The Confessions of St. Augustine of Hippo
St. Augustine of Hippo
BOOK 1 -- COMMENCING WITH THE
INVOCATION OF GOD, AUGUSTINE RELATES IN DETAIL THE BEGINNING
OF HIS LIFE, HIS INFANCY AND BOYHOOD, UP TO HIS FIFTEENTH
YEAR; AT WHICH AGE HE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT HE WAS MORE INCLINED
TO ALL YOUTHFUL PLEASURES AND VICES THAN TO THE STUDY OF
LETTERS.
BOOK 2 -- HE ADVANCES TO
PUBERTY, AND INDEED TO THE EARLY PART OF THE SIXTEENTH YEAR
OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING ABANDONED HIS STUDIES, HE
INDULGED IN LUSTFUL PLEASURES, AND, WITH HIS COMPANIONS,
COMMITTED THEFT.
BOOK 3 -- OF THE SEVENTEENTH,
EIGHTEENTH, AND NINETEENTH YEARS OF HIS AGE, PASSED AT
CARTHAGE, WHEN, HAVING COMPLETED HIS COURSE OF STUDIES, HE
IS CAUGHT IN THE SNARES OF A LICENTIOUS PASSION, AND FALLS
INTO THE ERRORS OF THE MANICHAEAN'S.
BOOK 4 -- THEN FOLLOWS A PERIOD
OF NINE YEARS FROM THE NINETEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, DURING
WHICH HAVING LOST A FRIEND, HE FOLLOWED THE MANICHAEAN'S --
AND WROTE BOOKS ON THE FAIR AND FIT, AND PUBLISHED A WORK ON
THE LIBERAL ARTS, AND THE CATEGORIES OF ARISTOTLE.
BOOK 5 -- HE DESCRIBES THE
TWENTY-NINTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING DISCOVERED
THE FALLACIES OF THE MANICHAEAN'S, HE PROFESSED RHETORIC AT
ROME AND MILAN. HAVING HEARD AMBROSE, HE BEGINS TO COME TO
HIMSELF.
BOOK 6 -- ATTAINING HIS
THIRTIETH YEAR, HE, UNDER THE ADMONITION OF THE DISCOURSES
OF AMBROSE, DISCOVERED MORE AND MORE THE TRUTH OF THE
CATHOLIC DOCTRINE, AND DELIBERATES AS TO THE BETTER
REGULATION OF HIS LIFE.
BOOK 7 -- HE RECALLS THE
BEGINNING OF HIS YOUTH, i.e. THE THIRTY-FIRST YEAR OF HIS
AGE, IN WHICH VERY GRAVE ERRORS AS TO THE NATURE OF GOD AND
THE ORIGIN OF EVIL BEING DISTINGUISHED, AND THE SACRED BOOKS
MORE ACCURATELY KNOWN, HE AT LENGTH ARRIVES AT A CLEAR
KNOWLEDGE OF GOD, NOT YET RIGHTLY APPREHENDING JESUS CHRIST.
BOOK 8 -- HE FINALLY
DESCRIBES THE THIRTY-SECOND YEAR OF HIS AGE, THE MOST
MEMORABLE OF HIS WHOLE LIFE, IN WHICH, BEING INSTRUCTED BY
SIMPLICIANUS CONCERNING THE CONVERSION OF OTHERS, AND THE
MANNER OF ACTING, HE IS, AFTER A SEVERE STRUGGLE, RENEWED IN
HIS WHOLE MIND, AND IS CONVERTED UNTO GOD.
BOOK 9 -- HE SPEAKS OF HIS
DESIGN OF FORSAKING THE PROFESSION OF RHETORIC; OF THE DEATH
OF HIS FRIENDS, NEBRIDIUS AND VERECUNDUS; OF HAVING RECEIVED
BAPTISM IN THE THIRTY-THIRD YEAR OF HIS AGE; AND OF THE
VIRTUES AND DEATH OF HIS MOTHER, MONICA.
BOOK 10 -- HAVING MANIFESTED
WHAT HE WAS AND WHAT HE IS, HE SHOWS THE GREAT FRUIT OF HIS
CONFESSION; AND BEING ABOUT TO EXAMINE BY WHAT METHOD GOD
AND THE HAPPY LIFE MAY BE FOUND, HE ENLARGES ON THE NATURE
AND POWER OF MEMORY. THEN HE EXAMINES HIS OWN ACTS, THOUGHTS
AND AFFECTIONS, VIEWED UNDER THE THREEFOLD DIVISION OF
TEMPTATION; AND COMMEMORATES THE LORD, THE ONE MEDIATOR OF
GOD AND MEN.
BOOK 11 -- THE DESIGN OF HIS
CONFESSIONS BEING DECLARED, HE SEEKS FROM GOD THE KNOWLEDGE
OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES, AND BEGINS TO EXPOUND THE WORDS OF
GENESIS 1:1, CONCERNING THE CREATION OF THE WORLD. THE
QUESTIONS OF RASH DISPUTERS BEING REFUTED, "WHAT DID GOD
BEFORE HE CREATED THE WORLD?" THAT HE MIGHT THE BETTER
OVERCOME HIS OPPONENTS, HE ADDS A COPIOUS DISQUISITION
CONCERNING TIME.
BOOK 12 -- HE CONTINUES HIS
EXPLANATION OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF GENESIS ACCORDING TO THE
SEPTUAGINT, AND BY ITS ASSISTANCE HE ARGUES, ESPECIALLY,
CONCERNING THE DOUBLE HEAVEN, AND THE FORMLESS MATTER OUT OF
WHICH THE WHOLE WORLD MAY HAVE BEEN CREATED; AFTERWARDS OF
THE INTERPRETATIONS OF OTHERS NOT DISALLOWED, AND SETS FORTH
AT GREAT LENGTH THE SENSE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURE.
BOOK 13 -- OF THE GOODNESS OF
GOD EXPLAINED IN THE CREATION OF THINGS, AND OF THE TRINITY
AS FOUND IN THE FIRST WORDS OF GENESIS. THE STORY CONCERNING
THE ORIGIN OF THE WORLD (GENESIS 1) IS ALLEGORICALLY
EXPLAINED, AND HE APPLIES IT TO THOSE THINGS WHICH GOD WORKS
FOR SANCTIFIED AND BLESSED MAN. FINALLY, HE MAKES AN END OF
THIS WORK, HAVING IMPLORED ETERNAL REST FROM GOD. |
The Confessions
(Book I)
COMMENCING WITH THE INVOCATION OF GOD, AUGUSTINE RELATES IN DETAIL
THE BEGINNING OF HIS LIFE, HIS INFANCY AND BOYHOOD, UP TO HIS
FIFTEENTH YEAR; AT WHICH AGE HE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT HE WAS MORE
INCLINED TO ALL YOUTHFUL PLEASURES AND VICES THAN TO THE STUDY OF
LETTERS.
CHAP. I.--HE PROCLAIMS THE GREATNESS OF GOD, WHOM HE DESIRES TO SEEK
AND INVOKE, BEING AWAKENED BY HIM.
I. GREAT art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy
power, and of Thy wisdom there is no end. And man, being a part of
Thy creation, desires to praise Thee, man, who bears about with him
his mortality, the witness of his sin, even the witness that Thou "resistest
the proud, " -- yet man, this part of Thy creation, desires to
praise Thee. Thou movest us to delight in praising Thee; for Thou
hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they
find rest in Thee. Lord, teach me to know and understand which of
these should be first, to call on Thee, or to praise Thee; and
likewise to know Thee, or to call upon Thee. But who is there that
calls upon Thee without knowing Thee? For he that knows Thee not may
call upon Thee as other than Thou art. Or perhaps we call on Thee
that we may know Thee. "But how shall they call on Him in whom they
have not believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher?"
And those who seek the Lord shall praise Him. For those who seek
shall find Him, and those who find Him shall praise Him. Let me seek
Thee, Lord, in calling on Thee, and call on Thee in believing in
Thee; for Thou hast been preached unto us. O Lord, my faith calls on
Thee, --that faith which Thou hast imparted to me, which Thou hast
breathed into me through the incarnation of Thy Son, through the
ministry of Thy preacher.'
CHAP. II.--THAT THE GOD WHOM WE INVOKE IS IN US, AND WE IN HIM.
2. And how shall I call upon my God--my God and my Lord? For when I
call on Him I ask Him to come into me. And what place is there in me
into which my God can come--into which God can come, even He who
made heaven and earth? Is there anything in me, O Lord my God, that
can contain Thee? Do indeed the very heaven and the earth, which
Thou hast made, and in which Thou hast made me, contain Thee? Or, as
nothing could exist without Thee, doth whatever exists contain Thee?
Why, then, do I ask Thee to come into me, since I indeed exist, and
could not exist if Thou wert not in me? Because I am not yet in
hell, though Thou art even there; for "if I go down into hell Thou
art there.'' t I could not therefore exist, could not exist at all,
O my God, unless Thou wert in me. Or should I not rather say, that I
could not exist unless I were in Thee from whom are all things, by
whom are all things, in whom are all things?' Even so, Lord; even
so. Where do I call Thee to, since Thou art in me, or whence canst
Thou come into me? For where outside heaven and earth can I go that
from thence my God may come into me who has said, I fill heaven and
earth"?
CHAP. III.--EVERYWHERE GOD WHOLLY FILLETH ALL THINGS, BUT NEITHER
HEAVEN NOR EARTH ' CONTAINETH HIM.
3. Since, then, Thou fillest heaven and earth, do they contain Thee?
Or, as they contain Thee not, dost Thou fill them, and yet there
remains something over? And where dost Thou pour forth that which
remaineth of Thee when the heaven and earth are filled? Or, indeed,
is there no need that Thou who containest all things shouldest be
contained of any, since those things which Thou fillest Thou fillest
by containing them? For the vessels which Thou fillest do not
sustain Thee, since should they even be broken Thou wilt not be
poured forth. And when Thou art poured forth on us, Thou art not
cast down, but we are uplifted; nor art Thou dissipated, but we are
drawn together. But, as Thou fillest all things, dost Thou fill them
with Thy whole self, or, as even all things cannot altogether
contain Thee, do they contain a part, and do all at once contain the
same part? Or has each its own proper part--the greater more, the
smaller less? Is, then, one part of Thee greater, another less? Or
is it that Thou art wholly everywhere whilst nothing altogether
contains Thee?
CHAP. IV.--THE MAJESTY OF GOD IS SUPREME, AND HIS VIRTUES
INEXPLICABLE.
4. What, then, art Thou, O my God--what, I ask, but the Lord God?
For who is Lord but the Lord? or who is God save our God Most high,
most excellent, most potent, most omnipotent; most piteous and most
just; most hidden and most near; most beauteous and most strong,
stable, yet contained of none; unchangeable, yet changing all
things; never new, never old; making all things new, yet bringing
old age upon the proud and they know it not; always working, yet
ever at rest; gathering, yet needing nothing; sustaining, pervading,
and protecting; creating, nourishing, and developing; seeking, and
yet possessing all things. Thou lovest, and burnest not; art
jealous, yet free from care; repentest, and hast no sorrow; art
angry, yet serene; changest Thy ways, leaving unchanged Thy plans;
recoverest what Thou findest, having yet never lost; art never in
want, whilst Thou rejoicest in gain; never covetous, though
requiring usury? That Thou mayest owe, more than enough is given to
Thee yet who hath anything that is not Thine? Thou payest debts
while owing nothing; and when Thou forgivest debts, losest nothing.
Yet, O my God, my life, my holy joy, what is this that I have said?
And what saith any man when He speaks of Thee? Yet woe to them that
keep silence, seeing that even they who say most are as the dumb?
CHAP. V.--HE SEEKS REST IN GOD, AND PARDON OF HIS SINS.
5. Oh! how shall I find rest in Thee? Who will send Thee into my
heart to inebriate it, s that I may forget my woes, and embrace Thee
my only good? What art Thou to me? Have compassion on me, that I may
speak. What am I to Thee that Thou demandest my love, and unless I
give it Thee art angry, and threatenest me with great sorrows? Is
it, then, a light sorrow not to love Thee? Alas! alas! tell me of
Thy compassion, O Lord my God, what Thou art to me. "Say unto my
soul, I am thy salvation." So speak that I may hear. Behold,
Lord,
the ears of my heart are before Thee; open Thou them, and "say unto
my soul, I am thy salvation." When I hear, may I run and lay hold on
Thee. Hide not Thy face from me. Let me die, lest I die, if only I
may see Thy face.
6. Cramped is the dwelling of my soul; do Thou expand it, that Thou
mayest enter in. It is in ruins, restore Thou it. There is that
about it which must offend Thine eyes; I confess and know it, but
who will cleanse it? or to whom shall I cry but to Thee? Cleanse me
from my secret sins, x O Lord, and keep Thy servant from those of
other men. I believe, and therefore do I speak; Lord, Thou knowest.'
Have I not confessed my transgressions unto Thee, O my God; and Thou
hast put away the iniquity of my heart? a I do not contend in
judgment with Thee, who art the Truth; and I would not deceive
myself, lest my iniquity lie against itself I do not, therefore,
contend in judgment with Thee, for "if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark
iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?"
CHAP. VI.--HE DESCRIBES HIS INFANCY, AND LAUDS THE PROTECTION AND
ETERNAL PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
7. Still suffer me to speak before Thy mercy--me, "dust and ashes."
Suffer me to speak, for, behold, it is Thy mercy I address, and not
derisive man. Yet perhaps even Thou deridest me; but when Thou art
turned to me Thou wilt have compassion on me. For what do I wish to
say, O Lord my God, but that I know not whence I came hither into
this--shall I call it dying life or living death? Yet, as I have
heard from my parents, from whose substance Thou didst form me,
--for I myself cannot remember it, --Thy merciful comforts sustained
me. Thus it was that the comforts of a woman's milk entertained me;
for neither my mother nor my nurses filled their own breasts, but
Thou by them didst give me the nourishment of infancy according to
Thy ordinance and that bounty of Thine which underlieth all things.
For Thou didst cause me not to want more than Thou gavest, and those
who nourished me willingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For
they, by an instinctive affection, were anxious to give me what Thou
hadst abundantly supplied. It was, in truth, good for them that my
good should come from them, though, indeed, it was not from them,
but by them; for from Thee, O God, are all good things, and from my
God is all my safety? This is what I have since discovered, as Thou
hast declared Thyself to me by the blessings both within me and
without me which Thou hast bestowed upon me. For at that time I knew
how to suck, to be satisfied when comfortable, and to cry when in
pain--nothing beyond.
8. Afterwards I began to laugh, --at first in sleep, then when
waking. For this I have heard mentioned of myself, and I believe it
(though I cannot remember it), for we see the same in other infants.
And now little by little I realized where I was, and wished to tell
my wishes to those who might satisfy them, but I could not; for my
wants were within me, while they were without, and could not by any
faculty of theirs enter into my soul. So I cast about limbs and
voice, making the few and feeble signs I could, like, though indeed
not much like, unto what I wished; and when I was not
satisfied--either not being understood, or because it would have
been injurious to me--I grew indignant that my eiders were not
subject unto me, and that those on whom I had no claim did not wait
on me, and avenged myself on them by tears. That infants are such I
have been able to learn by watching them; and they, though
unknowing, have better shown me that I was such an one than my
nurses who knew it.
9. And, behold, my infancy died long ago, and I live. But Thou, O
Lord, who ever livest, and in whom nothing dies (since before the
world was, and indeed before all that can be called "before, " Thou
existest, and art the God and Lord of all Thy creatures; and with
Thee fixedly abide the causes of all unstable things, the unchanging
sources of all things changeable, and the eternal reasons of all
things unreasoning and temporal), tell me, Thy suppliant, O God;
tell, O merciful One, Thy miserable servant -- tell me whether my
infancy succeeded another age of mine which had at that time
perished. Was it that which I passed in my mother's womb? For of
that something has been made known to me, and I have myself seen
women with child. And what, O God, my joy, preceded that life? Was
I, indeed, anywhere, or anybody? For no one can tell me these
things, neither father nor mother, nor the experience of others, nor
my own memory. Dost Thou laugh at me for asking such things, and
command me to praise and confess Thee for what I know?
10. I give thanks to Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, giving praise
to Thee for that my first being and infancy, of which I have no
memory; for Thou hast granted to man that from others he should come
to conclusions as to himself, and that he should believe many things
concerning himself on the authority of feeble women. Even then I had
life and being; and as my infancy closed I was already seeking for
signs by which my feelings might be made known to others. Whence
could such a creature come but from Thee, O Lord? Or shall any man
be skilful enough to fashion himself. Or is there any other vein by
which being and life runs into us save this, that "Thou, O Lord,
hast made us, " with whom being and life are one, because Thou
Thyself art being and life in the highest? Thou art the highest,
"Thou changest not," neither in Thee doth this present day come to
an end, though it doth] end in Thee, since in Thee all such things
are; for they would have no way of passing away unless Thou
sustainedst them. And since "Thy years shall have no end, " Thy
years are an ever present day. And how many of ours and our fathers'
days have passed through this Thy day, and received from it their
measure and fashion of being, and others yet to come shall so
receive and pass away I "But Thou art the same;" and all the things
of to-morrow and the days yet to come, and all of yesterday and the
days that are past, Thou wilt do to-day, Thou hast done to-day. What
is it to me if any understand not? Let him still rejoice and say,
"What is this?" Let him rejoice even so, and rather love to discover
in failing to discover, than in discovering not to discover Thee.
CHAP. VII.--HE SHOWS BY EXAMPLE THAT EVEN INFANCY IS PRONE TO SIN.
11. Hearken, O God! Alas for the sins of men! Man saith this, and
Thou dust compassionate him; for Thou didst create him, but didst not
create the sin that is in him. Who bringeth to my remembrance the
sin of my infancy? For before Thee none is free from sin, not even
the infant which has lived but a day upon the earth. Who bringeth
this to my remembrance? Doth not each little one, in whom I behold
that which I do not remember of myself? In what, then, did I sin? Is
it that I cried for the breast? If I should now so cry, --not indeed
for the breast, but for the food suitable to my years, --I should be
most justly laughed at and rebuked. What I then did de served
rebuke; but as I could not understand those who rebuked me, neither
custom nor reason suffered me to be rebuked. For as we grow we root
out and cast from us such habits. I, have not seen any one who is
wise, when "purging" anything cast away the good. Or was it good,
even for a time, to strive to get by crying that which, if given,
would be hurtful--to be bitterly indignant that those who were free
and its elders, and those to whom it owed its being, besides many
others wiser than it, who would not give way to the nod of its good
pleasure, were not subject unto it--to endeavour to harm, by
struggling as much as it could, because those commands were not
obeyed which only could have been obeyed to its hurt? Then, in the
weakness of the infant's limbs, and not in its will, lies its
innocency. I myself have seen and known an infant to be jealous
though it could not speak. It became pale, and cast bitter looks on
its foster-brother. Who is ignorant of this? Mothers and nurses tell
us that they appease these things by I know not what remedies; and
may this be taken for innocence, that when the fountain of milk is
flowing fresh and abundant, one who has need should not be allowed
to share it, though needing that nourishment to sustain life? Yet we
look leniently on these things, not because they are not faults, nor
because the faults are small, but because they will vanish as age
increases. For although you may allow these things now, you could
not bear them with equanimity if found in an older person.
12. Thou, therefore, O Lord my God, who gavest life to the infant,
and a frame which, as we see, Thou hast endowed with senses,
compacted with limbs, beautified with form, and, for its general
good and safety, hast introduced all vital energies---Thou
commandest me to [praise Thee for these things, "to give thanks
[unto the Lord, and to sing praise unto Thy name, O Most High;" for
Thou art a God omnipotent and good, though Thou hadst done nought
but these things, which none other can do but Thou, who alone madest
all things, O Thou most fair, who madest all things fair, and
orderest all according to Thy law. This period, then, of my life, O
Lord, of which I have no remembrance, which I believe on the word of
others, and which I guess from other infants, it chagrins me--true
though the guess be--to reckon in this life of mine which I lead in
this world; inasmuch as, in the darkness of my forgetfulness, it is
like to that which I passed in my mother's womb. But if "I was
shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me, " x where,
I pray thee, O my God, where, Lord, or when was I, Thy servant,
innocent? But behold, I pass by that time, for what have I to do
with that, the memories of which I cannot recall?
CHAP. VIII.--THAT WHEN A BOY HE LEARNED TO SPEAK, NOT BY ANY SET
METHOD, BUT FROM THE ACTS AND WORDS OF HIS PARENTS.
13. Did I not, then, growing out of the state of infancy, come to
boyhood, or rather did it not come to me, and succeed to infancy?
Nor did my infancy depart (for whither went it?); and yet it did no
longer abide, for I was no longer an infant that could not speak,
but a chattering boy. I remember this, and I afterwards observed how
I first learned to speak, for my elders did not teach me words in
any set method, as they did letters afterwards; but myself, when I
was unable to say all I wished and to whomsoever I desired, by means
of the whimperings and broken utterances and various motions of my
limbs, which I used to enforce my wishes, repeated the sounds in my
memory by the mind, O my God, which Thou gavest me. When they called
anything by name, and moved the body towards it while they spoke, I
saw and gathered that the thing they wished to point out was called
by the name they then uttered; and that they did mean this was made
plain by the motion of the body, even by the natural language Of all
nations expressed by the countenance, glance of the eye, movement of
other members, and by the sound of the voice indicating the
affections of the mind, as it seeks, possesses, rejects, or avoids.
So it was that by frequently hearing words, in duly placed
sentences, I gradually gathered what things they were the signs of;
and having formed my mouth to the utterance of these signs, I
thereby expressed my will? Thus I exchanged with those about me the
signs by which we express our wishes, and advanced deeper into the
stormy fellowship of human life, depending the while on the
authority of parents, and the beck of elders.
CHAP. IX.---CONCERNING THE HATRED OF LEARNING, THE LOVE OF PLAY, AND
THE FEAR OF BEING WHIPPED NOTICEABLE IN BOYS: AND OF THE FOLLY OF
OUR ELDERS AND MASTERS.
14. O my God! what miseries and mockeries did I then experience,
when obedience to my teachers was set before me as proper to my
boyhood, that I might flourish in this world, and distinguish myself
in the science of speech, which should get me honour amongst men,
and deceitful riches! After that I was put to school to get
learning, of which I (worthless as I was) knew not what use there
was; and yet, if slow to learn, I was flogged! For this was deemed
praiseworthy by our forefathers; and many before us, passing the
same course, had appointed beforehand for us these troublesome ways
by which we were compelled to pass, multiplying labour and sorrow
upon the sons of Adam. But we found, O Lord, men praying to Thee,
and we learned from them to conceive of Thee, according to our
ability, to be some Great One, who was able (though not visible to
our senses) to hear and help us. For as a boy I began to pray to
Thee, my "help" and my "refuge," and in invoking Thee broke the
bands of my tongue, and entreated Thee though little, with I no
little earnestness, that I might not be beaten at school. And when
Thou heardedst me not, giving me not over to folly thereby, my
elders, yea, and my own parents too, who wished me no ill, laughed
at my stripes, my then great and grievous ill.
15. Is there any one, Lord, with so high a spirit, cleaving to Thee
with so strong an affection for even a kind of obtuseness may do
that much--but is there, I say, any one who, by cleaving devoutly to
Thee, is endowed with so great a courage that he can esteem lightly
those racks and hooks, and varied tortures of the same sort, against
which, throughout the whole world, men supplicate Thee with great
fear, deriding those who most bitterly fear them, just as our
parents derided the torments with which our masters punished-us when
we were boys? For we were no less afraid of our pains, nor did we
pray less to Thee to avoid them; and yet we sinned, in writing, or
reading, or reflecting upon our lessons less than was required of
us. For we wanted not, O Lord, memory or capacity, of which, by Thy
will, we possessed enough for our age, --but we delighted only in
play; and we were punished for this by those who were doing the same
things themselves. But the idleness of our elders they call
business, whilst boys who do the like are punished by those same
elders, and yet neither boys nor men find any pity. For will any one
of good sense approve of my being whipped because, as a boy, I
played ball, and so was hindered from learning quickly those lessons
by means of which, as a man, I should play more unbecomingly? And
did he by whom I was beaten do other than this, who, when he was
overcome in any little controversy with a co-tutor, was more
tormented by anger and envy than I when beaten by a playfellow in a
match at ball?
