring me in before the king, and I will tell the king the solution. Behold: where Daniel presumes and confidently promises, the royal 1259Danxiety distrusts. All this is often enacted within one and the same spirit; and by almost as many affections as it is touched, by so many opinions is it varied. One and the same thing it now hopes for, now despairs of, and according to its various effects or regards it alternates the opinions of its estimation. But this fluctuation of alternating vicissitudes is at last concluded with a useful issue and a best end, when what is despaired of from human effort is at length, by the mastery of devotion, wholly presumed upon from divine grace. For what is Daniel's answer, but the mastery of true devotion? And Daniel, answering before the king, said: The mystery which the king asks of, the wise men, the magi, and the soothsayers, and the diviners are not able to tell the king. But there is a God in the heavens revealing mysteries, who has shown to thee, Nabuchodonosor, what things 1260Aare to come in the last times. [Vulg. tibi, rex Nabuchodonosor — the royal title is absent here, though Richard's own re-quotation at 1261A restores it; the received text also has the singular in caelo, "in heaven"] But because Daniel had already recognized the mystic vision which the royal anxiety was still seeking, someone perhaps desires to have it shown him more openly how one and the same thing can, by the same spirit, in one respect be known and in another respect not be known. But it is one thing to grasp the depths of the mysteries by understanding alone, and another to be able to explicate and expound them easily as often as thou shalt wish. See how rare they are who are able to penetrate the mystic things of the Scriptures without another's labor and exposition; yet far fewer are they who can publish the exposition of them, by word or by writing, to the cognizance of others. Thou weighest therefore, as I judge, that the gift of mystic understanding is one thing, and the gift of mystic teaching another. Some are strong in the one, some in the other, 1260Bbut others are eminent in both. If upon this point we consult what is said of Moses, we recognize that he stands pre-eminent in wisdom, and his brother in eloquence. If we look to David, we shall be able to find both in one: The uncertain and hidden things of thy wisdom thou hast made manifest to me (Psal. L). Behold, for the one. And likewise for the other: I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter propositions from the beginning (Psal. LXXVII). But certain men have already received the first, and yet utterly distrust as to the second. Jeremiah had already known the mystic vision, who, being questioned upon this very thing, said: I see a rod that watches; and likewise: I see a pot set burning, and the face thereof from the face of the north (Jer. I). Behold, thou already hearest him professing concerning the one gift; hear the same man still distrusting concerning the other: Ah, ah, ah, 1260CLord, I know not how to speak. Such a diffidence, surely, is expressed when it is said to one who already knows the vision. Thinkest thou that thou canst truly tell me the dream which I saw? Such diffidence is refuted, and it is shown whence such a grace ought to be despaired of, or hoped for, when it is said: The mystery which the king asks of, the wise men, the magi, and the soothsayers, and the diviners are not able to tell the king. But there is a God in the heavens revealing mysteries. Our Daniel therefore teaches us in these words utterly to despair of human effort as to those things which are above man and exceed human sense, and to look for them from the Lord's revelation alone. But in saying that there have been shown to him the things that are to come in the last times, he seems without doubt to look to that 1260Dwhich is added at the end of the vision after the rest: But the stone which had struck the statue became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth. How great, and how profound, and how worthy of much veneration are those things which this vision speaks according to the allegorical, nay almost according to the historical sense, no one skilled in the Holy Scriptures is permitted to be ignorant. But we sift these things according to the moral sense, for our own edification or that of others, in such a way that we presume to diminish or to weaken nothing of the authority of so great a mystery according to its more sacred understanding. This therefore presents itself as astonishing and worthy of much wonder: how widely there lies open to the eyes of contemplation the man who, by the cooperation of divine revelation, enlarges himself even to the surveying of those things which come to pass at the last. 1261AWho has shown to thee, king Nabuchodonosor, what things are to come in the last times: he does not say, what things are to come to thee, but what things are to come in the last times.

It must therefore be asked whether perhaps something lie hidden in these words which may in some respect fit not one man only, but many, or even almost all prefects. For the kingdom of heaven is not raised up anywhere else than among the elect. A kingdom which, according to Daniel's word, is not scattered for ever; a kingdom which is said to be within us: The kingdom, says the Lord, of heaven is within you (Luc. XVII) [Vulg. regnum Dei, "the kingdom of God" — the received text of Luke 17:21 does not read "of heaven"]. This kingdom assuredly the Lord raises up in his elect at their last, in whatever manner he may permit them in their beginnings to waver 1261Bthrough various trials.

But behold, Daniel now comes to the narration, or the exposition, of the vision, when he adds: Thy dream, and the visions of thy head upon thy bed, are of this kind (Dan. II). Because by the dream the bodily sense is lulled, we rightly understand by it the excess of mind, and by the dream those things which we see through the excess of mind. The head is the highest and chief member of the body, and the mind is the principal part of the inner 1261Cman. The visions of the head, therefore, are the contemplations of the mind. Now in a bed we are wont to rest, and therefore in it we rightly understand the leisure of rest. In this bed our inner man is laid as it were to rest, when the spirit is composed to the highest tranquillity. In this bed a dream is then in a manner seen, when amid the leisures of its inmost rest and highest tranquillity the mind is lifted up to the contemplation of sublime things. Thy dream, he says, and the visions of thy head are of this kind. It is nothing else for our Daniel to say these things, and to go over again the lost dream, and to teach the king, than that the devout mind, often after the grace of contemplation has been lost, calls back to memory what that grace once was in it, and by much insistence of compunction 1261Drepairs it again, and at last possesses it more firmly and more perfectly. For the king came to know his vision more firmly and more perfectly through Daniel's office than he had before received it by himself. For to this end such grace is often given to some in their beginnings, and withdrawn, that they may recognize by experience what they ought to seek after, and with how great avidity. To this end again it is granted to be recovered (yet not without great labor), that from it may better become known how strictly it must be guarded. But that we may pass on to what follows: behold, before Daniel explicates the vision, he is zealous to set down two things first, namely how the king had first obtained it, and how Daniel himself might afterwards recover it. And of the first: Thou, O king, he says, didst begin to think 1262Aupon thy bed what should be after thee. And he that reveals mysteries showed thee what things are to come. [Vulg. post haec, "after these things"] As if he said openly: Because thou didst diligently seek concerning things to come, thou hast deserved to receive a revelation of things to come. Of the second also he adds: To me moreover too, not in the wisdom which is in me above all living, has this sacrament been revealed, but that the interpretation might be made manifest to the king, and that thou mightest know the thoughts of thy mind. As if he said to the king more openly: To me also it has been revealed, not through my own sense, not on account of my merit, but for thy advancement. And I think this very thing is plain to all, how much it pleases according to the history, that he in no way ascribes to his own effort or to his merits that other thing which he had obtained by prayers. Thou, O king, he says, didst begin. And do thou consider, and 1262Bconsider well, if thou art able, how much the thought of things to come avails with God, which is wont to be divinely rewarded with a revelation of things to come. Hear a man anxious concerning things to come, and vehemently occupied in thoughts of this kind: Will God then cast off for ever, and will he not add that he be more favorable yet? Or will he cut off his mercy unto the end, from generation to generation? (Psal. LXXVI.) Hear the same man taught concerning such things, and deeply enlightened as to those things which he had sought: The Lord is compassionate and merciful, long-suffering and very merciful; he will not be angry for ever, nor will he threaten unto eternity (Psal. CII). Perhaps he had then lost the revelation of things to come, and grieved to have lost it, when he said: There is now no prophet, 1262Cand he will know us no more (Psal. LXXIII). And likewise: And the light of the eyes, even that is not with me (Psal. XXXVII) [Vulg. lumen oculorum meorum, "the light of my eyes"]. He was aspiring, unless I am mistaken, to the former grace, who said: Who will grant me that I may be according to the former days? (Job. XXIX.) [Vulg. Quis mihi tribuat, ut sim juxta menses pristinos, "the former months"] He was seeking again the accustomed revelation of mysteries, who asked of the Lord: Unveil mine eyes, and I will consider the wondrous things of thy law (Psal. CXVIII). Thou too who hearest or readest these things, if thou feelest that thou hast fallen from such grace, attend diligently to what thou dost silently within thyself; consider with what thoughts thou art vehemently occupied. If thou meditatest on empty things alone, on pressing things alone, what wonder if thou art cheated of the revelation of deep things, of things to come? In the beginning of thy conversion, when thou didst think on eternal things alone, on spiritual and future things alone, when thou didst sigh after sublime things alone, 1262Dwhat wonder if thou didst deserve to be consoled according to thy desire? The Lord has heard the desire of the poor. Thou hast now ceased to sit and rest at the Lord's feet, after the likeness of Mary. Thou art now troubled about many things, after the likeness of Martha. Remember therefore whence thou hast fallen, and do penance, and do the former works. If thou desirest to restore that former grace, if thou seekest to recover the visions of thy head upon thy bed, run back to Daniel, renew thy devotion. For the renewal of the heart, surely, for the restoration of a lost grace, thou advancest better and art promoted more swiftly by inward devotion than by profound investigation, unless perhaps thy investigation be about thy own declines, and the remedies of those declines. That saying of Daniel agrees with these words. To me also, not in the wisdom 1263Awhich is in me above all living, has this sacrament been revealed. Assuredly the king, inquiring after every word of wisdom and of understanding, found in Daniel tenfold above all the soothsayers and magi. Nevertheless a man of so great wisdom obtained what he sought not so much by investigation as by prayer. Let no one, therefore, seek through human wisdom those things which are above human understanding. It calls us perhaps to a deeper understanding, that Daniel does not ascribe to himself even that which he had obtained by the merit of devotion. But that the interpretation, he says, might be made manifest to the king. Perhaps that also is obtained freely which is acquired by the merit of devotion. For devotion itself indeed we have not from ourselves, but we receive it from the gift of the bestower: For what hast thou, says the Apostle, which thou hast not 1263Breceived? (I Cor. IV). Therefore both by devotion, and indeed by grace: Freely, he says, you have received, freely give (Matth. X). If therefore by devotion we receive freely, that too is gratuitous which we obtain by its merit. When grace is bestowed for grace, then, just as the first, so also the second gift is obtained freely. We do not therefore receive the gifts of God because we have deserved them, but that from them we may be able to advance, or to profit others. And the understanding of truth indeed we receive for our own advancement, but the teaching of truth for the advancement of others. Now by both is free will helped toward the good, and both are divinely bestowed upon it for a cooperation in the good. But by the king, as we have said, we understand the liberty of the will. To Daniel, therefore, the interpretation 1263Cof perplexed things, the account of the divine judgments, is given as it were for this end, that it may be made manifest to the king, when devotion is for this end illuminated unto truth, that free will may have and recognize wherein it ought to exercise itself, what to beware of, what to choose.

It is profitable at this point to bring into consideration how this reading and the Gospel reading seem to accord together in a mystical manner of speech. Luke the evangelist relates how the Lord willed to show his presence to the disciples on their journey in the appearance of a stranger, and 1263Dafterwards to withdraw it; but to remain with them as they asked, to enter in to them as they constrained him, and at last, amid the feast, to show that appearance which they might recognize (Luc, XXIV). What then is it to have Christ, that is, the Wisdom of God, present in the appearance of a stranger, but to see the truth not in its own simplicity, but through a glass, or in an enigma? But this vision is shown outside the house and as it were on a journey, when the contemplation of sublime things is seen through an excess of mind and as it were in passing. There are, as it were, two going out, who also as they walk behold such things, when reason and intelligence, exceeding the human measure, run through the spectacles of sublime things, stealthily indeed and hurriedly. But then the Lord feigns to go further, and yet does not wholly withdraw, 1264Awhen the grace of contemplation, which he is wont mercifully to bestow, he withdraws for a time, no less profitably, that he may better teach by experience with how great eagerness it ought to be sought and to be held fast. And he is constrained to remain and to enter in to them, when by much instancy of prayers the lost grace is repaired, so that he may draw inward the vision offered outwardly, and that the spirit, returned to itself, may retain in memory the things seen through excess, and thereafter possess the grace of contemplation more familiarly. We set before him such foods as the Lord loves and is wont to be delighted with, when, for the recovery or the accumulation of grace, we praise, honor, and magnify him in the voice of exultation and of confession: In the voice, he says, of exultation, and 1264Bof confession the sound of one feasting (Psal. XLI). Amid these hymns of our exultation and confession the bosom of the mind is often enlarged, the sense is sharpened, and the intelligence is enlightened for penetrating mystical things, and for often searching out even the secrets of the Godhead: The sacrifice, he says, of praise shall honor me, and there is the way by which I will show the salvation of God (Psal. XLIX). [Vulg. ostendam illi salutare Dei, "will show him the salvation of God"] Beyond doubt the bread is broken before us by the Lord, when the profundity of the mysteries is opened by mystical interpretation, and is known by his own revealing. From this breaking of bread and revelation of the mysteries it comes about that the Lord is recognized in his own appearance, and that Truth itself (the veil of figures being removed) is discerned in its own simplicity, and the Lord's presence is weighed from 1264Cthe infusion of his grace. But the Lord (who is also the Wisdom of God) vanishes from the eyes of those beholding, when, from the contemplation and admiration of the divine wisdom, it becomes known to the spirit of him who contemplates and admires how far its incomprehensibility exceeds every human intelligence: O the depth, he says, of the riches, of the wisdom, and of the knowledge of God: how incomprehensible are his judgments, and his ways unsearchable (Rom. XI). For the human spirit, the more subtly it is enlightened for contemplating the wisdom of God, so much the more strongly is it beaten back upon itself by the immensity of that light; and this is to vanish from the eyes of the beholder, and, as it were, in showing itself to withdraw itself. From these things, therefore, one may weigh with how great a proportion of likeness this twin reading seems 1264Dto answer to itself. For that the Lord showed himself in the appearance of a stranger, this is that Nabuchodonosor received the revelation of the truth under a mystical veil. That there the Lord feigned for himself a longer journey, this is that the vision shown to the king withdrew itself for a little from his memory. That there he who had appeared is constrained to remain and to enter in, this is that here the withdrawn vision is sought with much instancy, and at last, by Daniel's solicitude, is perceived and retained far more profoundly, far more perfectly. That he who had appeared there is at length known in a manifest vision, this is that in this place the clouded truth of the vision taken away is at last made manifest by prophetic interpretation. In these things, and in certain others, he will see this twin reading to accord with itself, 1265Aif there be any who is willing to search these matters out more deeply. Yet that reading has certain things proper to itself, and this one too, of which there is no need to speak now one by one. These things, therefore, having been shaken out by way of digression, and brought together for the attestation of the likeness, let us return to the explication, or explanation, of the vision.

Thou, O king, wast seeing, and behold, as it were one great statue that statue, the great one, and lofty in stature, stood over against thee, and its look was terrible. The head of this statue was of the finest gold. But the breast and the arms of silver. Further, the belly and the thighs of bronze, but the shins of iron. 1265BA certain part of the feet was of iron, a certain of earthenware. Thou wast seeing thus, until a stone was cut out without hands, and struck the statue upon its feet of iron and of earthenware, and crushed them. Then were crushed together the iron, the clay, the bronze, the silver and the gold, and were reduced as it were into the cinders of a summer threshing-floor, which were carried off by the wind, and no place was found for them. But the stone which struck the statue became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth. This is the dream (Dan. II). [Vulg. abscissus est lapis de monte sine manibus, "was cut out of a mountain without hands"] Behold, as thou canst see, that image which is discerned through the vision is by manifold change always led into worse things; and that which in the dream begins from the most precious material, running down through manifold declines, at last ends in the vilest material. For what is begun from gold is at 1265Cthe last consummated in mire. That I may therefore briefly touch upon what I think concerning these things, according to a certain general consideration: I judge that everyone must, according to the form set forth of the vision shown, decrease within himself from his own estimation, and fail more and more in confidence in himself, and temper his presumption, if he desires the kingdom of heaven to be built within him, and that kingdom indeed which can never be ended. Every man naturally loves and approves himself, and assuredly, in so far as he loves, so far also does he esteem himself great. But always the measure of esteem hangs upon the greatness of love; because the mode of love is without mode, the greatness of his own esteem is without measure. O how rare it is that a man can be found 1265Dwho does not think himself, against the Apostle's sentence, to be something, when he is nothing! But is he at least something small? Nay, truly great, and exceedingly great beyond measure, and, that I may speak figuratively, almost more than golden, while in truth he is vile mire. Why art thou proud, earth and ashes? If thou be exalted as an eagle, and if thou set thy nest among the stars of heaven, thence will I draw thee down, saith the Lord (Abd. IV). [Vulg. et si inter sidera posueris nidum tuum, with no coeli, "among the stars"] It behooves him therefore who still swells immeasurably within himself to subside from that enormous height of his own esteem, and to descend by steps to the depths of true humiliation, and at length to reckon himself as a nothing and a void: to trample himself in contempt as vile mire, and to look upon himself every hour as cinder and ashes, if he desires that kingdom of eternal stability to rise up within himself. 1266AHe accords with this sentence to whom there was none like upon the earth: I am compared to mire, and am made like to cinders and ashes (Job XXX). But do you wish to hear yet more plainly how utterly he was cast down from all confidence in himself, who appeared great among all the men of the East? I have despaired, he says, by no means shall I live any longer now (Job VII). He says that he has despaired, but perhaps thou doubtest of what: of the Lord, or of himself? Hear therefore what he says elsewhere, and know how strongly he remained fixed in confidence in the Lord: Even if he slay me, I will hope in him (Job XIII). He hoped, therefore, but of the Lord. He despaired none the less, but of himself. O how great a perversity, to presume of oneself and to despair of the Lord's mercy! If thou trustest much in thine own virtue, there thou raisest thyself on high, and 1266Bswellest up after the likeness of a mountain, where thou oughtest to have lowered thyself and made thyself as a valley. It is good therefore to say to this mountain: be lifted up, and be cast into the sea. Because of such mountains the earth shall be troubled, and mountains shall be carried into the heart of the sea. On the contrary, if thou distrustest the Lord's protection, there beyond doubt thou makest, wickedly and perversely enough, a valley where thou oughtest to have had a hill, nay a mountain, and a mountain exceeding high. That therefore the crooked things may be made straight, and the rough ways plain, every such valley shall be filled, every mountain and hill shall be brought low, and at that time the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be raised above the top of the mountains. O how great a height of mind! o how great a fortitude or firmness, to trust in the Lord's mercy alone, and to remain fixed in such 1266Cconfidence! This is that mountain which, after the casting down of the statue and the attenuation or extermination of confidence in oneself, grows from small to immense, so that it cannot be moved for ever: He that trusteth, he says, in the Lord, as mount Sion, shall not be moved for ever, he that dwelleth in Jerusalem (Psal. CXXIV). [Vulg. Qui confidunt in Domino, plural, "they that trust in the Lord"] This is the mountain which must fill the whole surface of the earth, so that a man may dare nothing of his own effort, may presume nothing at all save of the Lord's virtue. I think that a city set upon this mountain cannot be hid. If thou believest me, thou wilt build for thyself on this mountain that structure which is built as a city, whose participation is in itself, that there may be a firmament in the earth on the tops of the mountains. On this eminence assuredly the kingdom of charity ought to have its metropolis and the seat 1266Dof its empire, and of its kingdom there shall be no end. For the kingdom of charity, if I mistake not, is that kingdom which, according to Daniel's sentence, shall not be destroyed for ever. Behold what the raising up, or the casting down, of this statue sets before thee; behold what things, and how great, it represents to thee by way of likeness.

What is a statue, but a human effigy? What then is it to discern a statue, that is, a human likeness, through a vision, but to look upon the measure, or the order, of human life as through a glass, and in an enigma, 1267Awith the eye of contemplation? Thou, O king, he says, wast seeing, and behold, as it were one great statue (Dan. II). If thou wouldst search out the measure or the quality of human life, if to the dignity of its condition, if to the ease of its reparation, to whichever of these thou turn thyself, thou wilt see that thou failest in each, and canst not fully comprehend any of them. See therefore how great that is in the eyes of the beholder which cannot at all be comprehended by his own sight: That statue, he says, the great one, and lofty in stature, stood over against thee, and its look was terrible. But rightly, after he said "great," he perhaps adds "lofty" also. For it is one thing to be great, and another to be high. For a field also is called great which yet is raised by no height. So indeed some things are almost incomprehensible 1267Bwhich yet are not worthy of much investigation or admiration. But that we have heard this statue to be great, lofty, terrible, we can rightly accommodate to a threefold consideration. For the condition of human life, which is figured in this statue, although each of these is found in some respect in each, is yet more especially and more expressly found great from one thing, lofty from another, and terrible from another. One consideration therefore of the human condition is monstrous, on that side by which it lies subject to corruption; and it is lofty on that side by which it is reserved for reparation; and terrible on that side by which it lies open to perdition. Do you wish to hear how great is the monstrousness of corruption? To what shall I compare thee, or to what shall I 1267Cliken thee, O daughter of Jerusalem; to what shall I make thee equal exaeguabo, and comfort thee, O virgin daughter of Sion? Great as the sea is thy crushing. Who shall heal thee? (Thren. II). [Vulg. magna est enim velut mare contritio tua, "for thy crushing is great as the sea"] Do you wish to know how great is the loftiness of reparation? For whom he foreknew, he also predestinated to be made conformable to the image of his Son, that he himself might be the firstborn among many brethren. Whom he predestinated, them he also called; and whom he called, them he also justified; but whom he justified, them he also magnified (Rom. VIII). [Vulg. glorificavit, "glorified"] Do you wish to know this also, how great is the terror of the divine stroke? Who, he says, knoweth the power of thy wrath, and for fear of thee can number thy anger? (Psal. LXXXIX). For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and injustice of those men who detain the truth of God in injustice. Consider therefore the greatness of our statue 1267Din the consideration of fault; its height, in the consideration of grace; its terror, in the consideration of punishment. Seek the greatness of fault both according to original fault and according to actual fault. And for original fault, hear what is said of man to man: Man, when he was in honor, did not understand; he is compared to senseless beasts, and is become like to them (Psal. XLVIII). And concerning actual fault, receive the voice of reproach: On every high hill, and under every leafy tree thou didst prostrate thyself, a harlot (Jer. II). Whence it is that it is said to her: Lift up thine eyes round about, and see where thou now liest prostrate, a harlot. O truly the height of grace, both according to justifying grace and according to confirming grace, and according to glorifying grace! 1268AMeasure, if thou art able, the loftiness of that sublimity, according to justifying grace: For as far as the rising is distant from the west, so far hath he put our iniquities from us (Psal. CII). Receive also the height of eminence, according to confirming grace. For according to the height of heaven from the earth, he hath strengthened his mercy over them that fear him. Estimate, if thou canst, the sublimity of dignity, according to glorifying grace: For whosoever are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. And if sons, heirs also. Heirs indeed of God, but joint-heirs with Christ (Rom. XIV). O the aspect of our statue, truly terrible according to the adjudging of punishment; terrible according to the judgment of corruption; terrible according to the judgment of reprobation; terrible according to the judgment of damnation! O the aspect 1268Bof terror, according to the judgment of corruption! For evils without number have surrounded me; my iniquities have overtaken me, and I was not able to see. They are multiplied above the hairs of my head. O the aspect full of horror, according to the judgment of reprobation! And as they did not approve, says the Apostle, to have God in their knowledge, God delivered them up to a reprobate sense, to do those things which are not fitting, being filled with all iniquity, malice, fornication, avarice, wickedness (Rom. I). O the aspect full of terror, full of horror, according to the judgment of damnation! For there is, according to the same Apostle, a certain terrible expectation of judgment, and rage of fire which shall consume 1268Cthe adversaries. For their fire shall not be extinguished, and their worm shall not die. Of those, namely, who lead their days in good things, and in a moment go down to hell. From all these things, as I judge, thou weighest how horrible it is to fall into the hands of the living God. What can be said more terrible than these, what more horrible can be devised? And its look, he says, was terrible. But that which is said of the statue, it stood over against thee, needs no long exposition. Then beyond doubt is such a statue raised up against any single man, when the foulness, the infirmity, the calamity of the beholding spirit is thrust upon his eyes, and it is shown him by revelation what he is, or what he may yet become, so that his shamelessness, his pride, his hardness may be confounded, humbled, crushed: I will reprove thee, 1268Dhe says, and I will set thee against thy face (Psal. XLIX). He is divinely reproved, when the spirit, already touched by divine inspiration, is confounded by the accusation of his own conscience. And the transgressing soul is set as it were against its own face, when in the consideration of its own foulness it seems to serve against itself by rebuke. A statue therefore is in a manner set against the spirit of him who beholds, when, for his own confusion and humiliation, by a certain divine nod the image of his own corruptibility is set before him. Learn therefore, O man, learn to lay aside confidence in thyself (if suddenly and at once thou canst not, then at least by degrees and through intervals of time); be earnest to do it; be busy to think of thyself ever more and more humbly, that thou mayest attain, even 1269Alate, to true and perfect humility. These are the unshaken foundations of consummate charity; these are the firm defenses of the eternal security of the reigning soul. Lay aside arrogance, press down pride, crush that perverse trust in thine own virtue, cast thy care upon the Lord. Reckon all thy virtue, all thy fortitude, all thine effort as ash and cinder. What else has marked the cinder than to yield to every whirlwind, nay, to fly apart at any breath, however slight, and to forsake the place of its rest? A form fitting enough for our corruption, and an image suitably expressed in ash and cinder. See, whoever thou art, lest perhaps it behoove thee, willing or unwilling, to be such perhaps at some time inwardly or outwardly: inwardly with thyself in thine own estimation, or outwardly also before 1269Bothers in thine action. Inwardly, I say, from the purpose and zeal of the will, or outwardly from the failing and the fluctuation of human corruptibility. And how many there are who in no way come down from the height of their own estimation, save then first, when outwardly they fall shamefully in action. For to this end beyond doubt are some permitted to fall deformedly in action, and to change their gold into silver, silver into bronze, bronze into iron, iron into clay, that from their own failing, and as it were by experiment, they may learn what they ought to think of their own virtue and fortitude. Let us see therefore how it befalls some, according to the form of the image shown, to fall as it were from the highest goods almost to the utmost evils through the various failings of corruptions, 1269Cand to end a head of gold, as it were, in feet of clay; that we may learn, on any summit of virtues, to fear the ruin of morals, and may be busy always and everywhere to keep the form and the measure of true and perfect humility.

He that standeth, says the Apostle, let him take heed lest he fall (I Cor. X). [Vulg. qui se existimat stare, "he that thinketh himself to stand"] From however lofty a summit one may easily fall into the depths, or be plunged into the deep; nay, beyond doubt, the higher the step, the worse the fall. That dream of Nabuchodonosor ought always both to render us cautious and to make us solicitous. See, I beseech thee, the statue of his vision; 1269Dsee, I say, from how great a loftiness it begins, and to what an end it is at last brought down. It has indeed a head of gold, and an end of clay. What is dearer than gold, what viler than clay? Note this also, how by degrees it inclines to worse things, and at length makes its end in a most foul ending. The first part is described as of gold, the second of silver, the third of bronze, the fourth of iron, and the fifth of clay. In the gold is understood charity; in the silver, truth; in the bronze, pretense; in the iron, cruelty; in the earthenware clay, fragility. For clay is easily broken, and by it the fragility of impatience is rightly figured. Iron, which crushes and tames all other metals, fittingly designates the violence of cruelty, which presses upon whatever resists, that it may crush it. But bronze imitates silver 1270Ain sound, yet is much at variance in price. So simulation has the sweet ring of flattery in speech, and resounds sweetly, and echoes pleasantly in work; but as much as by word and practice it soothes without, so much by counsel and desire it grows pale within. Silver too, the more frequent the use by which it is worn, so much the brighter is it made: so truth, the more it is shaken by vehement discussion, so much the better is it commended, if the counsels of truth, made more certain by the use of experience, are thereby rendered the brighter. The splendor of gold expresses the brightness of charity, which blazes with the fire of heavenly desire; and as gold is preferred to the other metals, so charity surpasses the other virtues. O how great is the distance between clay and gold, between the end of the statue and the beginning of the statue! The statue which begins from gold ends in clay. 1270BI think that no one becomes most base of a sudden. But he who neglects the least things slips away little by little. As one climbs to the heights by certain steps of progress, so again one descends by degrees to the depths. Note how in this statue there is first gold, afterwards silver, and after these, with bronze between, iron also follows. O how great the difference of gold and iron! O how greatly do charity and cruelty differ from one another! Yet what says the Truth concerning these? Iniquity shall abound, he says, and the charity of many shall grow cold (Matth. XXIV). [Vulg. quoniam abundavit iniquitas, "because iniquity hath abounded"] See, I pray, from whence one comes to what: from the abundance of charity to the abundance of iniquity. Charity belongs to gold, iniquity belongs to iron. O the wonderful (nay, the detestable) change commatationem from charity to iniquity! If the just man, he says, 1270Cturn away from his justice, and do iniquity, all his justices which he had done shall not be remembered (Ezech. XVIII). A detestable work, and worthy of confusion, which is begun from gold and consummated in clay and iron. For thus is described a part of the feet as of iron, and a certain part as of clay. O shameful workmen, who at the beginning of their conversion begin their work from gold, and at last consummate it in mire. We know that often, when the unclean spirit has gone out of a man, seeking rest and not finding it, having taken with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, he returns into his house, and entering in dwells there, and the last things of that man become worse than the first. How many do we see at the beginning of their conversion rejoicing in hope, fervent in spirit, patient in tribulation, solicitous in work, 1270Dstudious in reading, devout in prayer. What do these seem to thee to do, but to work in gold, and to be initiated in charity? For charity, as it is written, is patient, is kind, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things (I Cor. XIII). Does he not seem to thee to work in gold, to whom it was said by the Lord: I know thy works, and thy charity, and thy faith, and thy ministry, and thy patience? (Apoc. VIII.) [Vulg. et fidem, et caritatem tuam, faith before charity] But there are many who believe for a time, and in the time of temptation fall away. Yet those who are such do not at once plunge themselves into the lowest things, but fall first from the good into the worse, then from the less good into the bad, and at last from the bad into the yet worse. For a falling mountain slips away little by little, and the earth is consumed by a flood. For such as these begin little by little to grow lukewarm from their former desire, 1271Aand to fail more and more from their earlier fervor.

Yet they do not at once forsake what they have begun, but still do the good things they can. For when charity has grown cold, they do indeed work good things out of deliberation. Yet what do we think there is between that former state and this second one? Much in every way. It is one thing to follow the good out of desire, and another out of counsel alone. It is one thing, I say, to work the good with great delight, and another out of deliberation alone. This is good, but that is best. This belongs to silver, that belongs to gold. A precious 1271Bmetal indeed is in silver, though it be far viler than gold. Let him therefore study to work in silver who perchance lacks abundance of gold: if he cannot do good things out of delight, yet do it at least out of truth, and the truth shall make thee free. But do you wish to know the work that is made out of such silver, how it shines, or how much it pleases, and how rich or how secure it renders its possessor? Everyone, he says, that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his works may be made manifest, because they are good (Joan. III). [Vulg. Qui autem facit veritatem … quia in Deo sunt facta, "But he that doeth truth … because they are done in God"] It is good therefore to abound in silver of this kind, but no less foolish to change one's gold into silver. For every man that putteth his hand to the plough and looketh back is not fit for the kingdom of God. But do you wish to know how the divine word strikes with rebuke 1271Chim who had changed a golden work into silver? I know, he says, thy works and thy labor, and thy patience (Luc. IX). Behold a good work; behold the arms, behold the breast of silver. But let us see what follows, when afterwards it is subjoined: But I have, he says, against thee, that thou hast forsaken thy first charity (Apoc. VIII). He therefore who still does good is reproved because he has left his first charity, and has bent the golden head down into a breast of silver. Whosoever thou art that judgest thyself to be of this kind, be mindful whence thou art fallen, and do penance, and do the first works. Otherwise fear that which follows, which the divine word threatens against him who by no means comes to his senses: But if not, he says, I come to thee, and will move thy candlestick out of 1271Dits place, unless thou do penance (Apoc. II). Fear therefore, unless thou return the more speedily to thy former good things, lest thou fall yet into worse. Choose which thou wouldst rather, to ascend or to descend. For a man cannot stand fixed in the same state for long. For he flees as a shadow, and never continues in the same state. Hold it in memory, and fear it not moderately, that he who does not return to his first charity, his candlestick is quickly moved out of its place. What is meant by the candlestick, the bearer of light, but a good work, a work of truth? Such a candlestick stands in its place, when a good work rises out of a good purpose. But such a candlestick is moved out of its place, when the good intention of a good work is changed into an evil one. So a work of silver passes into one of bronze. And this evil is indeed frequent 1272Aamong the sons of men. For often what one formerly did out of truth, being dissolved toward the praise of men, he afterwards keeps doing for human favor: O my people, he says, they that call thee blessed, the same deceive thee, and destroy the way of thy steps (Isa. III). He therefore who shows himself bland in speech, kind in work, but crooked and perverse in thought and in will, he assuredly, having cast away silver, works now in bronze. For after the manner of bronze he rings sweetly without, but by the depravity of his will he grows pale within. Does not the work of those seem to thee to be such, who speak peace with their neighbor, but evils are in their hearts. In such a work, as I judge, he sweated whom the Lord reproved in rebuking him, when he says: I know thy works, that 1272Bthou hast a name that thou livest, and thou art dead (Apoc. III). But whosoever thou art that art such, do not think that thou canst long lie hid: But if thou be exalted as an eagle, and set thy nest among the stars, thence will I draw thee down, saith the Lord (Abd. I). One day thou must hear the prophetic, nay the Lord's, voice: Uncover thy shame, lay bare thy shoulder, make bare thy legs, pass over the rivers. And then shall thy ignominy be revealed, and thy reproach shall be seen (Isa. XLVII) [Vulg. Isa. 47:3 runs on without Et tunc, transi flumina, revelabitur ignominia tua; the same verse is printed at 1361A of this work without the added words]. But when thy shame has been uncovered, when the belly and the thighs of bronze have begun to appear, thou wilt soon begin to grow foul to thy praisers, nay now to thy mockers, and from day to day to grow viler and viler. Then wilt thou begin to be angry with them, to be indignant, to detest them and cruelly to persecute them, whom 1272Cbefore thou hadst studied much to please. And as bland as thou wast before, so harsh and hard wilt thou be afterwards. So thy bronze shall be changed into iron, and it shall be said to thee: How art thou turned into bitterness, O strange vine? (Jer. II.) [Vulg. conversa es mihi in pravum, "turned unto me into that which is depraved"] There is no doubt that he has changed a work of bronze into iron. Gentleness into severity: whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness, who before dealt deceitfully with their tongues, the venom of asps under their lips. You who before showed yourselves so bland, so kind, whence now are wars and quarrels among you? Now you have bitter zeal, and contentions among you. You kill and you envy, you go to law and you make war; and whence is this so savage cruelty and hardness of iron in you? What thinkest thou is the cause that their feet are so swift 1272Dto shed blood, unless that they have shins and soles of iron, who rejoice when they have done evil, and exult in the worst things? But this in them is above all wonderful, nay above all things pitiable, that as they are prompt and bold in inflicting evils, so are they faint-hearted and beyond measure impatient in bearing the evils inflicted; so that thou mayest rightly wonder in what manner iron can agree with clay, so great a cruelty with so great an impatience. Behold to what an end our statue comes, which after a head of gold received soles of earthenware. The noble sons of Sion, and clothed with the finest gold, how are they esteemed as vessels of clay, the work of the potter's hands? What is more precious than gold, what viler than clay? How then is the gold become obscured, the finest color changed? 1273AWhat is more tractable than gold, what more fragile than clay? How does charity permit herself to be handled; how to be drawn thin, she who beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things? But what is more contemptible than the will, what more abject than a delicate mind, which both above and in prosperous things is dissolved through concupiscence, and in adverse things is broken through impatience? Woe to them that have lost endurance, that have forsaken the right ways, and have turned aside into crooked ones (Eccle. II). For crushing and unhappiness are in their ways. Crushing, because of the corruptibility of clay; and unhappiness, because of the rigor of iron, in that a certain part of the feet is of clay, but a certain part is of iron. But what is it that men of this kind are turned again to their own desires, that after the works of bronze and of iron they are drawn to 1273Bthe work of the potter, unless that they have not (save in their own concupiscences) wherein to be delighted, because by simulation they first lost the joy of a good conscience, and afterwards, by cruelty, the glory of reputation. But that we may recall to a summary the things we have now said more diffusely: in the head of gold is understood devotion; in the members of silver, discretion; in those of bronze, simulation; in those of iron, indignation; in those of clay, dissolution.

