A treatise of adhering to God; written by Albert the Great, Bishop of Ratisbon. Put into English by Sir Kenelme Digby, Kt. Also a conference with a lady about choyce of religion.

To the Lady DIGBY.

MADAM,

WHen lately I was commanded out of England, I was so streightened in time, that I was not able to carry any thing with me, besides what I had about me. And the difficulties that my servants met with in following mee, and in bringing my carriages after me, made me remain here sometimes in want of my ordinary attendants, and of such ne∣cessaries as I had dayly need of. I was not so sensible of any, as of the deprivation of my bookes: which in all fortunes I had ever sound my best companions; and in whose conversation I as well profited, as pleased my self. And therefore in all my journies (even the longest and most cumbersome) I have ever used to have a convenient store of them with mee. I was now reduced to

have none other by me, but a short discourse of Albert the great, concerning the perfect∣ion of a spiritual life; which at my setting forth from London, I had put into my pocket; invited thereto, by the dignity of the subject, the excellency of the author, and the smallnesse of the bulk of it. I read it over with much delight; And judged it so profitable a work, that I desired to impress the contents of it as deep as I could in my memory: and indeed to convert the whole treatise, into the very substance of my soul, as hoping, it may one day serve mee for a rule to govern my poor devotions by; as far as my feeble eyes may be able to see by the light of so dazeling a sunne.

This occasioned me to employ my self in rendring in my own tongue, the expressions which this author had made in Latin. For I believe, scarce any study doth so vigorous∣ly digest an other mans notions into the nourishment of ones own minde, as doth the translating or the paraphrasing of them. And when I had done it, I deemed it one of the most profitable tasks (of so short an one) that ever I had busied myself a∣bout.

Neither could I be content to en∣grosse unto my selfe alone so noble a feast: I desired that my best friend should share with me in it: whose partaking with me in any good, I must ever account, the crowning and compleating of it, to me. And there∣fore I presently resolved to send your La: a coppy of this discourse: which I confesse, is much empayred and enfeebled by its change of habit. For to expresse the authors sense with full weight, requireth alike know∣ledge as he had, of the matter he wrighteth of. And this is not to be acquired by hu∣mane industry, or dint of wit: but is an ef∣fect of the unction of the holy Ghost; that is never wanting where it findeth due pre∣parations and dispositions on the creatures part. And in this, Mystical Divinity dif∣fereth from all other sciences, that the right understanding of it, dependeth of the pre∣cedent faithfull practising it. Like as in divine truths, he that would see the light which shineth in them, must first beleive them. To converse familiarly with the king∣dome of God that is within us, requireth a total abstraction from the hindring objects

that are without us. And the various course in the world, that I have runne my selfe out of breath in, hath afforded me little means for solid recollection. Therefore it cannot be expected that I should otherwise compre∣hend this holy Bishops notions, and expresse them in my language; then as men use to frame apprehensions upon hear-say of coun∣treies they were never in; and afterwards deliver them to others. They who have bin there, will soon perceive great mistakes in the others discourses and descriptions. And so will your Ladyship (whom long, constant, practise hath rendred so profoundly knowing in this sublime Science,) in this translation, or rather short Paraphrase of mine. I have been fain to make it such, because I could not satisfie my selfe of rendring compleatly the authors sense by a verbal translation of his words. The composition of Authors are either forged in their fantasy; or are pro∣ductions of their understanding; or are ex∣pressions of their affective part. All these (I conceive) do claim a different course to be taken in rendring them in another tongue.

Those of the first kinde do exact a strict ver∣bal translation. For they springing from notions that have their residence in the fan∣cy, and being barely of that low orbe: plain words, that have their lively pictures also there, do represent them adequately; And consequently, in an other tongue, words of the same signification, do render them fully. But in compositions of deep judgement (in which the manners of expression do insinu∣ate further meanings, then the meer words barely considered, do seem to imploy) one must use a far different method to render them with their due weight and force in an other language. One must first comprehend the fullnesse of their sense, and settle in ones own thoughts the same; and then deliver those thoughts as compleatly and significant∣ly as one can, in ones own words and man∣ner of expression. For want of doing which, wee see the best writers lose exceeding∣ly of their strength and energy, when they are translated by such as confine themselves grammatically to their authors words.