CHAP. X.--THROUGH A LOVE OF BALL-PLAYING AND SHOWS, HE NEGLECTS HIS
STUDIES AND THE INJUNCTIONS OF HIS PARENTS.
16. And yet I erred, O Lord God, the Creator and Disposer of all
things in Nature, --but of sin the Disposer only, --I erred, O Lord
my God, in doing contrary to the wishes of my parents and of those
masters; for this learning which they (no matter for what motive)
wished me to acquire, I might have put to good account afterwards.
For I disobeyed them not because I had chosen a better way, but from
a fondness for play, loving the honour of victory in the matches,
and to have my ears tickled with lying fables, in order that they
might itch the more furiously--the same curiosity beaming more and
more in my eyes for the shows and sports of my elders. Yet those who
give these entertainments are held in such high repute, that almost
all desire the same for their children, whom they are still willing
should be beaten, if so be these same games keep them from the
studies by which they desire them to arrive at being the givers of
them. Look down upon these things, O Lord, I with compassion, and
deliver us who now call! upon Thee; deliver those also who do not
call upon Thee, that they may call upon Thee, and that Thou mayest
deliver them.
CHAP. XI.---SEIZED BY DISEASE, HIS MOTHER BEING TROUBLED, HE
EARNESTLY DEMANDS BAPTISM, WHICH ON RECOVERY IS POSTPONED --HIS
FATHER NOT AS YET BELIEVING IN CHRIST.
17. Even as a boy I had heard of eternal life promised to us through
the humility of the Lord our God condescending to our pride, and I
was signed with the sign of the cross, and was seasoned with His
salt x even from the womb of my mother, who greatly trusted in Thee.
Thou sawest, O Lord, how at one time, while yet a boy, being
suddenly seized with pains in the stomach, and being at the point of
death--Thou sawest, O my God, for even then Thou wast my keeper,
with what emotion of mind and with what faith I solicited from the
piety of my mother, and of Thy Church, the mother of us all, the
baptism of Thy Christ, my Lord and my God. On which, the mother of
my flesh being much troubled, --since she, with a heart pure in Thy
faith, travailed in birth more lovingly for my eternal salvation,
--would, had I not quickly recovered, have without delay provided
for my initiation and washing by Thy life-giving sacraments,
confessing Thee, O Lord Jesus, for the remission of sins. So my
cleansing was deferred, as if I must needs, should I live, be
further polluted; because, indeed, the guilt contracted by sin
would, after baptism, be greater and more perilous. Thus I at that
time believed with my mother and the whole house, except my father;
yet he did not overcome the influence of my mother's piety in me so
as to prevent my believing in Christ, as he had not yet believed in
Him. For she was desirous that Thou, O my God, shouldst be my Father
rather than he; and in this Thou didst aid her to overcome her
husband, to whom, though the better of the two, she yielded
obedience, because in this she yielded obedience to Thee, who dost
so command.
18. I beseech Thee, my God, I would gladly know, if it be Thy will,
to what end my baptism was then deferred? Was it for my good that
the reins were slackened, as it were, upon 'me for me to sin? Or
were they not slackened? If not, whence comes it that it is still
dinned into our ears on all sides, "Let him alone, let him act as he
likes, for he is not yet baptized But as regards bodily health, no
one exclaims, "Let him be more seriously wounded, for he is not yet
cured!" How much better, then, had it been for me to have been cured
at once; and then, by my own and my friends' diligence, my soul's
restored health had been kept safe in Thy keeping, who gavest it!
Better, in truth. But how numerous and great waves of temptation I
appeared to hang over me after my childhood :These were foreseen by
my mother; and she preferred that the unformed clay should be
exposed to them rather than the image itself.
CHAP. XII--BEING COMPELLED, HE GAVE HIS ATTENTION TO LEARNING; BUT
FULLY ACKNOWLEDGES THAT THIS WAS THE WORK OF GOD.
19. But in this my childhood (which was far less dreaded for me than
youth) I had no love of learning, and hated to be forced to it, yet
I was I forced to it notwithstanding; and this was well done towards
me, but I did not well, if or I would not have learned had I not
been compelled. For no man doth well against his will, even if that
which he doth be well. Neither did they who forced me do well, but
the good that was done to me came from Thee, my God. For they
considered not in what way I should employ what they forced me to
learn, unless to satisfy the inordinate desires of a rich beggary
and a shameful glory. But Thou, by whom the very hairs of our heads
are numbered, t didst use for my good the error of all who pressed
me to learn; and my own error in willing not to learn, didst Thou
make use of for my punishment--of which I, being so small a boy and
so great a sinner, was not unworthy. Thus by the instrumentality of
those who did not well didst Thou well for me; and by my own sin
didst Thou justly punish me. For it is even as Thou hast appointed,
that every inordinate affection should bring its own punishment
CHAP. XIII--HE DELIGHTED IN LATIN STUDIES AND THE EMPTY FABLES OF
THE POETS, BUT HATED THE ELEMENTS OF LITERATURE AND THE GREEK
LANGUAGE.
20. But what was the cause of my dislike of Greek literature, which
I studied from my boyhood, I cannot even now understand. For the
Latin I loved exceedingly--not what our first masters, but what the
grammarians teach; for those primary lessons of reading, writing,
and ciphering, I considered no less of a burden and a punishment
than Greek. Yet whence was this unless from the sin and vanity of
this life? for I was "but flesh, a wind that passeth away and cometh
not again." ' For those primary lessons were better, assuredly,
because more certain; seeing that by their agency I acquired, and
still retain, the power of reading what I find written, and writing
myself what I will; whilst in the others I was compelled to learn
about the wanderings of a certain AEneas, oblivious of my own, and
to weep for Biab dead, because she slew herself for love; while at
the same time I brooked with dry eyes my wretched self dying far
from Thee, in the midst of those things, O God, my life.
21. For what can be more wretched than the wretch who pities not
himself shedding tears over the death of Dido for love of AEneas,
but shedding no tears over his own death' in not loving Thee, O God,
light of my heart, and bread of the inner mouth of my soul, and the
power that weddest my mind with my innermost thoughts? I did not
love Thee, and committed fornication against Thee; and those around
me thus sinning cried, "Well done Well done!" For the friendship of
this world ] is fornication against Thee; and "Well done! Well
done!" is cried until one feels ashamed not to be such a man. And
for this I shed no tears, though I wept for Dido, who sought death
at the sword's point, myself the while seeking the lowest of Thy
creatures--having forsaken Thee---earth tending to the earth; and if
forbidden to read these things, how grieved would I feel that I was
not permitted to read what grieved me. This sort of madness is
considered a more honourable and more fruitful learning than that by
which I learned to read and write.
22. But now, O my God, cry unto my soul; and let Thy Truth say unto
me, "It is not so; it is not so; better much was that first
teaching." For behold, I would rather forget the wanderings of
AEneas, and all such things, than how to write and read. But it is
true that over the entrance of the grammar school there hangs a vail;
but this is not so much a sign of the majesty of the mystery, as of
a covering for error. Let not them exclaim against me of whom I am
no longer in fear, whilst I confess to Thee, my God, that which my
soul desires, and acquiesce in reprehending my evil ways, that I may
love Thy good ways. Neither let those cry out against me who buy or
sell grammar-learning. For if I ask them whether it be true, as the
poet says, that. AEneas once came to Carthage, the unlearned will
reply that they do not know, the learned will deny it to be true.
But if I ask with what letters the name. AEneas is written, all who
have learnt this will answer truly, in accordance with the
conventional understanding men have arrived at as to these signs.
Again, if I should ask which, if forgotten, would cause the greatest
inconvenience in our life, reading and writing, or these poetical
fictions, who does not see what every one would answer who had not
entirely forgotten himself? I erred, then, when as a boy I preferred
those vain studies to those more profitable ones, or rather loved
the one and hated the other. "One and one are two, two and two are
four," this was then in truth a hateful song to me; while the wooden
horse full of armed men, and the burning of Troy, and the "spectral
image" of Creusa were a most pleasant spectacle of vanity.
CHAP. XIV.--WHY HE DESPISED GREEK LITERATURE, AND EASILY LEARNED
LATIN.
23. But why, then, did I dislike Greek learning which was full of
like tales? x For Homer also was skilled in inventing similar
stories, and is most sweetly vain, yet was he disagreeable to me as
a boy. I believe Virgil, indeed, would be the same to Grecian
children, if compelled to learn him, as I was Homer. The difficulty,
in truth, the difficulty of learning a foreign language mingled as
it were with gall all the sweetness of those fabulous Grecian
stories. For not a single word of it did I understand, and to make
me do so, they vehemently urged me with cruel threatenings and
punishments. There was a time also when (as an infant) I knew no
Latin; but this I acquired without any fear or tormenting, by merely
taking notice, amid the blandishments of my nurses, the jests of
those who smiled on me, and the sportiveness of those who toyed with
me. I learnt all this, indeed, without being urged by any pressure
of punishment, for my own heart urged me to bring forth its own
conceptions, which I could not do unless by learning words, not of
those who taught me, but of those who talked to me; into whose ears,
also, I brought forth whatever I discerned. From this it is
sufficiently clear that a free curiosity hath more influence in our
learning these things than a necessity full of fear. But this last
restrains the overflowings of that freedom, through Thy laws, O God,
--Thy laws, from the ferule of the schoolmaster to the trials of the
martyr, being. effective to mingle for us a salutary bitter, calling
us back to Thyself from the pernicious delights which allure us from
Thee.
CHAP. XV. -- HE ENTREATS GOD, THAT WHATEVER USEFUL THINGS HE LEARNED
AS A BOY MAY BE DEDICATED TO HIM.
24. Hear my prayer, O Lord; let not my soul faint under Thy
discipline, nor let me faint in confessing unto Thee Thy mercies,
whereby Thou hast saved me from all my most mischievous ways, that
Thou mightest become sweet to me beyond all the seductions which I
used to follow; and that I may love Thee entirely, and grasp Thy
hand with my whole heart, and that Thou mayest deliver me from every
temptation, even unto the end. For lo, O Lord, my King and my God,
for Thy service be whatever useful thing I learnt as a boy--for Thy
service what I speak, and write, and count. For when I learned vain
things, Thou didst grant me Thy discipline; and my sin in taking
delight in those vanities, Thou hast forgiven me. I learned, indeed,
in them many useful words; but these may be learned in things not
vain, and that is the safe way for youths to walk in.
CHAP. XVI--HE DISAPPROVES OF THE MODE OF EDUCATING YOUTH, AND HE
POINTS OUT WHY WICKEDNESS IS ATTRIBUTED TO THE GODS BY THE POETS.
25. But woe unto thee, thou stream of human custom! Who shall stay
thy course? How long shall it be before thou art dried up? How long
wilt thou carry down the sons of Eve into that huge and formidable
ocean, which even they who are embarked on the cross (lignum) can
scarce pass over? Do I not read in thee of Jove the thunderer and
adulterer? And the two verily he could not be; but it was that,
while the fictitious thunder served as a cloak, he might have
warrant to imitate real adultery. Yet which of our gowned masters
can lend a temperate ear to a man of his school who cries out and
says: "These were Homer's fictions; he transfers things human to the
gods. I could have wished him to transfer divine things to us." But
it would have been more true had he said: "These are, indeed, his
fictions, but he attributed divine attributes to sinful men, that
crimes might not be accounted crimes, and that whosoever committed
any might appear to imitate the celestial gods and not abandoned
men."
26. And yet, thou stream of hell, into thee are cast the sons of
men, with rewards for learning these things; and much is made of it
when this is going on in the forum in the sight of laws which grant
a salary over and above the rewards. And thou beatest against thy
rocks and roarest, saying, "Hence words are learnt hence eloquence
is to be attained, most necessary to persuade people to your way of
thinking, and to unfold your opinions." So, in truth, we should
never have understood these words, "golden shower, " "bosom,"
"intrigue," "highest heavens," and other words written in the same
place, unless Terence had introduced a good-for-nothing youth upon
the stage, setting up Jove as his example of lewdness: "Viewing a
picture, where the tale was drawn, Of Jove's descending in a golden
shower To Danae's bosom . . . with a woman to intrigue."
And see how he excites himself to lust, as if by celestial
authority, when he says:
"Great Jove, Who shakes the highest heavens with his thunder, And I,
poor mortal man not do the same! I did it, and with a I my heart I
did it." Not one whir more easily are the words learnt for this
vileness, but by their means is the vileness perpetrated with more
confidence. I do not blame the words, they being, as it were, choice
and precious vessels, but the wine of error which was drunk in them
to us by inebriated teachers; and unless we drank, we were! beaten,
without liberty of appeal to any sober judge. And yet, O my God,
--in whose presence I can now with security recall this, --did I,
unhappy one, learn these things willingly, and with delight, and for
this was I called a boy of good promise?
CHAP. XVII.--HE CONTINUES ON THE UNHAPPY METHOD OF TRAINING YOUTH IN
LITERARY SUBJECTS.
27. Bear with me, my God, while I speak a little of those talents
Thou hast bestowed upon me, and on what follies I wasted them. For a
lesson sufficiently disquieting to my soul was given me, in hope of
praise, and fear of shame or stripes, to speak the words of Juno, as
she raged and sorrowed that she could not "Latium bar From all
approaches of the Dardan king, "l which I had heard Juno never
uttered. Yet were we compelled to stray in the footsteps of these
poetic fictions, and to turn that into prose which the poet had said
in verse. And his speaking was most applauded in whom, according to
the reputation of the persons delineated, the passions of anger and
sorrow were most strikingly reproduced, and clothed in the most
suitable language. But what is it to me, O my true Life, my God,
that my declaiming was applauded above that of many who were my
con-temporaries and fellow-students? Behold, is not all this smoke
and wind? Was there nothing else, too, on which I could exercise my
wit and tongue? Thy praise, Lord, Thy praises might have supported
the tendrils of my heart by Thy Scriptures; so had it not been
dragged away by these empty trifles, a shameful prey of the fowls of
the air.
For there is more than one way in which men sacrifice to the fallen
angels.
CHAP. XVIII.--MEN DESIRE TO OBSERVE THE RULES OF LEARNING, BUT
NEGLECT THE ETERNAL RULES OF EVERLASTING SAFETY.
28. But what matter of surprise is it that I was thus carried
towards vanity, and went forth from Thee, O my God, when men were
proposed to me to imitate, who, should they in relating any acts of
theirs---not in themselves evil --be guilty of a barbarism or
solecism, when censured for it became confounded; but when they made
a full and ornate oration, in well-chosen words, concerning their
own licentiousness, and were applauded for it, they boasted? Thou
seest this, O Lord, and keepest silence, "long-suffering, and
plenteous in mercy and truth, " s as Thou art. Wilt Thou keep
silence for ever? And even now Thou drawest out of I this vast deep
the soul that seeketh Thee and I thirsteth after Thy delights, whose
"heart said unto Thee, " I have sought Thy face, "Thy face, Lord,
will I seek." For I was far from Thy face, through my darkened
affections. For it is not by our feet, nor by change of place, that
we either turn from Thee or return to Thee. Or, indeed, did that
younger son look out for horses, or chariots, or ships, or fly away
with visible wings, or journey by the motion of his limbs, that he
might, in a tar country, prodigally waste all that Thou gavest him
when he set out? A kind Father when Thou gavest, and kinder still
when he returned destitute!s So, then, in wanton, that is to say, in
darkened affections, lies distance from Thy face.
29. Behold, O Lord God, and behold patiently, as Thou art wont to
do, how diligently the sons of men observe the conventional rules of
letters and syllables, received from those who spoke prior to them,
and yet neglect the eternal rules of everlasting salvation received
from Thee, insomuch that he who practices or teaches the hereditary
rules of pronunciation, if, contrary to grammatical usage, he should
say, without aspirating the first letter, a human being, will offend
men more than if, in opposition to Thy commandments, he, a human
being, were to hate a human being. As if, indeed, any man should
feel that an enemy could be more destructive to him than that hatred
with which he is excited against him, or that he could destroy more
utterly him whom he persecutes than he destroys his own soul by his
enmity. And of a truth, there is no science of letters more innate
than the writing of conscience--that he is doing unto another what
he himself would not suffer. How mysterious art Thou, who in silence
"dwellest on high," Thou God, the only great, who by an unwearied
law dealest out the punishment of blindness to illicit desires! When
a man seeking for the reputation of eloquence stands before a human
judge while a thronging multitude surrounds him, inveighs against
his enemy with the most fierce hatred, he takes most vigilant heed
that his tongue slips not into grammatical error, but takes no heed
lest through the fury of his spirit he cut off a man from his
fellow-men.
30. These were the customs in the midst of which I, unhappy boy, was
cast, and on that arena it was that I was more fearful of
perpetrating a barbarism than, having done so, of envying those who
had not. These things I declare and confess unto Thee, my God, for
which I was applauded by them whom I then thought it my Whole duty
to please, for I did not perceive the gulf of infamy wherein I was
cast away from Thine eyes? For in Thine eyes what was more infamous
than I was already, displeasing even those like myself, deceiving
with innumerable lies both tutor, and masters, and parents, from
love of play, a desire to see frivolous spectacles, and a
stage-stuck restlessness, to imitate them? Pilferings I committed
from my parents' cellar and table, either enslaved by gluttony, or
that I might have something to give to boys who sold me their play,
who, though they sold it, liked it as well as I. In this play,
likewise, I often sought dishonest victories, I myself being
conquered by the vain desire of pre-eminence. And what could I so
little endure, or, if I detected it, censured I so violently, as the
very things I did to others, and, when myself detected I was
censured, preferred rather to quarrel than to yield? Is this the
innocence of childhood? Nay, Lord, nay, Lord; I entreat Thy mercy, O
my God. For these same sins, as we grow older, are transferred from
governors and masters, from nuts, and balls, and sparrows, to
magistrates and kings, to gold, and lands, and slaves, just as the
rod is succeeded by more severe chastisements. It was, then, the
stature of childhood that Thou, O our King, didst approve of as an
emblem of humility when Thou saidst: "Of such is the kingdom of
heaven."
31. But yet, O Lord, to Thee, most excellent and most good, Thou
Architect and Governor of the universe, thanks had been due unto
Thee, our God, even hadst Thou willed that I should not survive my
boyhood. For I existed even then j I lived, and felt, and was
solicitous about my own well-being, ma trace of that most mysterious
unity from whence I had my being; I kept watch by my inner sense
over the wholeness of my senses, and in these insignificant
pursuits, and also in my thoughts on things insignificant, I learnt
to take pleasure in truth. I was averse to being deceived, I had a
vigorous memory, was provided with the power of speech, was softened
by friendship, shunned sorrow, meanness, ignorance. In such a being
what was not wonderful and praiseworthy? But all these are gifts of
my God; I did not give them to myself; and they are good, and all
these constitute myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He is
my God; and before Him will I rejoice exceedingly for every good
gift which, as a boy, I had. For in this lay my sin, that not in
Him, but in His creatures--my-self and the rest--I sought for
pleasures, hon-ours, and truths, falling thereby into sorrows,
troubles, and errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy, my pride, my
confidence, my God--thanks be to Thee for Thy gifts; but preserve
Thou them to me. For thus wilt Thou preserve me; and those things
which Thou hast given me shall be developed and perfected, and I
myself shall be with Thee, for from Thee is my being.
HE ADVANCES TO PUBERTY, AND INDEED TO THE EARLY PART OF THE
SIXTEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING ABANDONED HIS STUDIES,
HE INDULGED IN LUSTFUL PLEASURES, AND, WITH HIS COMPANIONS,
COMMITTED THEFT.
CHAP. I.--HE DEPLORES THE WICKEDNESS OF HIS YOUTH.
1. I will now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnal
corruptions of my soul, not because I love them, but that I may love
Thee, O my God. For love of Thy love do I it, recalling, in the very
bitterness of my remembrance, my most vicious ways, that Thou mayest
grow sweet to me,--Thou sweetness without deception! Thou sweetness
happy and assured and re-collecting myself out of that my
dissipation, in which I was torn to pieces, while, turned away from
Thee the One, I lost myself among many vanities. For I even longed
in my youth formerly to be satisfied with worldly things, and I
dared to grow wild again with various and shadowy loves; my form
consumed away and I became corrupt in Thine eyes, pleasing myself,
and eager to please in the eyes of men.
CHAP. II.--STRICKEN WITH EXCEEDING GRIEF, HE REMEMBERS THE DISSOLUTE
PASSIONS IN WHICH, IN HIS SIXTEENTH YEAR, HE USED TO INDULGE.
2. But what was it that I delighted in save to love and to be
beloved? But I held it not in moderation, mind to mind, the bright
path of friendship, but out of the dark concupiscence of the flesh
and the effervescence of youth exhalations came forth which obscured
and overcast my heart, so that I was unable to discern pure
affection from unholy desire. Both boiled confusedly within me, and
dragged away my unstable youth into the rough places of unchaste
desires, and plunged me into a gulf of infamy. Thy anger had
overshadowed me, and I knew it not. I was become deaf by the
rattling of the chins of my mortality, the punishment for my soul's
pride; and I wandered farther from Thee, and Thou didst "suffer"'
me; and I was tossed to and fro, and wasted, and poured out, and
boiled over in my fornications, and Thou didst hold Thy peace, O
Thou my tardy joy! Thou then didst hold Thy peace, and I wandered
still farther from Thee, into more and more barren seed-plots of
sorrows, with proud dejection and restless lassitude.
3. Oh for one to have regulated my disorder, and turned to my profit
the fleeting beauties of the things around me, and fixed a bound to
their sweetness, so that the tides of my youth might have spent
themselves upon the conjugal shore, if so be they could not be
tranquillized and satisfied within the object of a family, as Thy
law appoints, O Lord,--who thus formest the offspring of our death,
being able also with a tender hand to blunt the thorns which were
excluded from Thy paradise! For Thy omnipotency is not far from us
even when we are far from Thee, else in truth ought I more
vigilantly to have given heed to the voice from the clouds:
"Nevertheless, such shall have trouble in the flesh, but I spare
you;" and, "It is good for a man not to touch a woman; "' and, "He
that is unmarried careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how
he may please the Lord; but he that is married careth for the things
that are of the world, how he may please his wife." I should,
therefore, have listened more attentively to these words, and, being
severed "for the kingdom of heaven's sake," ' I would with greater
happiness have expected Thy embraces.
4. But I, poor fool, seethed as does the sea, and, forsaking Thee,
followed the violent course of my own stream, and exceeded all Thy
limitations; nor did I escape Thy scourges.' For what mortal can do
so? But Thou weft always by me, mercifully angry, and dashing with
the bitterest vexations all my illicit pleasures, in order that I
might seek pleasures free from vexation. But where I could meet with
such except in Thee, O Lord, I could not find, except in Thee, who
teachest by sorrow, and woundest us to heal us, and killest us that
we may not die from Thee. Where was I, and how far was I exiled from
the delights of Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the age of my
flesh, when the madness of lust--to the which human shamelessness
granteth full freedom, although forbidden by Thy laws--held complete
away over me, and I resigned myself entirely to it? Those about me
meanwhile took no care to save me from ruin by marriage, their sole
care being that I should learn to make a powerful speech, and become
a persuasive orator.
CHAP. III.---CONCERNING HIS FATHER, A FREEMAN OF THAGASTE, THE
ASSISTER OF HIS SON'S STUDIES, AND ON THE ADMONITIONS OF HIS MOTHER
ON THE PRESERVATION OF CHASTITY.
5. And for that year my studies were intermitted, while after my
return from Madaura (a neighbouring city, whither I had begun to go
in order to learn grammar and rhetoric), the expenses for a further
residence at Carthage were provided for me; and that was rather by
the determination than the means of my father, who was but a poor
freeman of Thagaste. To whom do I narrate this? Not unto Thee, my
God; but before Thee unto my own kind, even to that small part of
the human race who may: chance to light upon these my writings. And
to what end? That I and all who read the same may reflect out of
what depths we are' to cry unto Thee For what cometh nearer to
Thine ears than a confessing heart and a life of faith? For who did
not extol and praise my father, in that he went even beyond his
means to supply his son with all the necessaries for a far journey
for the sake of his studies? For many far richer citizens did not
the like for their children. But yet this same father did not
trouble himself how I grew towards Thee, nor how chaste I was, so
long as I was skilful in speaking--however barren I was to Thy
tilling, O God, who art the sole true and good Lord of my heart,
which is Thy field.