It is indeed to be noted what is said of which members, and of what sort each of them is described. Now there is described 1273Ca golden head, a silver breast, silver arms too, a belly and thighs of bronze, iron shins, feet of iron, or in part of clay. By the head the whole body is ruled, whence by it intention is rightly signified, because by intention the whole body of our action is led to an end, whether good or evil. Counsel belongs to the heart, and the heart lies hidden beneath the breast. With the arms we carry out our works, when we will something to be done by us. The belly, the more tender part of the body and the covering of foulness, portends the service of compassion. The thigh is set beneath the shameful parts, and humility, which bends down to base and unworthy things, wishes to be seen as perfect. The shins carry bones longer and sturdier than the other members, whence they also rightly signify the rigor of severity. With the feet we touch the earth, even when we 1273Dstand upright; and however much the mind stretches itself out toward heavenly things, without the supports of this life it does not sustain its own necessity. By the head, therefore, as has been said, intention is understood; by the breast, deliberation; by the arm, exercise; by the belly, compassion; by the thigh, humility; by the shin, severity; by the foot, necessity; by the head, the desire of intention; by the breast, the zeal of deliberation; by the arm, the exercise of action; by the belly, the service of piety; by the thigh, the servitude of subjection; by the shin, the scourge of severity; by the foot, the support of necessity. If then the head is intention, and gold devotion, what else is a golden head but a devout intention? If the breast is deliberation, the arm action, and silver discretion, what else will a silver breast and silver arms be than 1274Adiscreet counsels and works? In the belly, compassion; in the thigh, subjection; and in the bronze, simulation. What else, then, is a bronze belly and bronze thighs but feigned piety and feigned humility? If by the shin severity, if by iron cruelty, what else is understood in iron shins but a cruel severity? The foot signifies necessity, the clay pleasure. The clay sole, therefore, signifies voluptuous superfluity. But the foot is described as in part of iron and in part of clay, because the pampered mind is now hardened into hatred of those by whom it is perhaps restrained from its own desires, and now, when the things it has coveted are at hand, is dissolved in the luxury of them. What, then, is the gleam of the golden head but the fervor of heavenly desire? The brightness of the silver breast and of the silver arm is the certainty of right counsel and the rightness of a certain work. The resonance 1274Bof the bronze belly and thigh is the allurement of false piety and of feigned humility. The strength of the iron shin is the rigor of immoderate discipline; the fragility of the clay foot, the unbridling of superfluity. The golden head, therefore, holy desires make; the silver breast and arm, right counsels and works. The bronze belly and thigh, feigned services and servitudes; the iron shins, savage scourges; the clay sole, dainty supports.

But if anyone should wish to take the whole of what is said of the statue in an evil sense, I readily yield, without doubt, 1274Cto his assertion. Yet let him who is of this mind be zealous so to approve his own meaning that he by no means dare to condemn what has been said before, in that the Holy Spirit is often wont to signify many things in the one thing he speaks. For as there is something in this writing which is more easily fitted to that reading, so also something is found in the same which is more lightly applied to this one. For the gold of this statue indeed, since it is read as the best, seems able to be taken more fittingly in the better sense. But as this is rightly taken, according to the aforesaid reading, in keeping with the truth of the matter, so in this reading it can indeed be referred suitably enough to the estimate which the soul that is proud of itself makes of itself. So the fact that what is beheld through the revelation is described as a statue and not as a living creature smiles the more eagerly 1274Dupon this second reading, where it is pleasing to take the whole of what is said in the evil sense. For what else is such a statue but a human figure, or a human life? And what else is a human figure without a rational soul but a fitting action without a right intention? So often, therefore — I will not say a living creature is nourished, but a statue is fashioned after the human likeness — as often as a man in an order regulates his manner of life according to the prudence of the flesh (which is an enemy to God). Let us see, then, what sort of members the divine discourse describes for such a statue, when it says: the head of this statue was of the best gold, and so on. According to this acceptation, then, by which we refer the whole to the evil sense, by gold arrogance can be understood. by silver boastfulness, by bronze obstinacy, by 1275Airon savagery, by clay impatience. For gold goes before all metals in the dignity of its price, and the proud mind despises all others in comparison with itself. Silver has a sweet and exceedingly pleasant sound, and boastfulness shows itself soothing and delightful in the proclamation of its own praise. Bronze, in that it is exceedingly durable, figures obstinacy rightly enough, which can scarcely or never be turned aside from its own counsel or purpose. Iron, because it is wont to tame the other metals, suitably enough signifies savagery, which is wont to crush others. But by clay, which is easily broken, impatience is rightly enough signified. He therefore fashions a golden head for himself who arrogates holiness to himself. He is seen to carry about a silver breast and silver arms who glories in the rightness of his own counsel and 1275Bwork. He has, as it were, a belly and thighs after a manner of bronze who remains obstinate even in those things which he ought to despise for their baseness, or to blush at for their dishonor. He shows himself to have iron shins who both raises himself against his superiors through boldness and crushes his inferiors through savagery. He leans upon clay soles who, bearing down too immoderately upon the love of earthly things, is unbridled into impatience.

It is indeed to be noted by what steps of corruption our failing takes on an evil increase, how, sinking gradually toward worse things, it descends even to the lowest. See how boastfulness follows arrogance; obstinacy, boastfulness; savagery, obstinacy; impatience, savagery. Arrogance indeed goes before boastfulness, because unless the mind, lifted up, first thought lofty things of itself, 1275Cit would never so shamelessly boast of its knowledge or of its holiness. But when it believes that what it thinks within itself of its own knowledge or holiness has been persuaded to others as well, what wonder is it now if it has stood obstinate in its own counsel or purpose? But unless it first persisted obstinately in its own counsel or purpose, it would never rage so wickedly against others in their defense. Savagery begets impatience, because by how much the less each man loves his own neighbor, by so much the less, assuredly, does he bear weak things the more troublesomely. But we know that the channel of love, the more it is blocked outwardly toward the neighbor, the higher it swells inwardly toward itself. And by how much the more wretchedly each man languishes in himself through private love, by so much the more troublesomely 1275Ddoes he endure his own troubles, and by so much the more hardly does he restrain his own desires. Hence it is that, severe toward others and slack in himself, so long as he rages against others, and now grows torpid in himself, he walks with feet in part of iron and in part of clay. And indeed certain ones often become so enormously empty of the great efforts which at the beginning of their conversion they boldly presumed upon, that in the great dissolution in which at last they live so nervelessly they cannot patiently hear even a slight word, I will not say of reproach, but not even of correction, nay, of gentle admonition: Woe to the wretched. What, I ask, can now be done with these, or what hope can now be had hereafter, who by reason of arrogance can in no way be cast down from their swelling, 1276Anor by reason of obstinacy be convicted of their error, nor by reason of the hardness of iron be turned aside from their rigor, nor by reason of their clay fragility be reproved concerning their own body?

But neither ought we for all that to despise the iron or stony hardness of these men, for the Lord is able of these stones to raise up sons to Abraham. For the things that are impossible with men are possible with God. For see what follows: Thou wast beholding, he says, thus, until a stone was cut out without hands, and struck the statue upon its feet of iron and of earthenware, 1276Band broke them small (Dan. II) [Vulg. adds de monte after lapis: the stone is "cut out of a mountain"]. Behold, a stone is cut out without hands, whereby the hardness of iron may be crushed; and rightly indeed. For what hand could cut down, or even cut out, such a stone as would be strong enough to crush or to break iron small? But what human work, or any human effort whatever, cannot do is done by the divine will alone. It is assuredly God alone who, without any exertion, without any motion of himself, can work as often and whatsoever he will, and, remaining stable, grants all things to be moved. But what, I ask, is it, that he who was able and willed to do this, by no means willed to accomplish these things with hands? Or does he perhaps work better in such iron and hardened minds by inspiration than by striking, and is he often corrected by an inward illumination whom scourges cannot correct? I have struck, 1276Che says, your sons, and they grieved not; they refused to receive discipline (Jer. V) [Vulg. Jer. 5:3 reads Percussisti eos … attrivisti eos, et renuerunt accipere disciplinam, "Thou hast struck them … thou hast bruised them"; the opening words are those of Jer. 2:30]. But although with us it is much lighter to say than to do, yet often even in those minds in which the work of the striking hand seems to have failed, he works indeed in a wondrous and incomprehensible manner by his own inward word or whisper: The word, he says, that shall go forth from my mouth shall not return to me void, but shall do whatsoever I have willed, and shall prosper in those things for which I have sent it (Isa. LV). So too the Holy Spirit breathes where he wills. For by the word of the Lord the heavens were established, and all their power by the spirit of his mouth. The stone, therefore, cut out without hands is the fear of the Lord divinely inspired; at the stroke of this stone the statue is cast down, and the monstrous work is destroyed. 1276DAs by fear the mind is cast down from a good purpose, so by fear indeed it is shaken out of an evil purpose. For as pride is the beginning of every sin, so the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. By such a stone, then, the statue is shaken, that the mind that can be confounded may be confounded and humbled. What is such a striking but inward compunction? And what is the breaking small of the stricken statue but the contrition and humiliation of a heart pierced with compunction? But we know that God will not despise a contrite and humbled heart [Vulg. Ps. 50:19 addresses God, Cor contritum et humiliatum, Deus, non despicies, "thou, O God, wilt not despise"]. It is therefore indeed better to be crushed upon this stone than to stand erect and to be high-minded. It struck, he says, the statue upon its feet of iron and of earthenware, and broke them small. The statue, assuredly, is shaken in its lower and worse parts, when the mind, lifted up and 1277Aperverse, is beaten back by the spirit of the fear of the Lord to the consideration of its own iniquity and weakness. This loving striking of the Lord is threatened as mercifully as it is profitably completed in us in this life, when it is said: I will reprove thee, and will set against thy face (Psal. XLIX). In this manner assuredly he had been reproved and struck in the weak part of himself, and by such a striking had raised himself against himself, who said: For I acknowledge my iniquity, and my sin is always against me (Psal. L). But after the iron and the clay are shaken, the rest also are crushed. Then were broken in pieces together, he says, the iron, the clay, the bronze, the silver, and the gold. Thou hast seen above by what steps goodness failed and perversity grew. See now how the foundation of all goodness, humility, 1277Badvances step by step: first we blush at true evils, afterward at feigned goods. Last of all, at true goods also, since they are imperfect and unconsummated. So indeed first the iron and the clay are crushed, then the bronze members, last of all the silver and the golden. Among evils we blush more easily at iniquity than at weakness. But among goods we blush more quickly at imperfection than at interruption. Hence it is that in the lowest members the iron is crushed before the clay. But higher up the silver members are broken small more quickly than the golden. First, therefore, in the crushing of the iron we condemn the evils which we have committed through iniquity. But in the crushing of the clay, those things which we have contracted through weakness. And what is the crushing 1277Cof the bronze but the reprobation of a simulated good? In the silver members this is what pleases us less, and what ought least to please, not that they are good, but that they are not the best. For in the golden work this alone is indeed discerned as blameworthy, that the beginning of the best work is not carried through even to the heel of a worthy or due end. In the crushing of the silver, therefore, the imperfection of a good work. But in the crushing of the gold the interruption of the best work is arraigned. This we have now already said concerning the crushing of this statue, according to that reading which we set down first, where we took it partly in a good and partly in an evil sense.

• 1277D

But now let us say something according to that reading which is set in the second place. As there is nothing at which we blush more easily than malice, so there is nothing which we acknowledge or blush at more hardly than arrogance. For arrogance clouds over or blinds the eye of the mind, so that it cannot even recognize itself. For such as the mind lifted up feigns itself to be by its own estimate, such, beyond doubt, it believes itself truly to be. See then how difficult it is for us to reprehend in ourselves, and to arraign, and by rebuke and reprobation to crush, those things in which we have long believed that we truly ought to please others also. But since boastfulness, while it is zealous to spread its own glory abroad, mixes false things with true, and persuades others, concerning the estimate of itself, not only 1278Aof those things which it knows to be true of itself, but even of those which it knows to be false. There beyond doubt it is more easily cast down into confusion, where concerning its false ostentation it is convicted even by the proper testimony of its own conscience. Whence assuredly it comes that the silver of boastfulness, rather than the gold of arrogance, is worn away the more quickly by how much the more easily. But as we blush at arrogance much more hardly than at boastfulness, so we blush much more laboriously at boastfulness than at obstinacy. For we do not doubt that our reputation has often grown from boastfulness, but has always decreased from obstinacy. For we call nothing else obstinacy, save when we shamelessly persist in our own opinion against the counsels of others. But who would not blush more easily at that evil in which he is by no means ignorant that he has greatly displeased others as well? 1278BRightly, therefore, is the bronze described as crushed before the silver, because, as has been said, the mind is more easily confounded over obstinacy than over boastfulness. But to the crushing of the clay belongs the confusion that comes of the consideration of one's own weakness and impatience. But when the perverse mind has come to such weakness and impatience that it cannot at all resist its own passions, even when it has willed to, who would not see how easily it blushes in this consideration of its own fragility? But more easily, as has been said above, do we excuse those things which we contract through weakness than those which we commit out of malice alone, whence also we blush at them the more quickly. Rightly then, as it is read, the iron is broken small before the 1278Cclay, just as after these the bronze, the silver, and the gold are rightly described as broken small. Such an order of crushing, then, is described when it is said: Then were broken in pieces together the iron, the clay, the bronze, the silver, and the gold. Where also it is brought in: and they were reduced as it were into the ashes of a summer threshing-floor, which were carried away by the wind; and no place was found in them. [Vulg. nullusque locus inventus est eis, "no place was found for them"; chunk 0016 of this work prints the verse without in]

What do we understand by the summer season but the fervor of the spirit, and what by the threshing-floor but the prudence of the spirit? What, then, is a summer threshing-floor but spiritual understanding? On this floor the grains of truth are beaten out from the 1278Dchaff of figures by the threshing of a vehement examination. On this floor the corn of virtue is separated from the beards of the vices by the winnowing of a strict examination. In the threshing of this floor we labor, and, as it were, separate the grains from the chaff, as often as we sunder true and eternal goods from false and transitory ones. Nor let it suffice us to beat out the chaff, but let us be zealous also to turn the heap of it into ash by setting fire beneath it, and to change the brightness of passing things into blackness, and to transform our affection into contempt or hatred of them. On this floor sweats whoever desires to be spiritual. For the spiritual man judges all things, and he himself is judged by no man. Hear a certain spiritual man laboring on this floor: I purposed, he says, in my heart to seek and to search out wisely concerning all things 1279Athat are done under the sun (Eccle. I.) [Vulg. in animo meo, "in my mind"] Behold the floor, behold the threshing; and where is the chaff, where is the beard? Vanity, he says, of vanities, and all is vanity. Behold the chaff, and I saw that in all things, he says, there was vanity, and affliction of spirit (ibid.). Behold the chaff with the beard. But where is the ash? What fruit therefore, says the Apostle, had you in those things whereof you are now ashamed? (Rom. VI.) What is the blackness of the ash but the confusion of shame? See then how they had turned the brightness of the stubble into the blackness of abomination, who were now blushing at the things in which they had once been wont to take delight. Hear him too who had turned the chaff of vanities not only into blackness but even into stench, when he said: I have counted all things as dung, that I might gain Christ (Philip. III) [Vulg. arbitror … ut Christum lucrifaciam, present, "I count … that I may gain"]. But the sorrow of penitence is 1279Bthat fire with which spiritual men are wont to burn up the beards of vanities, and to turn them into the ashes of abominations. These ashes assuredly we endure still on the threshing-floor of our conscience, so long as we are confounded or suspect concerning past faults; but, when the wind blows, the ashes are taken away, when at the inspiration of the Holy Spirit all dread of our guilt and suscipio is swallowed up, and through the hope of pardon the floor of our conscience is cleansed of all the blackness of confusion, so that we may truly sing to the Lord: thou hast cast behind thy back all my sins. Had it not been reduced to ash, I will not say the other members, the iron or the bronze, but even his golden head, when the Prophet said: And the confusion of my face hath covered me (Psal. XLIII). Will he not make supplication to the Lord 1279Cfor the winnowing away of the ashes, when he cried out to the Lord in prayer: In thee have I hoped, let me never be confounded (Psal. XXX). Had not those black ashes of his confusions been carried away and taken up by the wind, when, cleansed from the stains of his faults through the presuming upon pardon, he broke forth into the confession of praise, saying: Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgiveth all thy iniquities (Psal. CII). See then that by the riches of corruption it is reduced to ash, and afterward is carried off and taken away by the wind; because, unless the transgressing soul first acknowledge its confusions, and blush at them, and burn them up and consume them with a worthy sorrow of penitence, it does not 1279Dcleanse the floor of its conscience from the stains of its faults, and never raises itself to the full security of pardon. But when they have been carried off by the wind, no place is found for them; because after a pardon long sought and scarcely obtained the mind is made not only more cautious but also stronger against like temptations, nay is rendered insuperable against the declines of like corruptions. No place indeed can be found for them, when neither can the sense be deceived nor the affection corrupted unto a like corruption. But what does that mean, that that stone by which the statue is struck, and being struck is broken small; what, I say, is it that the stone does not grow into a crag but is changed into a mountain, nor the stone into a great stone but rather grows out into a great and eminent mountain? But we know that perfect charity sends fear. [Vulg. I Joan. 4:18 perfecta caritas foras mittit timorem, "casteth fear out"] For the perfection of charity knows not 1280Ahow to increase dread, but changes and magnifies it into a mountain of confidence. They that trust in the Lord, as mount Sion: he shall not be moved for ever that dwelleth in Jerusalem. Dost thou see, I pray, how the prophetic sentences run together with one another, how David agrees with Daniel, truth with figure, the sentence of the Prophet with the prophetic vision? But the stone, he says, that struck the statue became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth. How great a mountain, I pray, is that which filled the whole earth, which shall not be moved for ever? Will you hear how great, how firm, how vast, how immovable? Hear another who holds this mountain of confidence, and sets forth its greatness and immovability: I am sure, he says, that neither death, 1280Betc., as far as, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Rom. VIII).

Behold, we have heard the dream. But do we still need an interpretation? As he has already said above, it is one thing to know the secrets of the divine judgments, and to know them by divine revelation, and another to have been able to weigh or to penetrate the reason of the same. It is one thing, I say, to see by clear contemplation what is wont or ought to happen in the universe of things, and another what ought to 1280Cbefall to which person, for what cause, and with what profit to him to whom it happens. The one belongs, as it were, to the vision of the dream, the other to the interpretation of the dream; and what was given to king Nabuchodonosor out of divine revelation was to see by a likeness from how great a height of loftiness it may befall a man to fall down into the lowest places, and again to rise up to the state of integrity and to the summit of perfection; but he did not receive equal things, to recognize the quality of the person to whom such a thing ought to happen. But what he could not see through himself he received from another, when he hears through Daniel: Thou art the head of gold, and after thee shall rise up another kingdom less than thee. One grace, therefore, is that by which we know the divine judgments, and another that by which we judge our own merits or those of others. The former belongs to contemplation, 1280Dthe latter to meditation, or rather to devotion. For that meditation is indeed rightly ascribed to devotion by which the measure of our life and the quality of our merits are judged. And indeed we never better know the corruption of our weakness, nowhere more fully detect it, than when amid the tears of compunction we pour out our whole heart to the Lord. If, then, devotion is rightly understood by Daniel, deservedly is that grace ascribed to him by which the state or the corruption of our life is detected. But it often happens that one man is perfect in one of those graces which I have named, and another in the other, and that what each cannot do through himself he learns from the other. But sometimes one and the same man will receive the fullness of both graces, and yet in one and the same 1281Aspirit the one, as it were, consults the other, when what he could not attain through one state of mind he learns through another. For many things which we cannot do out of the grace of contemplation we obtain by the merit of devotion. This is why Daniel is consulted by the king, this is why the king is instructed through Daniel: This is, he says, the dream; and its interpretation also we will tell before thee, O king. Happy is he to whom, while there is yet time, this vision is shown and its interpretation revealed. While he is still a king, he can have dominion over his own passions: Thou, he says, art the King of kings. We know that bodily sense presides over the motion of the body, appetite over sense, affection over appetite, and rational consent over all these, according to what is written, that another is higher than the high, and over these there are yet 1281Bothers more eminent, and moreover the king rules over all the earth that serves him. The king of kings, therefore, is rational consent, which presides over all the motions of the heart and of the body, and restrains them within the rights of its own dominion (the power having nonetheless been received from God). For hear what is said, and understand by whom this power is given: Thou, he says, art king of kings, and the Lord of heaven hath given thee a kingdom, and strength, and empire, and glory. [Vulg. Dan. 2:37 Deus caeli, "the God of heaven"; chunk 0025 of this work prints the verse with Deus] The free will of man has received and has a kingdom in this, that it ought to preside over all other things that are in man; it has received strength, and has it so long as it is able bravely to resist its own passions; it has received empire, and has it so long as it exercises, or is able to exercise, its actions and wills and thoughts in good. It has received glory, and has it so long as it still rejoices in a good conscience: Our glory, he says, 1281Cis this, the testimony of our conscience (II Cor. I). We know who it is that says: Without me you can do nothing (Joan. XV). So much, then, can we do as we have received the power to do. For what hast thou that thou hast not received, for to have such power and strength is nothing else than to have cooperating grace. Thy power, cooperating grace. As much grace as thou hast, so much power also hast thou; and as much as the grace received grows, so much also does thy power advance; and as much as grace is diminished, so much also is taken from thy power; and if ever grace is withdrawn, power perishes together with it. It is plain, then, from these things that the power of the will is one thing, and the liberty of the will another. For it is one thing to be able to do great things, and another to be 1281Dfree. Thou canst be both free and weak, just as, on the contrary, thou canst be both sound and a slave. If thou art sound and strong, thou canst do both many and great things; but nevertheless, if thou art free, thou canst not, nor oughtest to, be compelled to anything. And if thou losest soundness, thou losest thy former power, yet not thy liberty as well. It belongs, therefore, to power that we can do good so long as we are able to do it. But to liberty, that we cannot be compelled unwilling to anything, whether good or evil. How many err in the definition of free will, because they know not, or dissemble, how to distinguish between power and liberty. See nevertheless what difference there is, since a man often loses power, but can never lose liberty. Likewise no one receives power unto all goods, but every man receives liberty unto all goods or evils. 1282AFor, as has already been said, he can be compelled unwilling to no good or evil. But although he is free for all things, he does not for all that have power over all things, otherwise he would be omnipotent. But it is much in every way when he receives power unto those things which suffice him for salvation. And what when those things also are at hand which suffice for perfection. As it is said here: and all things in which the children of men dwell, and the beasts of the field, and the fowls of the air he hath given into thy hand, and hath set all things under thy dominion? He holds, as it were, in his own hand all things in which the children of men dwell, when he has cooperating grace unto those things which, by his help, are wont to lie subject to human counsels and zeals. He possesses the beasts of the field among the rights of his own power, when he is able bravely to restrain the onsets of worldly desires 1282Bwithin the bounds of equity. He powerfully commands the fowls of the air, to whom he occupies his own thoughts, as often as he wills, with good meditations and spiritual theoriae. In this manner, then, he has deserved that all things be set under his dominion who has received grace from God unto each of these things which we have named.

But let us ask what this means, that to these things there is subjoined: Thou art therefore, he says, the head of gold, and after thee shall rise up another kingdom less than thee (Dan. II). Give heed, I pray, to what he says, to what he sets out to teach us by his interpretation: Thou art, he says, the head of gold. 1282CFor, to say nothing of the rest, this alone, I think, is the thing in which we have need of an interpreter; and would that we might understand the one interpreting, and know this at least through an interpreter. Does not one statue represent the person of one man, and does it not, as we have expounded, signify the transgression of anyone falling from the highest things into the lowest? If he who is of this sort is one, having a golden head, a silver breast, but the other members of bronze or of iron, why, I pray, if he to whom this is said is himself the golden head, why is he not himself also the silver breast, and the rest in this manner? Or art thou perhaps thyself in that part in which thou art golden, and not thyself in that part in which thou art not golden? Whosoever therefore thou art, when after the golden head thou hast now begun to have a silver breast, see, 1282DI pray, and diligently give heed, lest perhaps thou thyself be now not thyself. If, after much charity and a great devotion of spirit, thou hast ceased to be devout and left off being golden, wilt thou be the same as thou wast before? Man, he says, when he was in honor did not understand; he hath been compared to senseless beasts, and is become like to them (Psal. XLVIII). To be like to God, mira ile glory; to be like to cattle, a miserable disgrace. Therefore it is one man and another, he that is like to God and he that is like to cattle. Man was made good, and was created unto goodness: This only I have found, says Ecclesiastes, that God made man upright, and that he himself hath entangled himself with infinite questions (Eccli. VII). If, then, thou glowest with charity and abidest in the love of the good, thou hast a golden head, and thou art thyself, because thou art that which, and unto which, thou wast made and 1283Aoughtest to be. But when charity grows cold in thee, when thou hast now begun to fail from thy former fervor, wilt thou still be thyself, and not rather another less than thee? Thou art, he says, the head of gold, and after thee shall rise up another kingdom less than thee. Art thou not now less than thyself, when thou hast begun to do out of counsel alone what before thou wast doing out of great counsel and much desire? And after thee, he says, shall rise up another kingdom less than thee. Is it not another kingdom when the mind is ruled by counsel alone, than when it is driven also by the desire of the good? Is not counsel alone, without desire, a lesser kingdom than a fervent desire with prudent counsel? Is it not less to do good out of deliberation alone than also out of great love or delight. Rightly, then, is it said: And after thee shall rise up another kingdom 1283Bless than thee. And afterward concerning the third kingdom it is inferred, when it is said: And another third kingdom of bronze, which shall rule over the whole earth. As what is done out of love belongs to the gold, and as what is done out of deliberation alone belongs to the silver, so the good that is done out of simulation belongs to the bronze. In the first charity reigns, in the second truth, in the third reigns pretense. See then, I pray, how rightly it seems to fit this third kingdom that it is described as ruling over the whole earth. For the emperor of this kingdom has no lot in the kingdom of heaven, who exercises his body in good work but neglects to nourish his heart in good will: The kingdom of heaven, he says, is within you (Luc. XVII) [Vulg. Luc. 17:21 regnum Dei, "the kingdom of God"]. Within indeed, within in the heart charity reigns, within truth reigns; yet not content with these 1283Cbounds they break forth outward through good work. See then whether perhaps those two aforesaid kingdoms belong to the kingdom of heaven, if the kingdom of heaven is altogether within us, in that either of them can be found within us. But that king and emperor of the third kingdom, having no part in the kingdom of heaven, driven down from the height and cast forth outside, because he cannot in heaven, claims a kingdom for himself on earth. For he hath cast forth his inmost parts in his own life, and cannot say, our conversation is in heaven. How much more, then, can his dominion not be in heaven? Yet he rules over the whole earth, exercising the flesh in good work, leaving the mind empty of good intention. And the fourth kingdom, he says, shall be as iron. As 1283Diron breaketh in pieces and tameth all things, so shall it break in pieces and crush all these things. What is it that he says, all these things, unless that this kingdom crushes the other aforesaid kingdoms. How is iron wont to break in pieces the other metals, namely those, the gold and the silver? As in the gold charity, in the silver truth, in the bronze pretense, so, as has been said above, in the iron cruelty is signified. But who could fail to know how the rigor of cruelty is wont to scatter and to destroy holy desire, which belongs to the gold; true counsel, which belongs to the silver; the pious but simulated service, which belongs to the bronze work? Well, therefore, has it been said: and the fourth kingdom shall be as iron.

• 1284A

But we must again return a little to what has gone before, and show how this interpretation also fits the other reading. Now according to that reading, the first kingdom is that of arrogance, the second that of boasting, the third of obstinacy, the fourth of savagery. For arrogance belongs to the golden work, boasting to the silver work, obstinacy to the bronze work, savagery to the iron. Let us see what our interpreter says of the head of gold, or what he understands, or how it fits him: Thou, he says, art king of kings: and the God of heaven hath given thee a kingdom, and strength, and empire, and glory, and all things in which 1284Bthe children of men dwell, and the beasts of the field and the birds of heaven he hath given into thy hand, and hath set all things under thy dominion. Often, when we receive such and so great a grace as we have heard described here or expounded above, it comes about that we grow proud against God from that very thing for which we ought to have been more devout and more beholden to God. But that, I ask, how merciful and how worthy of wonder it is, that when our swollen mind grows proud against God he does not at once strike us with strict punishment, nor withdraw his grace on the spot. But first he approaches us with a devout admonition, now inwardly, now outwardly; within, by divine revelation, without, by human exhortation. Within, by inward inspiration; without, by human reasoning, as here first in secret by a dream, afterwards openly 1284Cby a word. Thou, he says, art king of kings, because, stronger than the strong and than the stronger, thou art strongest and canst rule, because thou still hast grace as thy helper; do penance therefore while thou canst, while thou still hast grace working with thee. Thou art still king of kings, and thou canst still in princely wise be prince over the vices too, and still lord it over thy passions. For although thou art deserting grace, thou art not yet deserted by it. Be not proud, he says, be not high-minded, lay aside the sooner the arrogance of thy heart, and what thou canst do of God's gift, ascribe not to thyself: for the God of heaven hath given thee a kingdom, and strength, and empire, and glory. Still in the motions of thy heart or of thy body thou hast a kingdom, because thou canst dispose the good; thou hast strength, because thou canst resist the evil; 1284Dempire, because thou canst urge the more remissly; glory, because thou canst overcome the rebellious. Yet there is nothing whence thou shouldst be proud, there is nothing thou shouldst ascribe to thyself: for the God of heaven hath given all these things to thee, and all things in which the children of men dwell, and the beasts of the field and the birds of heaven he hath given into thy hand, and hath set all things under thy dominion. That thou presidest over the beasts of the field, that thou presidest over the birds of heaven, that thou canst lord it over the appetites of the flesh and over the thoughts of the mind, that thou art able to work good things and to meditate on useful ones: this thou hast not of thy own virtue, but of the divine gift. For all things in which the children of men dwell, and which obey reason and right counsels, come to be of his gift; by his co-working they come forth into act, they turn out well, they prosper. Whatever therefore thou canst do usefully, 1285Athou canst do of him and through him, who is incapable of nothing, because he can do all things. And so all thy possibility comes of his gift, who hath set all these things under thy dominion. Thou therefore, he says, art the head of gold, who, grace still accompanying thee, canst both correct evils and practise good things. Press down thy pride, therefore, lest thou lose grace as well: for God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble. And we know that pride is the beginning of all sin. And he that committeth sin is the servant of sin. What then? Will there not now be another kingdom, when sin has already begun to hold dominion and thou to render service, than there was then, when thou couldst press sin down, so that it did not reign in thy mortal body? I think therefore that when thou hast begun through pride to lose grace, 1285Bwithout which thou wilt be able to do nothing, and to lose thyself; I think, I say, that another kingdom, less than thou, will now rise up, according to what is written: Thou, he says, art the head of gold, and after thee shall rise another kingdom, less than thou. But since every arrogant man glories in himself, while boasting glories in another's favour, it can rightly be said in some respect of the head of gold, that is, of the arrogant man, that he is still himself, in that he has not yet deserted himself, he who has set his glory in himself. But he withdraws from himself when he places his glory in another. Consider then how much less a thing it is to glory in the hissing of another's mouth and in false praises, than in goods of one's own, and often true ones, though received from another. Rightly therefore is it said: Thou art the head of gold, 1285Cand after thee shall rise another kingdom, less than thou; and there is added, and another third kingdom of bronze, which shall rule over all the earth. Bronze, in that it is exceedingly durable, rightly denotes obstinacy, as we said above. And so a man then has a belly and thighs as it were of bronze, when he clings obstinately even to those things at which he ought rather to blush. See then how aptly it seems to agree with this kingdom that it is said to rule over all the earth. For how does that not rule over all the earth which extends its tyranny even to the commanding of shameful things? And the fourth kingdom, he says, shall be as iron. As iron breaketh in pieces and subdueth all things, so shall it break in pieces all these, and shall crush them. If we ought to understand savagery in the iron, how, 1285DI ask, can a kingdom of this sort break in pieces and crush the other kingdoms? Without doubt, however shameless the mind may be, yet the glory which it was wont to have in itself through arrogance, or in another through boasting, it altogether (nor is this a wonder) disturbs and confounds. For who, amid so many and so open madnesses of his own savagery, would either believe himself holy, or be confident that this could be believed of him by another? But those violent laws of savagery are wont so to crush and confound the kingdom of obstinacy, that in the time of its fury the mind can persevere in no purpose (however right, however honourable). But whatever in the time of tranquillity the mind deliberates and disposes concerning peace or patience, even with a vow or an oath, in the time of its disturbance an oncoming fury 1286Ascatters and dissolves. Those things which we have thus far said concerning the exposition of this vision we have handled according to a twofold consideration, after the measure of our understanding. But the rest which follow run together, for both readings, into the same sense, and do not require a twofold exposition, as do those that have gone before. For what is savagery but cruelty? So too impatience: what else is it than a pitiable frailty? Thus under diverse names we ought to understand the same thing.

