St. Augustine, Of the citie of God vvith the learned comments of Io. Lod. Viues. Englished by I.H.

The Christians opinion of the chiefest good, and euill, which the Philosophers held to be within them-selues. CHAP. 4.

IF you aske vs now what the Citty of God saith, first to this position of the per∣fection of good, and euill, it will answere you presently, eternall life is the per∣fection of good and eternall death the consummation of euill, and that the ayme of all our life must bee to auoyde this, and attaine that other. Therefore is it written, The iust shall liue by faith. For wee see not our greatest good, and therefore are to beleeue and hope for it, nor haue wee power to liue accor∣dingly, vnlesse our beleefe and prayer obteyne helpe of him who hath giuen vs that beleefe and hope that hee will helpe vs. But such as found the perfecti∣on of felicity vpon this life placing it either in the body, or in the minde, or in both: or (to speake more apparantly) eyther in pleasure or in vertue, or in pleasure, and rest together, or in vertue, or in both, or in natures first affects, or in vertue, or in both: fondlye and vainely are these men perswaded to finde true happynesse heere. The Prophet scoffes them, saying: The Lord knoweth the thoughts of men, or (as Saint Paul hath it, of the wise,) that they are vaine. For who can discourse exactly of the miseries of this life? Tully (a) vppon his daughters death, did what hee could. But what could hee doe? in what person can the first affects of nature bee found with-out alteration? what hath not sorrow and disquiet full power to disturbe the pleasure and quiet of the wisest▪ So strength, beauty, health, vigour and actiuity, are all subuerted by their contraries, by losse of limmes, deformitie, sicknesse, faintnesse, and vnweeldi∣nesse. And what if a member fall into some tumor or other affect? what if weakenesse of the back bend a man downe to the ground, making him neere to a foure-footed beast? is not all the grace of his posture quite gone? and then the first guifts of nature, whereof sence and reason are the two first, because of the apprehension of truth, how easily are they lost? how quite doth deafenesse or

blindnesse take away hearing and sight? and then for the reason, how soone, is it subuerted by a phreneticall passion, a Lethargy or so? Oh it is able to wring teares from our eies to see the actions of phrenetique persons so wholy different, nay so directly contrary vnto reasons direction! what need I speake of the D•…•…∣moniakes, whose vnderstanding the diuel wholy dulleth, and vseth all their powers of soule and body at his owne pleasure? and what wise man can fully secure him∣selfe from these incursions? Againe, how weake is our apprehension of truth in this life, when as we reade in the true booke of wisedome, the corruptible body is heauy vnto the soule, and the earthly mansion keepeth downe the minde that is * 1.1 full of cares?

And that same (b) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, that violent motion vnto action, (c) which they recken for one of natures first positiues in good men: is it not that that effecteth those strange and horrible acts of madnesse when the reason & sence are both besotted and obnubilate? Besides, vertue, which is not from nature but commeth after wards from industry, when it hath gotten the highest stand in humanity, what other workehath it, but a continuall fight against the in-bred vices that are inhe∣rent in our owne bosomes not in others? chiefely that (d) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 that temperance which suppresseth the lusts of the flesh, and curbeth them from carying the mind away into mischiefe? for that same is a vice when (as the Apostle saith) the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and that contrary is a vertue, when the spirit lus∣teth after the flesh, for they (saith hee) are contrary, so that you cannot do what you would. And what would wee? what is our desire in this perfection of God, but that the flesh should not lust against the spirit, and that there were no vice in vs against which the spirit should lust? which since we cannot attaine in this life, would wee neuer so faine, let vs by God grace endeuour this, that we do not subiect our spirit vnto the concupiscence of our flesh, and so seale vnto the bond of sinne with a free consent.

