De Spectaculis c. 7—9.

of madness. In short, remove the spectator, and you will have rendered the vanity useless. Such things must be fled by faithful Christians, as we have already frequently said; they are such vain, such pernicious, such sacrilegious spectacles: and our eyes and ears must be guarded. We quickly grow accustomed to what we hear, and become swift to do what we see. For when the mind of man is led to the vices themselves, what will it do to itself if it has examples? The slippery nature of the body, which falls of its own accord, what will it do if it has been pushed? The mind must be called away from such things.

The Christian has better spectacles, if he wishes; he has true and profitable pleasures, if he gathers himself. And to omit those things which he cannot yet contemplate, he has this beauty of the world to see and marvel at: let him watch the rising of the sun, and again the setting, which calls back days and nights in mutual turns; the globe of the moon, marking the course of the seasons with its own increments and detriments; the glittering choirs of the stars, and those shining incessantly from their supreme mobility; the parts of the whole year divided by turns, and the days themselves with the nights divided through the spaces of hours; and the mass of the earth balanced with mountains, and the rivers pouring forth with their springs, the extended seas with their waves and shores; and in the meantime, the air, extended in equal measure with the highest agreement and bonds of concord, maintaining the middle ground, nourishing all things with its thinness; now pouring out rains from contracted clouds, now calling back serenity by restored rarity; and in all these, their own inhabitants: in