Now therefore let us consider what follows: Moreover, he says, 1286Bwhereas thou sawest both of the feet and of the toes a part of the potter's clay and a part of iron, the kingdom shall be divided, which nevertheless shall rise out of the plantation of iron (Dan. I). But if by the foot necessity is understood, and by iron cruelty, what does it mean that a certain part of the feet is described as being of iron? Is anyone found hard and harsh, or even inflexible, towards his own necessities? We know that the covetous man shall not be filled with money, and he that loveth riches shall reap no fruit from them; and yet he does not cease to labour, nor are his eyes satisfied with riches, nor does he consider, saying: For whom do I labour, and defraud my soul of good things? Does he not seem to thee to walk upon an iron sole, who all the days of his life eateth in darkness, and in many cares, and in misery and 1286Cin sorrow? Truly, as it is written, there is nothing more wicked than the covetous man (Eccle. X), who neither has compassion on his neighbour nor pities himself. Why do we now wonder that a man of this sort has legs of iron, when he already has the soles? Why do we now complain that he is harsh towards his neighbours, who is already hardened towards his own uses? He that is evil to himself, to whom will he be good?

Note however that he who is of this sort is first hardened in iron legs towards his neighbour. Afterwards he is hardened also in iron feet towards himself. See therefore, whoever thou art that readest these things, that thou do not perchance, after the love and zeal of wisdom, turn back to the love and gain of money; this is to bend the head of gold down into feet of iron. The bowels of the covetous are cruel: set now before thine eyes and consider any 1286Dcovetous men thou wilt. See, I pray thee, how anxious they are, how laborious, how sparing, how austere towards themselves. Yet what have these same men often been wont to do, or what will they yet do, if at another's cost they are fed, clothed, and sheltered free of charge? Thou wilt surely see them wishing to be clothed in soft raiment, to be soaked with surfeiting and drunkenness, to grow numb torpore with sleep and idleness, to be angry and indignant when they see something of their accustomed comforts wanting to them. Does such a man not seem to thee to walk upon feet in part of iron and in part of clay, when thou seest one and the same man so sparing in his own goods, so prodigal in another's, serving now austerity, now luxury? Moreover, he says, in that thou sawest of the feet and of the toes a part of the potter's clay and a part of iron, the kingdom shall be divided, which nevertheless shall rise out of the plantation of iron. 1287AThe foot is divided into five toes, and the condition of necessity is beyond doubt parted into five, when it is extended to all the senses of the body. But when we studiously seek the delights of the senses or warily shun them, what else do we do than lean upon two feet, on this side and on that, on the right hand and on the left, and walk between prosperity and adversity along the road of our desires? But thou mayest often see these men indulge one sense more vehemently and those another, and for the delights of some one sense willingly endure the troubles of the other senses. How many over a long time acquire in agnoque labour what they spend in the surfeiting or drunkenness of a single day or hour? How many fears, how many honours, how many chills, of the enemy, of the night, and of the cold, do adulterers willingly endure, that they may attain to the momentary blandishments 1287Bof foul pleasure? Have not all such men a part of the feet or of the toes of clay and a part of iron, who in the one thing are so patient and almost insensible, and in the other so impatient? Moreover, whereas thou sawest, he says, of the feet and of the toes a part of the potter's clay and a part of iron, the kingdom shall be divided. Truly divided will that be which is of this sort. For, to set down by way of example some few things out of many in one man: since one and the same man is often both covetous and gluttonous, how great, I ask, is the quarrel and contention that is frequently in his heart, when gluttony bids him spend, and avarice bids him keep back, one and the same coin. In this way, then, many times upon a slight occasion the kingdom is divided against itself, disturbed and confounded, until it is utterly laid desolate. For every 1287Ckingdom divided against itself shall be brought to desolation, and house upon house shall fall.

It is surely to be noted what is said of this kingdom, which nevertheless, he says, shall rise out of the plantation of iron. For when the transgressing mind first turns back to worldly desires, the spirit is hardened for the enduring of the world's labours, and at that time, according to the saying of Job, it counts it a delight to be under the briers (Job XXII), so long as it may in any manner attain the end of its desires. O how happy they would be, if the things they endure for the love of money, or for the gaining of some worldly pomp or glory, they endured patiently for the love of justice! But they who so patiently bear so many troubles, so many injuries, so many contumelies 1287Dfor the gain of covetousness, do not hear with an even mind so much as one light word of correction for the love of virtue. This I take to be what follows, when it is at once subjoined: According as thou sawest the iron mingled with clay of mire, and the toes in part of iron and in part of earthenware, in part it shall be solid, and in part it shall be broken. For men of this sort are strong and patient, as has been said, in that very part in which their labour might have served virtue as a soldier. But as to what he says, of clay, of mire: what else is clay of this sort than foul habit? For mire is hardened as it were into clay when a foul action is drawn into a habit; but out of the hardening of foul habit a man is cast down into impatience, and after the manner of clay is lightly broken, now by wrath, now 1288Adissolved into concupiscence. But, as we have shown concerning the covetous, many are seen to satisfy their own pleasures gladly when they can do so without expense of money; but when they cannot do so without loss of gain, to go vehemently against them. Do not these men seem to thee to mingle iron and clay of mire alike? And whereas thou sawest, he says, the iron mingled with clay of mire, they shall indeed be mingled to human seed, but they shall not cleave one to another, even as iron cannot be mingled with clay. [Vulg. humano semine, ablative, "mingled with human seed"; Migne's dative governs the gloss that follows] What are human seeds, but the counsels of carnal prudence? The prudence of the flesh teaches us to seek money for the things necessary for use. The same teaches us to withdraw much from the necessaries of life, and to spare money, lest it seem to fail for necessary uses. See how it cleaves to human seed, since 1288Bthe one seems as it were by counsel to require the other; yet they are not mingled together, because the one often seems to contradict the other. The love of riches commands one thing, and the love of delights another; the heat of pleasure one thing, the gain of covetousness another. But when in this manner diverse vices hurry a man in diverse directions, or drive him to contrary things, they wretchedly afflict him, they suffer him to rest neither by day nor by night; and in a manner as wonderful as it is wretched, they who are of this sort anticipate the times of their own damnation, while by the inward anxiety of the spirit, or by outward affliction, they rage savagely against themselves; and unless the clemency from above look upon them, they go through temporal torments to eternal ones.

• 1288C

But the divine mercy often comes to the help of salvation in that which, so far as lies in the men themselves, is a heaping up of damnation, according to what is written: where iniquity abounded, grace also did more abound (Matth. XXIV). [Vulg. Rom. 5:20 reads delictum, "offence", where Migne's noun is that of Matt. 24:12, to which his own note points] For often, when the grace from above visits men of this sort amid the straits of their calamities, it sets this very enormity of their own unhappiness before their eyes, and in the consideration of it pricks them to the lamentations of penitence; and having drawn them out of the pit of misery and out of the mire of dregs, by certain steps of advance it carries them from the depth of iniquity to the highest summit of charity. Is not this what Scripture speaks, 1288Dwhere it is consequently added: In the days of those kingdoms the God of heaven shall raise up a kingdom which shall never be destroyed, and his kingdom shall not be given to another people. It shall break in pieces and shall consume all these kingdoms, and itself shall stand for ever, according as thou sawest that a stone was cut out of a mountain without hands, and it broke in pieces the clay, and the iron, and the bronze, and the silver, and the gold (Dan. II). [Vulg. non tradetur, "shall not be delivered over"] And so in the days of those kingdoms, in the time of so great malice and so great misery, an abundance of grace is given, and there is raised up a kingdom of charity which can never perish. For he that abideth in love shall abide for ever. And so this kingdom shall never be destroyed. Charity indeed beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things (I Cor. XIII). And his kingdom shall not be given to another people, 1289Afor this is that fountain (as Augustine says) whereof a stranger doth not partake: It shall break in pieces, he says, and shall consume all these kingdoms. But would you know how charity breaks in pieces and consumes all these kingdoms: Charity, says the Apostle, is patient, is kind; charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely, is not puffed up, is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not upon iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth. Further it is added of this kingdom, that itself shall stand for ever; and Charity, says the Apostle, never falleth away, according as thou sawest, he says, that a stone was cut out of a mountain without hands, and it broke in pieces the clay, and the iron, and the bronze, and the silver, and the gold. We know that the kingdom of God is begun from fear, but is consummated 1289Bin charity. And so by the stone of fear the work of confusion is cast down, and the kingdom of charity is founded. But the stone by which the kingdom of charity is founded is cut out without hands: for the striking in of fear and the inspiration of charity comes to be in the Holy Spirit, not by human work: The charity, he says, of God is poured forth in our hearts, by the Holy Spirit who is given to us (Rom. V). It shall break in pieces, he says, and shall consume all these kingdoms, according as thou sawest that a stone was cut out without hands, and it crushed the clay, and the iron, and the bronze, and the silver, and the gold. The destruction of the opposing kingdoms is begun from fear and perfected in charity. Through fear they are rooted out of consent, through charity they are plucked out of effect. Charity therefore, which is patient, breaks 1289Cin pieces the fragility of clay; charity, which is kind, breaks in pieces the rigidity of iron. What, I ask, is that in which the bronze of simulation is broken in pieces, but charity which envieth not? And what is it that breaks in pieces the obstinacy of bronze, but charity which dealeth not perversely? If in the silver boasting is understood and in the gold arrogance, what is so contrary to them as charity, which is not puffed up, nor is ambitious, nor seeketh the things that are her own? If either in the silver that work is understood which is done out of deliberation alone and not out of love, it is not done so much out of love as out of truth: what is so agreeable to charity, which rejoiceth with the truth? If in the head of gold the failure of the best work is reproved, in that it is not 1289Dbrought through to the heel of its due end, what better convicts or corrects this work than perfect charity, which never falleth away? O happy kingdom of charity, which abideth for ever! O happy kingdom which shall never be destroyed, since to another people it shall for ever be given [dabitur; read non dabitur, "shall not be given"]! Happy kingdom in which patience endures and kindness perseveres! Happy kingdom, in which no one envies; happy indeed, in which there is no perverse dealing, no one is puffed up; truly happy, in which no ambitious man seeks the things that are his own; no one is burned! Perhaps he hints something to us in this, that whereas above, in the enumeration of the crushing, he set first the iron and afterwards the clay, in this place he plainly sets first the clay and afterwards the iron. But we know that in some men fear rules, and in others shame. For some indeed are more fearful than modest, 1290Abut others more modest than fearful. Those therefore who are the more timid are the more easily pricked by the consideration of their own cruelty than of their own pleasure. But those who are the more modest are the more readily softened to penitence by the recollection of foul pleasure than of iniquity. If therefore by the iron cruelty is understood, and by the clay pleasure rightly so, what wonder if elsewhere the iron and the clay are read as broken in pieces in one order and another, since according to the quality of spirits; or of manners, the order or the occasion of inward compunction and true contrition varies in one man and another?

Daniel still goes on, and adds: The great God, 1290Bhe says, hath shown the king what shall be hereafter (Dan. II). [Vulg. ventura, "what shall come to pass"] God, he says, is great: perhaps he had grown great in the thought and the love of the man to whom he had revealed so great a depth of mysteries, so that not undeservedly he ought to magnify his greatness above all others. The great God hath shown the king: not to any man whatsoever, but to a king the Lord hath shown these things, so that he who pants after the foreknowledge of things to come and after grace of this sort may recognize, with royal liberty and authority, that this realm of his is to be ruled and ordered. The great God hath shown the king what shall be hereafter. O with how great mercy of God is it done, that while it is still to come, while it can still be guarded against, a man's own ruin is revealed to him, that with so great solicitude he may foresee and recognize what he ought to fear, what to beware of, what 1290Cperil he ought to fight against. Slow indeed, and far too late, is that foresight when the peril already imminent cannot be avoided. The great God hath shown the king what shall be hereafter. Happy is he who can foresee the imminent ruin while he is still king, and can still lord it over his passions and turn aside the pressing peril! But let us see what is subjoined after all these things, when it is said: And the dream is true, and the interpretation faithful. We often penetrate many deep things of the divine mysteries by the liveliness of the reason implanted in us, and some things concerning what is to come we foresee with the eye of prudence, in wary solicitude, before they arrive. But in these things constancy often totters, and it does not fully grasp what it might hold unshaken through the security of certitude. For the thoughts of mortal men are fearful, 1290Dand our foresights uncertain. But on the contrary, what we discern in the light of God, what we know from his revelation, we hold with such certitude and confidence that we can be shaken by no doubtful ambiguity concerning it. This is what the Psalmist figuratively expresses when he says: At the brightness that was before him the clouds passed away (Psal. XVII), for the Lord to look upon is to illuminate. For since he is the true light, after the manner of the sun, by that very act by which he looks he lights up, kindles, and illuminates. And so at the divine regard we are often filled with so great a splendour of the divine light, that in that which is divinely revealed every clouding of ambiguity or hesitation is straightway taken out of the midst. And so the clouds pass away, when those doubts which were wont to becloud the spirit withdraw. For the clouds to pass away 1291Ais to hold the clear-sightedness of truth and the serenity of understanding without any questioning. He who confidently asserted it showed that he had certitude of this sort, and the security of certitude, in the assertion of his own judgment. And the dream is true, and the interpretation thereof faithful. But what the king did at these things, Scripture subjoins.

Then king Nabuchodonosor fell upon his face and adored Daniel, and he commanded that they should sacrifice victims and incense to him (Dan. II). Greatly, and no wonder, did he humble himself, and deservedly ought he to have been humbled after he knew that so great a peril hung over him. 1291BBut who would not justly reprove him in this, that he rendered to a mortal man the honour which is owed to God alone? But perhaps, because he perceived him to be a true temple, he judged him worthy of such honour. But for our own edification we must diligently sift these things, and subtly inquire what is wont to be enacted in us after their likeness: He fell, it says, upon his face: by the face a man is known, and that part in a man is held more comely and more worthy than the rest. What else therefore is it to fall upon one's face, than even to despise, with a lofty longing, that which is chief or best in oneself, and to reckon that very thing whereby one was wont to become known to others and to appear as it were venerable, as something weak and almost 1291Cor utterly nothing? Consider how he fell upon his face, how he humbled himself, or rather how he would have us humbled, who compared all our justices to the cloth of a menstruous woman. But it is neither a very great thing nor much of a wonder if we cast ourselves down at that time in which we already discern that our peril hangs over us. Then, it says, the king fell upon his face. Then he fell, when, at Daniel's teaching, he recognized his own peril. But it must be known that that humbling which is without perseverance cannot fight against the imminent peril.

This also is to be noted, that often the more inconsiderately and immoderately a man casts himself down, the more insanely and enormously does he afterwards break out into pride. Consider in the king a humbling unstable and indiscreet, 1291Dand afterwards a pride more than human. For he who first adored Daniel, that same man afterwards commanded his own statue to be adored.

Victims, it says, and incense he commanded that they should sacrifice to him. To kill animals for Daniel, or to burn incense, and to expend anything whatever of that kind for his use or profit, would not be blameworthy at all. But it is blameworthy to sacrifice these things to him, and to expend divine honour upon a mortal man. In the immolation of a victim the flesh of brute and irrational creatures is slain; in the burning of incense a sweet odour is spread more widely As therefore living but brute flesh is slain, 1292Awhen any irrational appetite or affection in us is mortified by the crushing of the flesh; and then we spread abroad more widely as it were the odour of incense, when we enlarge the repute of any virtue with worthy heralding of praises. And so to slay for our own Daniel some of those things which still live bestially in our appetites or affections, and to practise a mortification of that sort for the use and profit of our devotion, will without any contradiction not be unprofitable. But when we commend Daniel's office with manifold praise, and concerning the virtue of devotion spread abroad on every side the fragrance of good repute by the commendation of our speech, we do indeed a good work, if in all these things we seek not so much the glory of our Daniel as his profit. And, that I may say more openly 1292Bwhat I think, it is surely good to restrain our life for the sake of the grace of devotion and of instancy in prayer; it is good to commend the virtue of prayer and to extol it with praises, provided that it be done to this end, that our devotion may grow to the better and rise up more fervent, not that it may appear more glorious. How many there are who, when they believe that they have obtained some grace through instancy in prayer, already presuming much upon their own devotion or holiness, wish great things to be thought of it by others also. This is what Nabuchodonosor did, who, after he had come through Daniel to the desire of his vow, heaped upon him an honour as foolish as it was vain. But what we reprove concerning this virtue of which we speak, we ought to beware of in any virtue or 1292Cgrace whatever. Hear it openly, mark it diligently, hold it in memory: if in any grace, in any effort, if in any virtue of thine own thou trustest, presumest, gloriest, thou art indeed bestowing divine honour upon it, and shamelessly enough; not to say that thou art making a God for thyself. He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord. Cursed be the man that trusteth in man; therefore also he who trusteth in himself or in any virtue of his own: My glory, he says, I will not give to another, nor my praise to a graven thing (Isa XLII). [Vulg. et laudem meam sculptilibus, "and my praise to graven images", plural]

How many glory, and wish to be glorious in the eyes of men: I will not say over the fact that they have virtues or holiness, but over the fact that they know how to discourse prudently 1292Dabout the virtues and to dispute eloquently. O how much better, O how much more profitable it would be for thee not to have the gold of knowledge and the silver of eloquence, than to make thyself an idol out of them! The idols of the nations are silver and gold, the works of the hands of men. To paint out the measure and the mere form of the virtues by understanding and teaching, and to hold them in memory, but to lack their effect: what else is it than to carry certain idols in the heart? The knowledge of holiness without a good intention: what else is it than an image without life? Knowledge alone, without the effect of holiness and the affection of goodness: what else is it than a vain idol without motion and without sense? A mouth, he says, they have, and they shall not speak; eyes they have, and they shall not see; ears they have, and they shall not hear; nostrils they have, and they shall not smell. 1293AHands they have, and they shall not feel; feet they have, and they shall not walk; neither shall they cry out in their throat (Psal. CXIII). The mouth, as we all know, is the instrument of speaking; the eyes, the instrument of seeing; the ears, the instrument of hearing; and in this manner it ought to be understood of the rest also. What therefore is it to have a mouth, eyes, ears, or any such things, and to exercise them for no uses at all, but to have the instruments of the offices and to lack the offices of the instruments? Thou readest that with the heart we believe unto justice, but with the mouth confession is made unto salvation (Rom. X). And so to the mouth belongs confession; to the eyes, circumspection; to the ears, obedient hearing; to the nostrils, discretion; to the hands, working; to the feet, advance; to the throat, supplication. Behold, that empty knowledge of thine perhaps knows exceedingly well what the virtue of confession is. 1293BIt knows that all things are washed away in confession. It knows perhaps how it ought to confess, and yet it does not confess. It has a mouth therefore, and speaks not. It knows perhaps how it ought to look around upon its own life, yet it dissembles to look around upon it as it should. Thou hast in a manner the instrument of seeing, but thou lackest the office of seeing. Thou knowest perhaps what the virtue of obedience is, and of what kind it ought to be, and yet thou wilt not obey. This is to have ears, and not to hear. Through knowledge thou hast perhaps the instrument of discerning spiritual fragrance. But while thou spendest no zeal upon discernment in matters of conduct, thou gloriest emptily in a useless instrument. Thou knowest how thou oughtest to exercise thyself in good work, and yet thou wilt not take the fruit of good work by experience: this is to have hands, 1293Cand not to feel. For what is it to feel with the hands, but to prove the fruits of works by experiencing them? Thou hast received through knowledge the feet of advances, if thou hast learned how one ought to stretch forward to the things that are before. But having feet thou dost not walk at all, if thou tendest not to advance. Thou hast received the teaching of supplication, and thou wilt not supplicate: this is to have a throat, and to be unwilling to cry out.

But if we attend diligently, we ought to observe these seven things in the carrying out of any virtue. The first is that which belongs to the mouth: to condemn and accuse the evils done before. The second, which belongs to the 1293Deyes: to investigate diligently what is to be done, and through investigation to know it. The third, which belongs to obedient hearing: when counsel has been found, to rest in it by consenting, and to be willing to comply. The fourth, which is as it were a various thing: warily to detect the evils that lie in wait for the good that is to be done, and prudently to discern them. The fifth, which likewise looks as it were to the hands: to fulfil in work the good that has been deliberated. The sixth, as it were by a certain advance of the feet: from a good beginning always to tend to better things. But because we are of ourselves sufficient for none of these, we ought to implore the divine help for them all. But if we know these things and yet do not practise them in work, what else, in acquiring and cultivating idle and useless kinds of knowledge, do we make 1294Aor worship than vain and empty idols, while we are content with the mere acquaintance with the virtues? See how perverse and damnable a thing it is to seek spiritual teaching for display alone, and not for edification. This is assuredly the prudence of the flesh, and one that is utterly an enemy to God? What, I ask, does it profit; nay, how much does it hurt, to seek with great labour and the utmost zeal, and to investigate, and anxiously to wish to know, the things which thou art in no way willing to practise in work? For it stands clearer than the light that the servant who knows his lord's will and does it not, but rather does things unworthy, shall be beaten with many stripes. O what a counsel, and how useless, to seek the counsels of life for this alone, that thou mayest have wherewith thou canst appear wiser than the rest, and obtain the name of master! How sharp a prudence, how cunning a foresight, 1294Bto press vehemently after the searching out of those counsels in which, once obtained, thou art in no way willing to rest! But we often see it happen to minds of this sort, by the just judgment of God, that such as their spiritual foresights were before towards spiritual things, such afterwards do their carnal foresights become towards carnal things. Of what kind, I say, their spiritual counsels stood before towards heavenly and divine things, of that kind after a little are their carnal counsels found to be towards worldly and human things. For just as in spiritual things and in the gains of the soul they first see what they might healthfully do, and yet are unwilling to do it; may it be [sit; read sic, "so"] that afterwards in advantageous fleshes and in temporal temporalibis gains they see what ought usefully to be done, and yet, conquered by concupiscence or bound fast by sloth, are wholly unable to do it. But this very thing is wont to happen to some men 1294Ceven profitably, so that from that very fact they now begin to detest and abhor their own vices, and over this very thing to implore the divine help, when they see that not even amid the greatest perils can they restrain themselves from their own excesses; whence comes that prophetic imprecation, or petition: Let them that make them become like unto them, and all such as trust in them (Psal. CXIII). But that we may return to that from which we digressed, let us at least gather from this how foolish and empty a thing it is to wish to glory in the mere empty knowledges of the virtues, and in certain idols as it were of the virtues themselves, since with God it is detestable that a man should presume upon any virtue of his own. Behold, we reprove Nabuchodonosor, and deservedly ought we to reprove him, in that he had commanded Daniel, though 1294Da faithful man, to be presented with divine honour; how much the more if he had wished the same thing to be rendered to Daniel's image.

But let us see amid these things how truly he thought and spoke concerning God, who willed such empty things to be done. The king therefore, speaking, says to Daniel: Verily your God is the God of gods, and the Lord of kings, revealing mysteries, since thou couldst open this sacrament. (Dan. II). Behold how soundly he thinks even concerning divine things, and yet tamem what he practised in deed was like to idolatry. Thus, thus, at one and the same time both Moses on the mountain is lifted up to the contemplation of the highest and divine things, and 1295Athe people committed to him is cast down in the valley to the crime of idolatry and to the worship of the calf; and often indeed it comes to pass in one and the same spirit, in a manner as wonderful as it is pitiable, that from the very source by which human understanding is illuminated on high toward divine things, from that same source the crowd of desires is the less corrupted. For who does not know how the greatness of revelations lifts an incautious mind into pride, since the Apostle himself says of himself: Lest the greatness of the revelations should exalt me, there was given me a sting of my flesh, an angel of Satan, to buffet me (I Cor. XII). For often certain men, while still set amid the very sights of divine revelations, grow proud within themselves with a silent mind; already thinking great things of themselves, they count it worthy to be esteemed great by others; already they search out with shrewd solicitude how they may become known 1295Bto others also; already they catch at the breeze of empty favour, and change into a vain glory that true glory which they were wont to have with God. Of such the Psalmist says: And they changed the glory into the likeness of a calf that eateth hay (Psal. CV). Since indeed it is written: All flesh is hay, and all the glory thereof as the flower of hay (Isa. XL). [Vulg. flos agri, "the flower of the field"] What else will the calf that eateth hay be, but the appetite for human favour, courting a carnal and temporal glory? What else therefore will it be to worship a calf, an animal wanton indeed and brute, than in the courting of temporal glory to serve an irrational appetite, and to set one's own glory in a temporal and empty glory? And Nabuchodonosor indeed, 1295Cwhom nevertheless we justly reprove, did something more tolerable, in that he presented with divine honour a man, an animal to be sure, but a rational one. For beyond doubt it will be more irrational to worship an irrational animal than a rational one. Some trust and glory in their own virtue, but others in the mere estimation of virtue. Those, over what they have or believe themselves to have; these, over what they are esteemed by others to be. Those, over the testimony of conscience, yet not as before God; these, over the testimony of report, as before their neighbour only. And so the former is as it were an irrational animal, the latter as it were a rational animal. Happy is he who glories over the testimony of conscience, yet so as in the Lord. Otherwise it is a very thankless thing to glory over the gift, but not in the giver of the gift. How much better, how much more rightly 1295Dwould the said king have adored God rather than Daniel, and sacrificed to him who had indeed taught him (though by Daniel's office) what he was seeking.

But since he did things to be reproved, as we have already said, let us see how rightly he thought concerning God in that which he said: Verily your God is the God of gods, and the Lord of kings. Since the royal power is chief and highest, what is it for the king to say this, but from the inmost sense of the soul to hold it firmly and unmovably? What is it for Daniel to hear this from the king, but that the inmost sense of the soul neither ought nor is able to lie hidden from the true devotion of the spirit? Or perhaps in this, that some things Daniel 1296Alearns from God and others he heard also from the king, Holy Scripture mystically hints that, for the use of our devotion, some things are those which we learn from divine revelation, others those which we weigh out from the liveliness of reason implanted in us. But in that, speaking of God, he says "your" and "our", he attends to the regard of grace, not to the condition of nature. For in a certain special way he belonged properly to those who, out of the gift of his own grace and by the prerogative of merits, had obtained with him a singular place of familiarity beyond the rest, and the boldness of confidence. And without doubt it is devotion which both renders God propitious and makes him familiar. God, he says, of gods, and Lord of kings. For although there be some that are called gods, whether in heaven or on earth, according to that word: I have said: You are gods (Psal. LXXXI), by name 1296Bindeed they can be so called: for what God is naturally and substantially, that they can in no wise be. He is therefore the God of gods, and the Lord of kings. Because, as the Apostle testifies: There is no power but from God (Rom. XIII). For that some are set over others, that men of virtues are able to have dominion over their own vices and passions, they receive assuredly from the gift of the highest King. He says therefore: Verily your God is the God of gods, and the Lord of kings, revealing mysteries; but whence he gathers and conjectures these things he at once subjoins, when he says: Since thou couldst open this sacrament. For from this, that he revealed to him the secrets of his own heart, and from this likewise, that he revealed to him the hidden things of the divine counsel, the one concerning the past, the other concerning the future, at one and the same time, 1296Che weighed, with a wonderful liveliness of wit, the revelation of the highest Godhead. And from this, that he heard concerning the secret of his own heart and proved it true, he gathered that that also was true which meanwhile he could not prove by experience concerning the counsel or the purpose of the Godhead. Prudently therefore he observed that it was the highest wisdom which was able to open to Daniel, in so dark an abyss of the human heart, the secrets of another's conscience. For, according to Solomon's sentence, God alone it is who knows the heart of all the sons of men. Shrewdly none the less he perceived that it was the highest power which was able to reveal to Daniel, according to its good pleasure, the order and disposition of things to come and of things to be done. For who else than God could manifest to him the divine counsel? According to that word 1296Dwhich Isaiah said: Who hath known the sense of the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor? (Isai. XL.) [Vulg. Isa. XL:13 opens Quis adjuvit spiritum Domini, "Who hath helped the spirit of the Lord"; the wording printed here is that of Rom. XI:34, Quis enim cognovit sensum Domini] For, as the Apostle witnesses, just as no one knows the things that are of man save the spirit of man which is in him, so no one knows the things that are of God, save the Spirit of God. Rightly therefore is it said: Verily your God is the God of gods, and the Lord of kings, revealing mysteries, since thou couldst open this sacrament.

Then the king raised Daniel on high, and gave him great and many gifts. If by Daniel we rightly understand devotion, what else will it be to lift Daniel on 1297Ahigh than to reckon the office of devotion, among all other offices whatsoever, as chief and principal, and to hold it as it were in the highest place? And it is wont to come to pass, after the mind proves by experience how great the virtue of true devotion is, that it stretches out more vehemently toward its pursuits and diligently presses upon its advancements, that by investigating it may seek, by seeking may find, whence it may advance in the selfsame thing toward better things. What else therefore than great and many gifts does the Daniel of our devotion receive, when out of zeal eagerly bestowed he easily finds, as it were, certain talents of understanding and gains of prudence, whereby he may grow toward greater things and be enlarged to very many? And he set him, he says, prince over all the provinces of Babylon, and chief of the magistrates over all the wise men of Babylon. 1297BO would that our devotion might advance so far that it should appear higher than all the princes of Babylon, wiser than all the prudent of Babylonia, and stand out more precious, by the judgment of our mind, than everything that pleases in the world or seems precious, and by the decree of the will obtain the higher gain! This will be, as I judge, for Daniel to receive from the king the citadel of princedom and of mastery. Would that it might at length at some time befall our devotion to attain that measure of perfection wherein no affection, however vehement, no occupation, no solicitude, no suggestion or persuasion could in us, I will not say scatter, but not even interrupt its zeal, and that unmoved apostolic word be fulfilled: Without ceasing 1297Cpray! (I Thess. V.) Would that all other offices whatsoever were so disposed or ordered that they might be proved to serve as soldiers, or even to be subservient, to the uses and advantages of our devotion!

But Daniel requested of the king, and he appointed over the works of the province of Babylon, Sidrac, Misach and Abdenago (Dan. II). The king without doubt consents to Daniel asking, when the will of the mind readily accepts and receives whatever conscience suggests to it in the time of inmost devotion. But what, I ask, is that province of Babylon that is spoken of, or what are the works of that province? Certainly God made the province lying round about Babylon: 1297Dfor the walls indeed and the buildings human effort completed. If therefore Babylon is rightly interpreted confusion, if whatsoever things are hers seem to lie subject to confusion, how, I ask, could that which God made and instituted belong to Babylon, or be under confusion? But we know that God has subjected man to a manifold necessity: for the necessity of eating, of drinking, and of any things of that kind, he received from the very right of his own condition. But if he had persisted in that first state of his condition, man would in no way blush at these things, because he could have practised them without any sin. 1298ABut now we justly blush at those same offices of necessity, because, overcome by the vice of our corruption, we have not strength to practise them without fault. Rightly therefore is that broad, and truly much widened, corruption of our infirmity assigned to the Babylonian possession, which is not doubted to lie subject to confusion. In a province of this kind, therefore, and in the office or the works of our necessity, it will be altogether most useful to have set those aforesaid men in charge, and to have brought all things under their disposition. As we have already said above, by those three men we ought to understand circumspection, discretion, deliberation. We ought therefore, not only in spiritual pursuits and exercises, but also in secular business and in the uses of necessity, to do nothing incircumspectly, nothing 1298Bindiscreetly, nothing improvidently. And this will be to have appointed Sidrach, Misach and Abdenago over all the works of the province of Babylon. And so in these things also, in which we take counsel for human necessity, or serve the common infirmity, let us do nothing without modesty, nothing without measure, nothing without good intention, nothing beside order, nothing beside reason, and we obtain such mastery as Daniel willed us to have in the Babylonian province. Finally, according to the sentence of the Wise Man, do all things with counsel, and thou hast such mastery as the prophet designates for thee out of the mystery. For there is altogether need of circumspection and of discretion, if we wish to do nothing improvidently, nothing inconsiderately.

• 1298C

But at the last, in the conclusion of the discourse, it is brought in: But Daniel himself was in the doors of the king (Dan. II). Now we know that through the doors perfores the entrance to the inner parts lies open. Daniel, finally, keeps watch as it were in the doors of the king, when our devotion warily keeps vigil over all suggestions whatsoever, and in the very entrance of temptation fights back with prayer against all the machinations of the evil one, lest any infestation or violence oppress the incautious mind, or circumvent it by fraud. Happy the state of the spirit, and to be sought after with all zeal, when everything that strikes the spirit through thought also at once, without any delay, arouses the devotion of the mind. The devotion 1298Dof the mind ought therefore studiously to forestall every consent of the will, and to fortify it beforehand with prayer. And this will be for Daniel to preside over the doors of the king. At every suggestion, at every emerging thought, let us ask of the Lord that he lead us not into temptation, and let us have Daniel presiding over the doors of our city. Hear what the Wise Man admonishes according to these things, when he says: At all times bless God, and ask of him that he direct thy ways (Tob. IV). And may he direct our ways to the true life, who without end lives and reigns. Amen.

• 1299A

I Nabuchodonosor was at rest in my house, and flourishing in my palace (Dan. IV). What do we understand by the house, but conscience, and what by the palace, but the security of conscience and the confidence of security? For a palace also is a house, yet not any house whatsoever can be called a palace. For a palace is a certain house that is strong, lofty and royal. If by the house we ought to understand conscience, rightly by the palace is understood the security of conscience. And so he sits at rest in his own house whom his own conscience does not bite back. A quiet conscience is made by a worthy satisfaction for past 1299Bevils, and by a wary and provident turning aside from present evils. And so he remains at rest in the house whom his own conscience bites back neither for past nor for present fault. He was at rest in the house who truly said: For neither hath my heart reproved me in all my life (Job XXVII). He stood at rest in his own house who could truly say: For I am conscious to myself of nothing (I Cor. IV). He was assuredly at rest in the house at that time, and was flourishing in his own palace, when he said: Our glory, this is the testimony of our conscience (II Cor. I). Because in the flower fruit is hoped for, rightly by the flower is figured the certain expectation of the goods to come. Because the flower is the beginning of the fruits to come, rightly none the less 1299Cby the flower is understood the renewal of advancements. In the flower therefore is figured either the certain expectation of rewards, or the new promotion of merits. And so he truly flourishes in his own palace who, under the testimony of his own good conscience, securely awaits the crown of glory. Hear one resting in his own house and flourishing in his own palace: But I shall appear before thy sight in justice; I shall be satisfied when thy glory shall appear (Psal. XVI). That he says, I shall appear in justice, pertains to the rest of the house. That he says, I shall be satisfied when thy glory shall appear, pertains to the flowering. He was none the less flourishing in his own palace who with the conscience of a great security said: I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; for the rest there is laid up for me a crown of justice, which the Lord 1299Dwill render to me in that day, the just judge (II Tim. VI). Does not he also seem to thee to flourish in his own palace, whose sense is renewed from day to day? He sits and flourishes in his own palace who, amid his own great works which he gladly does, purposes in his heart yet greater and better ones.