So that farre bee it from vs euer to thinke that wee haue attayned the true happinesse whilst wee liue here. Who is so wise, but hath now and then di∣vers fights against his owne lustes? what is the office of prudence? is it not to dis∣cerne betweene things to be chosen, & things to be refused, to the end that no er∣ror be incurred in either? This testifieth that there is euil in vs and that we are in euil. It teacheth vs that it is euill to assent vnto sinne, and good, to avoyd it. But yet neither can prudence nor temperance rid our liues of that euill which they fore-warne vs of and arme vs against. And what (e) of Iustice, that giueth eue∣ry one his due? and the iust order of nature is that the soule bee vnder God, the flesh vnder the soule, and both together vnder God. Is it not plaine that this is rather continually laboured then truely attained in this life? for the lesse that the soule both meditate of God, the lesse it serueth him, and the more that the flesh lusteth against the soule, the lesse command hath the soule o∣uer it, wherefore as long as wee are obiected vnto this languour and corrupti∣on, how dare we say we are safe, or (if not safe, much more) blessed by the per∣fection of attayned blesse? Now there is also Fortitude, another authenticall tes∣timony of humaine miseries endured with Patience.

I wonder with what face the Stoikes deny these to bee euills, of which (f) they confesse that if a wise man cannot, or ought not to endure them, hee may lawfully (nay he must needs) kill him-selfe, and auoyd this life. To this hight is their proud stupidity growne (building all there beatitude vpon this life) that if their wise man (g) were blind, deafe, lame, and made the very hospitall of all

agonies and anguish, which shouldly so sore on him that they should force him be his owne death, yet this life that is enuironed with all those plagues, are not they ashamed to call blessed. Osweete and blessed life, which it is requisite that death do conclude! for if it be blessed why then keepe it still: but if those euills make it avoydable, what is become of the blisse? or what are these but euills, that haue such power to subuert the good of fortitude? making i•…•… not onely guilty of deiection, but of dotage, in affirming that one and the same life is blessed, and yet must be auoyded: who is so blind that seeth not that if it be the one, it cannot possibly be the other? O but (say they) the auoydance is caused by the effect of the ouerpressing infirmity: why may they not aswell bid adue to obstinacy, and confesse that it is wretched? was it patience that made Cato kill him selfe? no he would not haue done it but that he tooke Caesars victory so vnpatiently: where was his fortitude now? gone, it yeelded, and was so troden downe that it fled both light and life, as blessed as it was. Was not his life then blessed? why then it was wretched. Why then are not they true euills that can make ones life so wretched and so to be auoyded? And therefore the Peripatetiques and old Academikes (whose sect Varro stands wholy for) did better in calling these accidents, plainely euill. But they haue one foule errour to hold his life that endureth these euills, blessed, if hee rid him-selfe from them by his owne voluntary destruction. The paines and torments of the body are euill, say they, and the greater the worse, which to avoyde, you must willingly betake your selfe to death, and leaue this life: what life? this, that is so encombred with euills. What is it then blessed amongst so many euills that must bee avoyded, or call you it blessed, because you may abandon these euills when you list, by death? what if some power di∣uine should hold you from dying, and keepe you continually in those euills, then you would say this were a wretched life indeed? well, the soone leauing of it maketh not against the misery of it: because if it were eternall, your selfe would iudge it miserable. It is not quit of misery therefore because it is short, nor (much lesse) is it happynesse in that the misery is short. It must needes be a forcible euill, that hath power to make a man (nay and a wise man) to be his owne executioner, it being truely said by them-selues, that it is as it were natures first and most forcible precept, that a man should haue a deare respect of him-selfe, and therefore avoyde the hand of death, by very naturall instinct: and so bee-friend him-selfe, that hee should still desire to bee a liuing creature, and enioy the coniunction of his soule and body. Mighty are the euills that subdue this natural instinct, which is in al men to desire to aviod death, and subduing it so farre, that what was before abhorred, should now be desired, and (rather then wanted) effected by a mans owne hand. Mighty is the mis∣chiefe that maketh fortitude an homicide, if that bee to bee called fortitude which yeeldeth so to these euills, that it is faine to force him to kill him-selfe to auoyde these inconueniences whome it hath vndertaken to defend against all inconueniences.