6. But while, in that sixteenth year of my age, I resided with my
parents, having holiday from school for a time (this idleness being
imposed upon me by my parents' necessitous circumstances), the
thorns of lust grew rank over my head, and there was no hand to
pluck them out. Moreover when my father, seeing me at the baths,
perceived that I was becoming a man, and was stirred with a restless
youthfulness, he, as if from this anticipating future descendants,
joyfully told it to my mother; rejoicing in that intoxication
wherein the world so often forgets Thee, its Creator, and fails in
love with Thy creature instead of Thee, from the invisible wine of
its own perversity turning and bowing down to the 'most infamous
things. But in my mother's breast Thou hadst even now begun Thy
temple, and the commencement of Thy holy habitation, whereas my
father was only a catechumen as yet, and that but recently. She then
started up with a pious fear and trembling; and, although I had not
yet been baptized, she feared those crooked ways in which they walk
who turn their back to Thee, and not their face?
7. Woe is me! and dare I affirm that Thou heldest Thy peace, O my
God, while I strayed farther from Thee? Didst Thou then hold Thy
peace to me? And whose words were they but Thine which by my mother,
Thy faithful handmaid, Thou pouredst into my ears, none of which
sank into my heart to make me do it? For she desired, and I remember
privately warned me, with great solicitude, "not to commit
fornication; but above all things never to defile another man's
wife." These appeared to me but womanish counsels, which I should
blush to obey. But they were Thine, and I knew it not, and I thought
that Thou heldest Thy peace, and that it was she who spoke, through
whom Thou heldest not Thy peace to me, and in her person wast
despised by me, her son, "the son of Thy handmaid, Thy servant." But
this I knew not; and rushed on headlong with such blindness, that
amongst my equals I was ashamed to be less shameless, when I heard
them pluming themselves upon their disgraceful acts, yea, and
glorying all the more in proportion to the greatness of their
baseness; and I took pleasure in doing it, not for the pleasure's
sake only, but for the praise. What is worthy of dispraise but vice?
But I made myself out worse than I was, in order that I might not be
dispraised; and when in anything I had not sinned as the abandoned
ones, I would affirm that I had done what I had not, that I might
not appear abject for being more innocent, or of less esteem for
being more chaste.
8. Behold with what companions I walked the streets of Babylon, in
whose filth I was rolled, as if in cinnamon and precious ointments.
And that I might cleave the more tens tenaciously to its very centre, my
invisible enemy trod me down, and seduced me, I being easily
seduced. Nor did the mother of my flesh, although she herself had
ere this fled "out of the midst of Babylon," -- progressing,
however, but slowly in the skirts of it,--in counseling me to
chastity, so bear in mind what she had been told about me by her
husband as to restrain in the limits of conjugal affection (if it
could not be cut away to the quick) what she knew to be destructive
in the present and dangerous in the future. But she took no heed of
this, for she was afraid lest a wife should prove a hindrance and a
clog to my hopes. Not those hopes of the future world, which my
mother had in Thee; but the hope of learning, which both my parents
were too anxious that I should acquire,-he, because he had little or
no thought of Thee, and but vain thoughts for me--she, because she
calculated that those usual courses of learning would not only be no
drawback, but rather a. furtherance towards my attaining Thee. For
thus I conjecture, recalling as well as I can the dispositions of my
parents. The reins, meantime, were slackened towards me beyond the
restraint of due severity, that I might play, yea, even to
dissoluteness, in whatsoever I fancied. And in all there was a mist,
shutting out from my sight the brightness of Thy truth, O my God;
and my iniquity displayed itself as from very "fatness." '
CHAP. IV.--HE COMMITS THEFT WITH HIS COMPANIONS, NOT URGED ON BY
POVERTY, BUT FROM A CERTAIN DISTASTE OF WELL-DOING.
9. Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and by the law written in
men's hearts, which iniquity itself cannot blot out. For what thief
will suffer a thief? Even a rich thief will not suffer him who is
driven to it by want. Yet had L a desire to commit robbery, and did
so, compelled neither by hunger, nor poverty through a distaste for
well-doing, and a lustiness of iniquity. For I pilfered that of
which I had already sufficient, and much better. Nor did I desire to
enjoy what I pilfered, but the theft and sin itself. There was a
pear-tree close to our vineyard, heavily laden with fruit, which was
tempting neither for its colour nor its flavour. To shake and rob
this some of us wanton young fellows went, late one night (having,
according to our disgraceful habit, prolonged our games in the
streets until then), and carried away great loads, not to eat
ourselves, but to fling to the very swine, having only eaten some of
them; and to do this pleased us all the more because it was not
permitted. Behold my heart, O my God; behold my heart, which Thou
hadst pity upon when in the bottomless pit. Behold, now, let my
heart tell Thee what it was seeking there, that I should be
gratuitously wanton, having no inducement to evil but the evil
itself. It was foul, and I loved it. I loved to perish. I loved my
own error--not that for which I erred, but the error itself. Base
soul, falling from Thy firmament to utter destruction--not seeking
aught through the shame but the shame itself
CHAP. V.---CONCERNING THE MOTIVES TO SIN, WHICH ARE NOT IN THE LOVE
OF EVIL, BUT IN THE DESIRE OF OBTAINING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS.
10. There is a desirableness in all beautiful bodies, and in gold,
and silver, and all things; and in bodily contact sympathy is
powerful, and each other sense hath his proper adaptation of body.
Worldly honour hath also its glory, and the power of command, and of
overcoming; whence proceeds also the desire for revenge. And yet to
acquire all these, we must not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor deviate
from Thy law. The life which we live here hath also its peculiar
attractiveness, through a certain measure of comeliness of its own,
and harmony with all things here below. The friendships of men also
are endeared by a sweet bond, in the oneness of many souls. On
account of all these, and such as these, is sin committed; while
through an inordinate preference for these goods of a lower kind,
the better and higher are neglected,---even Thou, our Lord God, Thy
truth, and Thy law. For these meaner things have their delights, but
not like unto my God, who hath created all things; for in Him doth
the righteous delight, and He is the sweetness of the upright in
heart.
11. When, therefore, we inquire why a crime was committed, we do not
believe it, unless it appear that there might have been the wish to
obtain some of those which we designated meaner things, or else a
fear of losing them. For truly they are beautiful and comely,
although in comparison with those higher and celestial goods they be
abject and contemptible. A man hath murdered another; what was his
motive? He desired his wife or his estate; or would steal to support
himself; or he was afraid of losing something of the kind by him;
or, being injured, he was burning to be revenged. Would he commit
murder without a motive, taking delight simply in the act of murder?
Who would credit it? For as for that savage and brutal man, of whom
it is declared that he was gratuitously wicked and cruel, there is
yet a motive assigned. "Lest through idleness," he says, "hand or
heart should grow inactive." x And to what purpose? Why, even that,
having once got possession of the city through that practice of
wickedness, he might attain unto honours, empire, and wealth, and be
exempt from the fear of the laws, and his difficult circumstances
from the needs of his family, and the consciousness of his own
wickedness. So it seems that even Catiline himself loved not his own
villanies, but something else, which gave him the motive for
committing them.
CHAP. VI.--WHY HE DELIGHTED IN THAT THEFT, WHEN ALL THINGS WHICH
UNDER THE APPEARANCE OF GOOD INVITE TO VICE ARE TRUE AND PERFECT IN
GOD ALONE.
12. What was it, then, that I, miserable one, so doted on in thee,
thou theft of mine, thou deed of darkness, in that sixteenth year of
my age? Beautiful thou weft not, since thou weft theft. ]But art
thou anything, that so I may argue the case with thee? Those pears
that we stole were fair to the sight, because they were Thy
creation, Thou fairests of all, Creator of all, Thou good God--God,
the highest good, and my true good. Those pears truly were pleasant
to the sight; but it was not for them that my miserable soul lusted,
for I had abundance of better, but those I plucked simply that I
might steal. For, having plucked them, I threw them away, my sole
gratification in them being my own sin, which I was pleased to
enjoy. For if any of these pears entered my mouth, the sweetener of
it was my sin in eating it. And now, O Lord my God, I ask what it
was in that theft of mine that caused me such delight; and behold it
hath no beauty in it--not such, I mean, as exists in justice and
wisdom; nor such as is in the mind, memory, Senses, and animal life
of man; nor yet such as is the glory and beauty of the stars in
their courses; or the earth, or the sea, teeming with incipient
life, to replace, as it is born, that which decayeth; nor, indeed,
that false and shadowy beauty which pertaineth to deceptive vices.
13. For thus cloth pride imitate high estate, I whereas Thou alone
art God, high above all. [ And what does ambition seek but honours
and l renown, whereas Thou alone art to be honoured I above all, and
renowned for evermore?
The cruelty of the powerful wishes to be feared; but who is to be
feared but God only out of whose power what can be forced away or
withdrawn--when, or where, or whither, or by whom? The enticements
of the wanton would fain be deemed love; and yet is naught more
enticing than Thy charity, nor is aught loved more healthfully than
that, Thy truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity affects a
desire for knowledge, whereas it is Thou who supremely knowest all
things. Yea, ignorance and foolishness themselves are concealed
under the names of ingenuousness and harmlessness, because nothing
can be found more ingenuous than Thou; and what is more harmless,
since it is a sinner's own works by which he is harmed? And sloth
seems to long for rest; but what sure rest is there besides the
Lord? Luxury would fain be called plenty and abundance; but Thou art
the fellness and unfailing plenteousness of unfading joys.
Prodigality presents a shadow of liberality; but Thou art the most
lavish giver of all good. Covetousness desires to possess much; and
Thou art the Possessor of all things. Envy contends for excellence;
but what so excellent as Thou? Anger seeks revenge; who avenges more
justly than Thou? Fear starts at unwonted and sudden chances which
threaten things beloved, and is wary for their security; but what
can happen that is unwonted or sudden to Thee? or who can deprive
Thee of what Thou lovest? or where is there unshaken security save
with Thee? Grief languishes for things lost in which desire had
delighted itself, even because it would have nothing taken from it,
as nothing can be from Thee.
14. Thus doth the soul commit fornication when she turns away from
Thee, and seeks without Thee what she cannot find pure and untainted
until she returns to Thee. Thus all pervertedly imitate Thee who
separate themselves far from Thee and raise themselves up against
Thee. But even by thus imitating Thee they acknowledge Thee to be
the Creator of all nature, and so that there is no place whither
they can altogether retire from Thee What, then, was it that I
loved in that theft? And wherein did I, even corruptedly and
pervertedly, imitate my Lord? Did I wish, if only by artifice, to
act contrary to Thy law, because by power I could not, so that,
being a captive, I might imitate an imperfect liberty by doing with
impunity things which I was not allowed to do, in obscured likeness
of Thy omnipotency? Behold this servant of Thine, fleeing from his
Lord, and following a shadow! O rottenness! O monstrosity of life
and profundity of death! Could I like that which was unlawful only
because it was unlawful?
CHAP. VII.--HE GIVES THANKS TO GOD FOR THE REMISSION OF HIS SINS,
AND REMINDS EVERY ONE THAT THE SUPREME GOD MAY HAVE PRESERVED us
FROM GREATER SINS.
15. "What shall I render unto the Lord," x that whilst my memory
recalls these things my soul is not appalled at them? I will love
Thee, O Lord, and thank Thee, and confess unto Thy name because
Thou hast put away from me these so wicked and nefarious acts of
mine. To Thy grace I attribute it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast
melted away my sin as it were ice. To Thy grace also I attribute
whatsoever of evil I have hot committed; for what might I not have
committed, loving as I did the sin for the sin's sake? Yea, all I
confess to have been pardoned me, both those which I committed by my
own perverseness, and those which, by Thy guidance, I committed not.
Where is he who, reflecting upon his own infirmity, dares to ascribe
his chastity and innocency to his own strength, so that he should
love Thee the less, as if he had been in less need of Thy mercy,
whereby Thou dost forgive the transgressions of those that turn to
Thee? For whosoever, called by Thee, obeyed Thy voice, and shunned
those things which he reads me recalling and confessing of myself,
let him not despise me, who, being sick, was healed by that same
Physician' by whose aid it was that he was not sick, or rather was
less sick. And for this let him love Thee as much, yea, all the
more, since by whom he sees me to have been restored from so great a
feebleness of sin, by Him he sees himself from a like feebleness to
have been preserved.
CHAP. VIII.--IN HIS THEFT HE LOVED THE COMPANY OF HIS
FELLOW-SINNERS.
16. "What fruit had I then,"* wretched one, in those things which,
when I remember them, cause me shame--above all in that theft, which
I loved only for the theft's sake? And as the theft itself was
nothing, all the more wretched was I who loved it. Yet by myself
alone I would not have done it--I recall what my heart was---alone I
could not have done it. I loved, then, in it the companionship of my
accomplices with whom I did it. I did not, therefore, love the theft
alone--yea, rather, it was that alone that I loved, for the
companionship was nothing. What is the fact? Who is it that can
teach me, but He who illuminateth mine heart and searcheth out the
dark corners thereof? What is it that hath come into my mind to
inquire about, to discuss, and to reflect upon? For had I at that
time loved the pears I stole, and wished to enjoy them, I might have
done so alone, if I could have been satisfied with the mere
commission of the theft by which my pleasure was secured; nor needed
I have provoked that itching of my own passions, by the
encouragement of accomplices. But as my enjoyment was not in those
pears, it was in the crime itself, which the company of my
fellow-sinners produced.
CHAP. IX.--IT WAS A PLEASURE TO HIM ALSO TO LAUGH WHEN SERIOUSLY
DECEIVING OTHERS.
17. By what feelings, then, was I animated? For it was in truth too
shameful; and woe was me who had it. But still what was it? "Who can
understand his errors?" We laughed, because our hearts were tickled
at the thought of deceiving those who little imagined what we were
doing, and would have vehemently disapproved of it. Yet, again, why
did I so rejoice in this, that I did it not alone? Is it that no one
readily laughs alone? No one does so readily; but yet sometimes,
when men are alone by themselves, nobody being by, a fit of laughter
overcomes them when anything very droll presents itself to their
senses or mind. Yet alone I would not have done it--alone I could
not at all have done it. Behold, my God, the lively recollection of
my soul is laid bare before Thee--alone I had not committed that
theft, wherein what I stole pleased me not, but rather the act of
stealing; nor to have done it alone would I have liked so well,
neither would I have done it. O Friendship too unfriendly! thou
mysterious seducer of the soul, thou greediness to do mischief out
of mirth and wantonness, thou craving for others' loss, without
desire for my own profit or revenge; but when they say, "Let us go,
let us do it," we are ashamed not to be shameless.
CHAP. X.--WITH GOD THERE IS TRUE REST AND LIFE UNCHANGING.
18. Who can unravel that twisted and tangled knottiness? It is foul.
I hate to reflect on it. I hate to look on it. But thee do I long
for, O righteousness and innocency, fair and comely to all virtuous
eyes, and of a satisfaction that never palls! With thee is perfect
rest, and life unchanging.
He who enters into thee enters into the joy of his Lord, a and shall
have no fear, and shall do excellently in the most Excellent. I sank
away from Thee, O my God, and I wandered too far from Thee, my stay,
in my youth, and became to myself an unfruitful land.
|
HE ADVANCES TO PUBERTY, AND INDEED TO THE EARLY PART OF
THE SIXTEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING ABANDONED
HIS STUDIES, HE INDULGED IN LUSTFUL PLEASURES, AND, WITH HIS
COMPANIONS, COMMITTED THEFT.
CHAP. I.--HE DEPLORES THE WICKEDNESS OF HIS YOUTH.
1. I will now call to mind my past foulness, and the
carnal corruptions of my soul, not because I love them, but
that I may love Thee, O my God. For love of Thy love do I
it, recalling, in the very bitterness of my remembrance, my
most vicious ways, that Thou mayest grow sweet to me,--Thou
sweetness without deception! Thou sweetness happy and
assured and re-collecting myself out of that my dissipation,
in which I was torn to pieces, while, turned away from Thee
the One, I lost myself among many vanities. For I even
longed in my youth formerly to be satisfied with worldly
things, and I dared to grow wild again with various and
shadowy loves; my form consumed away and I became corrupt
in Thine eyes, pleasing myself, and eager to please in the
eyes of men.
CHAP. II.--STRICKEN WITH EXCEEDING GRIEF, HE REMEMBERS
THE DISSOLUTE PASSIONS IN WHICH, IN HIS SIXTEENTH YEAR, HE
USED TO INDULGE.
2. But what was it that I delighted in save to love and
to be beloved? But I held it not in moderation, mind to
mind, the bright path of friendship, but out of the dark
concupiscence of the flesh and the effervescence of youth
exhalations came forth which obscured and overcast my heart,
so that I was unable to discern pure affection from unholy
desire. Both boiled confusedly within me, and dragged away
my unstable youth into the rough places of unchaste desires,
and plunged me into a gulf of infamy. Thy anger had
overshadowed me, and I knew it not. I was become deaf by the
rattling of the chins of my mortality, the punishment for my
soul's pride; and I wandered farther from Thee, and Thou
didst "suffer"' me; and I was tossed to and fro, and wasted,
and poured out, and boiled over in my fornications, and Thou
didst hold Thy peace, O Thou my tardy joy! Thou then didst
hold Thy peace, and I wandered still farther from Thee, into
more and more barren seed-plots of sorrows, with proud
dejection and restless lassitude.
3. Oh for one to have regulated my disorder, and turned
to my profit the fleeting beauties of the things around me,
and fixed a bound to their sweetness, so that the tides of
my youth might have spent themselves upon the conjugal
shore, if so be they could not be tranquillized and
satisfied within the object of a family, as Thy law
appoints, O Lord,--who thus formest the offspring of our
death, being able also with a tender hand to blunt the
thorns which were excluded from Thy paradise! For Thy
omnipotency is not far from us even when we are far from
Thee, else in truth ought I more vigilantly to have given
heed to the voice from the clouds: "Nevertheless, such shall
have trouble in the flesh, but I spare you;" and, "It is
good for a man not to touch a woman; "' and, "He that is
unmarried careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how
he may please the Lord; but he that is married careth for
the things that are of the world, how he may please his
wife." I should, therefore, have listened more attentively
to these words, and, being severed "for the kingdom of
heaven's sake," ' I would with greater happiness have
expected Thy embraces.
4. But I, poor fool, seethed as does the sea, and,
forsaking Thee, followed the violent course of my own
stream, and exceeded all Thy limitations; nor did I escape
Thy scourges.' For what mortal can do so? But Thou weft
always by me, mercifully angry, and dashing with the
bitterest vexations all my illicit pleasures, in order that
I might seek pleasures free from vexation. But where I could
meet with such except in Thee, O Lord, I could not
find, except in Thee, who teachest by sorrow, and woundest us
to heal us, and killest us that we may not die from Thee.
Where was I, and how far was I exiled from the delights of
Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the age of my flesh,
when the madness of lust--to the which human shamelessness
granteth full freedom, although forbidden by Thy laws--held
complete away over me, and I resigned myself entirely to it?
Those about me meanwhile took no care to save me from ruin
by marriage, their sole care being that I should learn to
make a powerful speech, and become a persuasive orator.
CHAP. III.---CONCERNING HIS FATHER, A FREEMAN OF
THAGASTE, THE ASSISTER OF HIS SON'S STUDIES, AND ON THE
ADMONITIONS OF HIS MOTHER ON THE PRESERVATION OF CHASTITY.
5. And for that year my studies were intermitted, while
after my return from Madaura (a neighbouring city, whither I
had begun to go in order to learn grammar and rhetoric), the
expenses for a further residence at Carthage were provided
for me; and that was rather by the determination than the
means of my father, who was but a poor freeman of Thagaste.
To whom do I narrate this? Not unto Thee, my God; but before
Thee unto my own kind, even to that small part of the human
race who may: chance to light upon these my writings. And to
what end? That I and all who read the same may reflect out
of what depths we are' to cry unto Thee For what cometh
nearer to Thine ears than a confessing heart and a life of
faith? For who did not extol and praise my father, in that
he went even beyond his means to supply his son with all the
necessaries for a far journey for the sake of his studies?
For many far richer citizens did not the like for their
children. But yet this same father did not trouble himself
how I grew towards Thee, nor how chaste I was, so long as I
was skilful in speaking--however barren I was to Thy
tilling, O God, who art the sole true and good Lord of my
heart, which is Thy field.
6. But while, in that sixteenth year of my age, I resided
with my parents, having holiday from school for a time (this
idleness being imposed upon me by my parents' necessitous
circumstances), the thorns of lust grew rank over my head,
and there was no hand to pluck them out. Moreover when my
father, seeing me at the baths, perceived that I was
becoming a man, and was stirred with a restless
youthfulness, he, as if from this anticipating future
descendants, joyfully told it to my mother; rejoicing in
that intoxication wherein the world so often forgets Thee,
its Creator, and fails in love with Thy creature instead of
Thee, from the invisible wine of its own perversity turning
and bowing down to the 'most infamous things. But in my
mother's breast Thou hadst even now begun Thy temple, and
the commencement of Thy holy habitation, whereas my father
was only a catechumen as yet, and that but recently. She
then started up with a pious fear and trembling; and,
although I had not yet been baptized, she feared those
crooked ways in which they walk who turn their back to Thee,
and not their face?
7. Woe is me! and dare I affirm that Thou heldest Thy
peace, O my God, while I strayed farther from Thee? Didst
Thou then hold Thy peace to me? And whose words were they
but Thine which by my mother, Thy faithful handmaid, Thou
pouredst into my ears, none of which sank into my heart to
make me do it? For she desired, and I remember privately
warned me, with great solicitude, "not to commit
fornication; but above all things never to defile another
man's wife." These appeared to me but womanish counsels,
which I should blush to obey. But they were Thine, and I
knew it not, and I thought that Thou heldest Thy peace, and
that it was she who spoke, through whom Thou heldest not Thy
peace to me, and in her person wast despised by me, her son,
"the son of Thy handmaid, Thy servant." But this I knew not;
and rushed on headlong with such blindness, that amongst my
equals I was ashamed to be less shameless, when I heard them
pluming themselves upon their disgraceful acts, yea, and
glorying all the more in proportion to the greatness of
their baseness; and I took pleasure in doing it, not for the
pleasure's sake only, but for the praise. What is worthy of
dispraise but vice? But I made myself out worse than I was,
in order that I might not be dispraised; and when in
anything I had not sinned as the abandoned ones, I would
affirm that I had done what I had not, that I might not
appear abject for being more innocent, or of less esteem for
being more chaste.
8. Behold with what companions I walked the streets of
Babylon, in whose filth I was rolled, as if in cinnamon and
precious ointments. And that I might cleave the more
tenaciously to its very centre, my invisible enemy trod me down,
and seduced me, I being easily seduced. Nor did the mother
of my flesh, although she herself had ere this fled "out of
the midst of Babylon," -- progressing, however, but slowly
in the skirts of it,--in counseling me to chastity, so bear
in mind what she had been told about me by her husband as to
restrain in the limits of conjugal affection (if it could
not be cut away to the quick) what she knew to be
destructive in the present and dangerous in the future. But
she took no heed of this, for she was afraid lest a wife
should prove a hindrance and a clog to my hopes. Not those
hopes of the future world, which my mother had in Thee; but
the hope of learning, which both my parents were too anxious
that I should acquire,-he, because he had little or no
thought of Thee, and but vain thoughts for me--she, because
she calculated that those usual courses of learning would
not only be no drawback, but rather a. furtherance towards
my attaining Thee. For thus I conjecture, recalling as well
as I can the dispositions of my parents. The reins,
meantime, were slackened towards me beyond the restraint of
due severity, that I might play, yea, even to dissoluteness,
in whatsoever I fancied. And in all there was a mist,
shutting out from my sight the brightness of Thy truth, O my
God; and my iniquity displayed itself as from very
"fatness." '
CHAP. IV.--HE COMMITS THEFT WITH HIS COMPANIONS, NOT
URGED ON BY POVERTY, BUT FROM A CERTAIN DISTASTE OF
WELL-DOING.
9. Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and by the law
written in men's hearts, which iniquity itself cannot blot
out. For what thief will suffer a thief? Even a rich thief
will not suffer him who is driven to it by want. Yet had L a
desire to commit robbery, and did so, compelled neither by
hunger, nor poverty through a distaste for well-doing, and a
lustiness of iniquity. For I pilfered that of which I had
already sufficient, and much better. Nor did I desire to
enjoy what I pilfered, but the theft and sin itself. There
was a pear-tree close to our vineyard, heavily laden with
fruit, which was tempting neither for its colour nor its
flavour. To shake and rob this some of us wanton young
fellows went, late one night (having, according to our
disgraceful habit, prolonged our games in the streets until
then), and carried away great loads, not to eat ourselves,
but to fling to the very swine, having only eaten some of
them; and to do this pleased us all the more because it was
not permitted. Behold my heart, O my God; behold my heart,
which Thou hadst pity upon when in the bottomless pit.
Behold, now, let my heart tell Thee what it was seeking
there, that I should be gratuitously wanton, having no
inducement to evil but the evil itself. It was foul, and I
loved it. I loved to perish. I loved my own error--not that
for which I erred, but the error itself. Base soul, falling
from Thy firmament to utter destruction--not seeking aught
through the shame but the shame itself
CHAP. V.---CONCERNING THE MOTIVES TO SIN, WHICH ARE NOT
IN THE LOVE OF EVIL, BUT IN THE DESIRE OF OBTAINING THE
PROPERTY OF OTHERS.
10. There is a desirableness in all beautiful bodies, and
in gold, and silver, and all things; and in bodily contact
sympathy is powerful, and each other sense hath his proper
adaptation of body. Worldly honour hath also its glory, and
the power of command, and of overcoming; whence proceeds
also the desire for revenge. And yet to acquire all these,
we must not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor deviate from Thy
law. The life which we live here hath also its peculiar
attractiveness, through a certain measure of comeliness of
its own, and harmony with all things here below. The
friendships of men also are endeared by a sweet bond, in the
oneness of many souls. On account of all these, and such as
these, is sin committed; while through an inordinate
preference for these goods of a lower kind, the better and
higher are neglected,---even Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth,
and Thy law. For these meaner things have their delights,
but not like unto my God, who hath created all things; for
in Him doth the righteous delight, and He is the sweetness
of the upright in heart.
11. When, therefore, we inquire why a crime was
committed, we do not believe it, unless it appear that there
might have been the wish to obtain some of those which we
designated meaner things, or else a fear of losing them. For
truly they are beautiful and comely, although in comparison
with those higher and celestial goods they be abject and
contemptible. A man hath murdered another; what was his
motive? He desired his wife or his estate; or would steal to
support himself; or he was afraid of losing something of the
kind by him; or, being injured, he was burning to be
revenged. Would he commit murder without a motive, taking
delight simply in the act of murder? Who would credit it?
For as for that savage and brutal man, of whom it is
declared that he was gratuitously wicked and cruel, there is
yet a motive assigned. "Lest through idleness," he says,
"hand or heart should grow inactive." x And to what purpose?
Why, even that, having once got possession of the city
through that practice of wickedness, he might attain unto
honours, empire, and wealth, and be exempt from the fear of
the laws, and his difficult circumstances from the needs of
his family, and the consciousness of his own wickedness. So
it seems that even Catiline himself loved not his own
villanies, but something else, which gave him the motive for
committing them.
CHAP. VI.--WHY HE DELIGHTED IN THAT THEFT, WHEN ALL
THINGS WHICH UNDER THE APPEARANCE OF GOOD INVITE TO VICE ARE
TRUE AND PERFECT IN GOD ALONE.
12. What was it, then, that I, miserable one, so doted on
in thee, thou theft of mine, thou deed of darkness, in that
sixteenth year of my age? Beautiful thou weft not, since
thou weft theft. ]But art thou anything, that so I may argue
the case with thee? Those pears that we stole were fair to
the sight, because they were Thy creation, Thou fairests of
all, Creator of all, Thou good God--God, the highest good,
and my true good. Those pears truly were pleasant to the
sight; but it was not for them that my miserable soul
lusted, for I had abundance of better, but those I plucked
simply that I might steal. For, having plucked them, I threw
them away, my sole gratification in them being my own sin,
which I was pleased to enjoy. For if any of these pears
entered my mouth, the sweetener of it was my sin in eating
it. And now, O Lord my God, I ask what it was in that theft
of mine that caused me such delight; and behold it hath no
beauty in it--not such, I mean, as exists in justice and
wisdom; nor such as is in the mind, memory, Senses, and
animal life of man; nor yet such as is the glory and beauty
of the stars in their courses; or the earth, or the sea,
teeming with incipient life, to replace, as it is born, that
which decayeth; nor, indeed, that false and shadowy beauty
which pertaineth to deceptive vices.
13. For thus cloth pride imitate high estate, I whereas
Thou alone art God, high above all. [ And what does ambition
seek but honours and l renown, whereas Thou alone art to be
honoured I above all, and renowned for evermore?
The cruelty of the powerful wishes to be feared; but who
is to be feared but God only out of whose power what can
be forced away or withdrawn--when, or where, or whither, or
by whom? The enticements of the wanton would fain be deemed
love; and yet is naught more enticing than Thy charity, nor
is aught loved more healthfully than that, Thy truth, bright
and beautiful above all. Curiosity affects a desire for
knowledge, whereas it is Thou who supremely knowest all
things. Yea, ignorance and foolishness themselves are
concealed under the names of ingenuousness and harmlessness,
because nothing can be found more ingenuous than Thou; and
what is more harmless, since it is a sinner's own works by
which he is harmed? And sloth seems to long for rest; but
what sure rest is there besides the Lord? Luxury would fain
be called plenty and abundance; but Thou art the fellness
and unfailing plenteousness of unfading joys. Prodigality
presents a shadow of liberality; but Thou art the most
lavish giver of all good. Covetousness desires to possess
much; and Thou art the Possessor of all things. Envy
contends for excellence; but what so excellent as Thou?
Anger seeks revenge; who avenges more justly than Thou? Fear
starts at unwonted and sudden chances which threaten things
beloved, and is wary for their security; but what can happen
that is unwonted or sudden to Thee? or who can deprive Thee
of what Thou lovest? or where is there unshaken security
save with Thee? Grief languishes for things lost in which
desire had delighted itself, even because it would have
nothing taken from it, as nothing can be from Thee.
14. Thus doth the soul commit fornication when she turns
away from Thee, and seeks without Thee what she cannot find
pure and untainted until she returns to Thee. Thus all
pervertedly imitate Thee who separate themselves far from
Thee and raise themselves up against Thee. But even by thus
imitating Thee they acknowledge Thee to be the Creator of
all nature, and so that there is no place whither they can
altogether retire from Thee What, then, was it that I
loved in that theft? And wherein did I, even corruptedly and
pervertedly, imitate my Lord? Did I wish, if only by
artifice, to act contrary to Thy law, because by power I
could not, so that, being a captive, I might imitate an
imperfect liberty by doing with impunity things which I was
not allowed to do, in obscured likeness of Thy omnipotency?
Behold this servant of Thine, fleeing from his Lord, and
following a shadow! O rottenness! O monstrosity of life and
profundity of death! Could I like that which was unlawful
only because it was unlawful?
CHAP. VII.--HE GIVES THANKS TO GOD FOR THE REMISSION OF
HIS SINS, AND REMINDS EVERY ONE THAT THE SUPREME GOD MAY
HAVE PRESERVED us FROM GREATER SINS.
15. "What shall I render unto the Lord," x that whilst my
memory recalls these things my soul is not appalled at them?
I will love Thee, O Lord, and thank Thee, and confess unto
Thy name because Thou hast put away from me these so
wicked and nefarious acts of mine. To Thy grace I attribute
it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast melted away my sin as
it were ice. To Thy grace also I attribute whatsoever of
evil I have hot committed; for what might I not have
committed, loving as I did the sin for the sin's sake? Yea,
all I confess to have been pardoned me, both those which I
committed by my own perverseness, and those which, by Thy
guidance, I committed not. Where is he who, reflecting upon
his own infirmity, dares to ascribe his chastity and
innocency to his own strength, so that he should love Thee
the less, as if he had been in less need of Thy mercy,
whereby Thou dost forgive the transgressions of those that
turn to Thee? For whosoever, called by Thee, obeyed Thy
voice, and shunned those things which he reads me recalling
and confessing of myself, let him not despise me, who, being
sick, was healed by that same Physician' by whose aid it was
that he was not sick, or rather was less sick. And for this
let him love Thee as much, yea, all the more, since by whom
he sees me to have been restored from so great a feebleness
of sin, by Him he sees himself from a like feebleness to
have been preserved.
CHAP. VIII.--IN HIS THEFT HE LOVED THE COMPANY OF HIS
FELLOW-SINNERS.
16. "What fruit had I then,"* wretched one, in those
things which, when I remember them, cause me shame--above
all in that theft, which I loved only for the theft's sake?
And as the theft itself was nothing, all the more wretched
was I who loved it. Yet by myself alone I would not have
done it--I recall what my heart was---alone I could not have
done it. I loved, then, in it the companionship of my
accomplices with whom I did it. I did not, therefore, love
the theft alone--yea, rather, it was that alone that I
loved, for the companionship was nothing. What is the fact?
Who is it that can teach me, but He who illuminateth mine
heart and searcheth out the dark corners thereof? What is it
that hath come into my mind to inquire about, to discuss,
and to reflect upon? For had I at that time loved the pears
I stole, and wished to enjoy them, I might have done so
alone, if I could have been satisfied with the mere
commission of the theft by which my pleasure was secured;
nor needed I have provoked that itching of my own passions,
by the encouragement of accomplices. But as my enjoyment was
not in those pears, it was in the crime itself, which the
company of my fellow-sinners produced.
CHAP. IX.--IT WAS A PLEASURE TO HIM ALSO TO LAUGH WHEN
SERIOUSLY DECEIVING OTHERS.
17. By what feelings, then, was I animated? For it was in
truth too shameful; and woe was me who had it. But still
what was it? "Who can understand his errors?" We laughed,
because our hearts were tickled at the thought of deceiving
those who little imagined what we were doing, and would have
vehemently disapproved of it. Yet, again, why did I so
rejoice in this, that I did it not alone? Is it that no one
readily laughs alone? No one does so readily; but yet
sometimes, when men are alone by themselves, nobody being
by, a fit of laughter overcomes them when anything very
droll presents itself to their senses or mind. Yet alone I
would not have done it--alone I could not at all have done
it. Behold, my God, the lively recollection of my soul is
laid bare before Thee--alone I had not committed that theft,
wherein what I stole pleased me not, but rather the act of
stealing; nor to have done it alone would I have liked so
well, neither would I have done it. O Friendship too
unfriendly! thou mysterious seducer of the soul, thou
greediness to do mischief out of mirth and wantonness, thou
craving for others' loss, without desire for my own profit
or revenge; but when they say, "Let us go, let us do it," we
are ashamed not to be shameless.
CHAP. X.--WITH GOD THERE IS TRUE REST AND LIFE
UNCHANGING.
18. Who can unravel that twisted and tangled knottiness?
It is foul. I hate to reflect on it. I hate to look on it.
But thee do I long for, O righteousness and innocency, fair
and comely to all virtuous eyes, and of a satisfaction that
never palls! With thee is perfect rest, and life unchanging.
He who enters into thee enters into the joy of his Lord,
a and shall have no fear, and shall do excellently in the
most Excellent. I sank away from Thee, O my God, and I
wandered too far from Thee, my stay, in my youth, and became
to myself an unfruitful land. |
The Confessions (Book III)
OF THE SEVENTEENTH, EIGHTEENTH, AND NINETEENTH YEARS OF HIS AGE,
PASSED AT CARTHAGE, WHEN, HAVING COMPLETED HIS COURSE OF STUDIES, HE
IS CAUGHT IN THE SNARES OF A LICENTIOUS PASSION, AND FALLS INTO THE
ERRORS OF THE MANICHAEAN'S.
CHAP. I.--DELUDED BY AN INSANE LOVE, HE, THOUGH FOUL AND
DISHONOURABLE, DESIRES TO BE THOUGHT ELEGANT AND URBANE.
1. To Carthage I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves bubbled up
all around me. I loved not as yet I loved to love; and with a hidden
want, I abhorred myself that I wanted not. I searched about for
something to love, in love with loving, and hating security, and a
way not beset with snares. For within me I had a dearth of that
inward food, Thyself, my' God, though that dearth caused me no
hunger; but I remained without all desire for incorruptible food,
not because I was already filled thereby, but the more empty I was
the more I loathed it. For this reason my soul was far from well,
and, full of ulcers, it miserably cast itself forth, craving to be
excited by contact with objects of sense. Yet, had these no soul,
they would not surely inspire love. To love and to be loved was
sweet to me, and all the more when I succeeded in enjoying the
person I loved. I befouled, therefore, the spring of friendship with
the filth of concupiscence, and I dimmed its lustre with the hell of
lustfulness; and yet, foul and dishonourable as I was, I craved,
through an excess of vanity, to be thought elegant and urbane. I
fell precipitately, then, into the love in which I longed to be
ensnared. My God, my mercy, with how much bitterness didst Thou, out
of Thy infinite goodness, besprinkle for me that sweetness! For I
was both beloved, and secretly arrived at the bond of enjoying; and
was joyfully bound with troublesome ties, that I might be scourged
with the burning iron rods of jealousy, suspicion, fear, anger, and
strife.
CHAP. II.--IN PUBLIC SPECTACLES HE IS MOVED BY AN EMPTY COMPASSION.
HE IS ATTACKED BY A TROUBLESOME SPIRITUAL DISEASE.
2. Stage-plays also drew me away, full of representations of my
miseries and of fuel to my fire.' Why does man like to be made sad
when viewing doleful and tragical scenes, which yet he himself would
by no means suffer? And yet he wishes, as a spectator, to experience
from them a sense of grief, and in this very grief his pleasure
consists. What is this but wretched insanity?" For a man is more
effected with these actions, the less free he is from such
affections. Howsoever, when he suffers in his own person, it is the
custom to style it "misery but when he compassionates others, then
it is styled "mercy."' But what kind of mercy is it that arises from
fictitious and scenic passions? The hearer is not expected to
relieve, but merely invited to grieve; and the more he grieves, the
more he applauds the actor of these fictions. And if the misfortunes
of the characters (whether of olden times or merely imaginary) be so
represented as not to touch the feelings of the spectator, he goes
away disgusted and censorious; but if his feelings be touched, he
sits it out attentively, and sheds tears of joy.
3. Are sorrows, then, also loved? Surely all men desire to rejoice?
Or, as man wishes to be miserable, is he, nevertheless, glad to be
merciful, which, because it cannot exist without passion, for this
cause alone are passions loved? This also is from that vein of
friendship. But whither does it go? Whither does it flow? Wherefore
runs it into that torrent of pitch,' seething forth those huge tides
of loathsome lusts into which it is changed and transformed, being
of its own will cast away and corrupted from its celestial
clearness? Shall, then, mercy be repudiated? By no means. Let us,
therefore, love sorrows sometimes. But beware of uncleanness, O my
soul, under the protection of my God, the God of our fathers, who is
to be praised and exalted above all for ever, beware of uncleanness.
For I have not now ceased to have compassion; but then in the
theatres I sympathized with lovers when they sinfully enjoyed one
another, although this was done fictitiously in the play. And when
they lost one another, I grieved with them, as if pitying them, and
yet had delight in both. But now-a-days I feel much more pity for
him that delighteth in his wickedness, than for him who is counted
as enduring hardships by failing to obtain some pernicious pleasure,
and the loss of some miserable felicity. This, surely, is the truer
mercy, but grief hath no delight in it. For though he that condoles
with the unhappy be approved for his office of charity, yet would he
who had real compassion rather there were nothing for him to grieve
about. For if goodwill be ill-willed (which it cannot), then can he
who is truly and sincerely commiserating wish that there should be
some unhappy ones, that he might commiserate them. Some grief may
then be justified, none loved. For thus dost Thou, O Lord God, who
lovest souls far more purely than do we, and art more incorruptibly
compassionate, although Thou art wounded by no sorrow." And who is
sufficient for these things?"
4. But I, wretched one, then loved to grieve, I and sought out what
to grieve at, as when, in another man's misery, though reigned and
counterfeited, that delivery of the actor best pleased me, and
attracted me the most powerfully, which moved me to tears. 'What
marvel was it that an unhappy sheep, straying from Thy flock, and
impatient of Thy care, I became infected with a foul disease? And
hence came my love of griefs---not such as should probe me too
deeply, for I loved not to suffer such things as I loved to look
upon, but such as, when hearing their fictions, should lightly
affect the surface; upon which, like as with empoisoned nails,
followed burning, swelling, putrefaction, and horrible corruption.
Such was my life! But was it life, O my God?
CHAP. III.--NOT EVEN WHEN AT CHURCH DOES HE SUPPRESS HIS DESIRES. IN
THE SCHOOL OF RHETORIC HE ABHORS THE ACTS OF THE SUBVERTERS.
5. And Thy faithful mercy hovered over me afar. Upon what unseemly
iniquities did I wear myself out, following a sacrilegious
curiosity, that, having deserted Thee, it might drag me into the
treacherous abyss, and to the beguiling obedience of devils, unto
whom I immolated my wicked deeds, and in all which Thou didst
scourge me! I dared, even while Thy solemn rites were being
celebrated within the walls of Thy church, to desire, and to plan a
business sufficient to procure me the fruits of death; for which
Thou chastisedst me with grievous punishments, but nothing in
comparison with my fault, O Thou my greatest mercy, my God, my
refuge from those terrible hurts, among which I wandered with
presumptuous neck, receding farther from Thee, loving my own ways,
and not Thine--loving a vagrant liberty.
6. Those studies, also, which were accounted honourable, were
directed towards the courts of law; to excel in which, the more
crafty I was, the more I should be praised. Such is the blindness of
men, that they even glory in their blindness. And now I was head in
'the School of Rhetoric, whereat I rejoiced proudly, and became
inflated with arrogance, though more sedate, O Lord, as Thou knowest,
and altogether removed from the subvertings of those "subverters"
(for this stupid and diabolical name was held to be the very brand
of gallantry) amongst whom I lived, with an impudent shamefacedness
that I was not even as they were. And with them I was, and at times
I was delighted with their friendship whose acts I ever abhorred,
that is, their "subverting," wherewith they insolently attacked the
modesty of strangers, which they disturbed by uncalled for jeers,
gratifying thereby their mischievous mirth.
Nothing can more nearly resemble the actions of devils than these.
By what name, therefore, could they be more truly called than "subverters
"?--being themselves subverted first, and altogether
perverted--being secretly mocked at and seduced by the deceiving
spirits, in what they themselves delight to jeer at and deceive
others.
CHAP. IV.--IN THE NINETEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE (HIS FATHER HAVING DIED
TWO YEARS BEFORE) HE IS LED BY THE "HORTENSIUS" OF CICERO TO
"PHILOSOPHY," TO GOD, AND A BETTER MODE OF THINKING.
7. Among such as these, at that unstable period of my life, I
studied books of eloquence, wherein I was eager to be eminent from a
damnable and inflated purpose, even a delight in human vanity. In
the ordinary course of study, I lighted upon a certain book of
Cicero, whose language, though not his heart, almost all admire.
This book of his contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is
called Hortensius. This book, in truth, changed my affections, and
turned my prayers to Thyself, O Lord, and made me have other hopes
and desires. Worthless suddenly became every vain hope to me; and,
with an incredible warmth of heart, I yearned for an immortality of
wisdom, and began now to arise that I might return to Thee. Not,
then, to improve my language--which I appeared to be purchasing with
my mother's means, in that my nineteenth year, my father having died
two years before--not to improve my language did I have recourse to
that book; nor did it persuade me by its style, but its matter.
8. How ardent was I then, my God, how ardent to fly from earthly
things to Thee! Nor did I know how Thou wouldst deal with me. For
with Thee is wisdom.
In Greek the love of wisdom is called "philosophy,"' with which that
book inflamed me. There be some who seduce through philosophy, under
a great, and alluring, and honourable name colouring and adorning
their own errors. And almost all who in that and former times were
such, are in that book censured and pointed out. There is also
disclosed that most salutary admonition of Thy Spirit, by Thy good
and pious servant: "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy
and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of
the world, and not after Christ: for in Him dwelleth all the
fellness of the Godhead bodily." And since at that time (as Thou, O
Light of my heart, know-est) the words of the apostle were unknown
to me, I was delighted with that exhortation, in so far only as I
was thereby stimulated, and enkindled, and inflamed to love, seek,
obtain, hold, and embrace, not this or that sect, but wisdom itself,
whatever it were; and this alone checked me thus ardent, that the
name of Christ was not in it. For this name, according to Thy mercy,
O Lord, this name of my Saviour Thy Son, had my tender heart piously
drunk in, deeply treasured even with my mother's milk; and
whatsoever was without that name, though never so erudite, polished,
and truthful, took not complete hold of me.
CHAP. V.--HE REJECTS THE SACRED SCRIPTURES AS TOO SIMPLE, AND AS NOT
TO BE COMPARED WITH THE DIGNITY OF TULLY.
9. I resolved, therefore, to direct my mind to the Holy Scriptures,
that I might see what they were. And behold, I perceive something
not comprehended by the proud, not disclosed to children, but lowly
as you approach, sublime as you advance, and veiled in mysteries;
and I was not of the number of those who could enter into it, or
bend my neck to follow its steps. For not as when now I speak did I
feel when I tuned towards those Scriptures, but they appeared to me
to be unworthy to be compared with the dignity of Tully; for my
inflated pride shunned their style, nor could the sharpness of my
wit pierce their inner meaning.' Yet, truly, were they such as would
develop in little ones; but I scorned to be a little one, and,
swollen with pride, I looked upon myself as a great one.
CHAPTER VI.--DECEIVED BY HIS OWN FAULT, HE FALLS INTO THE ERRORS OF
THE MANICHAEAN'S, WHO GLORIED IN THE TRUE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD AND IN A
THOROUGH EXAMINATION OF THINGS.
10. Therefore I fell among men proudly raving, very carnal, and
voluble, in whose mouths were the snares of the devil--the birdlime
being composed of a mixture of the syllables of Thy name, and of our
Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, the
Comforter. These names departed not out of their mouths, but so far
forth as the sound only and the clatter of the tongue, for the heart
was empty of truth. Still they cried, "Truth, Truth," and spoke much
about it to me, "yet was it not in them;'' but they spake falsely
not of Thee only--who, verily, art the Truth --but also of these
elements of this world, Thy creatures. And I, in truth, should have
passed by philosophers, even when speaking truth concerning them,
for love of Thee, my Father, supremely good, beauty of all things
beautiful. O Truth, Truth! how inwardly even then did the marrow of
my soul pant after Thee, when they frequently, and in a multiplicity
of ways, and in numerous and huge books, sounded out Thy name to me,
though it was but a voice And these were the dishes in which to
me, hungering for Thee, they, instead of Thee, served up the sun and
moon, Thy beauteous works--but yet Thy works, not Thyself, nay, nor
Thy first works. For before these corporeal works are Thy spiritual
ones, celestial and shining though they be. But I hungered and
thirsted not even after those first works of Thine, but after Thee
Thyself, the Truth, "with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of
turning;" yet they still served up to me in those dishes glowing
phantasies, than which better were it to love this very sun (which,
at least, is true to our sight), than those illusions which deceive
the mind through the eye. And yet, because I supposed them to be
Thee, I fed upon them; not with avidity, for Thou didst not taste to
my mouth as Thou art, for Thou wast not these empty fictions;
neither was I nourished by them, but the rather exhausted. Food in
our sleep appears like our food awake; yet the sleepers are not
nourished by it, for they are asleep. But those things were not in
any way like unto Thee as Thou hast now spoken unto me, in that
those were corporeal phantasies,' false bodies, than which these
true bodies, whether celestial or terrestrial, which we perceive
with our fleshly sight, are much more certain. These things the very
beasts and birds perceive as well as we, and they are more certain
than when we imagine them. And again, we do with more certainty
imagine them, than by them conceive of other greater and infinite
bodies which have no existence. With such empty husks was I then
fed, and was not fed. ' But Thou, my Love, in looking for whom I!
fails that I may be strong, art neither those bodies that we see,
although in heaven, nor art Thou those which we see not there; for
Thou hast created them, nor dost Thou reckon them amongst Thy
greatest works. How far, then, art Thou from those phantasies of
mine, phantasies of bodies which are not at all, than which the
images of those bodies which are, are more certain, and still more
certain the bodies themselves, which yet Thou art not; nay, nor yet
the soul, which is the life of the bodies. Better, then, and more
certain is the life of bodies than the bodies themselves. But Thou
art the life of souls, the life of lives, having life in Thyself;
and Thou changest not, O Life of my soul.