I saw a dream, he says, which terrified me, and my thoughts 1300Aupon my bed, and the visions of my head troubled me (Dan. IV). We sleep before we see a dream. Because through the dream the bodily sense of the body is lulled, rightly by the dream is understood that alienation of the mind through which the memory of all outward things is utterly cut off. But to see a dream is to pass over in mind into the secret place of divine contemplation. And so he sleeps and sees a dream who through excess of mind ascends into the contemplation of sublime things: I saw a dream, he says, which terrified me. Of dreams of this kind, some deter, others soothe, others sadden, others gladden. The contemplation of eternal joys assuredly gladdens (nor is it a wonder), but the beholding of the divine judgments terrifies. For who could worthily express how 1300Bglad, how joyful his own vision or revelation makes him to whom God has revealed through his Spirit that which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath ascended into the heart of man? But how, on the contrary, does his own vision terrify him who by the lifting up of the mind sees through contemplation by how wonderful, by how hidden a judgment of God it is that one man sometimes goes forth even from prison and from chains unto a kingdom, and another born in a kingdom is consumed in want? Whom, I ask, would the abyss of the divine judgments not terrify, when, touched by the divine light, the understanding of the mind perceives clearly that the course is not the swift men's, nor the war the strong men's, nor bread the wise men's, nor riches the learned men's, nor favour the craftsmen's, but time and chance in all things? The Prophet had 1300Ccertainly seen that the judgments of the Lord are a great abyss, and the visions of his head had terrified him, when he said to the Lord: For I have feared thy judgments (Psal. CXVIII). Yet visions of this kind are wont to terrify, not so much at that time in which they are seen through excess of mind, as at that time when, after sleep has been shaken off, they are recalled to memory, when with subtle examination they are gone over again with oneself in a silent mind. Hence is that which follows, when it is said: And my thoughts upon my bed, and the visions of my head troubled me. For indeed he asserts that he is troubled by two things: by his own thoughts, and by the visions of his own head. For when the mind considers out of divine revelation something to be wondered at, nay rather to be dreaded, and afterwards, returning to itself and going over it with itself, judges itself 1300Dwith a strong examination, lest perchance it be worthy that some such thing should befall it, it is dealt with by its very own thoughts, so that its own vision terrifies it. My thoughts, he says, upon my bed. What is here understood by the bed, but the leisure of inmost quiet; and the vision of the head, but the illumination of the intellectual sense. And the visions, he says, of my head troubled me. And so his own thoughts upon his own bed, and the visions of his own head, then terrify each man and by terrifying trouble him, when out of that which, after the secret of divine revelation, he handles with himself 1301Ain the busy leisure of his own meditation, he wakes up unto a wholesome solicitude and a useful dread. For when a man knows out of divine revelation how one is wont to advance from good to better, another to sink from evil into worse things, or how it befalls that some fall down from the highest goods into the lowest evils, or climb up from the lowest evils to the heights of the virtues; what wonder, I ask, if his own vision compels him to dread? Man knoweth not indeed his own end; but, as fishes are taken with the hook, and birds are caught with the snare, so are men taken in the evil time, when it shall suddenly come upon them (Eccle. IX).

• 1301B

But see how astonishing a thing it is, and how dreadful, that often the mind, irradiated by the divine light, sees through contemplation what ought worthily to befall such a man as it is itself, and yet knows not that it is at that time such a one, upon whom by the divine sentence such a judgment deservedly presses. Did not this same thing befall king Nabuchodonosor, who knew from God's revelation the divine sentence concerning the cutting down of the tree, and yet knew not how to draw to himself the likeness of the tree that was shown? He saw what by the divine sentence would press upon such a man as should bear in himself the image or the likeness of a tree of that kind, 1301Cand yet that he himself stood forth such a one, because he could not through himself, he knew through another. See therefore that the grace is one by which we know the divine judgments, and that other by which we discern our own merits. For those we find by contemplating, these by meditating. And so that power we have received from the grace of contemplation, but this from the zeal of meditation and the grace of discretion. And often one and the same man receives both graces together, although he cannot exercise both together at one and the same time. And so it is as though one consulted another, when what he could not fully do through one and the same state of mind, he learns from another state and at another time, which meanwhile may suffice for the full knowledge of himself. Hence it is that Nabuchodonosor is instructed through Daniel 1301Dconcerning those things about which he himself seems to doubt in his own vision. And in a wonderful manner, while the king narrates his own vision to the prophet, not knowing it he teaches another what he may learn from him, and Daniel learns from the questioner who does not know, what he ought to teach the learner. Thus indeed, thus often the mind, prudently unknowing, brings back from the light of contemplation that which afterwards it may find through meditation, and may more fully know. And meditation receives from the foreknown light of revelation that whereby it may loose the knots of doubt. As we have already said above, by the king we understand free will, by Daniel devotion. And so to a king of this kind belongs that contemplation which lies subject to the will of the mind, when the spirit already has it at hand, and exercises it as it were out of its own power. So also that meditation 1302Aseems to belong to Daniel which, out of the zeal of devotion, a religious mind is wont to exercise about the circumspection of its own morals. The king thus designated therefore seeks, as it were, the interpretation of his own dreams from Daniel, and finds it, when the spirit afterwards, by meditating and by looking about, reads in its own morals the things which it descried amid the free flights of its own contemplation, and understands them more deeply. But let us now see how urgently Nabuchodonosor sought what he knew not.

But amid these things, let those whom the visions of the head and the thoughts that follow trouble learn from the example of king Nabuchodonosor 1302Bwhat they ought to do: And by me, he says, a decree was set forth, that all the wise men of Babylon should be brought in before me, and that they should show me the solution of the dream (Dan. IV). Behold how diligently, behold how urgently he seeks what he knows not, unless [nisi; read nec, "nor does he first desist"] he first desists, until he finds the solution of his dream which he seeks. Hence it is that Job says of himself: The cause which I knew not, I diligently investigated (Job XXIX). [Vulg. diligentissime, "most diligently"] To set forth a decree is to establish something firmly, and such as it may in no wise be lawful to violate. See therefore how vehemently he willed that to be done concerning which he sets forth a decree. To the wise men of Babylon belongs the wisdom of this world, which is foolishness with God. To the wise men 1302Cof Babylon belongs the prudence of the flesh, which is an enemy to God. And so the wise men of Babylon are the exceedingly sharp searchings of worldly philosophy. The wise men of Babylon are the exceedingly sharp counsels of the prudence of the flesh. What therefore will it be to bring in wise men of this kind, and to call them back to the inner parts, but to turn to spiritual pursuits those exceedingly sharp searchings of our investigation which we were wont to bestow upon secular business? For those things are as it were outside which can be perceived by the outward sense. But those things are as it were within which cannot at all be comprehended save by the inward sense. Within, therefore, are spiritual things; without, bodily things. And so we bring in the wise men of Babylon when we turn secular pursuits, and all outward pursuits whatsoever, to spiritual understanding and to the investigation 1302Dof spiritual things. To bring in the wise men of Babylon is to postpone the care of outward things, and to bestow zeal upon spiritual exercises alone. He was keeping his own wise men in the inmost parts who said: I thought upon the days of old, and I had the eternal years in mind. I meditated in the night with my own heart, and I was exercised, and I swept my spirit (Psal. LXXVI).

But it is to be noted that our wise men are now within, now without, and yet are not in our sight. That is held as it were in the sight of our will which is done through intention and out of deliberation. But it often befalls, out of the great accustomedness of our pursuits, that the spirit runs back incidentally to its ingrained searchings, and, before it notices what it intends, weaves in invectere much delay there; that is, not to have its own wise men 1303Abefore its own sight. But he without doubt makes his own wise men stand before his own sight who restrains his own pursuits from all wandering, and, according to the purpose of his own deliberation, bestows them upon useful and necessary things alone. The mind holds and watches its own wise men as it were in its own sight, when it keeps vigil with so great care over its own zealous meditations that it may nowhere be allowed to turn aside the foot of its investigation, save whither it had directed them out of deliberation, insomuch that no wandering of its own searchings can escape past the effort of its own shrewdness even for a little.

1303BBut let us now see why he gathers his own wise men into one, or drives them to the inner parts: that they should show me, he says, the solution of the dream. As we have already said in the exposition of the other vision, it is one thing to discern cornere the divine judgments with the eye of contemplation and as it were through a dream, and another to weigh the reason of the same, and by the liveliness of one's own discretion to judge with what equity or with what usefulness they come to pass. That belongs to the seeing of the dream, this to the interpretation of the dream. We therefore see a dream in a certain manner, when we bring the hidden judgments of God into contemplation and admiration. We seek the interpretation of our dream when, after the sights of our contemplation, we investigate the reason, 1303Cthe manner and the order of those things which we have seen through the lifting up of the mind. Does it not belong to the seeing of the dream to bring into consideration those astonishing great works of the divine judgments which we read in the Scriptures, and to cleave longer and more diligently to the admiration of them? Does it not belong to the interpretation of the dream to seek their mystical understanding, and to be able to explain it through exposition? Was he not panting after dreams of this kind who said in prayer: Enlighten mine eyes, and I will consider the wondrous things of thy law (Psal. CXVIII). [Vulg. Ps. CXVIII:18 Revela oculos meos, "Uncover mine eyes"; this work prints Revela at 1253A and at 1262C] But how great a thing he would count it to receive grace divinely for the interpretation of dreams of this kind, you can weigh from that saying of his. For when he has premised concerning the Lord: Who declareth his word unto Jacob, his justices and his judgments unto Israel, he at once subjoins: 1303DHe hath not done in like manner to every nation, and his judgments he hath not made manifest unto them (Psal. CXLVII). He had already seen as a dream the things which he had caught out of the light of his own contemplation: that all things happen alike to the just and to the wicked, to the good and to the evil, to the clean and to the unclean, to him that immolates victims and to him that despises sacrifices. He had sought the interpretation of the dream, but had not yet found it, when in another place he said: Behold this I have found, said Ecclesiastes, one and another, that I might find out the reason which my soul still seeketh, and I have not found it (Eccle. VII). He must therefore gather his own wise men into one, and call them back to the inner parts, who desires to obtain grace for the interpretation of dreams of that kind which we have already determined. Then came in the soothsayers, the magicians, the Chaldeans and the diviners. Then, he says, 1304Athey came in. What is then, but after the decree, after the purpose of deliberation? For many often set forth many things, yet by no means do them, because as easily as they establish something, so easily do they again reject what was established.

First therefore it is to be observed by us that we establish useful things. But secondly, that we firmly hold what has been usefully established. Mark how firmly he established that which that best deliberator weighed to be best: I have sworn, he says, and I have determined to keep the judgments of thy justice (Psal. CXXVIII). Thou hast heard of the establishing of the vow; hear also of the performing of the vow: I will render my vows in the sight of all his people (Psal. CXV). [Vulg. Ps. CXV:14 Vota mea Domino reddam coram omni populo ejus, "I will pay my vows to the Lord before all his people"] Then came in the soothsayers, the magicians, the Chaldeans and the diviners. Above he set forth generally concerning the wise men of Babylon; 1304Bhere he expressed certain of them specially. The soothsayers, he says, the magicians, the Chaldeans and the diviners. But because it truly stands that wise men of this kind are not truly wise, Holy Scripture almost nowhere calls them wise save with a determination, but now of Babylon, now the king calls them the wise men of his own kingdom, or something of this sort. If therefore by the soothsayers, the magicians, the Chaldeans and the diviners we understand depraved pursuits, frivolous, foolish and empty pursuits, see how manfully, see how wholesomely we turn pursuits of this kind to spiritual exercises. And so we drive the wise men of Babylon to the inner parts, when the care and the solicitude which we were wont to bestow upon superfluous things we bestow upon spiritual things alone. We occupy the wise men of Babylon as it were 1304Cin the interpretation of dreams, when, superfluous pursuits being wholly set aside, we press singularly upon the unravelling of the divine mysteries or judgments.

But when the wise men had been brought in, the king still adds and says: And I told the dream in their sight, and they showed me not the solution thereof (Dan. IV). What, I ask, is it to tell our dreams in the sight of our wise men, but, after contemplation, to recall to memory the sights of our contemplation, to go over them with shrewd meditation, to discuss them with zealous thoughts, and out of the comparison of those things which we know 1304Dto loose the knots of our questions, and to wish to shape the investigation of spiritual things according to the accustomed manner of our searchings? Do we not tell our dreams in the sight of our wise men and seek the solution, when we bring together in a mutual comparison the things which we know of human matters and the things which we desire to know of divine ones, when, according to the learned manner and order of the disciplines handed down, we presume to discuss and to penetrate the perplexed things of the divine mysteries or judgments? But whatsoever in the divine secrets is presumed out of human effort is attempted in vain, and so long as it is sought in this manner, the labour is spent for nothing. According to that which is read of this dream: and they showed me not the solution thereof. Assuredly our wise men by no means find the solution 1305Aof dreams divinely shown, because the disciplines of our learning, or any human traditions whatsoever, cannot suffice for the discussion and the investigation of the divine secrets. For who would presume to search out that height of the divine counsel out of his own sense, when he hears the Lord's prophet crying and crying again: Who hath known the sense of the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor? (Isai. XL). [Vulg. Isa. XL:13 opens Quis adjuvit spiritum Domini, "Who hath helped the spirit of the Lord"; the wording printed here is that of Rom. XI:34, and this work prints the same verse with Quis novit at 1296D] Who would trust to penetrate that depth of the mysteries and of the divine Scriptures out of his own shrewdness, when he reads the apostle Peter, how he equally restrains all men from presumption of this kind? This, he says, first understanding, that prophecy of Scripture is not made by private interpretation (II Petr. I). [Vulg. quod omnis prophetia Scripturae, "that no prophecy of Scripture"] Without doubt the interpretation of the holy Scriptures 1305Bis never properly made without the mastery of him who inspired them.

If therefore we wish to be instructed unto the mystical understanding of the divine Scriptures, unto the learning of the divine judgments, we advance better toward this same thing by praying than by investigating, and we are illuminated more deeply by devout compunction than by profound searching. Whence it is that to those things which we have premised there is at once subjoined: Until my colleague Daniel came in before me, whose name is Balthassar according to 1305Cthe name of my God, who hath the spirit of the holy ones in himself (Dan. IV). [Vulg. Dan. IV:5 has deorum before sanctorum, "the spirit of the holy gods"; Richard restores the word in both of his own re-quotations below] Behold, he is said to have the spirit of the holy gods who is found fit for the interpretation of the dream. In this indeed, that these gods are called holy gods, those are assuredly excluded of whom it is sung in the psalm: All the gods of the Gentiles are devils (Psal. CXIII). But assuredly they who are designated in this place. They are believed to have the Holy Spirit; because, if they had not the Holy Spirit, they would not be holy gods. He is perceived to be of the number of these gods to whom by the Lord's voice it is said: Behold I have appointed thee the god of Pharao (Exod. VII). And so the Psalmist expressed gods of this kind, when in another place he said: I have said: You are gods, and all of you sons of the Most High (Psal. LXXXI). Every 1305Dholy man receives the spirit of gods of this kind, that he may be able to be holy. For all our justification, all our sanctification, is without any doubt from that spirit. Without this spirit we know not what we should pray, as we ought; for we have learned, by the Apostle's teaching, that it is he who maketh intercession for us with unspeakable groanings (Rom. VIII). [Vulg. Rom. VIII:26 reads postulat, "asketh"; interpellat, "maketh intercession", is the verb of Rom. VIII:34] That our devotion therefore may be able to be true, it must have this spirit. If therefore by Daniel true devotion is understood, rightly is it said of him through Nabuchodonosor: Who hath the spirit of the holy gods in himself. But since he expressed above certain wise men, and such as it truly stands are not truly wise, it is a wonder how Daniel is in this place said to be their colleague. For unless he has something in common with them, 1306AI know not how he should stand as their colleague. But this I know, that that spirit which Daniel, according to the testimony of Scripture, had received, makes men spiritual. But the spiritual man judgeth all things, and he himself is judged of no man. For the Spirit is wont to search all things, even the deep things of God. If the spiritual man judgeth all things, if the spirit searcheth all things, then those same things also which worldly philosophy searches; then those same things also which carnal prudence searches. If all things, then those also which any perverse doctrine whatsoever searches. For he who is spiritual is wont to discuss all things, that he may be able to judge all things. Hear finally how that spiritual man tried all things in his own wisdom, that he might be able to judge all things: I gave, he says, my heart, that I might know prudence and doctrine, and errors and folly (Eccle. I). Thou seest 1306Bhow this man searches out, how he searches, not only good morals, but also errors, not only prudence, but also folly. And so it belongs to true devotion to bring both good things and evil into contemplation, to investigate all things, to discuss all things, that thereafter it may also be able to judge all things. And so true devotion has, out of investigation and searching, something in common with the wise men of Babylon, so that it is deservedly said on that account to be their colleague. Yet they differ in intention. For true devotion investigates empty and perverse doctrines not for this, that it may cleave to them or place any confidence in them, but that by judging it may convict, confute and condemn them. And so our Daniel and the wise men of the world run by the same way through investigation, although 1306Cthrough intention they do not reach the same issue. Rightly therefore is Daniel called their colleague, with whom in the courses of his own pursuits he seems in some part to share.

Until my colleague Daniel came in before me. Thou weighest from these things, as I judge, how this Daniel now enters from outward things to inward, now goes forth from inward things to outward. He is outside when our devotion, by meditating, by judging, by praying, is solicitous concerning outward things. He is within when it is occupied with the same exercises or 1306Dpursuits, and solicitous for inward things. For it must needs provide good things before God and before men. Before men in speech and in work, before God in thought and in will. And so to call our deeds and our words back to judgment, and to make supplication to the Lord for them, this is for Daniel to be outside. To search out thoughts, affections, wills, intentions with deep searching, and to be pricked with compunction in prayer for such things, this is for Daniel to abide within. Or this is for Daniel to be outside: to weigh both our inward and our outward things according to human judgment; and this is for Daniel to be within: to esteem both these and those according to the divine judgment. When, even amid the good works which we do, when amid the useful things 1307Awhich we say, we weigh with subtle examination what men would think of us, what they ought to think, if they saw our intentions, if they saw our sordid thoughts, if they saw our depraved affections; when, I say, we do this, we hold Daniel as it were outside. But when it is sought with zealous discussion how our works or our words are judged in the sight of God, even then when according to human judgment they seem good, when such a pursuit is pressed with great devotion, our Daniel is found within. What therefore is it for Daniel to enter to the inner parts, but out of inmost devotion, in those things which are to be discussed or to be sought concerning outward things as well as inward, to have recourse to the divine judgment? And it often comes to pass, while our wise men fail in the interpretation 1307Bof dreams, while zealous meditations, while inmost searchings presume to penetrate the hidden things of the divine judgments, the deep things of the divine mysteries, and cannot; it comes to pass, I say, often, that the mind, after a failure of this kind, admonished by that very failure of its own, returns to itself, attends more diligently to its own infirmity, and more fully acknowledges that without God's help it can do nothing. Then it begins, out of the consideration of its own infirmity, to groan, to sigh, to reprove its own presumptions, and now to hope from the Lord's revelation alone for the things it had before emptily presumed upon out of its own pursuits, and to press wholly upon the zeal of devotion. And this is for Daniel to enter after the wise men.

• 1307C

Until my colleague, he says, Daniel came in before me, whose name is Balthassar. Balthassar is interpreted hair of the head. Rightly therefore is Daniel called Balthassar, because our mind is adorned out of true devotion, and out of true devotion is made subtle unto every depth. But in this place, when Daniel is called Balthassar, something is added that still lies hidden, whereby, as I judge, we are called forth to a deeper understanding. Daniel, he says, whose name is Balthassar, according to the name of my God. But this we now wish to forewarn in this place, that many places of the Scriptures sound something foolish or perverse according to the history, 1307Dwhich nevertheless, when mystically discussed, speak something right according to the spiritual understanding. For that Daniel is called Balthassar by the king according to the name of his god, what else does it seem to sound, according to the letter, than idolatry? But as blessed Gregory says: « Often any thing whatsoever is, through the history, a virtue, and through the signification a fault, just as sometimes a deed done is, in the fact, a cause of damnation, but in the writing, a prophecy of virtue. » For when he was treating of king David's fault, while he was treating of Urias's innocence, when he had wished to interpret Christ by the adulterous David, and by the innocent Urias the Jewish people: what, he says, through this effect can be said more wicked than David, what more clean than Urias? But again, through the mystery, what is found more sacred than David, what more faithless than Urias, when the one by 1308Athe fault of his life signifies the innocence of prophecy, and the other by the innocence of his life expresses in prophecy a fault? For the virtue of the sacred discourse so narrates things past that it may express things to come. So it approves a thing in the fact, that it may contradict it in the mystery. So it condemns things done, that it may persuade that these same things are to be done mystically. So also in this place assuredly, that which according to the history is reprehensible can, according to the mystery, express something commendable. Whose name, he says, is Balthassar according to the name of my God. If by the royal person we rightly understand the royal spirit, whom, I ask, does he call his God but Christ? For although the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit is truly one and the same God, yet every religious man rightly says, according to a certain manner of speaking, that Christ is his own: by whose name 1308Bhe remembers that he was marked, by whose grace he was prevented, and to whose person, finally, he acknowledges that he cleaves more familiarly through the mystery of the Incarnation, out of the communion of nature. But if Balthassar is interpreted hair of the head, let us now see how this name may seem to agree with Christ, or how according to this name of his God the mystical Daniel is deservedly named. But we know that the head of the man is Christ, and the head of Christ, God. We know without doubt that God the Trinity is the beginning of all creatures; we know none the less that the person of the Father is the beginning of the other persons in the Trinity. And although it is called a beginning here and there according to one manner and another, yet in both places it can be called a beginning as fittingly 1308Cas truly. Since therefore the person of the Father is the beginning of all things, he can by right be designated by the head. If therefore the Holy Spirit is called by a likeness the finger of God, why should not Christ likewise be called by a likeness the hair of this head? The hair arises from the head, and Christ is begotten of the Father. The Lord said to me: Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee (Hebr. I). The head is adorned with hair, and the Father is glorified through Christ: Father, he says, glorify thy Son, that thy Son may glorify thee (Joan. XVII). Thou seest certainly how justly Christ is called Balthassar, that is, the hair of the head, whom the Catholic faith truly confesses to be the true Son of God the Father. Do not we also receive this name, when from Christ 1308Dand through Christ we obtain that we ought deservedly to be called sons of God? Brethren, says John the apostle, we are the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be (I Joan. III). [Vulg. I John III:2 opens Carissimi, nunc, "Dearly beloved, now"; and it reads apparuit, "hath appeared", for the present apparet] Hence it is that to him who of his own will begot us by the word of his power we say in our daily prayer: Our Father who art in heaven (Matth. VI). If therefore Christ can fittingly enough be called Balthassar, because he is the Son of the highest Father, why should not the true Christian also be called Balthassar according to the said reason of the name, who according to the grace of adoption is reckoned among the sons of the same God the Father? Yet not every Christian is worthy of this name or of this honour. Devotion alone it is that distinguishes them; devotion alone makes sons of God. If therefore devotion is understood in Daniel, see how rightly he is called Balthassar in effect. Through whom 1309Aany man whatsoever is adopted into the liberty of the sons. But what else is devotion, but the fervent love of the mind toward God? But the charity of God is poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who is given to us (Rom. V). Rightly therefore is devotion called the hair of the head, which seems as it were to flow forth from the highest head of all, while it is begotten out of the inspiration of the highest Father. Rightly is he called Balthassar who after the manner of hair seems to cleave to the highest head of all. Thou weighest, as I judge, from these things how great is the virtue of true devotion, which makes a son of God, which joins the human spirit to God, and makes it with him as it were one spirit. He who indeed cleaveth to God, is one spirit (I Cor. VI). [Vulg. I Cor. VI:17 reads Domino, "to the Lord", where the plate prints Deo]

• 1309B

Daniel having entered, the king speaks the dream before him, as is shown by the words that follow: And the dream, he says, I spoke before him (Dan. IV). To speak a dream of this kind before Daniel is, in the time of praying, to be touched by the memory of the mysteries concerning which we desire to be divinely instructed, and while praying to be affected with the desire of divine revelation. For as those recognize by experience who have deserved to be divinely relieved and gladdened by frequent relievings, in the time of praying most of all are they wont to receive the light of illuminating grace, and out of its inspiration to penetrate the deep things of the mysteries. For out of inmost compunction 1309Cthe spirit is washed and cleansed, and beyond doubt the purer it is rendered, the more easily, the more deeply is it illuminated. Hence it is that Balaam testifies of himself: He hath said, the hearer of the words of God, who hath beheld the vision of God almighty, who falleth, and so his eyes shall be opened (Num. XXIV). [Vulg. Num. XXIV:4 has no Dei after omnipotentis, and reads aperiuntur, "are opened", for the future aperientur] What is it that is said, that by falling the eyes are opened, but that while praying the intellectual sense is often opened. We are indeed wont often to prostrate ourselves upon the earth with the whole body, when we wish to pray more attentively. So far therefore as it seems to look to the exposition of the letter, his eyes are opened as it were by falling who receives the light of revealing grace while he prostrates himself in prayer. But if the same letter is mystically discussed, it seems to run together into the same meaning. For what is it to fall, 1309Dbut to humble oneself out of the remembrance of one's own sins, and out of true contrition to lay aside the rigidity of the heart? But the spirit often, while it casts itself down in this manner, rises again in a greater grace, because by falling it recovers the light of its own eyes, which, being ill upraised, it was holding closed. Yet we can say that this without doubt is to fall: to consent to a flattering fault. But we know that there are some who lift themselves up out of the multitude of their own revelations. But those who are of this kind are permitted, by the worthy judgment of God, to fall, that they may cease to be proud. While therefore they slip into fault, they are confounded, they are pricked with compunction; being pricked they are purged, being purged they are illuminated. But if, being illuminated, they are again proud, by being proud they lose the light which they had received. And so, being illuminated 1310Aand lifted up, they are cast down again and again; having fallen and been humbled, they are illuminated again and again. This vicissitude of falling and of rising again they often alternate, and many long and much frequent these manners of alternating. But many at length conclude this custom of alternating with a most evil end, of whom it stands that they received the grace of spiritual charisms not so much for their own advantage as for that of others. Of these without doubt Balaam bore the type by his own works, and expressed their property in his own words, when he says: He hath said, the hearer of the words of God, who seeth the vision of the Almighty, who falleth, and so his eyes are opened. [Vulg. Num. XXIV:4 has the perfect, "hath beheld", where this second printing prints the present videt, "seeth"; the printing at 1309C keeps the perfect]

• 1310B

But that we may return to that from which we digressed, we hold this for certain: that many often, in the time of their prayer, receive the light of revealing grace, and that many advance to grace of this kind out of the virtue of devotion. Hence it is that the king with all confidence demands of Daniel the interpretation of his dream, when he says: Balthassar, prince of the soothsayers, whom I know that thou hast the spirit of the holy gods in thee, and every sacrament is not impossible to thee. Tell the visions of my dreams which I saw, and the solution of them (Dan. IV). [Vulg. quoniam ego scio, "forasmuch as I know"; the relative printed here leaves the clause without a governing verb] In these words this first is to be noted, that he is here called prince of the soothsayers who above was called their colleague, and not theirs only, 1310Cbut of the other wise men of Babylon also. Among the secular kinds of learning we assuredly know some to be useful and necessary for use, but others (such as the art of soothsaying is) altogether perverse. If therefore true devotion can turn those which are without doubt perverse to some use of virtue, and can constrain within them a certain princedom of the spiritual soldiery, even as here we can gather from the art of soothsaying, what then is to be thought of those which can be useful and good? For, to say nothing of the rest, does not Daniel then hold the princedom, is not any perverse learning whatsoever compelled to be subservient to devotion, when from the consideration of it human error is more fully recognized, when from the going over of it again the spirit is humbled, confounded, pricked with compunction, and stirred up to the 1310Dzeals of devotion? Does not any perverse learning whatsoever serve devotion, when the spirit exacts of itself the times which it was wont to waste in useless studies of this kind, when from the comparison it gathers how much he ought to watch over spiritual studies who goes over again in his mind that he once sweated at follies so great? And so let Daniel be understood as the colleague of the said wise men in such wise, that he be believed to hold among them, by the right of equity, a certain princedom of the spiritual soldiery. All secular kinds of learning, therefore, ought to be subservient to spiritual studies, and to presume nothing in their exercises which does not serve as a soldier for the gains of true devotion. When therefore we press importunately upon the secular kinds of learning, when by the importunity of our studies we interrupt the exercises of our devotion, we assuredly compel him who ought to hold the princedom, 1311ADaniel namely, to serve. But it must be attended to how great an evil it is to abuse even good kinds of learning, and by the abuse of them to have better studies hindered, when out of the office of devotion any perverse learning whatsoever ought, and is wont, to be bent to good uses.

Now rightly is devotion set before good studies, rightly does it hold the princedom over evil ones, rightly is the primacy among all the wise men of Babylon granted to Daniel, if that stands truly which is said through Nabuchodonosor: I know that thou hast the spirit of the holy gods in thee, and every sacrament is not impossible to thee. Does not 1311Bthis seem to agree with that sentence, if it be rightly weighed, which is heard from the mouth of Truth: Amen I say to you, whatsoever you shall have asked in praying, believe that you shall receive, and it shall be done unto you (Marc. VI). [Vulg. Mark 11:24 Propterea dico vobis, omnia quaecumque orantes petitis … et evenient vobis, "Therefore I say to you, all things whatsoever you ask … and they shall come unto you"] But that devotion is not true and full which cannot believe the attestation of Truth. But if it can believe, it can by asking and believing obtain. And so to the highest devotion no sacrament becomes impossible, if it can be obtained out of faith. Rightly therefore does the judgment of the spirit strive to obtain, out of the virtue of devotion, that which is proved by the testimony of Truth not to be impossible to it. Tell, he says, the visions of my dreams which I saw, and the solutions of them. [Vulg. and the lemma at 1310B print the singular, solutionem] The best kind of zeal, therefore, is to bestow the highest care upon the highest devotion, in that no sacrament, according to the reason demonstrated, 1311Cis impossible to it. According to the example, then, of king Nabuchodonosor, let us set our Daniel before any wise men of ours whatsoever; let us compel all our studies, all our exercises, to be subservient to the gains of true devotion; and then beyond doubt we shall not attempt in vain whatsoever we usefully presume, with God's help, concerning the divine mysteries out of his office. But now let us pursue the order of the vision, and let us search out the sense of the spiritual understanding, at least according to moral edification, leaving greater things to greater wits.

1311DThe vision, he says, of my head in my bed. I was seeing, and behold a tree in the midst of the earth, and the height thereof excessive. A great tree, and strong, and the tallness thereof reaching unto heaven; the sight of it was even unto the ends of all the earth. The leaves thereof most beautiful, and the fruit thereof excessive, and in it the food of all. Under it dwelt the animals and the beasts, and in the branches thereof abode the birds of heaven, and of it all flesh did eat (Dan. IV). As is plain from the things above, the vision of the head is the understanding of the mind. The bed, moreover, is the tranquillity of the heart and the leisure of a zealous quiet. The vision of the head in the bed is divinely perceived when, amid the secret leisures of its zeal, the human mind is lifted up by divine inbreathing to the contemplation of truth. I was seeing, he says, and 1312Abehold a tree in the midst of the earth. It is one thing to see the things themselves in their own being, and another to see them in reason alone, or in the highest truth. It is one thing to see each of them in its own proper essence, and far another to see them in wisdom alone. It is one thing to see the substances of things in their genera and species, and another to see them singly in their individuals. The latter belongs to sense or to imagination, but that first one belongs to reason and to contemplation. When therefore the mind is caught up to a certain universal consideration of things, and is divinely lifted up to behold the beauty of the universe, and is delightfully fixed and wonderfully refreshed in a contemplation of this kind and in the sweetness of contemplation, it often sees in the divine light how many and of what sort the kinds of things must needs be, 1312Band holds it unshaken that nothing of all those which the order of the highest disposition and the beauty of the universe require can be utterly lacking. For example, it sees that there must needs be good men and likewise evil, and among the good some better than others, and some best of all; and so among the evil, some worse than others, and some worst of all. It sees none the less that some must needs be evil and persevere in evil, others be evil and forsake malice for ever, and others forsake it for a time and return again to malice. So, conversely, it sees that some are good and persevere in good, that others fall irrecoverably, that others after a lapse return to goodness. Of this sixth kind of things he seems to be whom Nabuchodonosor contemplates in the light of God, who is shown to him by a likeness, at whom also, after 1312Che had returned to himself, he wondered within himself, or even had pity. He was seeing that the beauty of the universe required such a one, and that such a one could by no means be lacking; and yet he knew not that he himself was such a one, or that he bore in himself the image of such a man as should fall suddenly from so great a sublimity, and lie long in the lowest places, and yet at last return to his former state. This is what it is that the great tree is first raised up on high, is afterward cut away, and yet its roots are kept in the earth, whence it may be repaired again. Let us therefore see, we also, and let us learn from him what kind of tree it is that he sees, or how it fell, or how that could fall which was so great and of such a kind.