Indede a wise man is to endure death with patience, but that must come ab externo, from another mans hand and not from his owne. But these men teaching that hee may procure it to him-selfe, must needs confesse that the e∣uills are intollerable which ought to force a man to such an extreame inconue∣nience. The life therefore that is liable to such a multitude of miseries can no way bee called happy, if that men to auoyd this infelicity bee faine to giue it

place by killing of them-selues, and being conuinced by the certainty▪ of reason are faine in this their quest of beatitude, to giue place to the truth, and to dis∣cerne, that the perfection of beatitude is not resident in this mortall life, when in mans greatest guifts, the greater helpe they affoord him against anguish, dangers and dolours, the surer testimonies are they of humaine miseries. For if true vertue can bee in none in whome there is no true piety, then doe they not promise any many in whom they are, any assurance from suffering of temporall sorrowes. For true vertue may not dissemble, in professing what it cannot per∣forme: but it aimeth at this onely, that mans life which being in this world, is turmoyled with all these extreames of sorrowes, should in the life to come bee made pertaker both of safety and felicitie. For how can that man haue felicitie that wanteth safety? It is not therefore of the vnwise, intemperate, impacient or vniust that Saint Paul speaketh, saying, Wee are saued by hope, but of the sonne of truepiety, and obseruers of the reall vertues: Hope that is seene, is not hope, for how can a man hope for that which hee seeth? But if wee hope for that wee see not, * 1.2 wee doe with patience abide for it. Wherefore as wee are saued, so are wee bles∣sed by hope, and as wee haue no holde of our safety, no more haue wee of o•…•… felicity, but by hope, paciently expecting it; and beeing as yet in a desert of thor∣nie dangers, all which wee must constantly endure vntill wee come to the para∣dise of all ineffable delights, hauing then passed all the perills of encombrance. This security in the life to come, is the beatitude wee speake of, which the Phi∣losophers not beholding will not beleeue, but forge them-selues an imaginarie blisse here, wherein the more their vertue assumes to it selfe, the falser it procues to the iudgement of all others.

L. VIVES.

TUlly (a) vpon] Hee had two children, Marke a sonne, and Tullia a daughter, marryed first to Piso-frugus Crassipes, and afterwards to Cornel. Dolabella, and dyed in child-bed. Tully tooke her death with extreame griefe. Pompey, Caesar, Sulpitius, and many other wor∣thy men sought to comfort him, both by letters and visitation, but all being in vaine, hee set vp his rest to bee his owne comforter, and wrote his booke called Consolatio, vpon this sub∣iect: which is not now extant, yet it is cited often, both by him and others. There-in hee saith hee bewailed the life of man in generall, and comforted him-selfe in particular. Tusc. quest. 1.

(b) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, is, to goe to any acte with vehemencie and vigor, to goe roundly to worke. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, is the violence of passion that carieth euery creature head-long to affect or to auoyde: and are conuersant onely about things naturally to bee affected, or auoyded, as the Stoikes say, and Cato for one, in Tully. (c) Which they] The instinct where-by wee affect our owne preseruation is of as high esteeme as eyther the witte or memorie: for turne it away, and the creature cannot liue long after. (d) 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉] Of this before. (e) Of Iustice] It comprehendeth both that distributiue change of estate, and also vnto the line of reason and religion. (f) They confesse] Cic. de fin. lib. 3. & Tusc. quaest. 4. (g) Were blinde] It is a wise mans duty (saith Cato the Stoike in Tully) some-times to renounce the happiest 〈◊〉〈◊〉. So saith Seneca often. (h) Ouer-passing infirmitie] A diuersity of reading in the texts of Bruges and Basil: but it is not to bee stood vpon. (i) Natures first] Cic. off. 1. and De 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 3. and 5.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Wisdom 9.
• * 1.2

  Rom. 8. 25