The Following of Christ, in Four Books Translated from the Original Latin of Thomas a Kempis — Context and Discussion

Knowledge versus Virtue

From the first chapter, the work sets up a persistent contrast between intellectual comprehension and lived practice. The speaker declares that 'I had rather feel compunction, than know its definition,' and warns that memorizing 'the whole bible by heart' profits nothing 'without the love of God and his grace.' This is not an anti-intellectual stance but a reordering of priorities: doctrine is valuable only when it transforms conduct. The text repeatedly returns to this point, as when it states that 'whosoever hath the Spirit, will find therein a hidden manna'—a knowledge that is tasted, not merely analyzed. The reader is urged to 'imitate his life and manners' rather than simply study them. This emphasis on affective, embodied understanding shapes the work's entire rhetorical strategy.

The Grammar of Self-Denial

The work's advice on detachment is remarkably concrete. In Chapter XXVII, the reader is told to 'give all for all, and be nothing of thy own,' and that 'self-love' is 'more hurtful to thee than any thing in the world.' The text does not merely recommend renunciation; it anatomizes the mechanisms of attachment. 'Every thing, according to the love and inclination which thou hast to it, cleaveth to thee more or less.' The solution is not to flee outward circumstances—'the place avails little'—but to root out desire from the heart. A striking passage warns that changing one's location may not improve one's state: 'thou mayest change, but not better thyself.' The prayer that follows asks for strength to 'cast out of my heart all unprofitable care and trouble,' treating interior disorder as something that can be actively expelled.

Silence and the Judgment of Others

A recurring concern is the proper response to criticism and gossip. Chapter XXVIII advises: 'take it not to heart if some people think ill of thee, and say of thee what thou art not willing to hear.' The recommended posture is to 'think worse of thyself' and to 'make small account of flying words.' The text distinguishes between external reputation and inner reality: 'whether they put a good or bad construction on what thou doest, thou art still what thou art.' True peace, it insists, is found not in human approval but in God alone. This teaching is part of a broader pattern: the work consistently redirects attention from external circumstances—whether riches, praise, or slander—to the state of the soul. The reader is trained to 'walk interiorly,' a phrase that encapsulates the book's central discipline.

Readers approaching this edition should note that its sentence-by-sentence layout is not a formatting error but a deliberate feature meant to slow the pace and encourage reflection. The work is best read in short portions, perhaps one chapter at a time, allowing its aphoristic style to sink in. Challoner's translation, while eighteenth-century in idiom, remains clear and direct. Those familiar with later versions may find this edition's phrasing—'burthen,' 'concupiscence,' 'longanimity'—a useful reminder of the text's long devotional tradition.

There are books that sit beside you long after you close them, and this Challoner translation of Thomas à Kempis felt like that—a quiet voice speaking to the part of me that forgets to slow down. It made me think of De Officiis — Inside the Classic, another old friend waiting patiently on a shelf, both asking not for speed, but for stillness.