• 1312D

I was seeing, he says, and behold a great tree in the midst of the earth, and the height thereof excessive. [Vulg. Dan. 4:7, and the lemma printed at 1311D, have ecce arbor in medio terrae, without "great"] What shall we understand by the greatness of the tree, but the immense strength of virtue? Was not that also a great tree which received the fullness of grace and of fortitude? Stephen, he says, full of grace and fortitude (Act. VI). Behold a great tree in the midst of the earth, and the height thereof excessive. This tree, therefore, was great, was high, and was in the midst of the earth. It spread itself out to many and great things by virtue, it raised itself to high things by subtlety, and it stood in the inmost things by intention. It stretched itself out to strong things, it raised itself to the highest things, and it remained fixed in the inmost things. 1313AIt was in great things by exercise, in the highest by zeal, in the inmost by desire. Because therefore it did strong things, it was a great tree; because it desired inmost goods, it was in the midst of the earth; because it thought subtly of sublime things, its height was great. A great tree, he says, and strong, and the tallness thereof reaching unto heaven. Behold a great tree, a robust tree, a tall tree. Great for doing good things, strong for enduring evil things, tall for contemplating sublime things. Great in actions, strong in temptations, sublime in investigations. Consider how high it was, whose tallness even touched heaven. Its tallness touched heaven, because the sublimity of its investigation penetrated the heavenly things. And so its tallness was high, and its height was tall. Truly it was a great height 1313Bwhich plunged itself into the highest and heavenly things. Choose therefore, in the consideration of this tree, what thou mayest wonder at the more: its greatness, its strength, or its tallness. A great tree, he says, and strong, and the tallness thereof reaching unto heaven, A great tree it was, which could truly say: Everywhere and in all things I am instructed. I know how to be humbled, I know also how to abound, and to suffer want. I can do all things in him who strengtheneth me (Philipp. IV). [Vulg. Phil. 4:12 Scio et humiliari, scio et abundare (ubique et in omnibus institutus sum) et satiari, et esurire, et abundare, et penuriam pati: the received text has institutus, "taught," for instructus, and sets the "everywhere and in all things" clause after the two verbs, not before them] A strong tree it was, which could confidently say: I will not fear what man can do unto me. If armies in camp should stand together against me, my heart shall not fear (Psal. LV). If a battle should rise up against me, in this will I hope (Psal. XXVI). Beyond the other trees it was tall, which doubted not to say of itself: And I went beyond in wisdom all that were before me in Hierusalem, and 1313Cmy mind hath contemplated many things wisely, and hath learned (Eccle. I). [Vulg. Eccl. 1:16 et didici, "and I have learned," in the first person; Migne's third person makes "my mind" the subject] Its tallness touched heaven, who could truly say: We speak wisdom among the perfect, yet not the wisdom of this world, nor of the princes of this world that are brought to nought. But we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, which is hidden, which he predestined before the worlds, which none of the princes of this world hath known (II Cor. XXIX). But see, whosoever thou art that hearest or readest these things, if perchance thy height is great; see, I say, and diligently attend, lest perchance it be also excessive. This perhaps was blameworthy in the tree here described, this perhaps stood as the cause of its cutting down, that its height was excessive. And the height thereof, he says, excessive. Perhaps Nabuchodonosor was walking in great things and in things wonderful 1313Dabove himself, and this perhaps stood to him as the cause of his ruin. Perhaps Nabuchodonosor was minded of high things, and therefore his height was excessive: Be not, says the Apostle, high-minded, but fear (Rom. XI). For as for him who eats much honey it is not good for him, so he who is a searcher of majesty shall be overwhelmed by glory. Seek not therefore the things that are higher than thee, lest perchance thy tallness be too high. The searcher of majesty is overwhelmed by glory, and that tree deserves the sentence of cutting down whose height is excessive. Were not trees of this kind high, and did they not justly deserve to be cut down, which, when they had known God, glorified him not as God, or gave thanks: But they became vain in their thoughts, and their foolish heart was darkened (Rom. I).

• 1314A

But let us hear what is further said of this tree in that which follows: The sight of it was even unto the ends of all the earth. The sight of a tree of this kind reaches unto the ends of all the earth, when the dignity of his name who is of this kind is alike revered by those near him through likeness of morals and by those far off through unlikeness of morals, and his authorities are alike loved by the good and feared by the evil. Did not his sight stand forth even unto the ends of all the earth, of whom the truth of that sentence stood firm: We are the good odour of Christ unto God in them that are saved, and in them that perish. To some indeed the odour of death unto 1314Bdeath, but to others the odour of life unto life (II Cor. II). Was not the sight of those trees also spread abroad even unto the ends of all the earth, of which it is truly said: Their sound hath gone forth into all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world (Psal. LXXXI). But according to a certain other sense also the sight of our tree in our own selves lies open even unto the ends of all the earth, when now the experience of his own virtue is hidden from no one of us, neither in great things nor in the least. For if by the tree we take virtue, and by the sight of the tree the cognizance of virtue, when we have now learned with much zeal and much exercise what we can do in each several matter, what else have we done than publish the sight of our tree even unto the ends of all the earth? Had he not published the sight of his tree 1314Ceven unto the ends of all the earth, and had he not already begun the experience of his own virtue through all things, who truly affirms of himself that which we have already set down above. For I have learned in what things I am sufficient. I know how to be humbled, I know also how to abound everywhere, and in all things I am instructed (Philipp. VI). [Vulg. Phil. 4:12 Scio et humiliari, scio et abundare (ubique et in omnibus institutus sum); this second printing also reverses the order of the two members against the printing at 1313B]

There is further added concerning this tree: The leaves thereof most beautiful, and the fruit thereof excessive, and in it the food of all. In the leaves, words; in the fruit, learning; in the food, teaching. By the leaves the fruit is clothed, and by well-composed words 1314Dthe sentence is adorned: For the mouth of the wise adorneth learning (Prov. XV). [Vulg. Prov. 15:2 Lingua sapientium, "the tongue of the wise"] Good fruit has savour and feeds; and spiritual learning sweetly refreshes spiritual hunger by holy admonition. And so the most beautiful leaves are eloquent words; the copious fruit is an instructed sense, a manifold intellect. The food of all is the full instruction of all, the discreet admonition of each. Beautiful leaves of words, as I judge, that tree had, and it abounded in the fruits of good senses and of useful counsels, which could truly say: They that heard me waited for my sentence, and being attentive held their peace at my counsel. To my words they durst add nothing, and my speech dropped upon them (Job XXIX). Copious fruit that tree had, which could say in truth: But to me 1315AGod hath given to speak according to my mind, for he himself hath given me the true learning of those things which are: that I may know the disposition of the whole world, and the virtues of the elements; the beginning and the ending, and the midst of the times; the alterations of their courses, and the endings of the times; the changes of manners, and the divisions of times; the courses of the year, and the dispositions of the stars; the natures of animals, and the rages of beasts; the force of winds, and the thoughts of men; the differences of shrubs, and the virtues of roots; and whatsoever things are hidden and unforeseen, I have learned (Sap. VII). Was not the food of all in him who acknowledged himself a debtor unto this very thing, when he said: To the Greeks and to the barbarians, to the wise and to the unwise, I am a debtor (Rom. I). Is not the food of all in him who by his teaching can edify 1315Ball? Has he not the food of all in himself, who by the spirit of counsel which presides over his mind, and by the grace of discretion in which he is strong, is sufficiently able to instruct with wholesome counsel and to raise up with kindly admonition those beset by any temptation whatsoever, those oppressed by any tribulation whatsoever? Does not he likewise, so far as pertains to himself, find the food of all in himself, who knows how by his own meditations and spiritual theories to nourish any holy desires whatsoever, and to inflame his own spirit to any good works whatsoever, as often and as much as he has willed? But, as we hinted above concerning the height of the tree, let us see whether perchance this also be blameworthy in it, that it is said to have excessive fruit. For it is not 1315Csaid that its fruit was much, or its fruit copious, but its fruit, he says, excessive. He reproves excessive fruit who says, In superfluous matters search not manifoldly. It is one thing importunately to seek things impossible, though perchance they be useful, and another curiously to investigate things useless, though these also be possible. The former pertains to the excess of height, the latter pertains to the superfluity of fruits. The presumption of things incomprehensible is forbidden when it is said: Seek not the things that are too high for thee, and search not out things stronger than thee, but the things which God hath commanded thee, etc. (Eccle. III.) The curiosity of superfluous things is reproved in that it is said, In superfluous matters search not manifoldly, and in many of his works be not curious. Will you hear of trees 1315Dwhich are of this kind, which will not temper the boldness of presumption and of curiosity, how often they incur the sentence of cutting down: For the suspicion of them, he says, hath supplanted many, and hath held their sense in vanity (Eccli. III).

We have heard from what precedes of what learning he was who is designated by this tree; let us hear yet from what follows of what discipline he was. We have heard how by teaching he could either instruct the untaught or inform the ill-advised; let us hear how by discipline he is wont both to press down the carnal and to raise up the spiritual. 1316AUnder it dwelt the animals and the beasts, and in the branches thereof abode the birds of heaven, and of it all flesh did eat. By the animals and the beasts understand animal men, carnal and secular minds; by the birds take the spiritual, flying to heavenly things on the wings of good zeals and of holy desires. Now we are wont to see two kinds of carnal men. One indeed which serves concupiscence, the other which yields to wrathfulness. And so by the animals we understand minds given over to pleasure; by the beasts, wrathful minds. If by beasts we can fitly understand none but wild animals, it remains that under the name of animals we ought here to understand tame ones only. Rightly therefore are voluptuous minds designated by the animals, which serve the belly alone. 1316BRightly none the less are wrathful minds designated by the beasts, which rage with tooth and claw. Of such, therefore, it is rightly said: Under it dwelt the animals and the beasts, in that minds of this kind, dissolute through concupiscence or wrathfulness, ought indeed justly to be pressed down by the rigor of discipline. Rightly did the birds of heaven abide in the branches, and as it were in the higher places, in that spiritual men, kindled with heavenly desires, ought deservedly both to be raised into authority and to be exalted with worthy honor: Under it, he says, dwelt the animals and the beasts, and in the branches thereof abode the birds of heaven. Therefore it confined the bestial in the lowest places, but lifted the spiritual into the high places. Let our prelates learn, let them learn here what they ought to do; 1316Clet them learn, I say, to press down undisciplined morals, to lift up and to honor the good. What, I ask, is this kind of monstrous thing, that the trees of our time bear in their branches bears and lions, or any other bestial minds whatsoever of this sort, but press down in the lowest places the birds of heaven and any feathered flying creatures whatsoever, against the laws of their condition and the ordinances of the Creator? How often have I myself seen, and seeing have groaned over, the wicked man exalted above measure and lifted up above the cedars of Lebanon. What, I ask, is it that you do, who lift up on high brute and bestial hearts of this kind, and suspend them as it were in the air? If you truly love them, why do you not spare them? What, I ask, do you prepare for them but ruin, while you suspend them on high and bear them as it were in your branches? What else shall each man say to him who exalted him, or rather 1316Dto him who subverted him, at the end, in the very border of ruin, but that lifting me up thou hast dashed me down? Let the birds of heaven abide in the branches, and let those whom the wing of sanctity lifts up hold their place in the highest. Let the beasts hold their place beneath the branches in the lowest, and let those who have downward-bent faces through the appetite of the flesh feel the strictness of a devout severity and of a just humiliation. Under it dwelt the animals and the beasts, and in the branches thereof abode the birds of heaven, and of it all flesh did eat. Of that tree assuredly does all flesh eat, by whose examples of virtues all are edified, by whose consolations all are cherished, by whose benefits all are strengthened and are refreshed with teaching. O what a tree, O of how great a sublimity, to which so great a proclamation of praise belongs!

• 1317A

But this very thing also which is said of this tree we fulfil in our own selves, if we restrain carnal affections under the rigor of discipline, and occupy our thoughts in the circumspection of our morals, and through spiritual meditations nourish all our senses in good desires. For what do we understand by the flying creatures but subtle thoughts, and what by the fourfooted and earthly creatures but carnal affections? By the animals, those desires which arise beside reason; by the beasts, those which strive against reason: beside reason, the vain and frivolous; against reason, the perverse and hurtful. By the tree, as has been 1317Bsaid, we take the strength of fortitude, and rightly by the branches of the tree we understand the works and the exercises of virtue. And from branches of this kind we gather in their own season the fruits of good merits, according as we have heard through the Prophet: Thou shalt eat the labours of thy hands, blessed art thou, and it shall be well with thee (Psal. CXXVII). From branches of this kind come forth the fruits of wholesome counsels and of subtle understandings, when through many trials the exercises of the virtues instruct a man unto the perfection of discretion and of learning. For many things which we cannot attain by investigation we learn more fully and more certainly by experience; hence that saying of the Psalmist: By thy commandments I have understood (Psal. CXVIII). He understands from the commandments who, from that 1317Cwhich he does, advances to a greater understanding. Hence it is that elsewhere it is written: In the understandings of his hands he led them (Psal. LXVII). He leads another in the understandings of his hands who directs him by sure steps of advancement to the way of truth which he has learned through the trials of works. Small and of little certainty is that learning which the experience of things does not help and confirm: hence it is that it is said through the Wise Man: He that is not experienced knoweth few things (Eccle. XXXIV). But not only from the good things which we do, but also from the evils which we endure, are we instructed unto discretion, and from the very temptations we are made more prudent. Of this that voice of the Wise Man admonishes us, which says: He that hath not been tempted, what doth he know? (Ibid.) [Vulg. Sir. 34:11 Qui tentatus non est, qualia scit?, "what manner of things doth he know?"] A man experienced in many things hath thought many things, and he who 1317Dhath learned many things shall declare understanding. [Vulg. Sir. 34:9 cogitabit, future, "shall think many things"] And so from the branches of the tree fruit is gathered, because from much exercise of the virtues learning shall be multiplied. And the more perfect and the more approved each man is, the more abundant fruits he begets, and the more delightfully he refreshes. But for the perfect, says the Apostle, is solid food, for them who by custom have their senses exercised unto the discerning of good and evil (Hebr. V). Good indeed, and branches of a good tree, are those which bear such fruit and beget the food of souls; which receive the flying creatures of heaven and suspend sublime thoughts on high; which cover the beasts and press down the assaults of the flesh. I think that the Apostle too was pressing down the animals beneath branches of this kind, when he said: I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection (I Cor. IX). But he who 1318Awould accustom the birds of heaven to the branches of a tree of this kind, let his will be in the law of the Lord, and in his law let him meditate day and night.

Let us beware, therefore, of making our nest in the earth after the manner of certain birds, or of living in watery places, and of forsaking the branches of the tree; and let us be ashamed to cleave to worldly cares and to the desires of the flesh by the importunity of unremitting thoughts: Mind the things that are above, says the Apostle, not the things that are upon the earth (Coloss. III). And so our birds ought for a season to be lifted up to heavenly things, and to be suspended in the contemplation of eternal things, and again, after their sublime flights, to return to the branches of their own tree, and there to tarry, nay even to dwell. For what else is it for the birds of heaven always to return to the branches of their own tree, and to inhabit there, 1318Bbut for the thoughts of one's own heart frequently to be called back to the consideration of one's own morals and works, and to press the more often upon the circumspection of them, and to lean upon it the more vehemently? Hence it is that it is said through Solomon: The sun riseth and setteth, and returneth to his own place (Eccle. I); for the sun of the understanding, after its rising and after the ascent of sublime contemplation, returns again to its own place, and the eye of the heart is called back to the circumspection of itself, that it may again be lifted up to higher things. For the heart which sleeps as to the keeping of itself quickly loses the grace of contemplation which it had received. Rightly therefore is it said of this tree, and in the branches thereof abode the birds of heaven, in that the circumspections of the mind ought chiefly to be watchful about the custody of themselves. Behold, we have now 1318Cheard what we ought to think concerning a tree of this kind. Yet let no one suppose that I believe king Nabuchodonosor to have been such as he hears me describe out of the mystical signification: for neither was he such in his own person, but out of his own person he prefigured such a man, and in the tree he saw he designated such a one. But let us meanwhile pursue the mystical description, and we shall find perhaps in it what we may justly wonder at; and not only what we ought to admire, but rather what we may worthily bewail, and what we ought deservedly to fear concerning ourselves.

Let us hear therefore what he further says of this tree, and let each man learn and groan at what he ought to fear: 1318DI was seeing in the vision of my head upon my bed, and behold a watcher, and a holy one came down from heaven, and cried out mightily, and said thus: Cut down the tree and cut off its branches; shake off its leaves and scatter its fruit. Let the beasts flee which are under it, and the birds from its branches (Dan. IV). [Vulg. Dan. 4:11 dispergite fructus ejus, plural, "scatter its fruits"; the exposition at 1321C–D follows the singular printed here] Woe to the sons of Adam, woe to the human condition. What, I ask, how much soever he shall have advanced, how much soever he shall have ascended, will he be able to be secure for the rest, if so great a man and one so perfect could fall from so great a sublimity, and that as it were within the moment of a single hour? Let us call to mind, therefore, of what sort he is described above out of the mystical tree who here is bidden to be cut off, and then we shall the better recognize how justly the ruin of morals 1319Ais feared by those who are set upon any height of virtue whatsoever. In the greatness of the tree we wonder at the measure of fortitude; in its height, at the profundity of subtlety; in the spreading of its sight, at the greatness of authority. In the beauty of its leaves, at the eloquence of speech; in the excess of its fruits, at the multitude of instruction; in the food of all, at the teaching of edification; in the subjection of the beasts, at the rigor of severity; in the cohabitation of the birds, at the providence of circumspection. Who therefore, unless he be mad, promises himself security amid so great a hazard of mutability, if he was truly once such a one who afterward was cut down and fell? Truly, as the Scripture says: Blessed is the man who is always fearful. For he knoweth not what the day to come may bring forth (Prov. XXVIII). [Vulg. Prov. 27:1 ignoras enim quid superventura pariat dies, "for thou knowest not what the day to come may bring forth"; the second clause is not part of Prov. 28:14, to which the note points]

• 1319B

Yet let no one think that God has no care for human things, let no one dare rashly to reprehend his judgments, when he sees or hears that something has happened beside expectation, or against reason, as it seems to him. Behold, he by whom the sentence of cutting down is given or dispensed is said to have come down from heaven and to have been holy. Behold, he says, a holy watcher came down from heaven. [Vulg. Dan. 4:10 and the lemma at 1318D read vigil, et sanctus, two subjects, "a watcher, and a holy one"] When therefore thou hearest that the minister of this work comes from heaven, understand that this is done by God's disposition; and when thou readest that he is holy, believe that he justly executes that which is just. Behold, a watcher and a holy one came down from heaven. About the care of men both the good angels and the evil expend a perpetual solicitude, and neither by night nor by day do they withdraw themselves even for a little from this 1319Csolicitude; but the evil are watchful for assailing, the good for protecting, so that both may rightly enough be called watchers. But that it is a good angel who either learned this sentence from heaven or disposed it on earth is sufficiently shown from this, that he is reported to be holy and to have come down from heaven. O how rightly does this name befit the good angels, upon whom the sleep of error or of forgetfulness never creeps as touching the business of our salvation! O height of angelic devotion! They who are secure concerning themselves yet bear solicitude for us. Of this watch of the angels about our salvation, and of their watchful custody, is that apostolic sentence: Are they not all ministering spirits, sent in ministry 1319Dfor them who receive the inheritance of salvation? (Hebr. I.) [Vulg. Heb. 1:14 qui haereditatem capient salutis, future, "who shall receive the inheritance of salvation"; the received text also runs Nonne omnes sunt administratorii spiritus] What else, therefore, is it for watchers of this kind to come down from heaven, but for the ministers of our salvation to have a care of earthly things, and, according to what they divinely learn in the highest things, to dispose human affairs also in the lowest? Rightly therefore is it said: Behold, a watcher and a holy one came down from heaven, and cried out mightily; and said thus: Cut off the tree. [Vulg. Dan. 4:11 and the lemma at 1318D read Succidite arborem, "Cut down the tree"] And so some things there are which the good angels do by themselves, others which they permit to be done, nothing at all is anywhere done without their disposition. Good things therefore are done by their cooperation, but evil things by their permission. Good things therefore are administered through the good angels, evil things through the evil. Since he knew that to overthrow, as regards the state of rectitude, was an evil, the good angel was unwilling to cut off the tree; nevertheless, because he knew that the merit of this one man, 1320Aor the good of the universe, required it, he permitted it to be done. For in that he says, Cut off the tree, understand a permission and not a precept. For herein obedience is not enjoined upon the malignant spirits, but licence is granted. This at length he permitted them at some time to do, which he was not ignorant that they had long and much desired. Hence it is that it is said by the Lord to Judas the betrayer: That which thou dost, do quickly (Joan. XIII). For herein a precept is not enjoined upon him, but the faculty of acting is conceded.

Now it is known to all that we are wont to use the outcry of a great voice as often as we would make something known to those set far off. But what stands farther apart one from another than an angelic spirit and a malignant spirit, not so much by the distance of place as by the 1320Bdiversity of will? Hence it is that that prodigal son, who is read to have wasted all his substance in living riotously with harlots, is reported in the Gospel to have gone away into a far country (Luc. XV), in that, made distant by the depravation of his will, he is estranged from the good pleasure of the supreme Father. According to this manner, therefore, they are assuredly far distant from one another, distinguished and disjoined by a lot so various and so contrary: an angel confirmed in good, an angel confirmed in evil; an angel deputed to glory, and an angel consigned to Gehenna. Rightly therefore is that watcher and holy one reported to have cried out mightily, that from this it might be openly given to understand of what kind those angels were, and how far removed from a good angel they might be seen to be, to whom a sentence of the watchers, dictated from heaven, is made known not without a mighty outcry. 1320CYet there is among certain of the good angels also a great distance, a difference not of contrary will but of supereminent dignity, becomingly ordained of God. Whence neither does it seem incongruous if some outcry is described among them, whereby the difference of their dignity may be denoted. Rightly therefore is the angel who is here brought in as having conceded to the malignant spirits the licence of tempting reported not only to have cried out, but to have cried out mightily. Behold, he says, a watcher, and a holy one came down from heaven and cried out mightily, and thus said: Cut down the tree.

1320DThere are two things which from the present passage we can plainly gather. The first, that the malignant spirits cannot tempt us save so far as they are permitted. The second, that if they were let loose for our assailing according to all their power, no one could endure their onset. For since they who can and will cut down the tree yet do not cut it down unless permitted, it plainly appears that without God's permission they presume nothing in their persecution of us. But what would they presume upon men without God's permission, who, as the Gospel attests, dared not invade even the herd of swine without divine licence? (Matth. VIII; Marc. V; Luc. VIII.) So much licence, therefore, is let loose to them in the assailing of the elect as their profit 1321Arequires, or as justice deserves. For what human virtue could sustain their onset, if, having received licence from God, they were able straightway to overthrow a tree so great and of such a kind? But in this the apostle Paul consoles us: Faithful, he says, is the Lord, who suffereth you not to be tempted above that which you are able, but will make also with the temptation issue, that you may be able to sustain it (I Cor. X). [Vulg. 1 Cor. 10:13 Fidelis autem Deus est, qui non patietur vos tentari, "God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted"] Unless therefore that tree had been too high, and had swollen concerning its own virtue, and presumed too much, it would not have received from God the sentence of cutting down. Consider now a great tree, and one presuming too much upon the abundance of its own fortitude: I said, he says, in my abundance, I shall never be moved (Psal. XXIX). But straightway, from the withdrawal of grace and the temptation that came upon it, it learned 1321Bwhat, or how much, it could of itself: Thou hast turned away, he says, thy face from me, and I became troubled (ibid.). And so the tree is cut down when the virtue of constancy is little by little worn away by temptations, and at last is utterly taken away. Was not the strength of that tree cut down which said: My virtue hath forsaken me, and the light of my eyes, even that is not with me (Psal. XXXVII). Was not its virtue withdrawn, and the tree, being cut down, fallen to the lowest, when at the regard of a single concupiscence it fell into adultery, and from adultery into homicide?

1321CWhen the tree is cut down, the branches also are cut off; because, as the virtue of the spirit fails, good works are little by little withdrawn. The tree is cut down and the branch is cut off, when virtue fails in secret and the work of virtue in the open. First therefore the virtue of the spirit is withdrawn, afterward the faculty also and the occasion of doing well is taken away; and, the strength of the tree being cut down and the branches cut off, the leaves are shaken off and the fruit is scattered; because, as the purpose of the virtues and the exercise of the virtues fail, first the grace of speaking well is taken away, and at last the grace of understanding rightly also is withdrawn. Rightly indeed, after the zeal of good working fails, is the eloquence of speech withdrawn, because every chastisement or exhortation of a depraved preacher can scandalize his hearers rather than edify them, since to him as he speaks 1321Danyone may silently answer: Why then dost thou not thyself do these things? But to the sinner God hath said: Why dost thou declare my justices, and take my testament in thy mouth? The grace of the leaves is shaken off when, from an infamous suspicion first entertained, the confidence or the authority of speaking is lost. The fruit is scattered when his teaching is despised, which, although through its sense or its counsel it may perchance seem useful, yet on account of the depraved example of his life is easily trodden underfoot. The fruit is scattered when, by the importunate incursion of various concupiscences, the zeal of meditation is dissipated, and the subtlety of investigating and the facility of understanding are confounded by the wandering of thoughts. Behold how easily, behold in what order that mind is cast down from on high which, its merits requiring it, is deserted by divine grace, 1322Awhich by divine permission is exposed to the malignant exactors. Rightly therefore is it said of this tree: Shake off its leaves, and scatter its fruit.

But when a man has begun to lose the branches of the virtues and the fruit of counsel, and to have not at all either uprightness of life or the authority of teaching, who now among carnal men would deign to obey him, or who among spiritual men to cleave to him through familiarity? Rightly, therefore, is that added which is still said of this tree: Let the beasts flee which are under it, and the birds from its branches. For the beasts which before were under it 1322Bflee away, when his own subjects refuse obedience to him, and all carnal men despise his mastery. For the birds of heaven to flee from its branches is for all spiritual men to shudder at the infamy of that life, and to shun its fellowships. Did not the younger men abominate the shady coverts of that great tree to which, according to the Lord's testimony, there was none like upon the earth, in that he was truly a great man among all the men of the east, and the first among the chief; did not, I say, the younger men abominate the shady coverts of that great tree, and did not the beasts now disdain to be under it, when he truly protested of himself: But now they that are younger in time deride me, whose fathers I did not deign to set with the dogs of my flock. The strength of whose hands was 1322Cto me as nothing, and they were thought unworthy of life itself (Job XXX). What, I ask, were the elders doing, if the younger, and men so vile, derided him, in that so great a tree had been cut down by the Lord's permission, and smitten with a most grievous ulcer from the sole of the foot even to the crown? How great also was that tree to which the Lord bore testimony, that he had found a man according to his own heart. Did not the birds of heaven dwell in its branches, when he truly protests of himself: that the innocent and the upright have cleaved to me? (Psal. XXIV.) [Vulg. Ps. 24:21 begins Innocentes et recti adhaeserunt mihi; the quia Migne prints inside the quotation is the conjunction binding it to protestetur] Had they not also at that time fled away from its branches, when again in prayer he cried out: Thou hast put my acquaintance far from me, they had made me an abomination to themselves (Psal. LXXXVII) [Vulg. posuerunt, perfect, "they have made"; Migne prints the pluperfect]; and again: Thou hast removed far from me friend and neighbour, and my acquaintance because of misery (ibid.). 1322DBut then in any man of virtue is fulfilled what is written of this tree, that, the strength of the wood being cut down, the beasts dwelling beneath flee away, when, the vigour of the spirit being broken and drained by temptations, the mind is no longer strong enough to check carnal onsets, or to coerce any irrational desires under the mastery of reason. We lose the dwelling together of the birds of heaven, when, disturbed by the onrush of so many phantasms, we are not strong enough to practise the pleasant spectacles of sublime investigations. The tree loses the birds that dwell in its branches, when it can no longer practise its meditations about the accustomed circumspection of its own morals. We often grieve that we have lost the companionship of such birds, when we are not strong enough to restrain our thoughts from unfitting wandering, so that each one 1323Aof us may rightly say within himself that word of blessed Job, when he now sees his own birds to have flown away, not without grief of his own: My thoughts are dissipated, tormenting my heart (Job VII).

But how merciful a thing is this, and how worthy of great wonder, that the divine mercy often neither utterly forsakes such men, nor after such a fall and so great a ruin wholly abandons them, but still often waits for such men unto correction, and reserves them unto repentance. Woe to thee, whosoever thou art that dost catch thyself to be such a one, if thou despisest the riches of his goodness, and of his patience, and of his longsuffering. 1323BOr knowest thou not that the kindness of God leadeth thee to repentance, who has not yet cut away the roots of thy hope, but has hidden them in the secret place of his judgments, and as it were in the bosom of the earth? Let us hear, therefore, how that height of the divine mercy tempers the sentence of its own severity, when after the waste of so great a scattering it still adds something concerning this tree for our consolation: Nevertheless, he says, leave the shoot of its roots in the earth. This is that which we neither can nor ought to pass by without wonder at the divine kindness, in him who bids the shoot of its roots be left in the earth, whence it may again be repaired, and reformed to its former fullness. Nevertheless, he says, leave the shoot of its roots in the earth. Then is the tree as it were plucked up by the roots, when 1323Cafter evils have been perpetrated it is hurled headlong even into despair. For the tree loses as it were its own roots, when it loses all hope of correction, and falls into despair. That tree had been plucked up by the roots, and had remained in its falling without any shoot of repair, which, speaking to the Lord and despairing of pardon, said: My iniquity is greater than that I may deserve pardon (Gen. IV). For what else are the shoot, or the root, of a tree of this kind, but the purpose of correction and the hope of the divine propitiation? For every good work germinates out of a good purpose, that it may crumpat into effect and grow strong unto the sturdiness of good habit; and in vain does the tree of virtue strive after other things, which is not rooted in the hope of the divine propitiation: For 1323Dit is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy (Rom. IX). What else, then, is it for the shoot of the roots to remain to a tree of this kind after its ruin, than for anyone after the fall of sin to have a purpose of repentance and to hope for the fruit of repentance from the divine mercy, so far that, feeling concerning the Lord in goodness, he may dare, and say: He will not be angry unto eternity, neither will he threaten unto eternity? (Psal. CII.) For when he shall have been angry, he will remember mercy (Habac. III). [Vulg. Ps. 101:9 Non in perpetuum irascetur, "not for ever", and the clause is a statement; chunk 0014 prints the same verse at 1262B with in perpetuum and no question mark] [Vulg. Hab. 3:2 cum iratus fueris, misericordiae recordaberis, second person, "when thou shalt be angry, thou wilt remember mercy"] How many do we daily see who, amid the outrages which they assiduously commit, do not lose the hope and the purpose of coming to their senses, and who purpose not only to put away their sins, nay rather to leave all things that are of the world, and to come to an order and to religion. What else do these retain than the roots of a good shoot? Whence, 1324Awhen the time of showing mercy shall have come according to the divine good pleasure, they sprout forth unto good zeal. But others, when they are admonished concerning conversion, affirm even with an oath that they will never come to an order or to religion, and when they are rebuked concerning their sins, asseverate under solemn oath that they cannot restrain themselves from their own pleasures. They therefore who are of this kind, who have lost the hope and the purpose of correction, have they not, together with the tree of virtue, lost also the shoot of the roots? Against which it is said of this tree: Nevertheless leave the shoot of its roots in the earth.

It is truly a wonder how at a single outrage 1324Bmany often fall at once into despair. Others do not, even after many and very great and long-continued evils, lose the hope or the purpose of coming to their senses. And of this is rightly understood that also which is here still brought in concerning this tree, namely, that it be bound with a bond of iron and of bronze among the grasses which are without, and let it be dipped in the dew of heaven, and let its portion be with the wild beasts in the grass of the earth. Let his heart be changed from man's, and let the heart of a beast be given him (Dan. IV). From these things assuredly, as I judge, thou weighest how great the evils are; but hear yet how long-continued they are: And let seven, he says, times be changed over him. For what is more rightly understood in the bond of iron and of bronze, than the habit of untameable perversity? In the iron, audacity; in the bronze, obstinacy; in the grasses of the earth, the lowest goods, earthly goods. For what are these earthly 1324Cgoods, which are common to us with the beasts, but certain grasses of the earth. Of which it is rightly said: which are without. For by that very thing they exist without, in that they are bodily and carnal, and not spiritual. For the inward goods are spiritual, but the outward are bodily. Those belong to the inner man, these to the outer man. Those, then, are invisible, but these visible; those eternal, these temporal: For the things which are seen, says the Apostle, are temporal, but the things which are not seen, eternal (II Cor. IV). [Vulg. closes quae autem non videntur, aeterna sunt; Migne's printing drops the second sunt] But those belong to the mind, and these to the flesh. But all flesh is hay, and all the glory thereof as the flower of hay. When therefore the depraved mind has begun to incline itself to lowest goods of this kind, and as it were in the grass of the earth to sate its carnal desires, 1324Dand to bring delights of this kind into habitual use, then, as the crooked habit little by little grows strong, it often comes to pass at last that it can no longer temper its own appetite away from the love or the use of them. The depraved mind, therefore, is bound as it were with a bond of iron in the grass of the earth, when out of a crooked habit it is hardened in the love of carnal pleasures. Because iron tames all other metals, it rightly, as has been said, designates audacity, which reveres no one, dreads no one. And since bronze is more durable than all the rest, we have already said that obstinacy is rightly designated by it. The crooked habit, therefore, grows hard as it were in the rigidity of iron, or also of bronze, when the depraved mind presses upon its accustomed desires as obstinately as audaciously. Is not that mind bound with a bond of iron and of bronze which is turned away a vertitur 1325Afrom its accustomed concupiscences by the terror of no man ever, by the admonition of no man ever? Does it not already feel bonds of iron or of bronze, which neither yields to threats, nor acquiesces in counsels? It stands firm, therefore, that minds of this kind can in no wise be corrected, save assuredly in the power of him who, as often as he willed, has ground down the gates of bronze and shattered the bars of iron. With gates, surely, we block the passage of those going forth, but with bars we fortify and make fast the closure itself. What, then, do we understand by the gate but contradiction, and what by the bar but rebellion? And we know indeed that for certain men it is not enough to contradict the admonitions or the mandates of their prelates, but when they cannot refute or turn aside their ordinances by words, they strive also to withstand them by deeds, and to rebel against them by works, 1325Band as it were to fortify the gates of their contradiction with the bars of rebellions. If therefore, as has already been said above, by bronze is rightly understood obstinacy, and by iron audacity, what else will the gate of bronze be, but obstinate contradiction, and what the bar of iron, but audacious rebellion? What else, then, is it for the Lord to shatter the gates of bronze and the bars of iron, than to coerce obstinate contradiction and audacious rebellion by an inward inbreathing and by compunction of heart? It belongs, therefore, to God alone, as has been said, to grind down this so great hardness of heart, and to soften it unto repentance and humiliation. When therefore anyone, according to the aforesaid manner, is bound with a bond of iron and of bronze among the grasses which are without, let the loosing of so great a hardening 1325Cand binding be looked for from the mercy of God alone.