11. Where, then, weft Thou then to me, and how far from me? Far,
indeed, was I wandering away from Thee, being even shut out from the
very husks of the swine, whom with husks I fed? For how much better,
then, are the fables of the grammarians and poets than these snares
l For verses, and poems, and Medea flying, are more profitable truly
than these men's five elements, variously painted, to answer to the
five caves of darkness, none of which exist, and which slay the
believer. For verses and poems I can turn into true food, but the "Medea
flying," though I sang, I maintained it not; though I heard it sung,
I believed it not; but those things I did believe. Woe, woe, by what
steps was I dragged down "to the depths of hell! "T--toiling and
turmoiling through want of Truth, when I sought after Thee, my
God,--to Thee I confess it, who hadst mercy on me when I had not yet
confessed,--sought after Thee not according to the understanding of
the mind, in which Thou desiredst that I should excel the beasts,
but according to the sense of the flesh! Thou wert more inward to me
than my most inward part; and higher than my highest. I came upon
that bold woman, who "is simple, and knoweth nothing," the enigma of
Solomon, sitting "at the door of the house on a seat," and saying,
"Stolen waters are sweet,, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant."
This woman seduced me, because she found my soul beyond its portals,
dwelling in the eye of my flesh, and thinking on such food as
through it I had devoured.
CHAP. VII.--HE ATTACKS THE DOCTRINE OF THE MANICHAEAN'S CONCERNING
EVIL, GOD, AND THE RIGHTEOUSNESS OF THE PATRIARCHS.
12. For I was ignorant as to that which really is, and was, as it
were, violently moved to give my support to foolish deceivers, when
they asked me, "Whence is evil?"-- and, "Is God limited by a bodily
shape, and has He hairs and nails?"--and, "Are they to be esteemed
righteous who had many wives at once and did kill men, and
sacrificed living creatures?" At which things I, in my ignorance,
was much disturbed, and, retreating from the truth, I appeared to
myself to be going towards it; because as yet I knew not that evil
was naught but a privation of good, until in the end it ceases
altogether to be; which how should I see, the sight of whose eyes
saw no further than bodies, and of my mind no further than a
phantasm? And I knew not God to be a Spirit not one who hath parts
extended in length and breadth, nor whose being was bulk; for every
bulk is less in a part than in the whole, and, if it be infinite, it
must be less in such part as is limited by a certain space than in
its infinity; and cannot be wholly everywhere, as Spirit, as God is.
And what that should be in us, by which we were like unto God, and
might rightly in Scripture be said to be after "the image of God,"'
I was entirely ignorant.
13. Nor had I knowledge of that true inner righteousness, which doth
not judge according to custom, but out of the most perfect law of
God Almighty, by which the manners of places and times were adapted
to those places and times--being itself the while the same always
and everywhere, not one thing in one place, and another in another;
according to which Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, and
David, and all those commended by the mouth of God were righteous,
but were judged unrighteous by foolish men, judging out of man's
judgment's and gauging by the petty standard of their own manners
the manners of the whole human race. Like as if in an armoury, one
knowing not what were adapted to the several members should put
greaves on his head, or boot himself with a helmet, and then
complain because they would not fit. Or as if, on some day when in
the afternoon business was forbidden, one were to fume at not being
allowed to sell as it was lawful to him in the forenoon. Or when in
some house he sees a servant take something in his hand which the
butler is not permitted to touch, or something done behind a stable
which would be prohibited in the dining-room, and should be
indignant that in one house, and one family, the same thing is not
distributed everywhere to all. Such are they who cannot endure to
hear something to have been lawful for righteous men in former times
which is not so now; or that God, for certain temporal reasons,
commanded them one thing, and these another, but both obeying the
same righteousness; though they see, in one man, one day, and one
house, different things to be fit for different members, and a thing
which was formerly lawful after a time unlawful --that permitted or
commanded in one corner, which done in another is justly prohibited
and punished. Is justice, then, various and changeable? Nay, but the
times over which she presides are not all alike, because they are
times?
But men, whose days upon the earth are few because by their own
perception they cannot harmonize the causes of former ages and other
nations, of which they had no experience, with these of which they
have experience, though in one and the same body, day, or family,
they can readily see what is suitable for each member, season, part,
and person--to the one they take exception, to the other they
submit.
14. These things I then knew not, nor observed. They met my eyes on
every side, and I saw them not. I composed poems, in which it was
not permitted me to place every foot everywhere, but in one metre
one way, and in another, nor even in any one verse the same foot in
all places. Yet the art itself by which I composed had not different
principles for these different cases, but comprised all in one.
Still I saw not how that righteousness, which good and holy men
submitted to, far more excellently and sublimely comprehended in one
all those things which God commanded, and in no part varied, though
in varying times it did not prescribe all things at once, but
distributed and enjoined what was proper for each. And I, being
blind, blamed those pious fathers, not only for making use of
present things as God commanded and inspired them to do, but also
for foreshowing things to come as God was revealing them.
CHAP. VIII. -- HE ARGUES AGAINST THE SAME AS TO THE REASON OF
OFFENCES.
15. Can it at any time or place be an unrighteous thing for a man to
love God with all his Mart, with all his soul, and with all his
mind, and his neighbour as himself? Therefore those offences which
be contrary to nature are everywhere and at all times to be held in
detestation and punished; such were those of the Sodomites, which
should all nations commit, they should all be held guilty of the
same crime by the divine law, which hath not so made men that they
should in that way abuse one another. For even that fellowship which
should be between God and us is violated, when that same nature of
which He is author is polluted by the perversity of lust. But those
offences which are contrary to the customs of men are to be avoided
according to the customs severally prevailing; so that an agreement
made, and confirmed by custom or law of any city or nation, may not
be violated at the lawless pleasure of any, whether citizen or
stranger. For any part which is not consistent with its whole is
unseemly. But when God commands anything contrary to the customs or
compacts of any nation to be done, though it were never done by them
before, it is to be done; and if intermitted it is to be restored,
and, if never established, to be established. For if it be lawful
for a king, in the state over which he reigns, to command that which
neither he himself nor any one before him had commanded, and to obey
him cannot be held to be inimical to the public interest, -- nay, it
were so if he were not obeyed (for obedience to princes is a general
compact of human society), -- how much more, then, ought we
unhesitatingly to obey God, the Governor of all His creatures! For
as among the authorities of human society the greater authority is
obeyed before the lesser, so must God above all.
16. So also in deeds of violence, where there is a desire to harm,
whether by contumely or injury; and both of these either by reason
of revenge, as one enemy against another; or to obtain some
advantage over another, as the highwayman to the traveller; or for
the avoiding of some evil, as with him who is in fear of another; or
through envy, as the unfortunate man to one who is happy; or as he
that is prosperous in anything to him who he fears will become equal
to himself, or whose equality he grieves at; or for the mere
pleasure in another's pains, as the spectators of gladiators, or the
deriders and mockers of others. These be the chief iniquities which
spring forth from the lust of the flesh, of the eye, and of power,
whether singly, or together, or all at once. And so do men live
in opposition to the three and seven, that psaltery "of ten
strings," Thy ten commandments, O God most high and most sweet. But
what foul offences can there be against Thee who canst not be
defiled? Or what deeds of violence against thee who canst not be
harmed? But Thou avengest that which men perpetrate against
themselves, seeing also that when they sin against Thee, they do
wickedly against their own souls; and iniquity gives itself the lie,
either by corrupting or perverting their nature, which Thou hast
made and ordained, or by an immoderate use of things permitted, or
in "burning" in things forbidden to that use which is against
nature; or when convicted, raging with heart and voice against Thee,
kicking against the pricks; or when, breaking through the pale of.
human society, they audaciously rejoice in private combinations or
divisions, according as they have been pleased or offended. And
these things are done whenever Thou art forsaken, O Fountain of
Life, who art the only and true Creator and Ruler of the universe,
and by a self-willed pride any one false thing is selected there
from
and loved. So, then, by a humble piety we return to Thee; and thou
purgest us from our evil customs, and art merciful unto the sins of
those who confess unto Thee, and dost "hear the groaning of the
prisoner," and dost loosen us from those fetters which we have
forged for ourselves, if we lift not up against Thee the horns of a
false liberty, - losing all through craving more, by loving more our
own private good than Thee, the good of all.
CHAP. IX. -- THAT THE JUDGMENT OF GOD AND MEN AS TO HUMAN ACTS OF
VIOLENCE, IS DIFFERENT.
17. But amidst these offences of infamy and violence, and so many
iniquities, are the sins of men who are, on the whole, making
progress; which, by those who judge rightly, and after the rule of
perfection, are censured, yet commended withal, upon the hope of
bearing fruit, like as in the green blade of the growing corn. And
there are some which resemble offences of infamy or violence, and
yet are not sins, because they neither offend Thee, our Lord God,
nor social custom: when, for example, things suitable for the times
are provided for the use of life, and we are uncertain whether it be
out of a lust of having; or when acts are punished by constituted
authority for the sake of correction, and we are uncertain whether
it be out of a lust of hurting. Many a deed, then, which in the
sight of men is disapproved, is approved by Thy testimony; and many
a one who is praised by men is, Thou being witness, condemned;
because frequently the view of the deed, and the mind of the doer,
and the hidden exigency of the period, severally vary. But when Thou
unexpectedly commandest an unusual and unthought-of thing -- yea,
even if Thou hast formerly forbidden it, and still for the time
keepest secret the reason of Thy command, and it even be contrary to
the ordinance of some society of men, who doubts but it is to be
done, inasmuch as that society is righteous which serves Thee? But
blessed are they who know Thy commands I For all things were done by
them who served Thee either to exhibit something necessary at the
time, or to foreshow things to come.
CHAP. X. -- HE REPROVES THE TRIFLINGS OF THE MANICHAEAN'S AS TO THE
FRUITS OF THE EARTH.
18. These things being ignorant of, I derided those holy servants
and prophets of Thine. And what did I gain by deriding them but to
be derided by Thee, being insensibly, and little by little, led on
to those follies, as to credit that a fig-tree wept when it was
plucked, and that the mother-tree shed milky tears? Which fig
notwithstanding, plucked not by his own but another's wickedness,
had some "saint" eaten and mingled with his entrails, he should
breathe out of it angels; yea, in his prayers he shall assuredly
groan and sigh forth particles of God, which particles of the most
high and true God should have remained bound in that fig unless they
had been set free by the teeth and belly of some "elect saint"! And
I, miserable one, believed that more mercy was to be shown to the
fruits of the earth than unto men, for whom they were created; for
if a hungry man -- who was not a Manichaean -- should beg for any,
that morsel which should be given him would appear, as it were,
condemned to capital punishment.
CHAP. XI. -- HE REFERS TO THE TEARS, AND THE MEMORABLE DREAM
CONCERNING HER SON, GRANTED BY GOD TO HIS MOTHER.
19. And Thou sendedst Thine hand from above, and drewest my soul out
of that profound darkness, when my mother, Thy faithful one, wept to
thee on my behalf more than mothers are wont to weep the bodily
death of their children. For she saw that I was dead by that faith
and spirit which she had from Thee, and Thou heardest her, O Lord.
Thou heardest her, and despisedst not her tears, when, pouring down,
they watered the earth under her eyes in every place where she
prayed; yea, Thou heardest her. For whence was that dream with which
Thou consoledst her, so that she permitted me to live with her, and
to have my meals at the same table in the house, which she had begun
to avoid, hating and detesting the blasphemies of my error? For she
saw herself standing on a certain wooden rule, and a bright youth
advancing towards her, joyous and smiling upon her, whilst she was
grieving and bowed down with sorrow. But he having inquired of her
the cause of her sorrow and daily weeping (he wishing to teach, as
is their wont, and not to be taught), and she answering that it was
my perdition she was lamenting, he bade her rest contented, and told
her to behold and see "that where she was, there was I also." And
when she looked she saw me standing near her on the same rule.
Whence was this, unless that Thine ears were inclined towards her
heart? O Thou Good Omnipotent, who so carest for every one of us as
if Thou caredst for him only, and so for all as if they were but
one!
20. Whence was this, also, that when she had narrated this vision to
me, and I tried to put this construction on it, "That she rather
should not despair of being some day what I was," she immediately,
without hesitation, replied, "No; for it was not told me that where
he is, there shalt thou be,' but 'where thou art, there shall he
be'"? I confess to Thee, O Lord, that, to the best of my remembrance
(and I have oft spoken of this), Thy answer through my watchful
mother -- that she was not disquieted by the speciousness of my
false interpretation, and saw in a moment what was to be seen, and
which I myself had not in truth perceived before she spoke -- even
then moved me more than the dream itself, by which the happiness to
that pious woman, to be realized so long after, was, for the
alleviation of her present anxiety, so long before predicted. You
nearly nine years passed in which I wallowed in the slime of that
deep pit and the darkness of falsehood, striving often to rise, but
being all the more heavily dashed down. But yet that chaste, pious,
and sober widow (such as Thou lovest), now more buoyed up with hope,
though no whir less zealous in her weeping and mourning, desisted
not, at all the hours of her supplications, to bewail my case unto
Thee. And her prayers entered into Thy presence, and yet Thou didst
still suffer me to be involved and re-involved in that darkness.
CHAP. XII. -- THE EXCELLENT ANSWER OF THE BISHOP WHEN REFERRED TO BY
HIS MOTHER AS TO THE CONVERSION OF HER SON.
21. And meanwhile Thou grantedst her another answer, which I recall;
for much I pass over, hastening on to those things which the more
strongly impel me to confess unto Thee, and much I do not remember.
Thou didst grant her then another answer, by a priest of Thine, a
certain bishop, reared in Thy Church and well versed in Thy books.
He, when this woman had entreated that he would vouchsafe to have
some talk with me, refute my errors, unteach me evil things, and
teach me good (for this he was in the habit of doing when he found
people fitted to receive it), refused, very prudently, as I
afterwards came to see. For he answered that I was still unteachable,
being inflated with the novelty of that heresy, and that I had
already perplexed divers inexperienced persons with vexatious
questions, as she had informed him. "But leave him alone for a
time," saith he, "only pray God for him; he will of himself, by
reading, discover what that error is, and how great its impiety." He
disclosed to her at the same time how he himself, when a little one,
had, by his misguided mother, been given over to the Manichaeans,
and had not only read, but even written out almost all their books,
and had come to see (without argument or proof from any one) how
much that sect was to be shunned, and had shunned it. Which when he
had said, and she would not be satisfied, but repeated more
earnestly her entreaties, shedding copious tears, that he would see
and discourse with me, he, a little vexed at her importunity,
exclaimed, "Go thy way, and God bless thee, for it is not possible
that the son of these tears should perish." Which answer (as she
often mentioned in her conversations with me) she accepted as though
it were a voice from heaven.
The Confessions (Book IV)
THEN FOLLOWS A PERIOD OF NINE YEARS FROM THE NINETEENTH YEAR OF HIS
AGE, DURING WHICH HAVING LOST A FRIEND, HE FOLLOWED THE MANICHAEANS
-- AND WROTE BOOKS ON THE FAIR AND FIT, AND PUBLISHED A WORK ON THE
LIBERAL ARTS, AND THE CATEGORIES OF ARISTOTLE.
CHAP. I. -- CONCERNING THAT MOST UNHAPPY TIME IN WHICH HE, BEING
DECEIVED, DECEIVED OTHERS; AND CONCERNING THE MOCKERS OF HIS
CONFESSION.
1. DURING this space of nine years, then, from my nineteenth to my
eight and twentieth year, we went on seduced and seducing, deceived
and deceiving, in divers lusts; publicly, by sciences which they
style "liberal" -- secretly, with a falsity called religion. Here
proud, there superstitious, everywhere vain! Here, striving after
the emptiness of popular fame, even to theatrical applauses, and
poetic contests, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the follies of
shows and the intemperance of desire. There, seeking to be purged
from these our corruptions by carrying food to those who were called
"elect" and "holy," out of which, in the laboratory of their
stomachs, they should] make for us angels and gods, by whom we;
might be delivered. These things did I follow eagerly, and practise
with my friends -- by me and with me deceived. Let the arrogant, and
such as have not been yet savingly cast] down and stricken by Thee,
O my God, laugh at me; but notwithstanding I would confess to Thee
mine own shame in Thy praise. Bear with me, I beseech Thee, and give
me grace to retrace in my present remembrance the circlings of my
past errors, and to "offer to Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving."
For what am I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine own
downfall? Or what am I even at the best, but one sucking Thy milk?
and feeding upon Thee, the meat that perisheth not? But what kind of
man is any man, seeing that he is but a man? Let, then, the strong
and the mighty laugh at us, but let us who are "poor and needy"
confess unto Thee.
CHAP. II. -- HE TEACHES RHETORIC, THE ONLY THING HE LOVED, AND
SCORNS THE SOOTHSAYER, WHO PROMISED HIM VICTORY.
2. In those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and, overcome by
cupidity, put to sale a loquacity by which to overcome. Yet I
preferred -- Lord, Thou knowest -- to have honest scholars (as they
are esteemed); and these I, without artifice, taught artifices, not
to be put in practise against the life of the guiltless, though
sometimes for the life of the guilty. And Thou, O God, from afar
sawest me stumbling in that slippery path, and amid much smoke
sending out some flashes of fidelity, which I exhibited in that my
guidance of such as loved vanity and sought after leasing, I being
their companion. In those years I had one (whom I knew not in what
is called lawful wedlock, but whom my wayward passion, void of
understanding, had discovered), yet one only, remaining faithful
even to her; in whom I found out truly by my own experience what
difference there is between the restraints of the marriage bonds,
contracted for the sake of issue, and the compact of a lustful love,
where children are born against the parents will, although, being
born, they compel love.
3. I remember, too, that when I decided to compete for a theatrical
prize, a soothsayer demanded of me what I would give him to win; but
I, detesting and abominating such foul mysteries, answered, "That if
the garland were of imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to
be destroyed to secure it for me." For he was to slay certain living
creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honours to invite the
devils to give me their support. But this ill thing I also refused,
not out of a pure love for Thee, O God of my heart; for I knew not
how to love Thee, knowing not how to conceive aught beyond corporeal
brightness. And doth not a soul, sighing after such-like fictions,
commit fornication against Thee, trust in false things, and nourish
the wind? But I would not, forsooth, have sacrifices offered to
devils on my behalf, though I myself was offering sacrifices to them
by that superstition. For what else is nourishing the, wind but
nourishing them, that is, by our wanderings to become their
enjoyment and derision?
CHAP, III. -- NOT EVEN THE MOST EXPERIENCED MEN COULD PERSUADE HIM
OF THE VANITY OF ASTROLOGY TO WHICH HE WAS DEVOTED.
4. Those impostors, then, whom they designate Mathematicians, I
consulted without hesitation, because they used no sacrifices, and
invoked the aid of no spirit for their divinations, which art
Christian and true piety fitly rejects and condemns? For good it is
to confess unto Thee, and to say, "Be merciful unto me, heal my
soul, for I have sinned against Thee;" and not to abuse Thy goodness
for a license to sin, but to remember the words of the Lord,
"Behold, thou art made whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come
unto thee." T All of which salutary advice they endeavour to destroy
when they say, "The cause of thy sin is inevitably determined in
heaven;" and, "This did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars;" in order that
man, forsooth, flesh and blood, and proud corruption, may be
blameless, while the Creator and Ordainer of heaven and stars is to
bear the blame. And who is this but Thee, our God, the sweetness and
well-spring of righteousness, who renderest "to every man according
to his deeds," and despisest not "a broken and a contrite heart!"
5. There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in medicine, and
much renowned therein, who had with his own proconsular hand put the
Agonistic garland upon my distempered head, not, though, as a
physician; for this disease Thou alone healest, who resistest the
proud, and givest grace to the humble But didst Thou fail me even
by that old man, or forbear from healing my soul? For when I had
become more familiar with him, and hung assiduously and fixedly on
his conversation (for though couched in simple language, it was
replete with vivacity, life, and earnestness), when he had perceived
from my discourse that I was given to books of the
horoscope-casters, he, in a kind and fatherly manner, advised me to
throw them away, and not vainly bestow the care and labour necessary
for useful things upon these vanities; saying that he himself in his
earlier years had studied that art with a view to gaining his living
by following it as a profession, and that, as he had understood
Hippocrates, he would soon have understood this, and yet he had
given it up, and followed medicine, for no other reason than that he
discovered it to be utterly false, and he, being a man of character,
would not gain his living by beguiling people. "But thou," saith
he," who hast rhetoric to support thyself by, so that thou followest
this of free will, not of necessity -- all the more, then, oughtest
thou to give me credit herein, who laboured to attain it so
perfectly, as I wished to gain my living by it alone." When I asked
him to account for so many true things being foretold by it, he
answered me (as he could) "that the force of chance, diffused
throughout the whole order of nature, brought this about. For if
when a man by accident opens the leaves of some poet, who sang and
intended something far different, a verse oftentimes fell out
wondrously apposite to the present business, it were not to be
wondered at," he continued, "if out of the soul of man, by some
higher instinct, not knowing what goes on within itself, an answer
should be given by chance, not art, which should coincide with the
business and actions of the questioner."
6. And thus truly, either by or through him, Thou didst look after
me. And Thou didst delineate in my memory what I might afterwards
search out for myself. But at that time neither he, nor my most dear
Nebridius, a youth most good and most circumspect, who scoffed at
that whole stock of divination, could persuade me to forsake it, the
authority of the authors influencing me still more; and as yet I had
lighted upon no certain proof -- such as I sought -- whereby it
might without doubt appear that what had been truly foretold by
those consulted was by accident or chance, not by the art of the
star-gazers.
CHAP. IV. -- SORELY DISTRESSED BY WEEPING AT THE DEATH OF HIS
FRIEND, HE PROVIDES CONSOLATION FOR HIMSELF.
7. In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native
town, I had acquired a very dear friend, from association in our
studies, of mine own age, and, like myself, just rising up into the
flower of youth. He had grown up with me from childhood, and we had
been both school-fellows and play-fellows. But he was not then my
friend, nor, indeed, afterwards, as true friendship is; for true it
is not but in such as Thou bindest together, cleaving unto Thee by
that love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost,
which is given unto us. But yet it was too sweet, being ripened by
the fervour of similar studies. For, from the true a faith (which
he, as a youth, had not soundly and t thoroughly become master of),
I had turned him aside towards those superstitious and pernicious
fables which my mother mourned in me. With me this man's mind now
erred, nor could my soul exist without him. But behold, Thou weft
close behind Thy fugitives -- at once God of vengeance and Fountain
of mercies, who turnest us to Thyself by wondrous means. Thou
removedst that man from this life when he had scarce completed one
whole year of my t, friendship, sweet to me above all the sweetness
of that my life.
8. "Who can show forth all Thy praise" which he hath experienced in
himself alone? What was it that Thou didst then, O my God, and how
unsearchable are the depths of Thy judgments! For when, sore sick of
a fever, he long lay unconscious in a death-sweat, and all despaired
of his recovery, he was baptized without his knowledge; myself
meanwhile little caring, presuming that his soul would retain rather
what it had imbibed from me, than what was done to his unconscious
body. Far different, however, was it, for he was revived and
restored. Straightway, as soon as I could talk to him (which I could
as soon as he was able, for I never left him, and we hung too much
upon each other), I attempted to jest with him, as if he also would
jest with me at that baptism which he had received when mind and
senses were in abeyance, but had now learnt that he had received.
But he shuddered at me, as if I were his enemy; and, with a
remarkable and unexpected freedom, admonished me, if I desired to
continue his friend, to desist from speaking to him in such a way.
I, confounded and confused, concealed all my emotions, till he
should get well, and his health be strong enough to allow me to deal
with him as I wished. But he was withdrawn from my frenzy, that with
Thee he might be preserved for my comfort. A few days after, during
my absence, he had a return of the fever, and died.