This maketh Tacitus so lame, and so

bare in many translations; Aristotle so obscure and unpleasant; Avicenna so bar∣barous; Virgil so ungracefull; and S. Au∣gustin himselfe appear oftentimes but flat and dry. Much more this happeneth in affective expression. Wee see how the same words that are extreamly moving, when they are spoken in passion by a lover, prove flat and cold, when an other person barely relateth them. And such an effect as the manner of gesture and earnestnesse worketh in speaking, the like doth the man∣ner of couching the sense, and the phrase, in writing. The Arcadia of Sr Philip Sidney (of whom I may say as St Augustin did of Homer, that he is passing sweet and delightful, even in his vanities) though it be very faithfully translated into other languages, in regard of grammatical con∣struction, yet it appeareth with little grace amongst forraigners, who cannot believe how strangely that book useth to raise affe∣ctions and passions in such as read it in the original English. If this be so in the ex∣pressions of such affections as have but crea∣tures for their objects, how must it fare with

those which being fixed upon the Creator, do require a profound abstraction of the un∣derstanding & an admirable purity of heart in the readers, that they may have a right taste of them. He that will render effica∣ciously the expressions of a soul burning with affections, must be endued with a spi∣rit of a like temper. He knoweth that such a one is not sollicitous about his words: and that therefore he ought not to be scrupulous in weighing them. The understanding cannot look to the bottome of such expressi∣ons, nor relish the sweetnesse that is in them. He must abound with affections in himselfe, that would savour the language of affections spoken by an other. Hearts of this temper, are like the strings of different lutes tuned alike, which move in both, though but one be touched. Now Alberts language in this treatise, being much of this strain, I cannot be so partial to myself as to hope that my English arriveth near expressing the fulness of his sense. I may up∣pon this occasion say as St Thomas did, when he was desired to comment Salomons mystical Song, as St Bernard before him

had don (and with much more reason and justice;) If I had St Bernards spirit, I would make such a comment as St Bernard did. He onely that hath the spirit where∣with this illuminated Bishop wrote, can fully comprehend and render his sense in this divine and mystical treatise. Therefore I must necessarily have fallen very short in my translation; since it is not to be ex∣pected that I should mak it speak, but at that rate, as my selfe did first understand it.

Besides this improportion on my side; the Authors manner of delivering him∣selfe hath made my talke much more dif∣ficult. It is evident that he little regar∣ded in what words or stile he expressed him∣selfe.

He was so full of the matter, that he neglected the forme and dresse he put it in. And writing it in the nature of a summary remembrance, for his own use, and some other pious and intelligent persons of his own order, his particular friends (sor hee was a Dominican Fryar, before hee was made a Bishop) hee conceived it sufficient

for him to give but hints or notes of what he aymed at: which would presently bring before them the whole sequel of considerati∣ons that were comprised under such heads, and that he had often discoursed largely unto them. And the nature of such a writing admitting frequent soddain transitions to new matter (or that may seem new, to one that seeth not the connection of it with what was said before) it is very hard to worke such a piece into an even contexture with one entire and continued thread. The course I took to wade as well as I could through these difficul∣ties, was to endeavour out of what hee had said, to raise my own thoughts to be as like unto his, as my weaknesse could attain unto. And then I ap∣plied my selfe to expresse those thoughts as significantly as I could, in my own man∣ner of speech, upon the model he hath left; (in the mean time, departing as little as I could from his words, where I might follow them) and connecting the broken transitions, as I conceived they were

connected in his minde, though they appear not so at the first sight in the words that he hath uttered his conceptions by. Yet, not∣withstanding his being thus short through∣out, he often repeateth the same thing (but still with some addition and further expli∣cation of the matter) to inculcate it the deeper: as is recorded of St Jo. the Evange∣list; who in his latter time, whensoever he was desired to preach, did still but repeat the same few words, by which he invited his auditors to the love that charity ordaineth. This sheweth how the substance and perfe∣ction of a spiritual life consisteth in a very narrow room. And therefore St Denis the Areopagit, who is so diffuse in his trea∣tises, is most succinct in his mystical divi∣nity: as having for its subject but that only one thing which in the Gospel our Sa∣viour telleth us is necessary.