But there is still added, to the increase of the evil, that which is joined on: And let it be dipped in the dew of heaven. What do we understand by the dew of heaven, but the subtle and scarcely intelligible suggestions of the devil? For if by the earth the body is fittingly enough designated, why should not the spirit be equally rightly designated by heaven? In comparison with bodies, therefore, those spiritual substances in the demons can be called heavens. And in the Gospel they have been called birds of heaven, not on account of justice, not on account of glory, but on account of their angelic and spiritual nature. 1325DThe depraved mind, therefore, is dipped in the dew of heaven, when through the suggestions of the devil it is imbued with divers errors. For out of the exultation of its own concupiscences it often runs into so great a darkness caligmem of errors, that it calls evil good, and good evil, putting darkness light and light darkness, putting bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. He therefore who is bound without among the grasses of the earth must needs be dipped in the dew: for after the depravation of morals, the sense also is depraved and is easily entangled in many errors. Hence it is that in the overthrow of Jerusalem the king first lost his sons, and afterwards his eyes (IV Reg. XXV). He assuredly loses spiritual sons, who loses the offspring of the virtues which he had long nourished. But when the sons have been lost, the light of the eyes is plucked out, because often from the depravation of the wills the keenness of understanding 1326Ais overdrawn and beclouded. He therefore who loses the desires of the heavenly, who wraps himself in the love of earthly things, whom the bond of cupidity binds fast as it were by a pasturing upon grasses, must needs at some time run into the darkness of errors, and, as the clouds of heaven drop down, infect himself with a certain dew of seduction. Does not he also seem to thee to be dipped in the dew of heaven, who by the suggestion of malignant spirits is trained unto every deceit, so that after their likeness he may willingly will, and easily be able, to deceive his neighbours and to circumvent them by frauds? For without doubt, when an excessive love of earthly things begins to reign, it little by little brings in fraudulence, but at the last it drives on to violence and rapine. Whence it is that he subjoins, and let its portion be with the wild beasts in the grass of the earth.

• 1326B

And it is a wonder indeed, yet none the less true, that the divine disposition permits some to be let loose unto the highest cruelty, whom nevertheless it disposes to reserve unto repentance, inasmuch as it has preordained them unto eternal life. It is said, therefore, of a man of this kind: And let his portion be with the wild beasts in the grass of the earth. By the wild beasts, which rage with tooth and claw (whence also from their fierceness they are called ferocious), all cruel men can rightly enough be understood. Of such the Psalmist: The sons of men, he says, their teeth are weapons and arrows, 1326Cand their tongue a sharp sword (Psal. LVI). By the grass of the earth we understand the delights of a flesh that is to die and the glory of a life that passes. For all flesh is hay, and all the glory thereof as the flower of hay. They therefore seem to have a portion with the cruel, and as it were with the wild beasts in the grass of the earth, who for the sake of avarice and ambition are let loose unto rapine and deceit and unto every cruelty. For what is it to have a portion with the ministers of cruelty, and with wild planks, but to receive a lot with such companions in the due of retributions, even as in the likeness of morals? But on the contrary the Prophet utterly shunned to have the fellowships of such men, or to receive a portion with them, when he said: I have hated the church of the malignant, and with the wicked I will not sit (Psal. C). Whence also 1326Delsewhere: The crooked heart hath not cleaved to me (ibid.). Let his heart be changed from man's. The heart of a soul that prevaricates and rushes into the depths is changed from man's, when all affection of humanity and of mercy is utterly lost, when out of the love of temporal things and out of the vice of avarice it is hardened to the marrow against the works of mercy, according to that word. The bowels of the covetous man are cruel (Prov. XII). [Vulg. Prov. 12:10 viscera autem impiorum crudelia, "the bowels of the wicked"; Migne prints avari] But after so many steps of corruption, that also is still added to the increase of the evil which is brought in below, and let the heart of a beast be given him. The heart of a beast is given and received, when a neighbour pursues his neighbour without regard to any advantage of his own, by the mere instinct of malignity, as emptily as cruelly. Hear what the Prophet feels concerning such men: The bloody and deceitful man, he says, the Lord will abhor (Psal. V).

• 1327A

Attend, I beseech thee, how evil goes rioting on. First goods are lost, afterwards evils also are committed. In the shaking off of the leaves, and the scattering of the fruits, understand the declines of goods. In the binding among the grasses and the hardening of the heart, understand the increases of evils.

But this is to be noted, by what steps the accumulation of vices grows: first one is cast down into avarice, but at last through manifold steps of corruption is let loose unto every cruelty. First, then, the prevaricating soul is bound with a bond of iron and of bronze, when with strong labour and obstinate solicitude it is untiringly occupied about the acquisition of earthly things. 1327BIt is dipped in the dew of heaven, when by a malignant suggestion it is imbued unto deceit, so that at the instigation of avarice it may acquire by fraudulence what it cannot acquire by effort. But at last its portion comes to be with the wild beasts in the grasses of the earth, when that which it can acquire neither by effort nor by deceit, it desires and busies itself to obtain by violence and rapine. Behold how the disease of avarice grows, and brings in the evil of cruelty. Now the first step of savagery is when for some advantage of his own a man presumes, or endures (yet not without remorse of conscience), to rage against his neighbour. The heart is changed from man's, when it is moved by no compassion, softened by no humanity, when in the practising of rapines it is stung by no 1327Cregard of the divine fear, by no goading of punishment or of conscience whatsoever. He receives the heart of a beast who rages even gratuitously, who without any cause breaks out into open malice. The first step of malice, then, is when without any cause at all a man is hardened toward his neighbour. The second, when in his neighbour's miseries he is touched by no compassion. The third and worst, when he now feeds and delights himself in that neighbour's evils.

But one thing more is added, and as it were in the last place, in which the sentence of severity seems to be consummated. 1327DAnd let seven, he says, times be changed over him. Seven times are changed, when by the various steps of corruption the quality of our infirmity is varied, while it is ever turned unto worse things. Do we not then run into another time, and one as it were contrary to the former, when against a vice which we were before able to resist we now begin to be wholly unable to prevail? The time, then, is manifoldly changed about anyone, when the manner of his corruption is multiformly varied. For the domination of the vices little by little softens the spirit, and renders it ever more and more feeble, and step by step drives it on to worse things. But in seven days, as we commonly know, all time is unrolled, and therefore universality is often figured by that same sevenfold number. Likewise the capital vices are read to be seven. Hence it is 1328Athat in the Gospel we read that the unclean spirit brings in seven spirits with him, and inhabits his house which he had left for a time, because any one vice, when it has already begun to have dominion, is wont step by step to bring in after it that whole detestable college of vices. Hence on the contrary the sinful woman is described as purged of seven demons, who is freed from every tyranny of the vices by the sevenfold grace. The sevenfold change of times, then, is a multiform, nay rather a universal depravation of morals. For seven times are as it were changed over him who is corrupted in every form, and who at last at some time nervelessly bends to every servitude of the vices. But see now how wonderful it is that the divine mercy is sometimes wont to reserve a man of this kind 1328Bunto repentance.

In the sentence of the watchers it is decreed, and the word of the holy ones, and the petition, until the living know that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and to whomsoever he will he shall give it, and he shall set the lowliest man over it (Dan. IV). [Vulg. Dan. 4:14 donec cognoscant viventes quod dominetur Excelsus in regno hominum … constituet super eum; Migne prints the indicative dominatur and super eo] As we have already said above, by the watchers in this place we understand the holy angels. But by the Apostle's teaching we have learned that all ministering spirits are sent for the sake of those who receive the inheritance of salvation. The angels, therefore, fellow-workers of our salvation and ministers of the divine 1328Cordination, dispose human affairs according as they know, by God's revealing, that it agrees with the common profit of men. But it is often wont to serve the profit of many that some men happen to fall from a great summit of loftiness, that the rest may learn not to be high-minded, but always to think humble things concerning themselves, and upon any summit of the virtues to fear the ruin of their morals, and may truly acknowledge that it is the Lord alone who works in us to will and to accomplish according to good will. [Vulg. Phil. 2:13 qui operatur in vobis et velle et perficere, "in you"; Migne prints in nobis and drops the first et] This profit of such a ruin the prophetic word intimates, saying: Until the living know that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men. [Vulg. dominetur, subjunctive] By the divine dispensation, therefore, when the common profit demands this, men of great authority are permitted to fall, at that time only 1328Din which they are found to grow proud over their own greatness. And so about one and the same person there comes one and the same judgment, as just as it is merciful: just indeed as regards that person, but merciful inasmuch as it profits toward the wariness of others. For it is exceedingly just that he who insolently swells up over the divine gifts should learn from his own ruin how much he is nothing, and how much he can do nothing by himself. But the same decree is said to be also the word of the holy ones, for this reason, that what is foreseen by certain of them in the light of God as to come is brought into common. But it is the petition of the holy ones, because they not only will it to be done, but even with desire seek after that which they foreknow to be useful to many and to serve the divine glory. A judgment of this kind, then, will be the decree of the holy ones, because it is mercifully just; 1329Athe word of the holy ones, because it is truly to come. A petition, because it is justly merciful.

Until the living know that the most High ruleth in the kingdom of men. Behold the profit: that the living may know. The affections in us surely live according to God, while they are strong in good, and grow strong unto the works of the virtues, while they have cooperating grace, and are able to exercise themselves in spiritual zeals. Then without doubt they die, when the cooperating grace is withdrawn in them. But it is withdrawn when the wicked mind grows proud over its own goods and over the divine gifts, and ascribes its own merits to itself. When grace has been withdrawn, the good affections 1329Bfail and languish toward every good, and thus from living they become dead. For what else is the failure of the virtues, than as it were a certain perishing of them? They therefore who first attend to their own infirmity and to the divine grace only when they are already failing in good, these men learn and acknowledge the mastery, or the benefit, of the divine dominion and moderation after death, and as it were through death. What, then, is it for the living to acknowledge the dominion and princedom of the supernal majesty in the kingdom of men, but for each one, even at that time while he still lives in good works, to attend to his own infirmity, and to ascribe nothing to himself, nothing to his own merits, and amid any exercises whatever of the virtues not to desert the guard of humility, 1329Cbut truly and without simulation to ascribe whatever of evil to himself, whatever of good to the divine grace? And the supernal mercy is indeed wont to humble even men of virtues in certain things, and to withdraw grace, until they learn amid any distinctions of morals to be in nothing high-minded, to presume nothing concerning their own virtue. Happy are they who learn the weak things of human frailty from another's fall rather than from their own, and advance in the grace of humility. But it goes well indeed even with those who from their own ruin wake up to the guard of humility, since at last at some time after the fall of their infirmity they rise again the stronger. The type of both things is expressed in the ruin, or the repair, of king Nabuchodonosor, because he himself also is repaired after his ruin unto greater glory, and many through his ruin are instructed unto the 1329Dwariness of circumspection. Until the living know, he says, that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men. It belongs, then, to the living to have knowledge of this kind: for one leading a just life of whatsoever sort, and a heavenly one, to persevere in good zeal, and to attribute nothing to himself out of his own goods. The living assuredly have knowledge of this kind, when they both endure in a good intention, and presume nothing concerning their own virtue, but ascribe to the Lord all that they usefully can, in that he it is who alone ruleth in the kingdom of men, since the kingdom is the Lord's, and he shall rule over the nations. Surely both that outward kingdom by which men are wont to be set over men, and likewise that inward one by which they ought to have princedom over their own vices and passions, are disposed by him and dispensed, and both are possessed out of his 1330Agift. But the former we must assuredly avoid and flee altogether, even as the mistress Truth teaches us by her own example. But the latter we ought to desire, and to seek, and with the highest desire to ask for, and with the Prophet to entreat: Give rule to thy servant (Psal. LXXXV). [Vulg. Ps. 85:16 Da imperium tuum puero tuo, "thy command"; Migne drops tuum] Must we, I ask, believe the prophetic soul to be of so great ambition that he would seek the kingdom of Israel from the Lord, and that not even shame would restrain him from a petition of that kind? But if he could not restrain his tongue from seeking this, why did he not at least forbid his hand to write any such thing? But far be it to suspect any such thing of a soul so holy, and a soul prophetic. But he was assuredly asking of the Lord's mercy such a kingdom, or rule, whence he hoped for the outcome, or the advancement, of his own salvation. 1330BGive rule, he says, to thy servant, and save the son of thy handmaid. [Vulg. Da imperium tuum puero tuo; Migne again drops tuum] Ask thou also, therefore, such rule, or kingdom, from the Lord thy God, that on this behalf thou mayest be able to sing: But I am appointed king by him (Psal. II). For it is a saying true enough: to whomsoever he will he shall give it. For it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that sheweth mercy. [Vulg. Rom. 9:16 Igitur non volentis, neque currentis, sed miserentis est Dei; Migne prints enim and moves the copula forward, where chunk 0040 prints the same verse at 1323D as Non enim volentis neque currentis, sed miserentis est Dei] For if thou hast nothing which thou hast not received, how much more a kingdom?

And he shall set, he says, the lowliest man over it. For he resisteth the proud, but to the humble he giveth grace, and assuredly the humbler a man is, the more sublime. 1330CWithout doubt, if we think upon that inward kingdom, thou wilt be in this kingdom the more sublime the humbler thou art, and without ambiguity the greater, the less thou shalt have been in thine own eyes. To whom, I ask, can it be doubtful that in that outward kingdom it often happens far otherwise, or rather contrariwise? But in that inward kingdom the measure of greatness ever hangs upon the measure of humility. Because he will set the humble man in it, and the lowliest over it. He is humble who truly despises himself in his own sight, but he is humbler who does not shrink from being despised also by others. But he is the lowliest who not only despises his own contempt, but even greatly covets it. What, then, I ask, can pride do against him, to whom his own contempt has come into contempt? Since therefore, as 1330DScripture testifies, pride is the beginning of all sin (Eccle. X), what, I ask, can sin do against him, from whom, by the victory over pride, the beginning of all sin is far off? See therefore how strong and how powerful he who is of this kind is found in that kingdom, which is established against sin, which is destroyed or scattered by sin alone. Behold, now from the end of the vision we manifestly gather what we spoke of far above, that the common good and the profit of the universe demanded such a man, perhaps such as is designated in the tree; such a man, I say, who according to the likeness of the tree should fall from a certain sublime state and rise again, so that out of his own ruin he might strike into those who stand a fear of falling, and out of his own repair might reform those who lie prostrate unto the hope of rising again.

• 1331A

Behold the dream which Nabuchodonosor saw; but he still requires its interpretation, whence also he says: This dream I, king Nabuchodonosor, saw. Do thou therefore, Balthassar, tell the interpretation in haste, because all the wise men of my kingdom are unable to declare the solution to me. But thou art able, because the spirit of the holy gods is in thee (Dan. IV). [Vulg. Dan. 4:15 Hoc somnium vidi ego Nabuchodonosor rex; Migne inverts the title to rex Nabuchodonosor, and prints nequeunt where the Vulgate has non queunt] As I have already said in what went before, it is one thing to discern the divine judgments with the eye of perspicacity or of foresight, and another to penetrate and know the reason of them by the judgment of discretion and the liveliness of understanding. The former belongs to the vision of the dream, the latter to the interpretation of the dream. 1331BTo the vision of the dream it belongs to know from divine revelation what must come to pass; but to the interpretation of the dream it belongs to understand the quality of the person to whom this must happen, namely, to weigh the cause which is wont to drive a person of whatever kind to a fall of this sort. This is what Daniel found out by investigating, and opened to the king by interpreting, when he says: Thou art that tree which thou sawest. For what is it to say, thou art, but: I weigh thee to be such a one, I find such a cause in thee, whence I doubt not that some such thing must happen to thee? But wilt thou know yet more openly how, after a vision has been divinely shown, we are wont, nay rather ought, to seek its interpretation? Behold, perhaps someone sees through the light of contemplation how the common profit requires the fall 1331Cand the repair of certain sublime men. He sees how this very thing commends the grace of God, how this very thing forms those who still stand unto wariness, how it repairs the fallen unto hope, how from this the beauty of the universe appears more wonderful; and he holds it certain that it must come to pass, in that the omnipotent goodness neither wills nor ought to hinder the common good. But again he begins to wonder how it can agree with the highest justice, or how it can be just, that some should be permitted to fall even for the profit of the universe. For as he who made all things is debtor to the universe, so he who established each several thing is debtor also to each. And as it is merciful not to hinder the common good, so it must also be 1331Djust that there be always in him who is about to fall some cause on account of which he deservedly ought to lie open to the impending ruin. He therefore who covets to know a cause of this kind, and utterly seeks the reason of the divine judgments, what else does he inquire after than the interpretation of the vision that has been shown? But then he demands an interpretation of this kind as it were from Daniel, when what he cannot obtain by investigation he ceases not to wrest from the Lord by a chief zeal, and one of the highest devotion. This dream, he says, I Nabuchodonosor saw. Do thou therefore, Balthasar, tell the interpretation of it in haste. Thou weighest, as I judge, that the king sees some things by himself, and wrests others from Daniel, because some things are such as occur to the spirit freely and easily, others such as cannot be known without great labour and huge solicitude. In the former 1332Athe spirit is provoked to rise up to greater things; in the latter it is exercised and humbled, lest it presume. But it is intimated that in those things which the king had seen he was not without fear, who requires the interpretation with haste. And we too are admonished to seek with all haste the resolution of that matter wherein a suspicion of danger can strike in fear.

It is surely to be noted that Daniel is called Balthassar, that is, hair of the head, where he is invited to the subtle resolution of sublime things. For among human members, what is more sublime than the head, what more subtle than the hair? 1332BRightly, therefore, is he called hair of the head, from whom the subtlety of a sublime understanding is demanded. And the true devotion of the mind is rightly called, from its effect, unless I am mistaken, the hair of the head, because through it the mind is without doubt sharpened unto every subtlety. Through its effect, then, it is itself the hair of the head, it is itself the subtlety of the mind. Let us hear yet what he subjoins to these things: Because all the wise men of my kingdom are unable to declare the solution to me. Who are, I ask, the wise men of that inward kingdom, but the keenest points and the most piercing senses of the human heart? Attend, therefore, what the virtue of devotion is, how rightly it is called the hair of the head, if through it the mind can do what it cannot do through all the wise men of its own kingdom. When therefore the mind seeks in manifold ways what is above its own understanding, and by seeking presses on, by pressing on 1332Cfails, by failing distrusts, what else, I ask, does it now say within itself, silent through distrust, but this which king Nabuchodonosor openly professes? Because all the wise men of my kingdom are unable to declare the solution to me. But since Truth says: Amen I say to you, whatsoever you ask when praying, believe that you shall receive, and it shall be done unto you (Marc. XI). [Vulg. Mark 11:24 Propterea dico vobis, omnia quaecumque orantes petitis, credite quia accipietis, et evenient vobis; chunk 0035 prints this same verse at 1311B with petieritis where Migne prints petitis here] If therefore the mind believes what it hears, if it turns itself to prayer, if through true and inmost devotion it does not distrust that it can obtain what it could not obtain by investigation, what else, I ask, does it assert within itself, through the confidence of hope and the constancy of faith, but that very same thing which the king said to Daniel: But thou art able, he says? And he adds the cause also: Because the spirit of the holy gods is in thee. We know 1332Dthat in the Holy Scriptures holy men have been called gods, and by the same reason this can be said of the angels also. Who, then, is the spirit of those gods, but the Holy Spirit? He assuredly it is who intercedes for us with unspeakable groanings. He it is who suggests to us what we should pray. He who teaches how we ought to pray. Without this Spirit our devotion cannot be true; and what it shall have attempted with him and through him cannot go for nothing: But thou, he says, art able, because the spirit of the holy gods is in thee.

But it is to be noted that king Nabuchodonosor did not seek useless and superfluous things through Daniel's office, but such things as it behoved to be known for the wariness of avoiding danger. And that which we ask shall be given to us also, if after his example we seek with faith and out of true devotion 1333Athat which we cannot without danger be ignorant of.

Then Daniel, whose name is Balthasar, began to think silently within himself for about one hour, and his thoughts troubled him (Dan. IV). I think that it belongs to Daniel, and that it is the office of true devotion, to return to oneself, to forget outward things and to think upon inward ones, and this chiefly at that time when one must take counsel for his own salvation or another's. One is the time for investigating the things that are above oneself, and another the time for examining the things that are within 1333Boneself. For all things have their time. There is therefore a time for contemplating the mighty works of God, and there is a time for considering our own weaknesses. The latter is the time of laughing. For in the evening weeping shall abide, and in the morning gladness. Why should there not be a time of laughing in the morning of divine revelation and in the contemplation of the eternal light? Why should there not be a time of weeping in the evening of a dreadful vision, in considering the darkness of the human conscience? It is evening time when before the eyes of the contemplative the light of revealing grace comes forth and turns him into admiration of itself, and often snatches him beyond himself through the height of the mind: The goings out, he says, of the morning, and at evening thou shalt delight (Psal. LXIV). What are those goings out of the morning, but the excesses of the human mind toward the irradiation of the true sun? He says 1333Ctherefore that the goings out of the morning delight; why not the evening also, or the goings in of the evening? For in the morning we are wont to go out from inward things to outward, and in the evening to return from outward things to inward. But who may we worthily wonder how sweet it is, or how delightful, when charity is now fervent and as it were under the summer season, to shake oneself out of sleep at the morning light of the radiant Godhead, and to break out beyond the straits of the human mind into the air of liberty, and to pass over by an alienation of the mind into that broad field of the divine spectacles? And so the goings out of the morning delight, but the goings in of the evening sadden, at that time without doubt when the spirit turns back to the consideration of itself: Unto myself, he says, my soul is troubled 1333D(Psal. XLI). But in the horror of the nightly vision, in the consideration of a dreadful conscience, there is one sure relief of the spirit, namely the memory of one's God; and this is what is added there: Unto myself my soul is troubled, therefore will I be mindful of thee. This is what he says elsewhere: I was mindful of God, and was delighted (Psal. LXXVI). And in this place: The goings out of the morning, and at evening thou shalt delight. Thou, he says, shalt delight; not the hour itself, not the goings in themselves of the evening time. For what delight, I ask, could there be in considering that dark abyss of the human heart? For the heart of man is perverse and unsearchable, and who shall know it? This is why, with Daniel, while he thinks long, his own thoughts trouble him within himself. But he who willingly considers his own weaknesses, diligently goes over them again, 1334Aand humbles himself in the consideration of them, while he zealously examines that which he was able to detect in himself by himself, is often enlightened by God even unto that which he could not know by himself. This is why Daniel, while he meditates long and silently within himself, is divinely instructed to foreknow the ruin of the royal power and the cause of that same ruin.

But he ought to meditate upon his inward things not slightly and as it were in passing, who wishes to be instructed unto a deep and full knowledge of himself, who desires that the things necessary for his own salvation or another's be revealed to him. So Daniel thought within himself for about one hour, and 1334Bobtained the cause which he sought. The hour of investigation is then at last closed with its due end, when that which is sought is now found. And we too, therefore, when the moment of necessity presses, let us be earnest to pray, to seek, to knock, as much as necessity compels, or opportunity allows and the continuance of our zeal has filled up the present hour. But if by Daniel devotion is to be understood, perhaps this will be for Daniel to think within himself: for our devotion to examine itself, to try itself, to inquire within itself how fervent, how frequent, how suppliant it is. It thinks within itself when it weighs the quality, the measure and the intention of its own zeal and exercise. It thinks within itself while it diligently inquires whether this very thing which it rightly intends it presumes not upon 1334Cits own powers, but upon the piety of the Lord alone. And so our devotion, when it often deals with this within itself, detects the vice of arrogance which before lay hidden within it. But without doubt the vice of arrogance, when it has begun to prevail over the mind, is always wont to be the cause of ruin. When therefore devotion has found that this vice has grown to such enormity, it gathers that a coming ruin of the spirit is at hand, and greatly fears it. For it knows that before ruin the heart shall be exalted, and that God resisteth the proud.

1334DThe king answering said: Balthasar, let not the dream and the interpretations thereof trouble thee (Dan. IV) [Vulg. interpretatio ejus, singular, "the interpretation thereof"; the next lemma prints the singular]. That the king forbade Daniel to be troubled, what else is it but that the mind deludes itself, and by an empty hope often takes away a profitable fear? But behold, Daniel does what he willed to be done by us when danger is at hand, and what belongs to true devotion: he turns himself to prayer Balthasar answered and said: My lord, the dream be to them which hate thee, and the interpretation thereof be to thine enemies. [Vulg. his qui te oderunt, masculine, "to them that hate thee", and without sit; the re-quotation three lines below prints the masculine] They are malignant spirits who have blazed out against us with an inextinguishable hatred. The vices are the true enemies of the soul, which drive it to eternal destruction. We are taught to imprecate their ruin in that which is said: The dream be to them who hate thee, and the interpretation thereof to thine enemies. When therefore the mind is assailed by the spirit of pride and 1335Aby such kindlers of vices, when it is oppressed by arrogance and vainglory, it ought to flee to prayer, and after Daniel's example to demand their ruin. But when the devotion of the spirit cannot prevail by prayer against arrogance and vainglory, often from that very thing it understands more deeply, and gathers more surely, that the swelling of the spirit could not be healed save by a foul and shameful casting down of itself. And this is what Daniel speaks through a mystery, when he says: They shall cast thee out from among men, and thy dwelling shall be with beasts and wild beasts. Let us now hear what he says, and from it let us gather how devotion often detects the whole state of the inner man, and as much describes it present as it foresees it future. Let it say, then, when ruin is now at hand, what 1335Bthe spirit meanwhile is by grace, what manner of thing it will be by fault, and let it add last of all the cause of that ruin, or of its own repair. This order, unless I am mistaken, thou wilt find in Daniel's words to the king, if thou examine rightly: The tree, he says, which thou sawest sub limem and strong, whose height reacheth unto heaven, and the sight thereof unto all the earth, and its branches most fair, and its fruit exceeding great, and food for all in it, the beasts of the field dwelling under it, and the birds of the air abiding in its branches: thou art the king, who art magnified, and hast grown strong; and thy greatness hath increased, and hath reached unto heaven, and thy power unto the ends of all the earth. How in these words a certain state of great perfection is described, we have already said above, 1335Cand we ought not to repeat it here.

But note that which is said: The tree which thou sawest, thou art. If by such a tree we must understand a certain great strength of admirable virtue, if by the vision divinely shown we ought to take the revelation of contemplation, what, I ask, will it be to say, thou art the tree which thou sawest, but that thou hast received such grace as thou first sawest through contemplation; and that, having understood through the grace of contemplation what manner of man a man of great perfection ought to be, thou hast deserved of the divine gift to be such and so great a one. In the tree, therefore, is mystically described grace received from God; but in the words that follow is expressed the ruin that comes upon an arrogant soul: But whereas, he says, the king saw a watcher and a holy one 1335Dcome down from heaven, and say: Cut down the tree, and scatter it, yet leave the shoot of its roots in the earth, and let it be bound with iron and bronze among the grass without, and let it be sprinkled with the dew of heaven, and let its fodder be with the wild beasts, until seven times be changed over it. This is the interpretation of the sentence of the Most High, which is come upon my lord the king. They shall cast thee out from among men, and thy dwelling shall be with beasts and wild beasts, and thou shalt eat hay like an ox, and shalt be drenched with the dew of heaven. Seven times also shall be changed over thee. How in these words is expressed the type of a soul falling from a certain lofty state into the depths, is held in what has gone before.

Note that here also, just as above, a thing is first shown by God through contemplation, and afterward to be fulfilled in deed. That the 1336Aking saw belongs to contemplation; that which is added in what follows, they shall cast thee out from among men, belongs to the carrying out of the vision, as if he should say: According to this, that thou hast seen through contemplation that such a ruin from so lofty a state can and is wont to happen, I see a like danger threatening thee, because in thee I find the cause of ruin. But the cause of ruin is hinted in that which is brought in last: Until thou know that the Most High ruleth over the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will. In that he says until thou know, he marks that he had not yet acknowledged this very thing as he ought. But in the words that follow is expressed what manner of man he will at length one day be by grace, and why, or how, he is to be repaired after his ruin. But whereas he commanded, he says, that the shoot of its roots 1336Bshould be left, that is, of the tree: thy kingdom shall remain to thee after thou shalt have known that the power is heavenly. But to hear all these things through Daniel is, through the zeal of our devotion, to detect the enormity of our own arrogance, which is always wont to be the cause of ruin; and, the cause of ruin found and looked through, to incur a most violent fear of falling, yet to hold unshaken a most firm hope of coming to oneself again and of rising again. But how all these things ought to be more fully understood can easily be known from the exposition above.

1336CThe imminent danger being now known and brought into the midst, Daniel adds in the last place what ought to be done under the moment of so great a necessity, or how the pressing danger ought to be resisted: Wherefore, he says, O king, let my counsel be pleasing to thee, and redeem thou thy sins with alms, and thine iniquities with mercies to the poor; perhaps God will pardon thy beloved ones (Dan. IV) [Vulg. delictis tuis, "thy sins"; Migne prints dilectis here and delictis at 1337B below]. What, I ask, is more prudent, or what more profitable, than, when danger presses, to flee to the divine protection, and to seek the propitiation of him to whom nothing is impossible? But it is very just that he who in his own necessity seeks support from his superior should show to his inferior the aid he can and ought, so that he who desires mercy for himself may 1336Dwillingly spend mercy, that what is written may come to pass: Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy (Matth. V). Rightly therefore is it said, redeem thy sins with alms, and thine iniquities with mercies to the poor. Perhaps in this twofold clause the sentence is repeated, so that to redeem iniquities and sins is one and the same. Yet we can understand in sins the transgressions of work, and in iniquities the perversities of the will. For that word of the psalm admonishes us that some distinction in these ought, or can, be made: Thou hast forgiven, he says, the impiety of my sin (Psal. XXXI). In alms nonetheless the act of piety is rightly understood, in mercies the affection of piety. And see how rightly a work is expiated by a work, an act by an affection. Redeem thy sins, he says, with alms, 1337Aand thine iniquities with mercies to the poor. Indulgence in outward goods makes men poor, but far more does the want of inward goods render them poor. He is poor who lacks discretion, who has no counsel, who lacks the riches of virtues. But where poverty is, there alms too can be. And by how much the poverty is truer, by so much is the alms greater. It is a great alms to refresh with one's own food flesh that will one day die, but a greater to fatten with the nourishment of its own kind a soul that will live forever. It is an alms to clothe the naked, but a greater to adorn the undisciplined with the discipline of morals. The best kind of alms is to rebuke the restless, to comfort the fainthearted, to be patient toward all. It is a great mercy to suffer together with another's affliction, but a greater to be pricked with compunction for 1337Banother's straying; a noble kind of mercy, to weep for the delinquent, to pardon the penitent, to blot out another's offenses with one's own tears. In these works of mercy we ought to exercise ourselves, who have no outward riches. Perhaps, he says, he will pardon thy offenses. What is it that he says perhaps, and sets it as it were under a doubt, but that not even in these works of mercy can the spirit have full confidence, when, corrupted by the wasting of pride and vainglory, it cannot practice them with a pure and simple intention?

1337CAll these things came upon king Nabuchodonosor (Dan. IV). All things, he says, came upon the king, and upon such a king. All things came, all things can come upon a kingly spirit, and upon such a one as the royal person designates through a mystery: After the end of twelve months he was walking about in the hall of Babylon. The king answered and said: Is not this the great Babylon, which I have built to be the house of the kingdom, in the strength of my fortitude, and in the glory of my comeliness? Who, I ask, may suffice worthily to weigh the bowels of the divine pietatatis, in that he does not at once avenge his own contemplum, but awaits the satisfaction of our correction, and prolongs the times of his propitiation. After the end, he says, of twelve months: in the number twelve the number six is doubled, and in 1337Dsix, because of its own perfection, perfection is figured. What then is it, that the divine moderation doubles the six in the delay of its waiting, but that it dispenses the postponement of its vengeance according to the fullness of its justice and of its mercy? For it is a small thing to him to await our correction as much as justice demands, unless he add over and above that which mercy requires, so that his waiting may be as just as it is pious, and as perfect in equity as it is full of piety. But many abuse the kindness of God, and are made worse by that whereby they ought to have been corrected. Behold, while Nabuchodonosor receives the times of making satisfaction given him by God, he swelled the higher by that whereby he ought to have corrected himself. He was walking about in the hall of Babylon. Perhaps true humility, the guardian 1338Aof virtues, is a palace and a most firm dwelling. But such a dwelling belongs to Jerusalem: Jerusalem, he says, which is built as a city, whose participation thereof is in itself (Psal. CXXI). But as true humility belongs to Jerusalem, so feigned humility to Babylon. For what else does feigned humility prepare but disgrace, what else does it look for but confusion? The hall of Babylon, therefore, is feigned humility. The hall of Babylon is a discipline of humiliation without humility. In the hall of Babylon he does not sit, does not lie down, but walks about, whom his own conscience, while it gnaws him, disquiets. He walks about in the hall of Babylon whom his own conscience wearies by accusing him concerning his fieta humility. But to walk about is not to go in one direction, but to wander here and there at random. He therefore walks about whom the goad of conscience drives on from every side.

• 1338B

And the king answered and said: What, I ask, is this answering, where no questioning goes before? Was he perhaps answering another's thought, and perhaps a thought which was not at all, but which he believed to be? Perhaps he was answering the thought of those whom he reckoned to be admiring his greatness and authority. But an arrogant spirit has this as its own, that it believes all men to admire its loftiness, which it magnifies within itself at every hour: whence it comes about that before others too it confidently breaks out into words of boasting, and expresses the same thing as Nabuchodonosor, though in other words. 1338CLet us now consider how high he swelled who broke out into those words which we set down above. Is not this the great Babylon which I have built? Behold ostentation. To be the house of the kingdom; behold ambition. In the strength of my fortitude; behold arrogance. And in the glory of my comeliness; behold vainglory. This is the great Babylon which I have built. We say that Babylon sounds the same as confusion. For a soul that is proud and enters in doubly, to build Babylon is to bend itself to every humility, and, as it were under the pretext of religion, to expose itself to every service and abjection, and to whatsoever things men are wont to blush at, such as mean apparel, lowly bearing, thin food, voluntary servitude. Let him say then: This is the great Babylon, 1338Da deep humiliation; this is a voluntary casting down, this is a confusion taken by vow, which I have built, which I have resolved to observe. But to what end, to what profit? To be the house, he says, of the kingdom. Does he not seem to thee to build as it were for a house, who acts to obtain authority and the art of mastery, that he may appear to all such and so great a man as ought worthily to be promoted, and preferred to others, and exalted in dignity or even in power? In the strength, he says, of my fortitude. Behold with how great arrogance he has attributed to himself that which wholly hangs upon divine grace. He does not say, in the gift of the divine compassion, but, in the strength of my fortitude. O how otherwise the Truth itself both thought and taught, when it says: Without me you can do nothing (Joan. XV). But what the wicked mind reckons that it accomplishes by its own fortitude, it consequently twists back 1339Ato its own glory: In the strength, he says, of my fortitude, and in the glory of my comeliness. O how otherwise such a boaster acts than the Apostle enjoined, how otherwise than the Truth our mistress appointed: He that glorieth, he says, let him glory in the Lord (I Cor. II); and that other word: So let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven (Matth. V). But this man says, in the glory of my comeliness.