9. At this sorrow my heart was utterly darkened, and whatever I
looked upon was death. My native country was a torture to me, and my
father's house a wondrous unhappiness; and whatsoever I had
participated in with him, wanting him, turned into a frightful
torture. Mine eyes sought him everywhere, but he was not granted
them; and I hated all places because he was not in them; nor could
they now say to me, "Behold; he is coming," as they did when he was
alive and absent. I became a great puzzle to myself, and asked my
soul why she was so sad, and why she so exceedingly disquieted me;
but she knew not what to answer me. And if I said, "Hope thou in
God," she very properly obeyed me not; because that most dear friend
whom she had lost was, being man, both truer and better than that
phantasms she was bid to hope in. Naught but tears were sweet to me,
and they succeeded my friend in the dearest of my affections.
CHAP. V. -- WHY WEEPING IS PLEASANT TO THE WRETCHED.
10. And now, O Lord, these things are passed away, and time hath
healed my wound. May I learn from Thee, who art Truth, and apply the
ear of my heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell me why weeping
should be so sweet to the unhappy. Hast Thou -- although present
everywhere -- cast away far from Thee our misery? And Thou abidest
in Thyself, but we are disquieted with divers trials; and yet,
unless we wept in Thine ears, there would be no hope for us
remaining. Whence,. then, is it that such sweet fruit is plucked
from the bitterness of life, from groans, tears, sighs, and
lamentations? Is it the hope that Thou hearest us that sweetens it?
This is true of prayer, for therein is a desire to approach unto
Thee. But is it also in grief for a thing lost, and the sorrow with
which I was then overwhelmed? For I had neither hope of his coming
to life again, nor did I seek this with my tears; but I grieved and
wept only, for I was miserable, and had lost my joy. Or is weeping a
bitter thing, and for distaste of the things which aforetime we
enjoyed before, and even then, when we are loathing them, does it
cause us pleasure?
CHAP. VI. -- HIS FRIEND BEING SNATCHED AWAY BY DEATH, HE IMAGINES
THAT HE REMAINS ONLY AS HALF.
11. But why do I speak of these things? For this is not the time to
question, but rather to confess unto Thee. Miserable I was, and
miserable is every soul fetter. ed by the friendship of perishable
things -- he is torn to pieces when he loses them, and then is
sensible of the misery which he had before ever he lost them. Thus
was it at that time with me; I wept most bitterly, and found rest in
bitterness. Thus was I miserable, and that life of misery I
accounted dearer than my friend. For though I would willingly have
changed it, yet I was even more unwilling to lose it than him; yea,
I knew not whether I was willing to lose it even for him, as is
handed down to us (if not an invention) of Pylades and Orestes, that
they would gladly have died one for another, or both together, it
being worse than death to them not to live together. But there had
sprung up in me some kind of feeling, too, contrary to this, for
both exceedingly wearisome was it to me to live, and dreadful to
die, I suppose, the more I loved him, so much the more did I hate
and fear, as a most cruel enemy, that death which had robbed me of
him; and I imagined it would suddenly annihilate all men, as it had
power over him. TItus, I remember, it was with me. Behold my heart,
O my God! Behold and look into me, for I remember it well, O my
Hope! who cleansest me from the uncleanness of such affections,
directing mine eyes towards Thee, and plucking my feet out of the
net. For I was astonished that other mortals lived, since he whom I
loved, as if he would never die, was dead; and I wondered still more
that I, who was to him a second self, could live when he was dead.
Well did one say of his friend, "Thou half of my soul," for I felt
that my soul and his soul were but one soul in two bodies; and,
consequently, my life was a horror to me, because I would not live
in half. And therefore, perchance, was I afraid to die. lest he
should die wholly whom I had so greatly loved.
CHAP. VII. -- TROUBLED BY RESTLESSNESS AND GRIEF, HE LEAVES HIS
COUNTRY A SECOND TIME FOR CARTHAGE.
12. O madness, which knowest not how to love men as men should be
loved! O foolish man that I then was, enduring with so much
impatience the lot of man So I fretted, sighed, wept, tormented
myself, and took neither rest nor advice. For I bore about with me a
rent and polluted soul, impatient of being borne by me, and where to
repose it I found not. Not in pleasant groves, not in sport or song,
not in fragrant spots, nor in magnificent banquetings, nor in the
pleasures of the bed and the couch, nor, finally, in books and songs
did it find repose. All things looked terrible, even the very light
itself; and whatsoever was not what he was, was repulsive and
hateful, except groans and tears, for in those alone found I a
little repose. But when my soul was withdrawn from them, a heavy
burden of misery weighed me down. To Thee, O Lord, should it have
been raised, for Thee to lighten and avert it. This I knew, but was
neither willing nor able; all the more since, in my thoughts of
Thee, Thou wert not any solid or substantial thing to me. For Thou
wert not Thyself, but an empty phantasm and my error was my god. If
I attempted to discharge my burden thereon, that it might find rest,
it sank into emptiness, and came rushing down again upon me, and I
remained to myself an unhappy spot, where I could neither stay nor
depart from. For whither could my heart fly from my heart? Whither
could I fly from mine own self? Whither not follow myself? And yet
fled I from my country; for so should my eyes look less for him
where they were not accustomed to see him. And thus I left the town
of Thagaste, and came to Carthage.
CHAP. VIII. -- THAT HIS GRIEF CEASED BY TIME, AND THE CONSOLATION OF
FRIENDS.
13. Times lose no time, nor do they idly roll through our senses.
They work strange operations on the mind? Behold, they came and went
from day to day, and by coming and going they disseminated in my
mind other ideas and other remembrances, and by little and little
patched me up again with the former kind of delights, unto which
that sorrow of mine yielded. But yet there succeeded, not certainly
other sorrows, yet the causes of other sorrows. For whence had that
former sorrow so easily penetrated to the quick, but that I had
poured out my soul upon the dust, in loving one who must die as if
he were never to die? But what revived and refreshed me especially
was the consolations of other friends with whom I did love what
instead of Thee I loved. And this was a monstrous fable and
protracted lie, by whose adulterous contact our soul, which lay
itching in our ears, was being polluted. But that fable would not
die to me so oft as any of my friends died. There were other things
in them which did more lay hold of my mind, -- to discourse and jest
with them; to indulge in an interchange of kindnesses; to read
together pleasant books; together to trifle, and together to be
earnest; to differ at times without ill-humour, as a man would do
with his own self; and even by the infrequency of these differences
to give zest to our more frequent consentings; sometimes teaching,
sometimes being taught; longing for the absent with impatience, and
welcoming the coming with joy. These and similar expressions,
emanating from the hearts of those who loved and were beloved in
return, by the countenance, the tongue, the eyes, and a thousand
pleasing movements, were! so much fuel to melt our souls together,
and out of many to make but one.
CHAP. IX. -- THAT THE LOVE OF A HUMAN BEING, HOWEVER CONSTANT IN
LOVING AND RETURNING LOVE, PERISHES; WHILE HE WHO LOVES GOD NEVER
LOSES A FRIEND.
14. This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved that a man's
conscience accuses itself if he love not him by whom he is beloved,
or love not again him that loves him, expecting nothing from him but
indications of his love. Hence that mourning if one die, and gloom
of sorrow, that steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness turned
into bitterness, and upon the loss of the life of the dying, the
death of the living. Blessed be he who loveth Thee, and his friend
in Thee, and his enemy for Thy sake. For he alone loses none dear to
him to whom all are dear in Him who cannot be lost. And who is this
but our God, the God that created heaven and earth, and filleth
them, because by filling them He created them? None loseth Thee but
he who leaveth Thee. And he who leaveth Thee, whither goeth he, or
whither fleeth he, but from Thee well pleased to Thee angry? For
where doth not he find Thy law in his own punishment? "And Thy law
is the truth," and truth Thou?
CHAP. X. -- THAT ALL THINGS EXIST THAT THEY MAY PERISH, AND THAT WE
ARE NOT SAFE UNLESS GOD WATCHES OVER US.
15. "Turn us again, O Lord God of Hosts, cause Thy face to shine;
and we shall be saved." For whithersoever the soul of man turns
itself, unless towards Thee, it is affixed to sorrows, yea, though
it is affixed to beauteous things without Thee and without itself.
And yet they were not unless they were from Thee. They rise and set;
and by rising, they begin as it were to be; and they grow, that they
may become perfect; and when perfect, they wax old and perish; and
all wax not old, but all perish. Therefore when they rise and tend
to be, the more rapidly they grow that they may be, so much the more
they hasten not to be. This is the way of them. Thus much hast Thou
given them, because they are parts of things, which exist not all at
the same time, but by departing and succeeding they together make up
the universe, of which they are parts. And even thus is our speech
accomplished by signs emitting a sound; but this, again, is not
perfected unless one word pass away when it has sounded its part, in
order that another may succeed it. Let my soul praise Thee out of
all these things, O God, the Creator of all; but let not my soul be
affixed to these things by the glue of love, through the senses of
the body. For they go whither they were to go, that they might no
longer be; and they rend her with pestilent desires, because she
longs to be, and yet loves to rest in what she loves. But in these
things no place is to be found; they stay not -- they flee; and who
is he that is able to follow them with the senses of the flesh? Or
who can grasp them, even when they are near? For tardy is the sense
of the flesh, because it is the sense of the flesh, and its boundary
is itself. It sufficeth for that for which it was made, but it is
not sufficient to stay things running their course from their
appointed starting-place to the end appointed. For in Thy word, by
which they were created, they hear the fiat, "Hence and hitherto."
CHAP. XI. -- THAT PORTIONS OF THE WORLD ARE NOT TO BE LOVED; BUT
THAT GOD, THEIR AUTHOR, IS IMMUTABLE, AND HIS WORD ETERNAL.
16. Be not foolish, O my soul, and deaden not the ear of thine heart
with the tumult of thy fully. Hearken thou also. The word itself
invokes thee to return; and there is the place of rest
imperturbable, where love is not abandoned if itself abandoneth not.
Behold, these things pass away, that others may succeed them, and so
this lower universe be made complete in all its parts. But do I
depart anywhere, saith the word of God? There fix thy habitation.
There commit whatsoever thou hast thence, O my soul; at all events
now thou art tired out with deceits. Commit to truth whatsoever thou
hast from the truth, and nothing shall thou lose; and thy decay
shall flourish again, and all thy diseases be healed, and thy
perishable parts shall be reformed and renovated, and drawn together
to thee; nor shall they put thee down where themselves descend, but
they shall abide with thee, and continue for ever before God, who
abideth and continueth for ever?
17. Why, then, be perverse and follow thy flesh? Rather let it be
converted and follow thee. Whatever by her thou feelest, is but in
part; and the whole, of which these are portions, thou art ignorant
of, and yet they delight thee. But had the sense of thy flesh been
capable of comprehending the whole, and not itself also, for thy
punishment, been justly limited to a portion of the whole, thou
wouldest that whatsoever existeth at the present time should pass
away, that so the whole might please thee more. For what we speak,
also by the same sense of the flesh thou hearest; and yet wouldest
not thou that the syllables should stay, but fly away, that others
may come, and the whole be heard. Thus it is always, when any single
thing is composed of many, all of which exist not together, all
together would delight more than they do simply could all be
perceived at once. But far better than these is He who made all; and
He is our God, and He passeth not away, for there is nothing to
succeed Him. If bodies please thee, praise God for them, and turn
back thy love upon their Creator, lest in those things which please
thee thou displease.
CHAP. XII. -- LOVE IS NOT CONDEMNED, BUT LOVE IN GOD, IN WHOM THERE
IS REST THROUGH JESUS CHRIST, IS TO BE PREFERRED.
18. If souls please thee, let them be loved in God; for they also
are mutable, but in Him are they firmly established, else would they
pass, and pass away. In Him, then, let them be beloved; and draw
unto Him along with thee as many souls as thou canst, and say to
them, "Him let us love, Him let us love; He created these, nor is He
far off. For He did not create them, and then depart; but they are
of Him, and in Him. Behold, there is He wherever truth is known. He
is within the very heart, but yet hath the heart wandered from Him.
Return to your heart, O ye transgressors, and cleave fast unto Him
that made you. Stand with Him, and you shall stand fast. Rest in
Him, and you shall be at rest. Whither go ye in rugged paths?
Whither go ye? The good that you love is from Him; and as it has
respect unto Him it is both good and pleasant, and justly shall it
be embittered because whatsoever cometh from Him is unjustly loved
if He be forsaken for it. Why, then, will ye wander farther and
farther in these difficult and toilsome ways? There is no rest where
ye seek it. Seek what ye seek; but it is not there where ye seek. Ye
seek a blessed life in the land of death; it is not there. For could
a blessed life be where life itself is not?"
19. But our very Life descended hither, and bore our death, and slew
it, out of the abundance of His own life; and thundering He called
loudly to us to return hence to Him into that secret place whence He
came forth to us -- first into the Virgin's womb, where the human
creature was married to Him, -- our mortal flesh, that it might not
be for ever mortal, -- and thence "as a bridegroom coming out of his
chamber, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race." For He tarried
not, but ran crying out by words, deeds, death, life, descent,
ascension, crying aloud to us to return to Him. And He departed from
our sight, that we might return to our heart, and there find Him.
For He departed, and behold, He is here. He would not be long with
us, yet left us not; for He departed thither, whence He never
departed, because "the world was made by Him." And in this world He
was, and into this world He came to save sinners, unto whom my soul
doth confess, that He may heal it, for it hath sinned against Him. O
ye sons of men, how long so slow of heart? Even now, after the Life
is descended to you, will ye not ascend and live? But whither ascend
ye, when ye are on high, and set your mouth against the heavens?
Descend that ye may ascend and ascend to God. For ye have fallen
by" ascending against Him." Tell them this, that they may weep in
the valley of tears, and so draw them with thee to God, because it
is by His Spirit that thou speakest thus unto them, if thou speakest
burning with the fire of love.
CHAP. XIII. -- LOVE ORIGINATES FROM GRACE AND BEAUTY ENTICING US.
20. These things I knew not at that time, and I loved these lower
beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths; and I said to my
friends, "Do we love anything but the beautiful? What, then, is the
beautiful? And what is beauty? What is it that allures and unites us
to the things we love; for unless there were a grace and beauty in
them, they could by no means attract us to them?" And I marked and
perceived that in bodies themselves there was a beauty from their
forming a kind of whole, and another from mutual fitness, as one
part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and so on.
And this consideration sprang up in my mind out of the recesses of
my heart, and I wrote books (two or three, I think) "on the fair and
fit." Thou knowest, O Lord, for it has escaped me; for I have them
not, but they have strayed from me, I know not how.
CHAP. XIV. -- CONCERNING THE BOOKS WHICH HE WROTE "ON THE FAIR AND
FIT," DEDICATED TO HIERIUS.
21. But what was it that prompted me, O Lord my God, to dedicate
these books to Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom I knew not by sight,
but loved the man for the fame of his learning, for which he was
renowned, and some words of his which I had heard, and which had
pleased me?
But the more did he please me in that he pleased others, who highly
extolled him, astonished that a native of Syria, instructed first in
Greek eloquence, should afterwards become a wonderful Latin orator,
and one so well versed in studies pertaining unto wisdom. Thus a man
is commended and loved when absent.
Doth this love enter into the heart of the hearer from the mouth of
the commender? Not so. But through one who loveth is another
inflamed. For hence he is loved who is commended when the commender
is believed to praise him with an unfeigned heart; that is, when he
that loves him praises him.
22. Thus, then, loved I men upon the judgment of men, not upon Thine,
O my God, in which no man is deceived. But yet why not as the
renowned charioteer, as the huntsman? known far and wide by a vulgar
popularity -- but far otherwise, and seriously, and so as I would
desire to be myself commended?
For I would not that they should commend and love me as actors are,
- although I myself did commend and love them, -- but I would prefer
being unknown than so known, and even being hated than so loved.
Where now are these influences of such various and divers kinds of
loves distributed in one soul?
What is it that I am in love with in another, which, if I did not
hate, I should not detest and repel from myself, seeing we are
equally men? For it does not follow that because a good horse is
loved by him who would not, though he might, be that horse, the same
should therefore be affirmed by an actor, who partakes of our
nature. Do I then love in a man that which I, who am a man, hate to
be? Man himself is a great deep, whose very hairs Thou numberest, O
Lord, and they fall not to the ground without Thee? And yet are the
hairs of his head more readily numbered than are his affections and
the movements of his heart.
23. But that orator was of the kind that I so loved as I wished
myself to be such a one; and I erred through an inflated pride, and
was "carried about with every wind," but yet was piloted by Thee,
though very secretly. And whence know I, and whence confidently
confess I unto Thee that I loved him more because of the love of
those who praised him, than for the very things for which they
praised him? Because had he been upraised, and these self-same men
had dispraised him, and with dispraise and scorn told the same
things of him, I should never have been so inflamed and provoked to
love him. And yet the things had not been different, nor he himself
different, but only the affections of the narrators. See where lieth
the impotent soul that is not yet sustained by the solidity of
truth! Just as the blasts of tongues blow from the breasts of
conjecturers, so is it tossed this way and that, driven forward and
backward, and the light is obscured to it and the truth not
perceived. And behold it is before us. And to me it was a great
matter that my style and studies should be known to that man; the
which if he approved, I were the more stimulated, but if he
disapproved, this vain heart of mine, void of Thy solidity, had been
offended. And yet that "fair and fit," about which wrote to him, I
reflected on with pleasure, and contemplated it, and admired it,
though none joined me in doing so.
CHAP. XV.--WHILE WRITING, BEING BLINDED BY CORPOREAL IMAGES, HE
FAILED TO RECOGNISE THE SPIRITUAL NATURE OF GOD.
24. But not yet did I perceive the hinge on which this impotent
matter turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent, "who alone doest
great wonders;" and my mind ranged through corporeal forms, and I
defined and distinguished as "fair," that which is so in itself, and
"fit," that which is beautiful as it corresponds to some other
thing; and this I supported by corporeal examples. And I turned my
attention to the nature of the mind, but the false opinions which I
entertained of spiritual things prevented me from seeing the truth.
Yet the very power of truth forced itself on my gaze, and I turned
away my throbbing soul from incorporeal substance, to lineaments,
and colours, and bulky magnitudes. And not being able to perceive
these in the mind, I thought I could not perceive my mind. And
whereas in virtue I loved peace, and in viciousness I hated discord,
in the former I distinguished unity, but in the latter a kind of
division. And in that unity I conceived the rational soul and the
nature of truth and of the chief good to consist. But in this
division I, unfortunate one, imagined there was I know not what
substance of irrational life, and the nature of the chief evil,
which should not be a substance only, but real life also, and yet
not emanating from Thee, O my God, from whom are all things. And yet
the first I called a Monad, as if it had been a soul without sex,
but the other a Duad, -- anger in deeds of violence, in deeds of
passion, lust, -- not knowing of what I talked. For I had not known
or learned that neither was evil a substance, nor our soul that
chief and unchangeable good.
25. For even as it is in the case of deeds of violence, if that
emotion of the soul from whence the stimulus comes be depraved, and
carry itself insolently and mutinously; and in acts of passion, if
that affection of the soul whereby carnal pleasures are imbibed is
unrestrained, -- so do errors and false opinions contaminate the
life, if the reasonable soul itself be depraved, as it was at that
time in me, who was ignorant that it must be enlightened by another
light that it may be partaker of truth, seeing that itself is not
that nature of truth. "For Thou wilt light my candle; the Lord my
God will enlighten my darkness; and "of His fullness have all we
received," for "that was the true Light which lighted every man that
cometh into the world;" for in Thee there is "no variableness,
neither shadow of turning."
26. But I pressed towards Thee, and was repelled by Thee that I
might taste of death, for Thou "resistest the proud." But what
prouder than for me, with a marvelous madness, to assert myself to
be that by nature which Thou art? For whereas I was mutable, -- so
much being clear to me, for my very longing to become wise arose
from the wish from worse to become better, -- yet chose I rather to
think Thee mutable, than myself not to be that which Thou art.
Therefore was I repelled by Thee, and Thou resistedst my changeable
stiffneckedness; and I imagined corporeal forms, and, being flesh, I
accused flesh, and, being "a wind that passeth away," I returned not
to Thee, but went wandering and wandering on towards those things
that have no being, neither in Thee, nor in me, nor in the body.
Neither were they created for me by Thy truth, but conceived by my
vain conceit out of corporeal things. And I used to ask Thy faithful
little ones, my fellow-citizens, -- from whom I unconsciously stood
exiled, -- I used flippantly and foolishly to ask, "Why, then, doth
the soul which God created err?" But I would not permit any one to
ask me, "Why, then, doth God err?" And I contended that Thy
immutable substance erred of constraint, rather than admit that my
mutable substance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a
punishment?
27. I was about six or seven and twenty years of age when I wrote
those volumes -- meditating upon corporeal fictions, which clamoured
in the ears of my heart. These I directed, O sweet Truth, to Thy
inward melody, pondering on the "fair and fit," and longing to stay
and listen to Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's
voice, and I could not; for by the voices of my own errors was I
driven forth, and by the weight of my own pride was I sinking into
the lowest pit. For Thou didst not "make me to hear joy and
gladness;" nor did the bones which were not yet humbled rejoice?
CHAP. XVI.--HE VERY EASILY UNDERSTOOD THE LIBERAL ARTS AND THE
CATEGORIES OF ARISTOTLE, BUT WITHOUT TRUE FRUIT.
28. And what did it profit me that, when scarce twenty years old, a
book of Aristotle's, entitled The Ten Predicaments, fell into my
hands, -- on whose very name I hung as on something great and
divine, when my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others who were
esteemed learned, referred to it with cheeks swelling with pride, -
I read it alone and understood it? And on my conferring with others,
who said that with the assistance of very able masters -- who not
only explained it orally, but drew many things in the dust -- they
scarcely understood it, and could tell me no more about it than I
had acquired in reading it by myself alone? And the book appeared to
me to speak plainly enough of substances, such as man is, and of
their qualities, -- such as the figure of a man, of what kind it is;
and his stature, how many feet high; and his relationship, whose
brother he is; or where placed, or when born; or whether he stands
or sits, or is shod or armed, or does or suffers anything; and
whatever innumerable things might be classed under these nine
categories, -- of which I have given some examples,-- or under that
chief category of substance.
29. What did all this profit me, seeing it even hindered me, when,
imagining that whatsoever existed was comprehended in those ten
categories, I tried so to understand, O my God, Thy wonderful and
unchangeable unity as if Thou also hadst been subjected to Thine own
greatness or beauty, so that they should exist in Thee as their
subject, like as in bodies, whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness
and beauty? But a body is not great or fair because it is a body,
seeing that, though it were less great or fair, it should
nevertheless be a body. But that which I had conceived of Thee was
falsehood, not truth, -- fictions of my misery, not the supports of
Thy blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and it was done in me,
that the earth should bring forth briars and thorns to me, and that
with labour I should get my bread.
30. And what did it profit me that I, the base slave of vile
affections, read unaided, and understood, all the books that I could
get of the so-called liberal arts? And I took delight in them, but
knew not whence came whatever in them was true and certain. For my
back then was to the light, and my face towards the things
enlightened; whence my face, with which I discerned the things
enlightened, was not itself enlightened. Whatever was written either
on rhetoric or logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, did I, without
any great difficulty, and without the teaching of any man,
understand, as Thou knowest, O Lord my God, because both quickness
of comprehension and acuteness of perception are Thy gifts. Yet did
I not thereupon sacrifice to Thee. So, then, it served not to my
use, but rather to my destruction, since I went about to get so good
a portion of my substance into my own power; and I kept not my
strength for Thee, but went away from Thee into a far country, to
waste it upon harlotries. For what did good abilities profit me, if
I did not employ them to good uses? For I did not perceive that
those arts were acquired with great difficulty, even by the studious
and those gifted with genius, until I endeavoured to explain them to
such; and he was the most proficient in them who followed my
explanations not too slowly.
31. But what did this profit me, supposing that Thou, O Lord God,
the Truth, wert a bright and vast body, and I a piece of that body?
