As legend has it, the manuscript for this book was rescued in the late 1800s from a "barrow of books about to be trashed". It was eventually found to be by one Thomas Traherne, a fairly obscure English country priest writing in the 17th century.
The manuscript was published for the first time in 1908, five years after a collection of poems by Traherne, which saw him grouped with the so-called 'metaphysical poets' (Donne, Herbert, Vaughan etc). CS Lewis apparently called Centuries "almost the most beautiful book in English" (everything needs a quote from Lewis, right?).
Traherne was active during the time of the Restoration, and in fact his final gig (before dying in his late 30s, in 1674) was as private chaplain to Sir Orlando Bridgeman, 1st Baronet, of Great Lever, the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal to King Charles II.
Centuries consists of four finished, and one unfinished, sets of 100 meditations each (hence the title) on theology and existence, and it glistens. Not all of it is easy reading, and there were a number of times that I thought, why do I do this to myself...? But when I look back at the passages I highlighted, there is some astonishing stuff there.
Traherne's mystical theology stems from profound childhood experiences of wonder (I'll include his description of that at the end), and a quest to get back there through contemplations of theology, philosophy and nature. His ideas centre around a radical appreciation of giftedness - that God is pouring out the whole of existence and beauty as a gift for the possession of every individual - and that happiness is a high calling, elevated to the concept of Felicity - a profound divine state, the epitome of happiness, as humans step into the fullness of being created in the image of God. That's my understanding anyway.
In case you're wondering, his perspective contains a lot of space for suffering and theologies of the cross, which I think is part of what rescues it from being glib, individualistic, feel-good nonsense. He's not interested in the baubles of luxury and wealth, he's always looking to something more commonplace (yet profound) and deeper. Another thing to mention is that despite his rootedness in nature (a feature that's had him described as a kind of proto-Romantic) he is still very wary of the body. This I think is a factor of the theological orthodoxy of the time and, I guess, neoplatonism (which he is very into and which forms much of the philosophical underpinnings of the work).
But the basic premise the book, this looking at existence and nature through wonder and giftedness, is very infectious. As are his intellectual explorations and the charms of a 17th century cultural setting. It was a time of great flourishing of literature, and a milieu that gave birth to all sorts of ideas, exploration and discovery within culture and Christianity - the great diversification that continued on from the Reformation.
The book was a stimulating intellectual exercise, but the core thing, and the thing that Traherne most desires to communicate, is this different way of seeing, of being in the world and all the spheres of the cosmos, time and space. And that perspective shift is the thing I most want to hold onto.
I'll leave you with the most famous passage from the book, his memory of the wonder of seeing that he experienced as a child...
"The corn was orient and immortal wheat, which never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold: the gates were at first the end of the world. The green trees when I saw them first through one of the gates transported and ravished me, their sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap, and almost mad with ecstasy, they were such strange and wonderful things: The Men! O what venerable and reverend creatures did the aged seem! Immortal Cherubims! And young men glittering and sparkling Angels, and maids strange seraphic pieces of life and beauty! Boys and girls tumbling in the street, and playing, were moving jewels. I knew not that they were born or should die; But all things abided eternally as they were in their proper places. Eternity was manifest in the Light of the Day, and something infinite behind everything appeared which talked with my expectation and moved my desire. The city seemed to stand in Eden, or to be built in Heaven. The streets were mine, the temple was mine, the people were mine, their clothes and gold and silver were mine, as much as their sparkling eyes, fair skins and ruddy faces. The skies were mine, and so were the sun and moon and stars, and all the World was mine; and I the only spectator and enjoyer of it. I knew no churlish proprieties, nor bounds, nor divisions: but all proprieties and divisions were mine: all treasures and the possessors of them. So that with much ado I was corrupted, and made to learn the dirty devices of this world. Which now I unlearn, and become, as it were, a little child again that I may enter into the Kingdom of God."
- The Third Century, Meditation 3
Highlighted: "Eternity was manifest in the Light of the Day, and something infinite behind everything appeared which talked with my expectation and moved my desire."