While the word was yet in the king's mouth, a voice rushed down from heaven: To thee it is said, king Nabuchodonosor: The kingdom has passed 1339Bfrom thee (Dan. IV). The voice rushed down while the word was yet in his mouth, that is, still under the very time of his glorying. For often a shameless spirit, while it glories beyond measure, in the very act of glorying, its conscience gnawing it, is suddenly dismayed, and by a certain divine nod is shaken with a sudden horror, and by the fear of falling is hurled headlong into the despair of not escaping. A voice rushes down from heaven when that which he perceives with the ear of the heart comes from the inmost senses of the soul. He hears as it were the earth, whatever he draws in through bodily sense. That comes from heaven which he acknowledges through the Spirit. He learns from heaven that which he comprehends intellectually. To thee it is said, Nabuchodonosor: to thee so emptily proud, to thee so emptily glorying. The kingdom has passed from thee, and they shall cast thee out from among men, and thy dwelling 1339Cshall be with beasts and with wild beasts. The kingdom passes from any man whatsoever when he loses the grace divinely conferred upon him, by which he was wont to rule over his own desires and passions. They shall cast thee out from among men. By as much as thou hast raised thyself above men through arrogance, by so much shalt thou be cast down beneath men through fault, and thy dwelling shall be with beasts and wild beasts. Cast out from among men, he goes down to beasts and wild beasts and lives there, who, forsaking rational manners, lives thenceforth irrationally, so that, living like a beast and acting like a wild beast, he is with those who live like beasts dissolved into every carnality, and with those who act like wild beasts unbridled into every cruelty. He adds further: Thou shalt eat hay like an ox. The ox, when it receives hay, counts it for the highest delights, and seeks nothing 1339Dmore sumptuous. Since therefore all flesh is hay, and all its glory as the flower of hay, he eats hay like an ox who places all his joy in temporal glory and in carnal delights, and seeks spiritual delights not at all, neither by zeal nor by desire. Behold into how deep a place he falls who abuses the patience of God. Behold to what end he comes who has received in vain the times for coming to himself again.

And seven times shall be changed over thee, until thou know that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will (Dan. IV). These things we have already 1340Aexpounded above, and we ought not to repeat the same again.

This surely is to be noted, that one and the same thing is repeated rather often, and one and the same sentence of the divine severity is rehearsed a third time. And that I may distinguish it for thee by its own differences: first the spirit, through contemplation and as it were through a vision, acknowledges what is wont to happen; second, through devotion and as it were through Daniel's office, it finds what it must now fear concerning itself; last, broken already by despair at the withdrawal of grace, it plainly detects what it is now unable to avoid. And so one and the same sentence is foreknown through contemplation, threatened through fear, confirmed through despair.

• 1340B

In the same hour the word was fulfilled upon Nabuchodonosor, he was cast out from among men (Dan. IV). What is in the same hour, but at once, upon the withdrawal of grace, to yield to temptations, and to be unable to resist the malignant spirits that tempt? In the same hour: not that the wickedness conceived goes forth at once into act, since it does not always have the occasion of sinning at hand; but the mind is cast down, and falls, from the moment it consents to sin. It is cast down, and falls, from the moment it seeks an occasion. From this place, as I judge, we can plainly gather that without divine protection no one could resist his own passions, or malignant suggestions, 1340Ceven for a little. And so in the same hour he was cast out from among men, and he ate hay like an ox, and his body was stained with the dew of heaven. All these things we have already expounded above. But something is added further which we did not read in what went before: Until his hairs grew after the likeness of eagles', and his claws like the claws of birds. [Vulg. et ungues eius quasi avium, "and his nails as birds'"; Migne sets ungues twice and drops ejus, which the exposition at 1341B restores]

Now hairs are fine and long, and in them deep and exceedingly sharp counsels can rightly be understood. But the body of eagles is covered with a great thickness of feathers. And eagles are wont to see more keenly and to fly more loftily than all other living creatures. 1340DHe therefore has hairs as it were after the likeness of eagles' who is skilled in much prudence, in exceeding great cunning, who in finding out frauds, in weaving deceits, is found now slower than none, inferior to none. But birds of prey, as we all know, rage with their claws; and all birds in common tear and hurt what they seize with their claws. What then is it to have claws like birds', but to hurt whomsoever thou canst prevail against. But if under the type of claws the office of cruelty is rightly understood, is not this very thing expressed above under another figure, where it is said: And thy dwelling shall be with wild beasts. But wild beasts do not go fowling, nor have they anything at all that they may do to birds. Those, therefore, who willingly oppress all worldly and carnal men, and such as brood as it were upon the earth, 1341Awhat else do they do but rage against animals after the manner of wild beasts? Are not they rightly to be called animals who serve the belly alone, whose God is the belly, and whose glory is in their confusion? But those who persecute spiritual men, what else do they do but lie in wait for birds after the manner of birds, and vetut with their claws rave? Do they not seem to thee to be birds of heaven who can truly say: But our conversation is in heaven? Are not they to be called birds of heaven who hang themselves aloft on the wing of contemplation? In the former sentence, therefore, we have how they are hostile to carnal men; but in this we have how at length one day they utterly do not spare even spiritual men themselves. Let him say then of such a man, let him say: Until his hairs grew after the likeness of eagles', and his claws 1341Blike the claws of birds, so that he is as ready to circumvent even the circumspect as he is without doubt prone to crush men even conspicuous in virtue. This man is effective in deceiving, this man forward and shameless in persecuting: Thy mouth, says the Psalmist, hath abounded with malice, and thy tongue framed deceits (Psal. XLIX). Behold how he convicts the deceiver. Hear also how he confounds the forward: They shall hunt after the soul of the just, and shall condemn innocent blood (Psal. XCIII). Do they not rage against the fowls of heaven, and as it were with claws, who hunt after the soul of the just, and condemn the innocent? Or by birds demons can be understood, as we have from the reading of the Gospel (Luc. VIII). What then will it be to have claws after 1341Cthe likeness of such birds, but to harass any good men whatever by the mere instinct of malignity? Behold, we now have from how high a summit of perfection it may happen that a man of virtues falls into the depths of vices, that a man may learn, in whatever loftiness of sanctity, always to fear the ruin of morals. Call to mind what manner of man he described above from the mystical tree, and at the same time mark to what end he came at length. And of the tree indeed thou readest that the birds of heaven dwelt in its branches, and that all flesh fed upon it. And so it was for the protection of the good, and for the consolation of all. Because the birds of heaven dwelt in it, and all flesh fed upon it. Behold, this same man after all things rages against all with tooth and claw, because his portion also was with the wild beasts, and 1341Dhe received claws like birds'.

What follows gladdens greatly, when after these things it is subjoined: Therefore after the end of the days I Nabuchodonosor lifted up my eyes to heaven, and my sense was restored to me, and I blessed the Most High, and I praised and glorified him that liveth for ever; for his power is an everlasting power, and his kingdom in generation and unto generation. And all the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing before him (Dan. IV). Behold, he rises again; behold, he returns to his former glory, nay rather to a better, who fell from so lofty a place into so deep a one. Who would not wonder, who would not be astonished? 1342AWho may suffice worthily to weigh the bowels of the divine piety? Who, I ask, however great a sinner, would not presume upon the divine compassion, and revive unto the hope of pardon? After the end, he says, of the days I lifted up my eyes to heaven. The end of the days is the completion of the divine judgments. If justice, or human judgments, is a light, why not much more the divine judgments? And he shall bring forth, he says, thy justice as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday (Psal. XXXVII). If thy judgment can be a day (nay rather a noonday), how much more the divine judgment? The judgments of God are days, because they are made in the light of truth, in the light of rectitude. For indeed the judgments of the Lord are true, justified in themselves. The number of such days is ended over any afflicted man when the severity of the divine 1342Bjudgments is completed in the striking of him? The end of such days is completed when the punishment of the divine severity is changed into mercy. Nabuchodonosor received the end of these days in his own crushing, when the divine compassion now looked upon him. For if it had not looked upon him, neither indeed would he have lifted his own eyes to heaven. To lift the eyes to heaven is to think upon heavenly and eternal things, and, the care and solicitude of worldly things put away, to have spiritual things alone before the eyes. To look back to heaven, and to have the region of light before the eyes, and to fix the eyes of understanding with the whole intention upon that light of eternity. He had already fixed his eyes there who said: I thought upon the days of old, and I had the eternal years in mind 1342C(Psal. LXXVIII). But behold, he who lifted his eyes to heaven received back the sense which he had lost. Mark therefore how profitable it is to lift the eyes to heaven in this manner. I, says Nabuchodonosor, lifted up my eyes to heaven, and my sense was restored to me. And so the sense of the flesh is the animal's own. But the sense of the mind is man's own. The animal's sense is that by which it perceives white and black; but man's own sense is that which discerns between good and evil, true and false. This sense, along with Nabuchodonosor, they have lost, or never had, who call good evil and evil good, putting bitter sweet and sweet bitter, putting darkness light and light darkness. This sense they receive in great part who judge between day and 1342Dday, but more fully they who judge every day. One, says the Apostle, judgeth between day and day, but another judgeth every day (Rom. XIV) [Vulg. alius iudicat diem plus inter diem, "one esteemeth one day above another"; the exposition here and above turns on Migne's inter diem et diem]. And so he recovers his own sense who at some time awakens to the judgment of discretion. But his sense is not said to be given, but restored; whence also it is plain that it was first had, but lost. And so the lost sense is then restored to a man when that grace of discretion which he had been wont to have is repaired in him. But he receives his sense while he lifts his eyes, because the spirit, while it thinks upon eternal and heavenly things, awakens to the judgment of discretion. For while it strains vehemently toward heavenly things, it sees how nothing is whatever earthly and transitory thing it loved. He therefore who pants after the grace of discretion, let him strain toward heavenly things, that he may receive the light of his own 1343Aeyes, and, when he has received it, may cry out to his Lord and say: For what have I in heaven, and besides thee what have I desired upon earth? But how not in vain Nabuchodonosor received his own sense, he shows in the words that follow.

And I blessed, he says, the Most High. Behold, he who above so shamelessly magnified himself now glorifies him alone who, according as the Apostle says, is over all things blessed forever: And I praised and glorified him that liveth for ever (Rom. IX). Him that liveth for ever: that life, surely, which is himself, for whom to be is nothing other than to live, nor to live 1343Bthan to be. For his power is an everlasting power, because what he can do once, he who is almighty can always do. And his kingdom in generation and unto generation, because to him nothing accrues from time, nothing departs, with whom there is no change, nor shadow of alteration. And all the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing before him. By the inhabitants of the earth understand the lovers of earthly things, who know not how to seek the things that are above, nor can say with the Apostle: But our conversation is in heaven (Philipp. III). But they are truly reputed as nothing who have lost true being, for whom assuredly it were better not to be at all than to be thus, unless someone think it better to be always wretched than not to be at all. For he does according to his own will as much among the powers of heaven as among 1343Cthe inhabitants of the earth, and there is none that can resist his hand and say to him: Why hast thou done it? To the same sentence agrees what the Psalmist says: Whatsoever he would he hath done, in heaven and in earth, in the sea, and in all the deeps (Psal. CXXXIV). Since in what follows the same Nabuchodonosor says in the praise of God that all his works are true and his ways judgments: what is it that here he says that he does all things according to his own will? Surely if all his works are true, all things are done in truth; surely if all his ways are judgments, all things are done in equity: how then according to will? Or is it perhaps that to be done according to equity is to be done according to will, and by the very fact that it is done in equity, by that very fact, I say, it is done according to his will? But if it is 1343Daltogether the same to be done according to equity and to be done according to his will, then his will is the same as equity, and equity the same as will. And there is none that can resist his hand and say, Why hast thou done it? Who should resist him? who gainsay him? since he does all things as powerfully as wisely, since there is no one who could either restrain omnipotence or convict the highest wisdom.

At that very time my sense returned to me, and I came unto the honor of my kingdom and unto my comeliness, and my figure returned to me (Dan. IV). At that very, he says, time. At that very time in which I blessed God, in that very one in which I 1344Apraised and glorified him. Surely, if we well recall the things said above, he fell there, when he was magnifying himself proudly enough. Behold, this same man rises again when he devoutly glorifies God, and his Lord. Surely thou seest what proud glorying does, surely thou seest what devout glorification effects. Proud glorying deserves a casting down, devout glorification an exaltation. Behold, when he now glories not in himself but in the Lord, his sense returns to himself. What above he called his sense restored to him, he now calls his sense returned to himself; or perhaps a man's sense returns to itself when the eye of discretion is called back to the consideration of itself. The sense returns to itself when it is divinely 1344Benlightened unto the consideration and knowledge of its own merits. While therefore the human spirit glorifies its God, its sense returns to itself; because while it opens its eyes to that light of the Godhead, and strains vehemently toward it, it more fully acknowledges the darkness of its own weakness: Come ye to him, he says, and be enlightened (Psal. XXXIII). What wonder if by drawing near to the light we are enlightened? what wonder if from light a light is kindled? And in thy light, he says, we shall see light (Psal. XXXV). Light is seen in light when, from the knowledge and working of the divine brightness, the spirit is more fully enlightened unto the knowledge of human weakness. Yet this twofold knowledge is wont to minister alternate increases to itself, and each assuredly to grow out of the other. For from the knowledge of God the spirit advances to the thought of itself, and in the same way 1344Cfrom much knowledge of itself it grows to the knowledge of God. But behold, while the sense which had been lost returns, he received back his kingdom which he had lost. Without doubt, unless the grace of discretion be repaired in him, the spirit is never brought through to the full integrity of virtue.

I came, he says, unto the honor of my kingdom and unto my comeliness. It is assuredly plain that man's free will receives and holds a kingdom from God, when it can now restrain the evil motions of the heart from evil. But this kingdom is then made honorable when, by 1344DGod's gift, it can now exercise the good motions of the heart in good. And that same kingdom is overlaid with a worthy comeliness when whatever good is done in it is ordered with the highest moderation and with great discretion. And so he receives and obtains a kingdom who bravely tames and manfully restrains the rebellious motions of the spirit. And at that time he who is such shall judge among the nations, shall fill up ruins, shall crush the heads in the land of many. And he has then an honorable kingdom too, when he is now made Lord of hosts in so great a multitude of virtues so innumerable, and, having soldiers under him, says to this one, Go, and he goes, and to another, Come, and he comes, and to his servant, Do this, and he does it. This kingdom is made comely thereby, and most of all when, bearing himself modestly, he moderates all things with meekness 1345Aand tranquillity: Son, he says, do thy works in meekness, and thou shalt be loved above the glory of men (Eccle. XIII) [Vulg. in mansuetudine opera tua perfice, "perfect thy works in meekness"]. And so the honor of the kingdom is to act powerfully, the comeliness of the kingdom to act wisely, so that in that his kingdom he who is the possessor of the kingdom may reach from end to end mightily and order all things sweetly. And my figure returned to me. Figure is an outward quality, namely the exterior form of the body. But bodily discipline belongs to the outward quality, as the composure of the mind to the inward quality. In the figure, therefore, which consists in bodily lineaments, there is rightly understood the discipline of the body, the form of religion, the habit and composure of the outer man. And so the figure returns when, according to the former custom, the form of religion lost for a time 1345Bis reformed. The sense having returned, the figure returns, because through the discretion of judgment and through circumspection of oneself the discipline of morals is either newly established or the old renewed.

Nabuchodonosor still adds and says: And my nobles, and my magistrates sought me, and I was restored unto my kingdom, and a greater magnificence was added to me (Dan. IV). Behold by whom he is sought, and into his kingdom restored. And my nobles and my magistrates. What is best in a man but good intentions? And who ought to exercise mastery, 1345Cor to dispose that inward kingdom, but discreet deliberations? In the nobles, therefore, the mind's intentions. But in the magistrates we understand the mind's deliberations. And what is it for nobles and magistrates of this sort to seek the lost head of the kingdom, and to restore him unto his own place, but with the utmost intention and deliberation to investigate how, after the ruin, even late, one may be able to reform the lost vigour of the spirit unto its first integrity? But the soul ought sometimes diligently to inquire what sort of thing of this kind it was, how constantly it acted, how much of perfection it obtained. And it ought consequently to deliberate how it may be restored unto its former state; and this will be, as I judge, to seek that royal dignity of the spirit by intention, and to be willing to restore it 1345Dunto its own step. They were seeking this royal dignity in another's heart, and desiring it to be restored unto its own place, because they thought it cast down, who said: Where is thy fear, and thy fortitude, thy patience, and the perfection of ways? (Job IV.) [Vulg. timor tuus, fortitudo tua … perfectio viarum tuarum, "the perfection of thy ways"] But not only they who fall headlong into evil, but also they who grow lukewarm from good, ought to examine themselves, and to renew in themselves that former fervour of religion. Hence it is that it is written to the angel of Ephesus in the Apocalypse: I have somewhat against thee, that thou hast left the first charity. Remember from whence thou art fallen, and do penance, and do the first works (Apoc. II). [Vulg. Sed habeo adversum te, quod caritatem tuam primam reliquisti. Memor esto itaque unde excideris, "But I have against thee, that thou hast left thy first charity. Be mindful therefore"]

Yet it is soundly to be noted that this king is said to have been sought by his own men, but not to have been restored by the same. But who, I ask, restored him, save he unto whom he lifted up his eyes, 1346Awhom he blessed, whom he glorified? For even if it now perhaps lies within our power to seek by deliberation the state of our mind, of what sort it now is, or once was, yet it does not equally lie within our power to repair at will the declines of our virtue. But if we zealously carry out that which we have already received of the divine gift the power to do, perhaps that also will be added over which we have not yet been able to do. And I was restored, he says, unto my kingdom, and a greater magnificence was added to me.

A greater magnificence is added after the ruin, unto full reparation, because out of his very fall a man 1346Bis often instructed cruditur unto true humility. And then is magnificence truly enlarged, when among the great things of the virtues the virtue of humility also is unmovably kept. But from the virtue of humility the spirit's advance is both strengthened in good, and made solid unto perseverance in good. It stands, therefore, that magnificence is then truly enlarged, when unto the consummation of the good the grace of persevering is given also. The amplification of magnificence, therefore, is the virtue of perseverance. The amplification of greatness, from the virtue of humility adjoined, is divinely the grace of confirmation. This amplification of magnificence the Prophet was asking, when in psalmody he prayed: Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and strengthen me with a principal spirit (Psal. L). An amplification of this kind we ask daily, 1346Cwhen we say: Confirm, O God, this which thou hast wrought in us (Psal. LXVII). Thou weighest from these things, as I judge, that many fall, by God's dispensing, unto this end, that they may rise again the stronger; and they who before, prior to the fall, had only the assisting grace, after the reparation of the ruin receive at the same time the confirming grace also. Truly, according to that which is written: The Lord killeth and maketh alive, he bringeth down unto hell and bringeth back (I Reg. II). Truly it is he who humbles and lifts up, he who strikes that he may heal (Job V).

Now I Nabuchodonosor praise and magnify and glorify the King of heaven, because all his works are true, and 1346Dhis ways, judgments, and them that walk in pride he is able to humble (Dan. IV). [Vulg. Nunc igitur ego, "Now therefore I"] Above, as we have already heard, he blessed, praised and magnified. Here again he praises, magnifies and glorifies. Above he praised when he received his sense, and because he was not ungrateful for the divine benefits, he merited to be advanced unto greater things. For he received the lost kingdom with an amplification of magnificence. But the kingdom once received, he praises again, magnifies again. Whence also it came about that he should not again ignominiously lose what he both received when humbled and now possessed with devotion. When a benefit has been received, praise thou also, that thou mayest merit to advance unto greater things; and when promoted unto loftier things, praise none the less, that thou mayest merit to persevere in them. If after the likeness of Nabuchodonosor thou hast received thy sense, if thou hast been able to understand the things 1347Athat are to be done, praise, glorify, that what thou hast received of revealing grace, to be able to understand, may be given thee of the grace that breathes upon thee, to be able to fulfil. If after the likeness of the same Nabuchodonosor thou hast received thy kingdom, if thou hast been able to have dominion over thy passions, if thou hast received the power to exercise good affections in good, praise, magnify, glorify, that thou who hast received the grace of advancing mayest equally receive the grace of persevering also. Gladly, therefore, praise him who is supremely good, glorify him who is supremely blessed, magnify him who is immeasurable in majesty, infinite in eternity. Because all his works are true and his ways judgments. His works are his ways. Ways, I say, by which he comes unto us; ways by which he presses himself upon our understanding and makes himself known. For from his works we advance unto the knowledge 1347Bof him. All his works, therefore, because all his ways are judgments; and all his things are true, because done in truth. We often err in our judgments, whence it often comes about that we absolve the guilty and condemn the innocent. But without doubt he from whom nothing can lie hidden cannot err in his judgment. But since it is written: All the ways of the Lord are mercy and truth (Psal. XXIV), are those things also judgments which are done by him mercifully? But without any contradiction that divine goodness, in all the things which it mercifully bestows, forsakes not the bounds of equity. 1348AWe, when we are moved with pity, often transgress the limits of equity, and often in that very thing wherein we believe ourselves to be bestowing mercy, we act against justice. But the supernal goodness so dispenses the works of its mercy that in all these it does nothing against justice, commits nothing unjust. His ways therefore are judgments, because they depart not from the tenor of equity and the rectitude of justice, and them that walk in pride he is able to humble. What, I ask, does he say that this alone he is able to do, of whom it truly stands that he is able to do all things? But because one must believe him who has had the experience, perhaps he wished to express that thing more especially which he, a third, proved in his own self by his own trial. Beforehand, perhaps, he wished to impress upon our senses before all things that which it is most expedient to retain in memory? 1348BBut we know that pride is the beginning of all sin (Eccle. X). We know that before ruin the heart shall be exalted (Prov. XVI). [Vulg. ante ruinam exaltatur spiritus, "the spirit is exalted"] He therefore who fears the ruin of morals ought before all things to be watchful against pride. But it avails most for the crushing of pride, and for the keeping of true humility, always to retain in the spirit that he who is wont to resist the proud is able, when he will, to humble them that walk in pride. This Nabuchodonosor taught them by word, this he taught us by example: that howsoever or whensoever he will, he is able to humble them that walk in pride.

• 1347C

I saw in my vision by night, and behold, the four winds of heaven strove upon the great sea. And four great beasts came up out of the sea, diverse one from another. The first was like a lioness, and had the wings of an eagle. I beheld till its wings were plucked off, and it was lifted up from the earth. And it stood upon its feet as a man, and its heart was given to it (Dan. VII). [Vulg. cor hominis, "a man's heart"] Let us now see what this great sea is, in which the prophet Daniel saw this battle of the winds, whatever it be. But who knows not how unstable and restless the sea is, which is ever moved at every state and impulse of the winds? Rightly therefore, if I mistake not, is the mutability and inconstancy of the heart figured in it, in that 1347Dit is truly like a wave of the sea, which is moved and carried about by the wind. But this evil is threefold. For there is a mutability of purpose, and there is a mutability of promise, and likewise a mutability of vow. A purpose is what each man determines with himself; a promise is what each man determines with his neighbour; a vow is what each man determines, but as it were with God. Of the mutability of purpose is that saying: The sluggard willeth and willeth not (Prov. XIII). Hear also how the mutability of promise is reproved in that which is said: Clouds and wind, and rains not following, a boastful man, and not fulfilling his promises (Prov. XXIII). He wished us to beware 1348Cof the mutability of vow who says: If thou hast vowed anything to God, defer not to pay it; for an unfaithful and foolish promise displeaseth God (Eccle. III). A foolish promise is one that is made concerning that which it is not lawful to do, or which God forbids to be done. A foolish promise is concerning that which it is not expedient to do, in this, that a man either exceeds the bounds of modesty, or presumes something against obedience. Of such vows the Scripture says that the vows of fools are to be broken. Yet they who have bound themselves by such a vow ought not to break a bond of that kind at their own pleasure, but are to be absolved at the judgment of those who have received and have the power of binding and loosing. An unfaithful promise is one which repentance follows, or which duplicity of heart accompanies. It is good, therefore, to vow good things, and to vow them well, lest the promise be 1348Dfoolish. It is good also fully to discharge what has been well promised, lest the promise be faithless: Vow ye, he says, and pay to the Lord your God, ye that round about him bring presents (Psal. CLXXV). [Vulg. omnes qui in circuitu ejus, "all ye that round about him"] Otherwise it is better not to vow, than not to pay the vows (Eccle. V). [Vulg. Multoque melius est non vovere, quam post votum promissa non reddere, "And much better is it not to vow, than after a vow not to perform what is promised"] In mutability of purpose is noted the vice of an inconstant spirit. In mutability of promise, the scandal of one's neighbour. In mutability of vow, the contempt and the wrong of God. Evil, therefore, is the first mutability, but worse the second, and the third the worst of all. O how bitter beyond the rest is this last evil, how fearful, how troubled it renders the human conscience! 1349AThis is that stormy water of the sea, restless through fearfulness, and salt through bitterness. This is that which we seek, the great sea, in comparison whereof none of the rest is reckoned anything. We hold the sea; it remains now to inquire concerning the winds, and the battle of the winds. But what is this battle of the winds, but the strong impulse and vehemence of temptations. For human life upon earth is a temptation. Whence also it is rightly enjoined, or admonished: Son, when thou comest to the service of God, stand in fear, and prepare thy soul for temptation (Eccle. II). [Vulg. sta in justitia et timore, "stand in justice and in fear"] But the diversity of the winds of heaven is the contrary affections of the spirit. For concupiscence breathes in one way, and wrathfulness blows in another. And in one way and another, confidence, or diffidence. But who does not recognize by experience 1349Bhow concupiscence breathes and pants, how vehemently it shakes the spirit, how strongly it bends it toward that which it desires? For every man is tempted, being drawn away and allured by his own concupiscence (Jac. I). But often, amid the strong heats and violent impulses of concupiscence, the spirit returns unto itself, and confutes, and sharply rebukes. It is angry with itself, it is indignant with itself, and wrathfulness, blowing from the opposite quarter, strongly resists and struggles against the blasts of concupiscence. These blasts of wrathfulness, and these recoils, he wished to come about, who said? Be ye angry, and sin not (Psal. IV). In this manner, therefore, the blasts of concupiscence and of wrathfulness; often clash one with the other, and rise up each against the other. A conflict of alternating blasts of this kind each one of us 1349Cis wont to experience, and must endure, so long as the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh. For although concupiscence may seem at some time to rest, at least for a little, it begins again and again to rise up, and to assail more vehemently. It was silent, says the Scripture, the land of Juda, for a few days (I Mach. VII). If the earth, and the land of Juda, can scarcely keep silence for a few days, how much more the sea? For what by the sea, but an unstable heart. and what by the earth (a solid element, that is to say, and an immovable body) do we more rightly understand than a heart firm and stable. If therefore a stable heart rarely rests, and that for a few days, what wonder if a heart restless and slippery, and such in short as is designated 1349Dby the great sea, what wonder, I say, if it is rarely silent, and scarcely for a few moments? That wind, therefore, vehemently burning (concupiscence, that is to say, breathing and boiling), after a momentary quiet often rises the more violent, and drives more strongly than is its wont, and well-nigh overturns the state of the mind, so far that the spirit now begins to grow weary and almost to fail, and to despair of perseverance, and to fall into diffidence. When therefore the wind of diffidence blows, it often befalls that the spirit is more miserably endangered than it could be by any impulses of concupiscence. For it is greatly to be feared lest that vehement wind rush suddenly from the region of the desert, and, shaking the house of conscience, overturn the whole state of the mind. For who shall stand before the face of its cold? Unless perhaps, as is wont to happen, by God's breathing 1350Acontrary blasts rise up from the opposite quarter. For it often comes about that, after much trembling of diffidence and exceeding weariness, the spirit at length at some time returns unto conscience, runs back unto the divine mercy, casts its care upon the Lord, repairs its constancy, and scarcely and late resumes its confidence. From thenceforth confidence and diffidence begin mutually to rebel, and strongly to assail, and to drive with adverse blasts, and by alternate turns, now this, now that, to have the upper hand. This is that battle of the winds, if I mistake not, which the prophet Daniel saw and described in mystical speech, and of what sort it is, experience itself has perhaps taught some of you. And would that I knew and were able to describe it as profitably as it truly stands that I have proved by 1350Bexperience of what kind it is. But let us see what is sometimes wont to follow this battle of the winds. Let us see what monsters that great sea, of which we spoke above, chances to bring forth.

Four great beasts, he says, came up out of the sea, diverse one from another. What, I ask, is it for beasts to come up out of the sea after the battle of the winds, but for bestial motions and irrational impulses, after the violence of temptations, to rise up out of the instability of the heart and to break forth into the open? For he puts on as it were a bestial form who lives bestially. For without doubt, he who passes his life irrationally and bestially, 1350Cin so far as irrationally, so far bestially. What are any vices whatsoever, but certain beasts? What are any depraved desires whatsoever, but beasts? Beasts of this kind tear morals, cut the throat of virtues, choke souls. The onslaughts of such beasts the Psalmist feared, when in psalmody he prayed and in praying sang: Deliver not up unto the beasts the souls that confess to thee (Psal. LXXIII). There are beasts which kill the body, but have nothing that they can do to the soul. Yet to holy men such as these are not greatly to be feared, and least of all to those who by a spontaneous nod are mortified all the day long, lest they seem to incur that prophetic reproach: There they trembled for fear, where there was no fear. Do not deliver, he says, unto the beast the souls that confess 1350Dto thee (Psal. XIII). [Vulg. trepidaverunt, "they feared"; and at Psal. LXXIII, printed a few lines above, Ne tradas bestiis, "deliver not up unto the beasts", plural] He says not the body of them that confess to thee, he says not the flesh of them that confess to thee, but deliver not up unto the beasts the souls that confess to thee. Those, those beasts assuredly are truly to be feared, which are able to kill souls. The onslaughts of such beasts we quickly run into, when, our deserts requiring it, we lose the light of divine illumination: Thou hast appointed, he says, darkness, and it was night: in it shall all the beasts of the wood go about (Psal. CIII). The onslaughts of such beasts the Lord threatens against them that presume upon themselves and glory in their own merits, when in the canticle of Deuteronomy he speaks by the Prophet: I will send the teeth of beasts upon them (Deut. XXXVIII). But it now remains to inquire why these beasts are said to be four only, or how they are diverse one from another.

• 1351A

That I may briefly say what I think, every manner of living bestially seems to me to be fourfold. Some seem to practise good things, but without mode and measure and apart from all discretion. And although in them there be perhaps a good intention, this in them is bestial, that they live without measure, and are carried headlong, without the judgment of reason and apart from counsel. And although they may perchance have a zeal of rectitude, yet they have it not according to learning. Others, however, practise evil things, but timidly indeed, and therefore secretly; and for that reason, according to the voice of the Psalmist, they will dwell, and will hide themselves (Psal. LV), because they fear to be reproved, or blush to be caught. Others again practise good things in work, 1351Bbut by hypocrisy indeed, and without any good intention, as loving the first couches at feasts, and the first chairs in the synagogues, and salutations in the market place, and to be called Rabbi by men. Others again practise evil things everywhere, openly, and freely, and without any fear and shame, so that they seem to be without a forehead, because a harlot's forehead has been made theirs, and they know not how to blush. Thou seest therefore how diverse among themselves are workmen of this kind. The first and the third exercise themselves in good things, the second and the fourth in evil. The first and the third do good things, but not well: for the first indiscreetly, the third in simulation, and by that very thing they are diverse one from the other. In evil things both the second and the fourth exercise themselves. But those secretly, these as openly as shamelessly, and therefore are they themselves diverse among themselves. The first are they who walk 1351Cin great things and in wonderful things beneath themselves (Psal. CXXX). [Vulg. neque ambulavi in magnis, neque in mirabilibus super me, "nor have I walked in great matters, nor in wonderful things above me"] The second are they who sit in ambush with the rich in secret places, that they may kill the innocent (Psal. X). The third are they who do all their works that they may be seen of men (Matth. XXIII). But the fourth, they who neither fear God nor reverence men (Luc. XVIII). In the first, therefore, there is an indiscreet religion; in the second, a hidden transgression; in the third, a feigned religion; in the fourth, a manifest transgression. These are the four states of them who live irrationally and bestially (if indeed they are to be called states, and not rather falls), which ever drive a man from evil to worse.

And it is to be noted that in these four steps of corruptions the second is worse than the first, the third than the second, and the fourth is the worst of all. 1351DAnd perhaps some may doubt of the third, how it is worse than the second. But in the third state, what else is there than a dissembled equity? But, on Augustine's testimony, we have learned that a dissembled equity is not equity, but a double iniquity.

In the first state, therefore, there is a foolish justice; in the second, an uncurbed malice; in the third, a feigned justice; in the fourth, an unbridled malice. In the first reigns singularity, in the second impiety, in the third craftiness, in the fourth erudelitas. In the first, I say, reigns singularity, and of it is said: Woe to him that is alone, for when he shall fall he hath none 1352Ato lift him up (Eccle. IV). Woe, I say, to him that is alone, that is, to him who presumes upon himself alone and upon his own counsel, and lives by a certain solitary presumption. In the second reigns impiety, and of it is said: Woe to the wicked unto evil (Isa. III). In the third reigns craftiness. And the crafty provoke the wrath of God, and of them is said: Woe to the double heart, and to him that goeth on the earth two ways (Eccle. II). In the fourth reigns cruelty, and to the cruel it is said: Woe to thee that spoilest, shalt not thou thyself also be spoiled (Isai. XXXIII). Cruelty is rapine; rapine is when a man takes away another's goods. What seems to thee of him who sows discord among brethren? Impiously indeed he deals with thee who takes away thy money; what of him who takes away thy peace? Does he act cruelly who takes away thy garment, 1352Band not much more he who takes away thy charity? But if it is cruel to take from a man outward goods, goods that shall perish, much more cruel will it be to take from a man inward goods, goods that shall abide unto eternity: For it is charity that never falleth away (II Cor. XIII). Without doubt, he who takes charity from a man takes God also away: Because God is charity (I Joan. IV). Woe to thee that spoilest, shalt not thou be spoiled? As much as thou takest, so much dost thou lose; thou takest God away, and thou losest God. Thou takest heaven away, thou forfeitest heaven. What is crueller than this impiety? What is madder than this cruelty? Behold from whence and whither one comes; behold none the less also by what way one goes down: from whence, sayest thou, and whither? From the height of singularity, unto the height of cruelty. But by what way, sayest thou, and how? Through impiety and duplicity. For from the first 1352Cstep one goes down to the second, from the second to the third, from the third to the fourth. For without doubt presumption cast down is wont to bring in emulation; emulation despised, simulation; simulation cast down, the unbridling of the mind. For to the first state belongs presumption, to the second emulation, to the third simulation, to the fourth the unbridling of the mind. To the first, insolence; to the second, enviousness; to the third, fraudulence; to the fourth, shamelessness; and perhaps these are those beasts which we had to seek.