Perverseness too great! But such was I. Nor do I blush, O my God, to
confess to Thee Thy mercies towards me, and to call upon Thee -- I,
who blushed not then to avow before men my blasphemies, and to bark
against Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences
and all those knotty volumes, disentangled by me without help from a
human master, seeing that I erred so odiously, and with such
sacrilegious baseness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what impediment
was it to Thy little ones to have a far slower wit, seeing that they
departed not far from Thee, that in the nest of Thy Church they
might safely become fledged, and nourish the wings of charity by the
food of a sound faith? O Lord our God, under the shadow of Thy wings
let us hope, defend us, and carry us. Thou wilt carry us both when
little, and even to grey hairs wilt Thou carry us; for our firmness,
when it is Thou, then is it firmness; but when it is our own, then
it is infirmity. Our good lives always with Thee, from which when we
are averted we are perverted. Let us now, O Lord, return, that we be
not overturned, because with Thee our good lives without any
eclipse, which good Thou Thyself art. And we need not fear lest we
should find no place unto which to return because we fell away from
it; for when we were absent, our home -- Thy Eternity -- fell not.
The Confessions (Book V)
HE DESCRIBES THE TWENTY-NINTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING
DISCOVERED THE FALLACIES OF THE MANICHAEANS, HE PROFESSED RHETORIC
AT ROME AND MILAN. HAVING HEARD AMBROSIA, HE BEGINS TO COME TO
HIMSELF.
CHAP. I.--THAT IT BECOMES THE SOUL TO PRAISE GOD, AND TO CONFESS
UNTO HIM.
1. ACCEPT the sacrifice of my confessions by the agency of my
tongue, which Thou hast formed and quickened, that it may confess to
Thy name; and heal Thou all my bones, and let them say, "Lord, who
is like unto Thee?" For neither does he who confesses to Thee teach
Thee what may be passing within him, because: a dosed heart doth not
exclude Thine eye, nor does man's hardness of heart repulse Thine
hand, but Thou dissolvest it when Thou wiliest, either in pity or in
vengeance, "and there is no One who can hide himself from Thy heat."
But let my soul praise Thee, that it may love Thee; and let it
confess Thine own mercies to Thee, at it may praise Thee. Thy whole
creation ceaseth not, nor is it silent in Thy praises - neither the
spirit of man, by the voice directed unto Thee, nor animal nor
corporeal things, by the voice of those meditating thereon; so that
our souls may from their weariness arise towards Thee, leaning on
those things which Thou hast made, and passing on to Thee, who hast
made them Wonderfully and there is there refreshment and true
strength.
 CHAP. II.-- ON THE VANITY OF THOSE WHO WISHED TO ESCAPE THE
OMNIPOTENT GOD.
2. Let the restless and the unjust depart and flee from Thee. Thou
both seest them and distinguishest the shadows. And lo! all things
with them are far, yet are they themselves foul. And how have they
injured Thee? Or in what have they disgraced Thy government, which
is just and perfect from heaven even to the lowest parts of the
earth. For whither fled they when they fled from Thy presence? Or
where dost Thou not find them? But they fled that they might not see
Thee seeing them, and blinded might stumble against Thee; since Thou
forsakest nothing that Thou hast made -- that the unjust might
stumble. against Thee, and justly be hurt, withdrawing themselves
from Thy gentleness, and stumbling against Thine uprightness, and
falling upon their own roughness. Forsooth, they know not that Thou
art everywhere whom no place encompasseth, and that Thou alone art
near even to those that re. move far from Thee? Let them, then, be
con verted and seek Thee; because not as they have forsaken their
Creator hast Thou forsaken Thy creature. Let them be converted and
seek Thee; and behold, Thou art there in their hearts, in the hearts
of those who confess to Thee, and east themselves upon Thee, and
weep on Thy bosom after their obdurate ways, even Thou gently wiping
away their tears. And they weep the more, and rejoice in weeping,
since Thou, O Lord, not man, flesh and blood, but Thou, Lord, who
didst make, remakest and comfortest them. And where was I when I was
seeking Thee? And Thou weft before me, but I had gone away even from
myself; nor did I find myself, much less Thee!
CHAP. III. -- HAVING HEARD FAUSTUS, THE MOST LEARNED BISHOP OF THE
MANICHAEANS, HE DISCERNS THAT GOD, THE AUTHOR BOTH OF THINGS ANIMATE
AND INANIMATE, CHIEFLY HAS CARE FOR THE HUMBLE.
3. Let me lay bare before my God that twenty-ninth year of my age.
There had at this time come to Carthage a certain bishop of the
Manichaeans, by name Faustus, a great snare Of the devil, and in any
were entangled by him through the allurement of his smooth speech
the which, although I did commend, yet could I separate from the
truth of those things which I was eager to learn. Nor did I esteem
the small dish of oratory so much as the science, which this their
so praised Faustus placed before me to feed upon. Fame, indeed, had
before Sen of him to me, as most skilled in all being learning, and
pre-eminently skilled in the liberal sciences. And as I had read and
retained in memory many injunctions of the philosophers, I used to
compare some teachings of theirs with those long fables of the
Manichaeans and the former things which they declared, who could
only prevail so far as to estimate this lower world, while its lord
they could by no means find out, seemed to me the more probable. For
Thou art great, O Lord, and hast respect unto the lowly, but the
proud Thou knowest afar off." Nor dost Thou draw near but to the
Contrite heart, nor art Thou found the proud, -- not even could they
number by cunning skill the stars and the sand, and measure the
starry regions, and trace the courses of the planets.
4. For with their understanding and the capacity which Thou hast
bestowed upon them they search out these things; and much have they
found out, and foretold many years before, -- the eclipses of those
luminaries, the sun and moon, on what day, at what hour, and from
how many particular points they were likely to come. Nor did their
calculation fail them; and it came to pass even as they foretold.
And they wrote down the rules found out, which are read at this day;
and from these others foretell in what year and in what month of the
year, and on what day of the month, and at what hour of the day, and
at what quarter of its light, either moon or sun is to be eclipsed,
and thus it shall be even as it is foretold. And men who are
ignorant of these things marvel and are amazed, and they that know
them exult and are exalted; and by an impious pride, departing from
Thee, and forsaking Thy light, they foretell a failure of the sun's
light which is likely to occur so long before, but see not their
own, which is now present. For they seek not religiously whence they
have the ability where-with they seek out these things. And finding
that Thou hast made them, they give not themselves up to Thee, that
Thou mayest preserve what Thou hast made, nor sacrifice themselves
to Thee, even such as they have made themselves to be; nor do they
slay their own pride, as fowls of the air, nor their own
curiosities, by which (like the fishes of the sea). they wander over
the unknown paths of the abyss, nor their own extravagance, as the
"beasts of the field," that Thou, Lord, "a consuming fire," mayest
burn up their lifeless cares and renew them immortally.
5. But the way -- Thy Word, by whom Thou didst make these things
which they number, and themselves who number, and the sense by which
they perceive what they number, and the judgment out of which they
number -- they knew not, and that of Thy wisdom there is no number)
But the Only-begotten has been "made unto us wisdom, and
righteousness, and sanctification," and has been numbered amongst
us, and paid tribute to Caesar. This way, by which they might
descend to Him from themselves, they knew not; nor that through Him
they might ascend unto Him. This way they knew not, and they think
themselves exalted with the stars and shining, and lo! they fell
upon the earth, and "their foolish heart was darkened." They say
many true things concerning the creature; but Truth, the Artificer
of the creature, they seek not with devotion, and hence they find
Him not. Or if they find Him, knowing that He is God, they glorify
Him not as God, neither are they thankful, but become vain in their
imaginations, and say that they themselves are wise? attributing to
themselves what is Thine; and by this, with most perverse blindness,
they desire to impute to Thee what is their own, forging lies
against Thee who art the Truth, and changing the glory of the
incorruptible God into an image made like corruptible man, and to
birds, and four-fooled beasts, and creeping things, -- changing Thy
truth into a lie, and worshipping and serving the creature more than
the Creator.
6. Many truths, however, concerning the creature did I retain from
these men, and the cause appeared to me from calculations, the
succession of seasons, and the visible manifestations of the stars;
and I compared them with the sayings of Manichaeus, who in his
frenzy has written most extensively on these subjects, but
discovered not any account either of the solstices, or the
equinoxes, the eclipses of the luminaries, or anything of the kind I
had learned in the books of secular philosophy. But therein I was
ordered to believe, and yet it corresponded not with those rules
acknowledged by calculation and my own sight, but was far different.
CHAP. IV.--THAT THE KNOWLEDGE OF TERRESTRIAL AND CELESTIAL THINGS
DOES NOT GIVE HAPPINESS, BUT THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD ONLY.
7. Doth, then, O Lord God of truth, whosoever knoweth those things
therefore please Thee? For unhappy is the man who knoweth all those
things, but knoweth Thee not; but happy is he who knoweth Thee,
though these he may not know. But he who knoweth both Thee and them
is not the happier on account of them, but is happy on account of
Thee only, if knowing Thee he glorify Thee as God, and gives thanks,
and becomes not vain in his thoughts. But as he is happier who knows
how to possess a tree, and for the use thereof renders thanks to
Thee, although he may not know how many cubits high it is, or how
wide it spreads, than he that measures it and counts all its
branches, and neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator; so a
just man, whose is the entire world of wealth, and who, as having
nothing, yet possesseth all things by cleaving unto Thee, to whom
all things are subservient, though he know not even the circles of
the Great Bear, yet it is foolish to doubt but that he may verily be
better than he who can measure the heavens, and number the stars,
and weigh the elements, but is forgetful of Thee, "who hast set in
order all things in number, weight, and measure."
CHAP. V. --OF MANICHAEUS PERTINACIOUSLY TEACHING FALSE DOCTRINES,
AND PROUDLY ARROGATING TO HIMSELF THE HOLY SPIRIT.
8. But yet who was it that ordered Manichaeus to write on these
things likewise, skill in which was not necessary to piety? For Thou
hast told man to behold piety and wisdom, of which he might be in
ignorance although having a complete knowledge of these other
things; but since, knowing not these things, he yet most impudently
dared to teach them, it is clear that he had no acquaintance with
piety. For even when we have a knowledge of these worldly matters,
it is folly to make a profession of them; but confession to Thee is
piety. It was therefore with this view that this straying one spake
much of these matters, that, standing convicted by those who had in
truth learned them, the understanding that he really had in those
more difficult things might be made plain. For he wished not to be
lightly esteemed, but went about trying to persuade men "that the
Holy Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher of Thy faithful ones, was
with full authority personally resident in him." When, therefore, it
was discovered that his teaching concerning the heavens and stars,
and the motions of sun and moon, was false, though these things do
not relate to the doctrine of religion, yet his sacrilegious
arrogance would become sufficiently evident, seeing that not only
did he affirm things of which he knew nothing, but also perverted
them, and with such egregious vanity of pride as to seek to
attribute them to himself as to a divine being.
9. For when I hear a Christian brother ignorant of these things, or
in error concerning them, I can bear with patience to see that man
hold to his opinions; nor can I apprehend that any want of knowledge
as to the situation or nature of this material creation can be
injurious to him, so long as he does not entertain belief in
anything unworthy of Thee, O Lord, the Creator of all. But if he
conceives it to pertain to the form of the doctrine of piety, and
presumes to affirm with great obstinacy that whereof he is ignorant,
therein lies the injury. And yet even a weakness such as this in the
dawn of faith is borne by our Mother Charity, till the new man may
grow up "unto a perfect man," and not be "carried about with every
wind of doctrine." But in him who thus presumed to beat once the
teacher, author, head, and leader of all whom he could induce to
believe this, so that all who followed him believed that they were
following not a simple man only, but Thy Holy Spirit, who would not
judge that such great insanity, when once it stood convicted of
false teaching, should be abhorred and utterly cast off? But I had
not yet clearly ascertained whether the changes of longer and
shorter days, and nights, and day and night itself, with the eclipses
of the greater lights, and whatever of the like kind I had read in
other books, could be expounded consistently with his words. Should
I have found myself able to do so, there would still have remained a
doubt in my mind whether it were so or no, although I might, on the
strength of his reputed godliness, rest my faith on his authority.
CHAP. VI.--FAUSTUS WAS INDEED AN ELEGANT SPEAKER, BUT KNEW NOTHING
OF THE LIBERAL SCIENCES.
10. And for nearly the whole of those nine years during which, with
unstable mind, I had been their follower, I had been looking forward
with but too great eagerness for the arrival of this same Faustus.
For the other members of the sect whom I had chanced to light upon,
when unable to answer the questions I raised, always bade me look
forward to his coming, when, by discoursing with him, these, and
greater difficulties if I had them, would be most easily and amply
cleared away. When at last he did come, I found him to be a man of
pleasant speech, who spoke of the very same things as they
themselves did, although more fluently, and in better language. But
of what profit to me was the elegance of my cup-bearer, since he
offered me not the more precious draught for which I thirsted? My
ears were already satiated with similar things; neither did they
appear to me more conclusive, because better expressed; nor true,
because oratorical; nor the spirit necessarily wise, because the
face was comely and the language eloquent. But they who extolled him
to me were not competent judges; and therefore, as he was possessed
of suavity of speech, he appeared to them to be prudent and wise.
Another sort of persons, however, was, I was aware, suspicious even
of truth itself, if enunciated in smooth and flowing language. But
me, O my God, Thou hadst already instructed by wonderful and
mysterious ways, and therefore I believe that Thou instructedst me
because it is truth; nor of truth is there any other teacher --
where or whencesoever it may shine upon us -- but Thee.
From Thee, therefore, I had now learned, that cause a thing is
eloquently expressed, it should not of necessity seem to be true;
nor, because uttered with stammering lips, should it be false nor,
again, perforce true, because unskilfully delivered; nor
consequently untrue, because the language is fine; but that wisdom
and folly are as food both wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or
simple words as town-made or rustic vessels, -- and both kinds of
food may be served in either kind of dish.
11. That eagerness, therefore, with which I had so long waited for
this man was in truth delighted with his action and feeling when
disputing, and the fluent and apt words with which he clothed his
ideas. I was therefore filled with joy, and joined with others (and
even exceeded them) in exalting and praising him. It was, however, a
source of annoyance to me that was not allowed at those meetings of
his auditors to introduce and impart any of those questions that
troubled me in familiar exchange of arguments with him. When I might
speak, and began, in conjunction with my friends, to engage his
attention at such times as it was not unseeming for him to enter
into a discussion with me, and had mooted such questions as
perplexed me, I discovered him first to know nothing of the liberal
sciences save grammar, and that only in an ordinary way. Having,
however, read some of Tully's Orations, a very few books of Seneca
and some of the poets, and such few volumes of his own sect as were
written coherently in Latin, and being day by day practised in
speaking, he so acquired a sort of eloquence, which proved the more
delightful and enticing in that it was under the control of ready
tact, and a sort of native grace. Is it not even as I recall, O Lord
my God, Thou judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory are laid
before Thee, who didst at that time direct me by the inscrutable
mystery of Thy Providence, and didst set before my face those vile
errors of mine, in order that I might see and loathe them.
CHAP. VII.---CLEARLY SEEING THE FALLACIES OF THE MANICHAEANS, HE
RETIRES FROM THEM, BEING REMARKABLY AIDED BY GOD.
12. For when it became plain to me that he was ignorant of those
arts in which I had believed him to excel, I began to despair of his
clearing up and explaining all the perplexities which harassed me:
though ignorant of these, however, he might still have held the
truth of piety, had he not been a Manichaean. For their books are
full of lengthy fables concerning the heaven and stars, the sun and
moon, and I had ceased to think him able to decide in a satisfactory
manner what I ardently desired, -- whether, on comparing these
things with the calculations I had read elsewhere, the explanations
contained in the works of Manichaeus were preferable, or at any rate
equally sound? But when I proposed that these subjects should be
deliberated upon and reasoned out, he very modestly did not dare to
endure the burden. For he was aware that he had no knowledge of
these things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he was not one
of those loquacious persons, many of whom I had been troubled with,
who covenanted to teach me these things, and said nothing; but this
man possessed a heart, which, though not right towards Thee, yet was
not altogether false towards himself. For he was not altogether
ignorant of his own ignorance, nor m would he without due
consideration be inveigled in a controversy, from which he could
neither draw back nor extricate himself fairly. And for that I was
even more pleased with him, for more beautiful is the modesty of an
ingenuous mind than the acquisition of the knowledge I desired, -
and such I found him to be in all the more abstruse and subtle
questions.
13. My eagerness after the writings of Manichaeus having thus
received a check, and despairing even more of their other
teachers, seeing that in sundry things which puzzled me, he, so
famous amongst them, had thus turned out, -- I began to occupy
myself with him in the study of that literature which he also much
affected, and which I, as Professor of Rhetoric, was then engaged in
teaching the young Carthaginian students, and in reading with him
either what he expressed a wish to hear, or I deemed suited to his
bent of mind. But all my endeavours by which I had concluded to
improve in that sect, by acquaintance with that man, came completely
to an end: not that I separated myself altogether from them, but, as
one who could find nothing better, I determined in the meantime upon
contenting myself with what I had in any way lighted upon, unless,
by chance, something more desirable should present itself. Thus that
Faustus, who had entrapped so many to their death, -- neither
willing nor wilting it, -- now began to loosen the snare in which I
had been taken. For Thy hands, O my God, in the hidden design of Thy
Providence, did not desert my soul; and out of the blood of my
mother's heart, through the tears that she poured out by day and by
night, was a sacrifice offered unto Thee for me; and by marvelous
ways didst Thou deal with me. It was Thou, O my God, who didst it,
for the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose
his way. Or how can we procure salvation but from Thy hand, remaking
what it hath made?
CHAP. VIII.--HE SETS OUT FOR ROME, HIS MOTHER IN VAIN LAMENTING IT.
14. Thou dealedst with me, therefore, that I should be persuaded to
go to Rome, and teach there rather what I was then teaching at
Carthage. And how I was persuaded to do this, I will not fail to
confess unto Thee; for in this also the profoundest workings of Thy
wisdom, and Thy ever present mercy to usward, must be pondered and
avowed. It was not my desire to go to Rome because greater
advantages and dignities were guaranteed me by the friends who
persuaded me into this, -- although even at this period I was
influenced by these considerations, -- but my principal and almost
sole motive was, that I had been informed that the youths studied
more quietly there, and were kept under by the control of more rigid
discipline, so that they did not capriciously and impudently rash
into the school of a master not their own, into whose presence they
were forbidden to enter unless with his consent. At Carthage, on the
contrary, there was amongst the scholars a shameful and intemperate
license. They burst in rudely, and, with almost furious
gesticulations, interrupt the system which any one may have
instituted for the good of his pupils. Many outrages they perpetrate
with astounding phlegm, which would be punishable by law were they
not sustained by custom; that custom showing them to be the more
worthless, in that they now do, as according to law, what by Thy
unchangeable law will never be lawful. And they fancy they do it
with impunity, whereas the very blindness whereby they do it is
their punishment, and they suffer far greater things than they do.
The manners, then, which as a student I would not adopt, I was
compelled as a teacher to submit to from others; and so I was too
glad to go where all who knew anything about it assured me that
similar things were not done. But Thou, "my refuge and my portion in
the land of the living," didst while at Carthage goad me, so that I
might thereby be withdrawn from it, and exchange my worldly
habitation for the preservation of my soul; whilst at Rome Thou,
didst offer me enticements by which to attract me there, by men
enchanted with this dying life, -- the one doing insane actions, and
the, other making assurances of vain things; and, in order to
correct my footsteps, didst secretly employ their and my perversity.
For both they who disturbed my tranquillity were blinded by a
shameful madness, and they who allured me elsewhere smacked of the
earth. And I, who hated real misery here, sought fictitious
happiness there.
15. But the cause of my going thence and going thither, Thou, O God,
knewest, yet revealedst it not, either to me or to my mother, who
grievously lamented my journey, and went with me as far as the sea.
But I deceived her, when she violently restrained me either that she
might retain me or accompany me, and I pretended that I had a friend
whom I could not quit until he had a favourable wind to set sail.
And I lied to my mother -- and such a mother! -- and got away. For
this also Thou hast in mercy pardoned me, saving me, thus replete
with abominable pollutions, from the waters of the sea, for the
water of Thy grace, whereby, when I was purified, the fountains of
my mother's eyes should be dried, from which for me she day by day
watered the ground under her face. And yet, refusing to go back
without me, it was with difficulty I persuaded her to remain that
night in a place quite close to our ship, where there was an oratory
in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I secretly left, but
she was not backward in prayers and weeping. And what was it, O
Lord, that she, with such an abundance of tears, was asking of Thee,
but that Thou wouldest not permit me to sail? But Thou, mysteriously
counselling and hearing the real purpose of her desire, granted not
what she then asked, in order to make me what she was ever asking.
The wind blew and filled our sails, and withdrew the shore from our
sight; and she, wild with grief, was there on the morrow, and filled
Thine ears with complaints and groans, which Thou didst disregard;
whilst, by the means of my longings, Thou wert hastening me on to
the cessation of all longing, and the gross part of her love to me
was whipped out by the just lash of sorrow. But, like all mothers,
--though even more than others, -- she loved to have me with her,
and knew not what joy Thou weft preparing for her by my absence.
Being ignorant of this, she did weep and mourn, and in her agony was
seen the inheritance of Eve, -- seeking in sorrow what in sorrow she
had brought forth. And yet, after accusing my perfidy and cruelty,
she again continued her intercessions for me with Thee, returned to
her accustomed place, and I to Rome.
CHAP. IX.--BEING ATTACKED BY FEVER, HE IS IN GREAT DANGER.
16. And behold, there was I received by the scourge of bodily
sickness, and I was descending into hell burdened with all the sins
that I had committed, both against Thee, myself, and others, many
and grievous, over and above that bond of original sin whereby we
all die in Adam. For none of these things hadst Thou forgiven me in
Christ, neither had He "abolished" by His cross "the enmity" t
which, by my sins, I had incurred with Thee. For how could He, by
the crucifixion of a phantasm? which I supposed Him to be? As true,
then, was the death of my soul, as that of His flesh appeared to me
to be untrue; and as true the death of His flesh as the life of my
soul, which believed it not, was false. The fever increasing, I was
now passing away and perishing. For had I then gone hence, whither
should I have gone but into the fiery torments meet for my misdeeds,
in the truth of Thy ordinance? She was ignorant of this, yet, while
absent, prayed for me. But Thou, everywhere present, hearkened to
her where she was, and hadst pity upon me where I was, that I should
regain my bodily health, although still frenzied in my sacrilegious
heart. For all that peril did not make me wish to be baptized, and I
was better when, as a lad, I entreated it of my mother's piety, as I
have already related and confessed? But I had grown up to my own
dishonour, and all the purposes of Thy medicine I madly derided, who
wouldst not suffer me, though such a one, to die a double death. Had
my mother's heart been smitten with this wound, it never could have
been cured. For I cannot sufficiently express the love she had for
me, nor how she now travailed for me in the spirit with a far keener
anguish than when she bore me in the flesh.
17. I cannot conceive, therefore, how she could have been healed if
such a death of mine had transfixed the bowels of her love. Where
then would have been her so earnest, frequent, and unintermitted
prayers to Thee alone? But couldst Thou, most merciful God, despise
the "contrite and humble heart" s of that pure and prudent widow, so
constant in alms-deeds, so gracious and attentive to Thy saints, not
permitting one day to pass without oblation at Thy altar, twice a
day, at morning and even-tide, coming to Thy church without
intermission--not for vain gossiping, nor old wives' "fables," but
in order that she might listen to Thee in Thy sermons, and Thou to
her in her prayers? Couldst Thou--Thou by whose gift she was such
---despise and disregard without succouring the tears of such a one,
wherewith she entreated Thee not for gold or silver, nor for any
changing or fleeting good, but for the salvation of the soul of her
son? By no means, Lord. Assuredly Thou wert near, and weft hearing
and doing in that method in which Thou hadst predetermined that it
should be done. Far be it from Thee that Thou shouldst delude her in
those visions and the answers she had from Thee,--some of which I
have spoken of and others not?---which she kept in her faithful
breast, and, always petitioning, pressed upon Thee as Thine
autograph. For Thou, "because Thy mercy endureth for ever," n
condescendest to those whose debts Thou hast pardoned, to become
likewise a debtor by Thy promises.