The end of all spiritual exercise, is but to love God with the whole activity of ones soul; And the expeditest way to bring one thereunto, is to banish all other affecti∣ons and inclinations from the heart, and all other thoughts from ones minde. The

impressions which creatures make in one are like boisterous windes, that wrinkling the face of a water (and peradventure rai∣sing mudde in it) do deface and keep out those images, which would shine in it, if it were calme and smooth. He that can wisely keep his soul from adhering to any thing without him, shall finde his creator shine gloriously within him. It is the eminence of superior things to send alwaies emana∣tions from them, for the bettering of infe∣rior ones; if they exclude them not. So we see the sun sends his beams into every corner of the hemisphere, if nothing shut them out. Open the windowes and draw the curtains, and the chamber that before was darke will then immediately grow lightsome. The shutters and screenes which keep out the divine sun from illuminating and warming our souls, are the images of creatures, that reside in them. And there∣fore this Authors main endeavour consist∣eth in advising and pressing a totall denu∣dation from all such. Hence proceedeth this frequent iteration, and inculcating of this document.

Yet he doth no so absolutely exclude all corporall shapes out of the imagination, but that he adviseth and exhorteth all men to exercise themselves in the continual medi∣tation of our Saviours passion. Man be∣ing composed of two natures; spiritual and corporall; and the corporall part having in this life gotten the start of the other, it is impossible for us, to tie up our senses from all commerce with materiall objects: and very hard for us to keep some of them from making smart impressions in our fantasie; which is as it were the window that letteth in outward lights to the soul. For the most part they are false and de∣ceitfull ones. And the onely means to be secure from such, is to fill that store-house with safe materials; and than were it but through want of room, it will not admit of others. Of all these, the perfectest, and indeed the most agree∣able to our nature, and consequently the most powerfull to move us, is the history of Christs life and passion. We see that e∣ven tragedies and Romances, of perad∣venture feigned subjects (or at least that

concerne not us) doe strangly affect the hearers, and do raise strong passions and affections in them with a desire to imitate what they represent well done; and a compassion for the misfortunes and calami∣ties that arrive undeservedly to worthy and well natured persons. How efficaci∣ous then must the consideration of Christs passion and sufferings be to beget like, and farre stronger sentiments in any man that shall insiste upon them? The dignity of the person; the extremity of his base and cruel usage; his great deser∣vings, even from them that so treated him; his undergoing all this, meerly for our sakes, and particularly for every one of us; and the infailable certainty that the re∣cords of all these passages are undoubted∣ly true, would move a heart of stone that should entertain it self leisurely with these thoughts.

And such compassion and tendernesse for his sufferings to redeem and deliver us from misery, will beget love and passion in us to his person. And hee being God, as well as man; our affections that thus begun

divinity, which is the period of all spirituall exercises, and the top of all perfection, in this life; and the happinesse of the next. And therefore our Saviour told his belo∣ved and loving penitent, that the share she had chosen should never bee taken from her.

Upon these grounds Albert recommen∣deth the continuall meditation of Christs passion, to be alwayes joyned with the other exercise of depuring our imaginations, and hearts from the images and affections of all created objects whatsoever; Making thereby a ladder of his humanity to climbe up to his divinity; which if we should look upon it without that veyle between us and it, would strike us blind. As when a me∣dicinal simple is too strong for our stomack to bear singly in its own substance, physitians use to allay and weaken it with some gen∣tle liquor that is agreeable to our taste: and then drinking what delighteth us, with pleasure we swallow health.

But Madam, I perceive I engage my selfe before I am aware in a talk, I am not able to go through with. Nor is it need∣full,

for this little treatise (of as great va∣lue, as it is of little bulk) requireth neither commentary nor apologie. My sending it to your Ladyship is an action of duty, and of affection. The first, in giving you an ac∣count of the expence of my time in this place, where I have bin now a just week; and intitling you to all I shall ever do, or bring to passe, in any kind whatsoever du∣ring my whole life: And the other, in communicating to you what hath afforded me so much contentment, and may prove so solidly beneficial to me, if it please God to give me grace to make right use of it. I beseech your Ladyship pray him so to do, and to be pleased to give me your blessing. Calis the 6^th of October (the feast of the glorious Patriarke of the Carthusians, who most ad∣mirably practised and instituted, what this treatise recommendeth) in the year 1649.

Your Ladyships most humble, most obedient, and most du∣tiful Sonne, K. D.