In the description, therefore, of the first beast we understand 1352Dthe vice of insolence. We say insolitum, as it were non solitum, "not customary", or "contrary to the customary", and thence we suppose insolentia, insolence, to be so named. Rightly therefore is it called insolence, when at random and rashly something is presumed beyond the customary. Insolence, therefore, is a headlong vice, and a rash presumption, or a headlong and presumptuous rashness, beyond the customary. But this evil is manifold. For insolence now raises itself above the customary, now restrains itself below the customary, now sets itself against the customary. But let us now see concerning the first beast, of what sort Holy Scripture describes it, or how fittingly it expresses the property of insolence. The first, he says, was like a lioness, and had the wings of an eagle. The lion is said to be of such fierceness that, when provoked, he fears not even death, so far that not even for the peril of death 1353Adoes he restrain himself from the impulse of his own fury. The lion, he says, the strongest of beasts, will be afraid at the meeting of none (Prov. XXX). Thou seest in the lion how foolish a boldness, and how bold a folly. Does it not seem a matter of lion-like boldness, and done to make oneself a name, to walk in great things and in wonderful things above oneself, to presume all things beyond one's strength, the counsel of teachers being spurned and the precept of elders contemned, to stretch fasts, vigils and observances of this kind beyond measure, and neither to spare the health of the body, nor to shudder at the death of the soul in the contempt of due obedience?

Note that it is likened not to a lion, but to a lioness, because this sex is found more forward and more obstinate in the vehemence of its impulse. See therefore how irrational and bestial and truly lion-like a thing it is to rest in no man's counsel, 1353Bin no man's precept, but obstinately to persist in the boldness of one's own rashness. Do ye wish to hear this also briefly, what I think of the wings of a beast of this kind? It seems to me that the one is of precipitancy, the other of presumption. Behold, two wings, and both of the eagle. Who knows not this of the eagle, that it is wont to fly more swiftly, or more loftily, than almost all other birds. In precipitancy mark the swiftness of the flight. In presumption weigh the loftiness of the flight. It has been said already above that insolence is a headlong and presumptuous rashness, beyond the customary. That I may therefore gird up into a compendious brevity the things said more diffusely, recognize the lion-like likeness in the rashness of singularity. Note in the eagle's wings the vice of presumption 1353Cand the vice of precipitancy. The eagle is called the king of birds, and the lion the king of beasts. Does not he therefore seem to have something of the lioness and something of the eagle, who presumes, in the active life as in the contemplative, to go before all men, and in both lives to hold a singular and highest place? On earth he is a lioness, in heaven he is an eagle, who presumes to walk more strongly than all others, to fly more loftily; to walk by action, to fly by contemplation.

But let us now see what Solomon thinks of a man of this kind, who does all things precipitately and presumptuously, who in his endeavours keeps neither measure 1353Dnor modesty: He that is hasty, he says, stumbleth with his feet (Prov. XIX). Hence it is that elsewhere he says: The inheritance which is hastened to in the beginning, in the end shall want a blessing (Prov. XX). To the same sentence there seems to accord that which is added concerning the aforesaid beast: I beheld till its wings were plucked off, and it was lifted up from the earth and stood upon its feet as a man, and its heart was given to it. [Vulg. cor hominis, "a man's heart"] Behold how they who presume upon themselves beyond measure lose by degrees that whereby they swell and despise the rest. First the wings are plucked off, afterwards the body itself of the beast is lifted up from the earth; first the grace of the contemplative life, afterwards that of the active life also is lost. For what is it to lose one's wings, but to lose those lofty 1354Aflights of contemplating? For when, after many excesses of fastings and vigils, the body has begun to waste away and the head to ache, willy-nilly one must lay down the wings, return to the earth, and take care of the flesh; and it is better that they be laid down willingly than plucked off from one unwilling. What is it for the wings to be plucked off, but to lose them with huge grief, and without any hope of recovering them? The wings are plucked off when the boldness of precipitancy and of presumption is cut short, infirmity urging, necessity compelling. Does not the Lord threaten a plucking off of wings of this kind, when he speaks by the prophet: If thou be exalted as an eagle, and set thy nest among the stars of heaven, thence will I draw thee, saith the Lord (Abd. I). [Vulg. et si inter sidera posueris … inde detraham te, "and if thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I draw thee down"] After the plucking off of the wings it is lifted up from the earth; through the mind's elevation, therefore, and because of the mind's elation, 1354Bit is shaken off from the earth. And deservedly, as I believe, in that by pride, swelling, bursting, wasting, rotting, they yet at some time become as the dust which the wind driveth from the face of the earth. And so, after the loss of the wings, the habitation of the earth also is lost, because after the grace of contemplation has been withdrawn, as has been said, the grace of working well also is withdrawn from the proud soul. And he who before presumed to go strongly before all, let him now begin to follow after all, and at last to be left behind. And he who before through insolence stretched himself beyond the customary, afterwards remains short of the customary; and thus he now falls from the first step of insolence into the second, with this at last to come, which I fear, that from the second he fall back into the third. But where, I ask, will the beast already spoken of be henceforth, cast down from heaven, the others 1354Chaving been lost, and lifted up from the earth? Will it perhaps return thither whence it came, and go down again into the sea, it that came up out of the sea? So indeed, so often what is presumed out of the levity of the heart, afterwards into a great fluctuation of the mind in bitterness. And this perhaps is to lose the earth: to lose all the stability of one's purpose, and, by bearing one's dejection unworthily, to run into an exceeding bitterness of heart. Thus from the earth one passes into the sea; thus are the mountains carried into the heart of the sea. For what is it for mountains to pass into the heart of the sea, but to fall from the summit of a great endeavour into the inmost malice of the heart? For according to the testimony of the Truth, iniquity abounding, the charity of many shall grow cold (Matth. XXIV). No one therefore, in however great a 1354Dloftiness of virtues, ought to presume anything of his own powers, but all of the Lord, and to sing with the Psalmist: Therefore we will not fear when the earth shall be troubled, and the mountains shall be carried into the heart of the sea (Psal. XXV). Then indeed are the mountains carried away, when that saying of John is fulfilled: They went out from us, but they were not of us (I Joan. II).

But if no place now remains to this beast except the sea (for it seems to have lost both heaven and earth), it is a wonder how it is said to have stood upon its feet. Or is it perhaps believed to have stood upon some crag or rock, where it might be girt about on every side by the sea, and unceasingly 1355Abeaten by the waves of the sea? O how hard a punishment, but worthy of presumptuous singularity! Behold, it which before presumed to outrun all, and out of its own presumption wearied them, now has not whither to go, nor finds how it may rest. And upon its feet, he says, it stood as a man. And would that even late it might cease to believe itself an angel, and at length at some time leave off presuming above man. Behold, now putting off the angel, it no longer flies in the highest, but walks in the lowest; nay, now it walks not, but stands, having lost the love and the hope of advancing. Yet it lies not down, but stands, so that it never rests. Continually therefore it stands, because without intermission it labours. It wearies its feet without going forward, it labours without fruit. It stands therefore, but how? Upon its feet, as a man. A grand spectacle, but a foul 1355Bwonder, to see a four-footed beast, a lion-like shape at that, raise itself upon two feet against heaven, and stand upright against nature. What is this monstrous uprearing, but a certain enormous and exceedingly detestable pride? He rears himself against God who swells against the supercelestial majesty. Does he not swell against God who reproves his judgments? But who knows not how presumptuous minds are wont to murmur against the divine scourges, to envy the advances of others, and impatiently to bear the declines of their own glory? But they murmur not only against the justice of God, but even against the goodness of God. Against the justice of God in their own evils, against the goodness of God in the goods of others. For an insolent spirit, and one greedy of its own excellence, when 1355Cthrough excessive pride it falls into envy, bears almost more grievously the advance of others than its own defect. O monstrous presumption, which murmurs against the divine majesty for this, that God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble (Luc. IV). Is thy eye, he says, evil, because I am good? (Matth. XX.) But they who are of this kind are wont to weave certain complaints as though reasonable, and to display the causes of their murmuring (though in truth they are irrational) as though just; and this perhaps is for the brutish shape to raise itself unto the likeness of a man, to be willing to put forward as it were certain reasons in an irrational murmuring against God. To this sentence there seems to accord what is further said of 1355Dthis beast. For when it had been premised, it stood upon its feet as a man, straightway there is added, and its heart was given to it. Whose, its? Either the heart of a man, or the heart of the lioness. But why should the lioness be said to have received its heart, which it is not said to have lost? It received the heart of a man, and of one savouring carnally, when, God permitting, it fell into the prudence of the flesh; or else it then truly receives the heart of a man when through much experience it understands its own error, and more fully recognizes both its own defect and the advance of others. But what is divinely granted to a man for his own good, the man himself often abuses to his own evil. And when his own merits and those of others are known to be unequal, from that whereby he ought to be pricked unto penitence, thence he grows unto a greater envy. For behold, after the lioness described 1356Areceived the heart of a man, there succeeds it not a lamb, but a bear ut sus. For often a heart greedy of glory and livid, when the glory of others and its own ignominy have been looked upon, falls into enviousness. Thus vice succeeds vice: insolence goes before, and enviousness follows; and what is yet worse, insolence does not withdraw.

Enviousness seems to sound something more than envy. As a man is not rightly called a reader save at that time when he is occupied in reading, so too a man is then rightly called envying when he is employing his spite. And from that which is invidens, envying, is invidentia, enviousness, named. Envy, therefore, then truly grows out into enviousness, when it so agitates the spirit that it 1356Bnow scarcely at any time lets it rest. Enviousness, therefore, is a frequent envy, and one that does not let the spirit rest. But in the second beast, if I mistake not, enviousness is rightly understood. But, that this may grow clearer, let us hear how the prophetic word describes it: And behold, he says, another beast, like a bear, stood on one side, and there were three rows in its mouth and in its teeth, and thus they said to it: Arise, eat much flesh (Dan. VII). Now the bear, as we all know, is an ugly animal, and one that is wont to dwell in remote and hidden places; and in this very thing it bears the form of envy. For envy herself too (as blushing at her own foulness) ever strives to lie hidden. But the bear is a malicious and savage animal, and perhaps such is the vice of envy. Envy is the hatred 1356Cof another's happiness; and what is more malicious? What else, therefore, is envy but a light-shunning and lurking malice? But enviousness is a boiling malice, and one that rages in secret. And the bear is a very restless animal, so that when tied to a stake it scarcely ever ceases either to go round about, or, with its feet fixed, to toss its head now to this side, now to that; and in this it has the form not only of envy, but of enviousness, which scarcely for a moment lets the spirit rest. But it is said of this beast that it stood on one side. Not yet, therefore, in this state does a man utterly forsake good things, nor yet, as in the former state, does he extend himself unto all things. It stands therefore on one side, because in certain good things it still seems to persist. For no one 1356Dbecomes suddenly most base, just as, on the opposite side, no one becomes suddenly highest. As it were, therefore, it still stands on one side, since old custom still draws the man to do some good things. Behold that in this state the spirit is not yet unbridled even to open malice, in so far as it is either restrained by fear or checked by shame.

And three rows, he says, were in its mouth, and in its teeth. The Scripture itself determines how there were three rows in its mouth, that is, in its teeth. But what do we more rightly understand by the teeth than the bites of malice, of enviousness? But who knows not how familiar, and homely, and as it were 1357Aproperly proper it is to envy to gnaw redere another's life, and to tear it with the bites of disparagement? But this evil is wont to increase by certain steps. For there are in men some things manifestly evil, and some doubtful, so that it may come into ambiguity whether they are good or evil. But a livid mind is wont always to exaggerate manifest evils the more manifoldly, to turn whatever is doubtful to the worse part, and open goods (since it cannot deny them) to darken by what art it can, and to diminish at least something of them. The first is of speaking-against, the second of derogation, the third of detraction. Speaking-against is when a biting and reproving speech is occupied about that, or is made on account of that evil, which is truly in a man. He who knows what it is rogare, to entreat, can from the opposite recognize what 1357Bit is derogare, to derogate, since they answer to one another by contraries just as to persuade and to dissuade do. Does it not seem to thee derogation when to one who holds a good estimation of some other man it is said, do not so believe, do not so esteem, thou art mistaken, thou art deceived, it is far otherwise than thou thinkest, thou believest darkness to be light and puttest bitter for sweet. This assuredly has no place in open goods, because it cannot bend the things that are manifest to the other side. But to detract is to be willing to diminish at least something of open goods, when thou canst not utterly empty them out. For he detracts who by barking against draws back something from that whereby he believes a man's reputation to be the more glorious. Speaking-against, therefore, is the disseminating of an evil opinion. Derogation, the emptying out of a good opinion. Detraction, the thinning of a good opinion. The tongue 1357Cthat speaks against the Psalmist feared, when he said: All the day long my shame is before me, and the confusion of my face hath covered me, at the face of him that reproacheth and speaketh against me (Psal. XLIII). [Vulg. a voce exprobrantis, "at the voice of him that reproacheth"] He touches the derogators in what he says elsewhere: They were catching at the soul of the just, and were condemning innocent blood (Psal. XCIII). [Vulg. Captabunt … condemnabunt, "they shall catch … they shall condemn"] He expresses the detractors when he says: They that render evil for good detracted from me, because I followed goodness (Psal. XXXVII). Behold, thou hast the three rows of teeth in the manifoldness of detractions, derogations, speakings-against.

Now it is easy to see how rightly there befits this 1357Dbeast that which is set in the last place when it is said: Arise, eat much flesh. For what is it to eat flesh, but to tear another's weak things with a slanderous tooth? For they who gladly gnaw another's life, who zealously serve derogations, who delightedly pluck at the infirmities of their neighbours, what else do they but eat flesh? Such gnawers of flesh the Prophet had already known by experience, when he said: They that harm me draw near upon me, to eat my flesh (Psal. XXVI). But that which is said, Arise, eat, what, I ask, will it be, a command or a permission, a suggestion or an instigation? But if we think it was said by good angels, let us consequently understand that in their words also only a permission was made. Such is that which is said to Judas 1358A: That which thou dost, do quickly (Joan. XIII). But if it stands that it was said by evil angels, we can understand in words of this kind both a suggestion and an instigation. For evil spirits are ever wont to suggest malignant things to malignant minds, and to instigate them unto every malice. How malicious a thing it is, and how pernicious, to serve detractions, and in this for each man to satisfy his own vice, thou canst note from that sentence of Solomon: If a serpent bite in silence, he that detracteth secretly hath nothing the less (Eccli. X). Does not that accord with this sentence which the Psalmist says of such men: Their throat is an open sepulchre, with their tongues they acted deceitfully, the venom of asps is under their lips (Psal. V). O evil execrable, and deadly as much to him that speaks as to him that hears: 1358BArise, he says, eat much flesh. And what else does the bear, what else does this wild brute know, but either to suck its own paws, or to tear the flesh of others? What other office, I say, does the monster of enviousness discharge, but either to bewail its own troubles, or to pluck at the weak things of others? But would that they tore the flesh only, would that they spared at least the bones! But now they mangle all things, they tear all things, whence it comes about that at length at some time they become hateful to all. For he who speaks, I say, cannot lie hidden. But when they begin to be recognized, they begin likewise to be despised and to be held in hatred. But an envious and proud mind, with how great a grief thinkest thou it is burned, with how great a spite is it tormented, when it sees others advance from day to day unto better things, and itself daily decrease in every opinion, and grow more and more 1358Cworthless? Whence it often comes about that it turns itself to crafty devices, while with the utmost zeal and solicitude it seeks how it may either spread wide its own glory, or becloud the glory of others. It begins therefore from thenceforth to dissemble sanctity, and through hypocrisy little by little to give itself over to every fraudulence. Thus the leopard succeeds the bear, while a slippery mind flows down from vice to vice, and through the evil of enviousness falls into fraudulence.

Then without doubt fraud grows exerescit into fraudulence, when out of much malice it now befalls the mind that it is altogether willing to deceive when it can, and after 1358Dmuch use and practice there is nonetheless at hand to it, through much cunning now, that it can easily deceive when it wills. For what else is fraudulence than a cunning malice, as prone to every fraud as it is prompt? Rightly is the fraudulence of hypocrites figured in the leopard, which is sprinkled over its whole body with certain spots. For hypocrites indeed make a show of holiness in their work, but what they love is perverse; and what lives within in the affection must needs at some time break forth and appear in the work. And so they that are of this sort do good things openly and evil things in secret. They therefore who break forth stealthily into works of dissoluteness, or as often as they can do it excusably, what else do they do than sprinkle the body of their own action with certain spots? Let us see, then, 1359Aof what sort this beast is said to be, which is described in the third place. After these things, he says, I was beholding, and lo, another as it were a leopard, and it had wings as of a bird, four upon itself, and four heads were upon the beast, and power was given to it (Dan. VII). [Vulg. Dan. 7:6 reads et ecce alia quasi pardus and quatuor capita erant in bestia, "in the beast"; Migne prints altera for alia, and super bestiam, "upon the beast"] Give heed how rightly those that are designated in this beast are said to have wings. Certainly when eum birds fly, they lift themselves above themselves. Certainly when they will to fly, they suspend themselves through the void. Do not minds of this sort lift themselves above themselves, and suspend themselves through the void, when for the sake of ambition and empty glory they stretch out the observances of a hard strictness almost beyond the measure of human possibility? For to exercise the zeals of virtue, and not to care for or to seek the merits or the rewards of the virtues, what else is it than to suspend oneself on high through 1359Bthe void? And what else is it to have many heads, than to do nothing simply? For as in the wings we understand occupation and exercise, so in the head we understand intention. For the head rules the whole body, and all our action is subservient to the intention.

Do you wish to know yet more fully what kind of wings fraudulence is wont to have? That I may therefore briefly express what I think: let one be called the wing of simulation, another of dissimulation, the third of ostentation, the fourth of excuse. For simulating minds, and those that are slaves to hypocrisy, are wont; they are wont, I say, not only to boast of the goods they have, but even to simulate that they have 1359Cgoods which they have not at all. On the contrary they are wont craftily to excuse manifest evils, but hidden evils (as if they had them not at all) cunningly to dissimulate. Simulation and dissimulation are concerning hidden things. But simulation concerning hidden goods, dissimulation concerning hidden evils. On the other side, however, ostentation and excuse are wont to be concerning manifest things; but the former concerning manifest goods, the latter concerning manifest evils. For in those goods which are manifest and cannot be denied, ostentation has its place, just as in manifest evils alone excuse is sought. Our left hand is brought forth into the midst more rarely than the right, and by that very fact is more rarely seen. Rightly therefore by the left we understand the more hidden things, and rightly by the right the more manifest. And so the wings 1359Dof simulation and of dissimulation seem to belong to the left, even as the wings of ostentation and of excuse to the right. Thou hast therefore in ostentation and simulation the first pair of wings. And thou hast likewise in excuse and dissimulation the second pair of wings. For ostentation and simulation are concerning goods alone. But the former concerning true and manifest ones, as it were a wing on the right; the latter concerning feigned ones, as it were a wing on the left. On these two wings they fly, and commending themselves to their neighbours and publishing abroad their own reputation, they spread their glory round about. But excuse and dissimulation are concerning evils alone: the former concerning manifest ones, as it were one wing on the right; the latter concerning hidden ones, as it were the other wing on the left. As on the two former, as has been said, they fly, so on these latter they veil their own 1360Abody. For beyond doubt simulators and hypocrites are wont, on this side and on that, under the covering of excuse and of dissimulation, to veil their hinder and more shameful parts.

Behold, let us see concerning the number of the wings and concerning the plurality of the heads. Now we know that the fraudulence of hypocrites, in all that it keeps doing, pants after the advancement of its own honour. For all that it does, or intends in doing, is a slave to ambition. But ambition is nothing else than the coveting of honour. Now the first species of this evil is the coveting of liberty, the second the coveting of dignity, the third the coveting of authority, the fourth the coveting of power. Behold how ambition 1360Bdivides itself into four heads, to which, as has been said, the whole action of hypocrites is subservient. The coveting of liberty is when one now shrinks from being under others. The coveting of dignity is, by courting higher things, always to pant from step to step. The coveting of authority is when one now courts to appear to all a man of great counsel and of holiness, and that whatever is to be established or defined should hang upon his counsel or his judgment. The coveting of power is when one now courts to be set over others. We often see even those who have professed a voluntary obedience, how gladly, how eagerly they take upon themselves occupations troublesome enough and burdensome, that from the occasion of their own administration they may obtain a somewhat greater liberty of going out, of speaking, of acting. What does this, I ask, unless the ambition of liberty? 1360CWe see others striving always from step to step, and those who are of a lower grade aspiring from the subdiaconate, subdeacons to the diaconate, deacons to the presbyterate; and though from it they have perhaps acquired nothing of greater liberty or of power, yet they judge it no small thing to hold at least a higher place than the rest. But whence is this in them, unless from the ambition of dignity? That man of that Achitopel, speaking, teaches us what the ambition of authority can do in certain men; the traitor and parricide Absalon teaches us what the ambition of power avails.

1360DBut it is to be noted what is said of this beast: That power was given to it; and beyond doubt, by the wonderful and hidden judgment of God, the things which hypocrites can do are almost greater, and they do them and keep the observances of a stricter life, than they who afflict themselves for God's sake; and although it is established that all flesh is hay, and all the glory thereof as the flower of hay [Vulg. Isa. 40:6 flos agri, "the flower of the field"], yet the followers of vanity often labour more for a vain and transitory glory than true emulators for the true and eternal glory. But it is very difficult, nay almost impossible, that men of this sort should be able long to lie hid. Hear what Solomon thinks here, when he says: He that walketh simply, walketh confidently, but he that perverteth his ways shall be made manifest (Prov. X). It behoves therefore that those who walk doubly and fraudulently, and the perverters of their own ways, 1361Abe made manifest, and that that prophetic word be fulfilled in them: Uncover thy shame, lay bare thy shoulder, make bare thy legs, pass over the rivers, thy ignominy shall be revealed, and thy reproach shall be seen. (Isa. XLVII). Men of this sort, when they have been caught in this state of fraudulence, often rush yet into worse things: for when they despair of being able any longer to lie hid in their own depravities, when they lose that one joy of their boasting without any hope of recovering it, straightway they break forth into open shamelessness. Behold how through fraudulence a man is cast headlong into shamelessness.

Give heed, I beseech thee, how bestial, and more 1361Bthan bestial, a life it is, when human shame has been cast off, to give oneself headlong to all things, and the divine gaze or the countenances of men, not to blush even at things to be blushed at, and at length at some time to unbridle oneself unto every malice. For what else is shamelessness than a headlong and unbridled malice? Let us therefore now hear what is said of this last beast: After these things I was beholding, he says, in the vision of the night, and lo, a fourth beast, terrible and wonderful, and exceeding strong. It had great iron teeth, eating and breaking in pieces, and treading down the rest with its feet. But it was unlike to the other beasts which I had seen before it, and it had ten horns (Dan. VII). Behold, he says a beast, and yet what beast it is, or to what 1361Cbeast it is like, he does not say, as in the foregoing. See therefore what kind of monster among the vices this is, which is now mystically described, to which none among so many monsters of beasts is found comparable. Now we know that the mind which has been corrupted by envy and by shamelessness spares thenceforth no one at all, since it spares neither itself nor others. For envy indeed takes away from a man love and compassion for his neighbour; but shamelessness, moderation and circumspection of himself. And often they that are of this sort bear many labours, many griefs, patiently, nay even gladly, that they may afflict others; and they had rather themselves endure misery than not inflict it upon others. See therefore how wonderful, or rather how horrible a thing it is, that a man, forgetful of humanity, should put off the man, and put on a beastly heart, nay one more than beastly. 1361DAnd lo, he says, a fourth beast, terrible and wonderful, and exceeding strong. Is it not strong, and exceeding strong, which, for the sake of inflicting evils upon its neighbours, is so patient in bearing evils? But he is said to have iron teeth and nails who is unbridled unto every cruelty. For iron, which tames all the other metals, rightly enough designates cruelty. He therefore receives iron teeth and nails who rages in words and in works against his neighbours, Of another beast it was said that it devoured very much flesh. But of this one it is said that it breaks all things in pieces. It therefore which breaks all things in pieces seizes, condemns, annihilates not only the weak things of others, but the strong as well. And so it tears all things by defamation, and what it cannot defame it treads down by contempt. But that I may be silent about the rest, 1362Ain this chiefly does this beast seem to be unlike the others, that in this last state the wicked mind knows not how to blush. It was unlike, he says, to the other beasts which I had seen before it, and it had ten horns.

O bloody beast, which both by contempt treads down all its inferiors, and with the horns of rebellion assails its superiors! Would that of horns of this kind might be fulfilled that which he who speaks in the psalm profitably threatens: And I will break all the horns of sinners, and I will exalt the horns of the just (Psal. LXXIV). [Vulg. Ps. 74:11 exaltabuntur cornua justi, "the horns of the just shall be exalted"; the received text is passive, not a first-person promise] Let us therefore ask more diligently what sort of horns shamelessness has, 1362Bwith which it is wont to fight back or to assail. But this we know, that horns grow out of the flesh, and harden above the sensibility of the flesh. Now in ten ways, as it seems to me, the shameless soul grows hard, and loses that sensibility of heart which it is fitting to have. For in three ways the mind grows hard toward God, in three toward itself, and in four ways against its neighbour. Toward God, through arrogance, through self-exaltation, through contumacy. Arrogance is when it ascribes to itself that which it has received from God. Self-exaltation is when it lifts itself above that which it has received: through arrogance it glories in itself over what it has, through self-exaltation even over what it has not. Through arrogance and self-exaltation 1362Cit comes about that the divine grace is deservedly withdrawn, and that it is hardened unto contumacy; and being deserted, it is made a transgressor. But there is never a willing transgression of a precept without contempt of God. Contumacy therefore is when it despises God commanding and contemns him threatening. Through arrogance the goodness of God is assailed, through self-exaltation the truth of God, through contumacy the power of God. For certain we know, and without any hesitation, that it is God who worketh all things according to good will (Ephes. I). [Vulg. Eph. 1:11 reads qui operatur omnia secundum consilium voluntatis suae, "who worketh all things according to the counsel of his will"; pro bona voluntate is the phrase of Phil. 2:13] And so from the goodness of God alone is whatever of good is, or can be, in us. He therefore who arrogates to himself that whereby he ought to have glorified God, what else does he do than despoil the goodness of God of its glory? He who lifts himself above that which he is wills that to be believed false which is true, and 1362Dtrue which is false. But he who leans upon falsehood is convicted of striving against the truth of God. But whatever the wicked mind presumes through contumacy looks chiefly to the contumely of the divine power.

By three steps of headlong fall, nonetheless, the human spirit is wont to grow stiff in regard to itself: by the binding of the mind, by the hardening of the mind, by the unbridling of the mind. The binding of the mind is when a habitual delight so insolubly entangles it that it cannot, even when it wills, entangle itself from the custom of sin; when it now does not at all cease from sinning, so far as impunity permits it. See how him whom arrogance 1363Adespoils, self-exaltation enervates; and him whom self-exaltation enervates, contumacy casts headlong; and him whom contumacy casts headlong into sinning, the custom of sinning afterwards little by little binds. To such a soul, and so bound, that voice of the prophet cries: Loose the bonds of thy neck, O captive daughter of Sion (Isa. LII). Loosed from such bonds and free, it can sing with the Psalmist: Thou hast broken my bonds, to thee will I sacrifice the sacrifice of praise (Psal. CXV). But the hardening of the heart is when he that is of this sort can now be restrained from his own excesses by fear of no punishment, by no severity of vengeance. And, that we may use open examples, the shameful know what condemnation they undergo, or ought to undergo, when caught in their shameful deeds, and yet neither are they able to restrain themselves from the perpetration of shameful deeds. It is one thing not to be able to restrain one's own desire desidorium 1363Bwhen impunity allures, and another not to be able to beware even of that which is not committed without the utmost peril. In the former step, therefore, the spirit is insolubly bound to fault; in this one it is hardened, as it were insensibly, against punishment. In that one shame, in this one fear also, is trodden underfoot. Hear what is said of those who in this step are hardened against punishment: I have struck, he says, them, and they grieved not (Jer. V). [Vulg. Jer. 5:3 Percussisti eos, "Thou hast struck them"; the received text addresses God in the second person, and the same verse is printed at 1276C of this work as Percussi filios vestros] The unbridling of the mind is when without any hesitation or drawing back the spirit exposes itself to every transgression, and, the bit of shame and the bridle of fear being shaken off, rushes headlong into all things, and becomes thenceforth as the horse and the mule which have no intellect (Psal. XXXI). In the two former the spirit, by its own desires, even when it resists, 1363Cis overcome. But in this step it does not resist at all, but, whatever wind of temptation blows, is snatched in every direction, according to that which the prophet imprecates: My God, set them as a wheel, and as stubble before the face of the wind (Psal. LXXXII). But as in the three first horns it assails God, so in the three following it fights back against God. For by the binding, the hardening, the unbridling of itself, the ill-fortified mind strongly resists, lest any impulse of divine fear should be able easily to humble it.

Four still remain of the aforesaid horns: the horn 1363Dof abjection, the horn of objection, the horn of dejection, the horn of subjection. By these four steps the wicked mind is hardened against its neighbour, and, what is worse, against those to whom it owes a humble service. For as with iron nails it treads down its inferiors, so with these four horns of rebellion it is armed against its superiors. For the shameless soul, which has once shaken off the yoke of fear, rises up now with wicked rashness against its own mastery. And so it rebels with the horn of abjection, when it now disdains to obey; with the horn of objection, when it strives always and everywhere strongly to resist the endeavours of its own prelates; with the horn of dejection, when it strives to cast down its own prelates; with the horn of subjection, when it now strives even to subject them to itself. Behold how the evil 1364Arages abroad; behold by what steps the depraved soul is hardened unto the utmost shamelessness; behold in what manner a man is brought even to this, that he neither fears God nor reverences man (Luc. XVIII). [Vulg. Luc. 18:2 qui Deum non timebat, et hominem non reverebatur, "who feared not God, nor regarded man"]

But the depraved soul often, when it has come into the depth of evils, after all evils loses even the hope of coming to itself again, and falls into despair. This is that last horn, namely the evil of despair; a horn, I say, both little through diffidence, and, beyond the rest, hard through the obstinacy of diffidence. I was considering, he says, the horns, and lo, another little horn sprang out of the midst of them, and three of 1364Bthe first horns were plucked up before its face. And behold, eyes as it were the eyes of a man were in this horn, and a mouth speaking great things (Dan. VII). This horn arises out of the midst of the others, because by the binding of the heart, the hardening of the heart, and unbridling, the mind is chiefly cast headlong into despair. For when out of these three a man has begun to lose power over himself, he begins likewise little by little to despair of salvation. But the evil of despair renders the spirit not so much swollen as timid, and in that very thing casts down the horn of contumacy. The evil of despair is wont not so much to lift the spirit up as to cast it down, and therefore the horn of self-exaltation cannot stand before its face. The evil of despair makes the spirit the more disparaging of its own powers, because it always 1364Ccompels it to fear more than is fitting: whence it is that the horn of arrogance is not able to stand before its presence. The soul that has once despaired of its own salvation, and is utterly forsaken by divine grace, when it feels that it cannot resist an inveterate custom, and cannot restrain itself from its own depravity, is often wont to show itself excusable, and to pour back its own fault upon the Creator. And this is for the horn of despair to have eyes as it were of a man, and a mouth speaking great things. Man alone among the other living things is strong in reason and shrewd in prudence. When therefore, after the evil of despair, anyone has begun cunningly to weave, and shrewdly to put forward, for the proof of his own excuse, causes as it were reasonable, he seems to have eyes as it were of a man. It must be, they say, as it has been predestined; 1364Dwho can resist the will of God, who his ordinance? And such as he willed us, such he made us. For whatsoever he would he hath done, in heaven and in earth, in the sea and in all the deeps (Psal. CXXXIV). [Vulg. Ps. 134:6 Omnia quaecumque voluit Dominus fecit in caelo, in terra, in mari, et in omnibus abyssis: the received text names the Lord as the subject, and does not join the members with et] What then can we do, what are we? Can we create our own merits for ourselves? It is not, assuredly, of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy (Rom. IX). Why then does he not show mercy? Why does he not work in us that which pleases him, who worketh all things in all as he wills? (Ephes. I.) [Vulg. Eph. 1:11 reads qui operatur omnia secundum consilium voluntatis suae; the words printed here are those of I Cor. 12:6 and 12:11, qui operatur omnia in omnibus … dividens singulis prout vult] A mouth speaking great things, and things as mad as they are empty. That thou mayest excuse thyself, thou accusest God; that thou mayest justify thyself, thou blasphemest God? Is not this seen to be that which is read in what follows, and he shall speak words against the Most High. [Vulg. Dan. 7:25 sermones contra Excelsum loquetur; Migne prints Altissimum for Excelsum] Behold by what steps one descends to the lowest things. Behold whence, 1365Awhither, and in what manner one comes from an excessive levity of spirit to a shameless unbridling of spirit, from much presumption of heart to the last despair.

We have heard how the mind, falling ever from evil into worse, is at last led down into the depth of evils. Let us hear how, or whence, that same mind is sometimes, after many and last evils, reformed to the integrity of rightness. For if we rightly judge the things that go before and that follow after in this vision, I think that in this mystical description we recognize what we read in the Apostle: Since where 1366Ainiquity abounded, grace also did more abound. [Vulg. Rom. 5:20 Ubi autem abundavit delictum, superabundavit gratia, "where the offence abounded"; the noun printed here is iniquitas, that of Matt. 24:12] From this place of Scripture it is easy to observe that no malice of ours can conquer the divine mercy. For what is it that, after the beasts succeeding one another, a throne being set, the Ancient of days sat, unless that after many and frequent declines of the vices, he who is eternal before all times, through visiting grace, fixes the slippery heart in a firm stability of purpose, and establishes for himself a dwelling? And what is it that the power of the beasts is taken away, unless that through visiting grace, the tyranny of the vices being lulled to sleep, the kingdom of sin is destroyed?