CHAP. X.--WHEN HE HAD LEFT THE MANICHAEANS, HE RETAINED HIS DEPRAVED
OPINIONS CONCERNING SIN AND THE ORIGIN OF THE SAVIOUR.
18. Thou restoredst me then from that illness, and made sound the
son of Thy hand-maid meanwhile in body, that he might live for Thee,
to endow him with a higher and more enduring health. And even then
at Rome I joined those deluding and deluded "saints;" not their
"hearers" only,--of the number of whom was he in whose house I had
fallen ill, and had recovered,--but those also whom they designate
"The Elect." For it still seemed to me "that it was not we that sin,
but that I know not what other nature sinned in us." And it
gratified my pride to be free from blame and, after I had committed
any fault, not to acknowledge that I had done any,--" that Thou
mightest heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee;" but I
loved to excuse it, and to accuse something else (I know not what)
which was with me, but was not I. But assuredly it was wholly I, and
my impiety had divided me against myself; and that sin was all the
more incurable in that I did not deem myself a sinner. And execrable
iniquity it was, O God omnipotent, that I would rather have Thee to
be overcome in me to my destruction, than myself of Thee to
salvation! Not yet, therefore, hadst Thou set a watch before my
mouth, and kept the door of my lips, that my heart might not incline
to wicked speeches, to make excuses of sins, with men that work
iniquity -- and, therefore, was I still united with their "Elect."
19. But now, hopeless of making proficiency in that false doctrine,
even those things with which I had decided upon contenting myself,
providing that I could find nothing better, I now held more loosely
and negligently. For I was half inclined to believe that those
philosophers whom they call "Academics" s were more sagacious than
the rest, in that they held that we ought to doubt everything, and
ruled that man had not the power of comprehending any truth; for so,
not yet realizing their meaning, I a/so was fully persuaded that
they thought just as they are commonly held to do. And I did not
fail frankly to restrain in my host that assurance which I observed
him to have in those fictions of which the works of Manichaeus are
full. Notwithstanding, I was on terms of more intimate friendship
with them than with others who were not of this heresy. Nor did I
defend it with my former ardour; still my familiarity with that sect
(many of them being concealed in Rome) made me slower to seek any
other way,--particularly since I was hopeless of finding the truth,
from which in Thy Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator' of
all things visible and invisible, they had turned me aside, --and it
seemed to me most unbecoming to believe Thee to have the form of
human flesh, and to be bounded by the bodily lineaments of our
members. And because, when I desired to meditate on my God, I knew
not what to think ' of but a mass of bodies (for what was not such '
did not seem to me to be), this was the greatest 'and almost sole
cause of my inevitable error.
20. For hence I also believed evil to be a similar sort of
substance, and to be possessed of its own foul and misshapen
mass---whether dense, which they denominated earth, or thin and
subtle, as is the body of the air, which they fancy some malignant
spirit crawling through that earth. And because a piety--such as it
was---compelled me to believe that the good God never created any
evil nature, I conceived two masses, the one opposed to the other,
both infinite, but the evil the more contracted, the good the more
expansive.
And from this mischievous commencement the other profanities
followed on me.
For when my mind tried to revert to the Catholic faith, I was cast
back, since what I had held to be the Catholic faith was not so. And
it appeared to me more devout to look upon Thee, my God,--to whom I
make confession of Thy mercies,--as infinite, at least, on other
sides, although on that side where the mass of evil was in
opposition to Thee x I was compelled to confess Thee finite, that if
on every side I should conceive Thee to be confined by the form of a
human body. And better did it seem to me to believe that no evil had
been created by Thee--which to me in my ignorance appeared not only
some substance, but a bodily one, because I had no conception of the
mind excepting as a subtle body, and that diffused in local
spaces--than to believe that anything could emanate from Thee of
such a kind as I considered the nature of evil to be. And our very
Saviour Himself, also, Thine only-begotten, I believed to have been
reached forth, as it were, for our salvation out of the lump of Thy
most effulgent mass, so as to believe nothing of Him but what I was
able to imagine in my vanity. Such a nature, then, I thought could
not be born of the Virgin Mary without being mingled with the flesh;
and how that which I had thus figured to myself could be mingled
without being contaminated, I saw not. I was afraid, therefore, to
believe Him to be born in the flesh, lest I should be compelled to
believe Him contaminated by the flesh? Now will Thy spiritual ones
blandly and lovingly smile at me if they shall read these my
confessions; yet such was I.
CHAP. XI.--HELPIDIUS DISPUTED WELL AGAINST THE MANICHAEANS AS TO THE
AUTHENTICITY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT.
21. Furthermore, whatever they had censured in Thy Scriptures I
thought impossible to be defended; and yet sometimes, indeed, I
desired to confer on these several points with some one well learned
in those books, and to try what he thought of them. For at this time
the words of one Helpidius, speaking and disputing face to face
against the said Manichaeans, had begun to move me even at Carthage,
in that he brought forth things from the Scriptures not easily
withstood, to which their answer appeared to me feeble. And this
answer they did not give forth publicly, but only to us in private,
--when they said that the writings of the New Testament had been
tampered with by I know not whom, who were desirous of ingrafting
the Jewish law upon the Christian faith; but they themselves did not
bring forward any uncorrupted copies.' But I, thinking of corporeal
things, very much ensnared and in a measure stifled, was oppressed
by those masses; panting under which for the breath of Thy Truth, I
was not able to breathe it pure and undefiled.
CHAP. XII.--PROFESSING RHETORIC AT ROME, HE DISCOVERS THE FRAUD OF
HIS SCHOLARS.
22. Then began I assiduously to practise that for which I came to
Rome--the teaching of rhetoric; and first to bring together at my
home some to whom, and through whom, I had begun to be known; when,
behold, I learnt that other offences were committed in Rome which I
had not to bear in Africa. For those subvertings by abandoned young
men were not practised here, as I had been informed; yet, suddenly,
said they, to evade paying their master's fees, many of the youths
conspire together, and remove themselves to another,--breakers of
faith, who, for the love of money, set a small value on justice.
These also my heart "hated," though not with a "perfect hatred;"
for, perhaps, I hated them more in that I was to suffer by them,
than for the illicit acts they committed. Such of a truth are base
persons, and they are unfaithful to Thee, loving these transitory
mockeries of temporal things, and vile gain, which begrimes the hand
that lays hold on it; and embracing the fleeting world, and scorning
Thee, who abidest, and invitest to return, and pardonest the
prostituted human soul when it returneth to Thee. And now I hate
such crooked and perverse men, although I love them if they are to
be corrected so as to prefer the learning they obtain to money, and
to learning. Thee, O God, the truth and fullness of certain good and
most chaste peace. But then was the wish stronger in me for my own
sake not to suffer them evil, than was the wish that they should
become good for Thine.
CHAP. XIII.--HE IS SENT TO MILAN, THAT HE, ABOUT TO TEACH RHETORIC,
MAY BE KNOWN BY AMBROSE.
 23. When, therefore, they of Milan had sent to Rome to the prefect
of the city, to provide them with a teacher of rhetoric for their
city, and to dispatch him at the public expense, I made interest
through those identical persons, drunk with Manichaean vanities, to
be freed from whom I was going away,--neither of us, however, being
aware of it,--that Symmachus, the then prefect, having proved me by
proposing a subject, would send me. And to Milan I came, unto
Ambrose the bishop, known to the whole world as among the best of
men, Thy devout servant; whose eloquent discourse did at that time
strenuously dispense unto Thy people the flour of Thy wheat, the
"gladness" of Thy "oil," and the sober intoxication of Thy "wine.''
x To him was I unknowingly led by Thee, that by him I might
knowingly be led to Thee. That man of God received me like a father,
and looked with a benevolent and episcopal kindliness on my change
of abode. And I began to love him, not at first, indeed, as a
teacher of the truth,--which I entirely despaired of in Thy
Church,--but as a man friendly to myself. And I studiously hearkened
to him preaching to the people, not with the motive I should, but,
as it were, trying to discover whether his eloquence came up to the
fame thereof, or flowed fuller or lower than was asserted; and I
hung on his words intently, but of the matter I was but as a
careless and contemptuous spectator; and I was delighted with the
pleasantness of his speech, more erudite, yet less cheerful and
soothing in manner, than that of Faustus. Of the matter, however,
there could be no comparison; for the latter was straying amid
Manichaean deceptions, whilst the former was teaching salvation most
soundly. But "salvation is far from the wicked," such as I then
stood before him; and yet I was drawing nearer gradually and
unconsciously.
CHAP. XIV.--HAVING HEARD THE BISHOP, HE PERCEIVES THE FORCE OF THE
CATHOLIC FAITH, YET DOUBTS, AFTER THE MANNER OF THE MODERN
ACADEMICS.
24. For although I took no trouble to learn what he spake, but only
to hear how he spake (for that empty care alone remained to me,
despairing of a way accessible for man to Thee), yet, together with
the words which I prized, there came into my mind also the things
about which I was careless; for I could not separate them. And
whilst I opened my heart to admit "how skillfully he spake," there
also entered with it, but gradually, "and how truly he spake!" For
first, these things also had begun to appear to me to be defensible;
and the Catholic faith, for which I had fancied nothing could be
said against the attacks of the Manichaeans, I now conceived might
be maintained without presumption; especially after I had heard one
or two parts of the Old Testament explained, and often
allegorically--which when I accepted literally, I was "killed"
spiritually Many places, then, of those books having been
ex-pounded to me, I now blamed my despair in having believed that no
reply could be made to those who hated and derided the Law and the
Prophets. Yet I did not then see that for that reason the Catholic
way was to be held because it had its learned advocates, who could
at length, and not irrationally, answer objections; nor that what I
held ought therefore to be condemned because both sides were equally
defensible. For that way did not appear to me to be vanquished; nor
yet did it seem to me to be victorious.
25. Hereupon did I earnestly bend my mind to see if in any way I
could possibly prove the Manichaeans guilty of falsehood. Could I
have realized a spiritual substance, all their strongholds would
have been beaten down, and cast utterly out of my mind; but I could
not. But vet, concerning the body of this world, and the whole of
nature, which the senses of the flesh can attain unto, I, now more
and more considering and comparing things, judged that the greater
part of the philosophers held much the more probable opinions. So,
then, after the manner of the Academics (as they are supposed),
doubting of everything and fluctuating between all, I decided that
the Manichaeans were to be abandoned; judging that, even while in
that period of doubt, I could not remain in a sect to which I
preferred some of the philosophers; to which philosophers, however,
because they were without the saving name of Christ, I utterly
refused to commit the cure of my fainting soul. I resolved,
therefore, to be a catechumen in the Catholic Church, which my I
parents had commended to me, until something settled should manifest
itself to me whither I might steer my course.
The Confessions (Book VI)
ATTAINING HIS THIRTIETH YEAR, HE, UNDER THE ADMONITION OF THE
DISCOURSES OF AMBROSE, DISCOVERED MORE AND MORE THE TRUTH OF THE
CATHOLIC DOCTRINE, AND DELIBERATES AS TO THE BETTER REGULATION OF
HIS LIFE.
CHAP. I.--HIS MOTHER HAVING FOLLOWED HIM' TO MILAN, DECLARES THAT
SHE WILL NOT DIE BEFORE HER SON SHALL HAVE EMBRACED THE CATHOLIC
FAITH.
I. O Thou, my hope from my youth, where weft Thou to me, and whither
hadst Thou gone? For in truth, hadst Thou not created me, and made a
difference between me and the beasts of the field and fowls of the
air? Thou hadst made me wiser than they, yet did I wander about in
dark and slippery places, and sought Thee abroad out of myself, and
found not the God of my heart;' and had entered the depths of the
sea, and distrusted and despaired finding out the truth. By this
time my mother, made strong by her piety, had come to me, following
me over sea and land, in all perils feeling secure in Thee. For in
the dangers of the sea she comforted the very sailors (to whom the
inexperienced passengers, when alarmed, were wont rather to go for
comfort), assuring them of a safe arrival, because she had been so
assured by: Thee in a vision. She found me in grievous I danger,
through despair of ever finding truth. But when I had disclosed to
her that I was now no longer a Manichaean, though not yet a Catholic
Christian, she did not leap for joy as at what was unexpected;
although she was now reassured as to that part of my misery for
which she had mourned me as one dead, but who would be raised to
Thee, carrying me forth upon the bier of her thoughts, that Thou
mightest say unto the widow's son, "Young man, I say unto Thee,
arise," and he should revive, and begin to speak, and Thou shouldest
deliver him to his mother? Her heart, then, was not agitated with
any violent exultation, when she had heard that to be already in so
great a part accomplished which she daily, with tears, entreated of
Thee might be done,--that though I had not yet grasped the truth, I
was rescued from falsehood. Yea, rather, for that she was fully
confident that Thou, who hadst promised the whole, wouldst give the
rest, most calmly, and with a breast full of confidence, she replied
to me, "She believed in Christ, that before she departed this life,
she would see me a Catholic believer." And thus much said she to me;
but to Thee, O Fountain of mercies, poured she out more frequent
prayers and tears, that Thou wouldest hasten Thy aid, and enlighten
my darkness; and she hurried all the more assiduously to the church,
and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of
water that springeth up into everlasting life. For she loved that
man as an angel of God, because she knew that it was by him that I
had been brought, for the present, to that perplexing state of
agitation' I was now in, through which she was fully persuaded that
I should pass from sickness unto health, after an excess, as it
were. of a sharper fit, which doctors term the "crisis."
CHAP. II.--SHE, ON THE PROHIBITION OF AMBROSE, ABSTAINS FROM
HONOURING THE MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS.
2. When, therefore, my mother had at one time--as was her custom in
Africa brought to the oratories built in the memory of the saints
certain cakes, and bread, and wine, and was forbidden by the
door-keeper, so soon as she learnt that it was the bishop who had
forbidden it, she so piously and obediently acceded to it, that I
myself marvelled how readily she could bring herself to accuse her
own custom, rather than question his prohibition. For wine-bibbing
did not take possession of her spirit, nor did the love of wine
stimulate her to hatred of the truth, as it doth too many, both male
and female, who nauseate at a song of sobriety, as men well drunk at
a draught of water. But she, when she had brought her basket with
the festive meats, of which she would taste herself first and give
the rest away, would never allow herself more than one little cup of
wine, diluted according to her own temperate palate, which, out of
courtesy, she would taste. And if there were many oratories of
departed saints that ought to be honoured in the same Way, she still
carried round with her the selfsame cup, to be used every' where;
and this, which was not only very much watered, but was also very
tepid with carrying about, she would distribute by small sips to
those around; for she sought their devotion, not pleasure. As soon,
therefore, as she found this custom to be forbidden by that famous
preacher and most pious prelate, even to those who would use it with
moderation, lest thereby an occasion of excess might be given to
such as were drunken, and because these, so to say, festivals in
honour of the dead were very. like unto the superstition of the
Gentiles, she most willingly abstained from it. And in lieu of a
basket filled with fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to
the oratories of the martyrs a heart full of more purified
petitions, and to give all that she could to the poor; that so the
communion of the Lord's body might be rightly celebrated there,
where, after the example of His passion, the martyrs had been
sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and
thus my heart thinks of it in thy sight, that my mother perhaps
would not so easily have given way to the relinquishment of this
custom had it been forbidden by another whom she loved not as
Ambrose, whom, out of regard for my salvation, she loved most
dearly; and he loved her truly, on account of her most religious
conversation, whereby, in good works so "fervent m spirit," s she
frequented the church; so that he would often, when he saw me, burst
forth into her praises, congratulating me that I had such a
mother--little knowing what a son she had in me, who was in doubt as
to all these things, and did not imagine the way of life could be
found out.
CHAP. III.--AS AMBROSE WAS OCCUPIED WITH BUSINESS AND STUDY,
AUGUSTINE COULD SELDOM CONSULT HIM CONCERNING THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.
3. Nor did I now groan in my prayers that Thou wouldest help me; but
my mind was wholly intent on knowledge, and eager to dispute. And
Ambrose himself I esteemed a happy man, as the world' counted
happiness, in that such great personages held him in honour; only
his celibacy appeared to me a painful thing. But what hope he
cherished, what struggles he had against the temptations that beset
his very excellences, what solace in adversities, and what savoury
joys Thy bread possessed for the hidden mouth of his heart when
ruminating on it, I could neither conjecture, nor had I experienced.
Nor did he know my embarrassments, nor the pit of my danger. For I
could not request of him what I wished as I wished, in that I was
debarred from hearing and speaking to him by crowds of busy people,
whose infirmities he devoted himself to. With whom when he was not
engaged (which was but a little time), he either was refreshing his
body with necessary sustenance, or his mind with reading. But while
reading, his eyes glanced over the pages, and his heart searched out
the sense, but his voice and tongue were silent. Ofttimes, when we
had come (for no one was forbidden to enter, nor was it his custom
that the arrival of those who came should be announced to him), we
saw him thus reading to himself, and never otherwise; and, having
long sat in silence (for who durst interrupt one so intent?), we
were fain to depart, inferring that in the little time he secured
for the recruiting of his mind, free from the clamour of other men's
business, he was unwilling to be taken off. And perchance he was
fearful lest, if the author he studied should express aught vaguely,
some doubtful and attentive hearer should ask him to expound it, or
to discuss some of the more abstruse questions, as that, his time.
being thus occupied, he could not turn over as many volumes as he
wished; at-though the preservation of his voice, which was very
easily weakened, might be the truer reason for his reading to
himself. But whatever was his motive in so doing, doubtless in such
a man was a good one.
4. But verily no opportunity could I find of ascertaining what I
desired from that Thy so holy oracle, his breast, unless the thing
might be entered into briefly. But those surgings in me required to
find him at full leisure, that I might pour them out to him, but
never were they able to find him so; and I heard him, indeed, every
Lord's day, "rightly dividing the word of truth" among the people;
and I was all the more convinced that all those knots of crafty
calumnies, which those deceivers of ours had knit against the divine
books, could be unravelled. But so soon as I understood, withal,
that man made "after the image of Him that created him" was not so
understood by Thy spiritual sons (whom of the Catholic mother Thou
hadst begotten again through grace), as though they believed and
imagined Thee to be bounded by human form,--although what was the
nature of a spiritual substance I had not the faintest or dimmest
suspicion,--yet rejoicing, I blushed that for so many years I had
barked, not against the Catholic faith, but against the fables of
carnal imaginations. For I had been both impious and rash in this,
that what I ought inquiring to have learnt, I had pronounced on
condemning. For Thou, O most high and most near, most secret, yet
most present, who hast not limbs some larger some smaller, but art
wholly everywhere, and nowhere in space, nor art Thou of such
corporeal form, yet hast Thou created man after Thine own image,
and, behold, from head to foot is he confined by space.
CHAP. IV.--HE RECOGNISES THE FALSITY OF HIS OWN OPINIONS, AND
COMMITS TO MEMORY THE SAYING OF AMBROSE.
5. As, then, I knew not how this image of Thine should subsist, I
should have knocked and propounded the doubt how it was to be
believed, and not have insultingly opposed it, as if it were
believed. Anxiety, therefore, as to what to retain as certain, did
all the more sharply gnaw into my soul, the more shame I felt that,
having been so long deluded and deceived by the promise of
certainties, I had, with puerile error and petulance, prated of so
many uncertainties as if they were certainties. For! that they were
falsehoods became apparent to me afterwards. However, I was certain
that they were uncertain, and that I had formerly held them as
certain when with a blind contentiousness I accused Thy Catholic
Church, which though I had not yet discovered to teach truly, yet
not to teach that of which I had so vehemently accused her. In this
manner was I confounded and converted, and I rejoiced, O my God,
that the one Church, the body of Thine only Son (wherein the name of
Christ had been set upon me when an infant), did not appreciate
these infantile trifles, nor maintained, in her sound doctrine, any
tenet that would confine Thee, the Creator of all, in space--though
ever so great and wide, yet bounded on all sides by the restraints
of a human form.
6. I rejoiced also that the old Scriptures of the law and the
prophets were laid before me, to be perused, not now with that eye
to which' they seemed most absurd before, when I censured Thy holy
ones for so thinking, whereas in truth they thought not so; and with
delight I heard Ambrose, in his sermons to the people, oftentimes
most diligently recommend this text as a rule,--" The letter killeth,
but the Spirit giveth life;" t whilst, drawing aside the mystic
veil, he spiritually hid open that which, accepted according to the
"letter," seemed to teach perverse doctrines--teaching herein
nothing that offended me, though he taught such things as I knew not
as yet whether they were true. For all this time I restrained my
heart from assenting to anything, fearing tot fall headlong; but by
hanging in suspense I was the worse killed. For my desire was to be
as well assured of those things that I saw not, as I was that seven
and three are ten. For I was not so insane as to believe that this
could not be comprehended; but I desired to have other things as
clear as this, whether corporeal things, which were not present to
my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew not how to conceive except
corporeally. And by believing I might have been cured, that so the
sight of my soul being cleared? it might in some way be directed
towards Thy truth, which abideth always, and faileth in naught. But
as it happens that he who has tried a bad physician fears to trust
himself with a good one, so was it with the health of my soul, which
could not be healed but by believing, and, lest it should believe
falsehoods, refused to be cured--resisting Thy hands, who hast
prepared for us the medical-merits of faith, and hast applied them to
the maladies of the whole world, and hast bestowed upon them so
great authority.
CHAP. V.--FAITH IS THE BASIS OF HUMAN LIFE; MAN CANNOT DISCOVER THAT
TRUTH WHICH HOLY SCRIPTURE HAS DISCLOSED.
7. From this, however, being led to prefer the Catholic doctrine, I
felt that it was with more moderation and honesty that it commanded
things to be believed that were not demonstrated (whether it was
that they could be demonstrated, but not to any one, or could not be
demonstrated at all), than was the method of the Manichaeans, where
our credulity was mocked by audacious promise of knowledge, and then
so many most fabulous and absurd things were forced upon belief
because they were not capable of demonstration After that, O Lord,
Thou, by little and little, with most gentle and most merciful hand,
drawing and calming my heart, didst persuade taking into
consideration what a multiplicity of things which I had never seen,
nor was present when they were enacted, like so many of the! things
in secular history, and so many accounts of places and cities which
I had not seen; so many of friends, so many of physicians, so many
now of these men, now of those, which unless we should believe, we
should do nothing at all in this life; lastly, with how unalterable
an assurance I believed of what parents I was born, which it would
have been impossible for me to know otherwise than by
hearsay,--taking into consideration all this, Thou persuadest me
that not they who believed Thy books (which, with so great
authority, Thou hast established among nearly all nations), but
those who believed them not were to be blamed; and that those men
were not to be listened unto who should say to me, "How dost thou
know that those Scriptures were imparted unto mankind by the Spirit
of the one true and most true God?"
For it was the same thing that was most of all to be believed, since
no wranglings of blasphemous questions, whereof I had read so many
amongst the self-contradicting philosophers, could once wring the
belief from me that Thou art,--whatsoever Thou wert, though what I
knew not,--or that the government of human affairs belongs to Thee.
8. Thus much I believed, at one time more strongly than another, yet
did I ever believe both that Thou weft, and hadst a care of us,
although I was ignorant both what was to be thought of Thy
substance, and what way led, or led back to Thee. Seeing, then, that
we were too weak by unaided reason to find out the truth, and for
this cause needed the authority of the holy writings, I had now
begun to believe that Thou wouldest by no means have given such
excellency of authority to those Scriptures throughout all lands,
had it not been Thy will thereby to be believed in, and thereby
sought. For now those things which heretofore appeared incongruous
to me in the Scripture, and used to offend me, having heard divers
of them ex-'pounded reasonably, I referred to the depth of the
mysteries, and its authority seemed to me all the more venerable and
worthy of religious belief, in that, while it was visible for all to
read it, it reserved the majesty of its secrets within its profound
significance, stooping to all in the great plainness of its language
and lowliness of its style, yet exercising the application of such
as are not light of heart;' that it might receive all into its
common bosom, and through narrow passages waft over some few towards
Thee, yet many more than if it did not stand upon such a height of
authority, nor allured multitudes within its bosom by its holy
humility. These things I meditated upon, and Thou wert with me; I
sighed, and Thou heardest me; I vacillated, and Thou didst guide me;
I roamed through the broad way of the world, and Thou didst not
desert me.
CHAP. VI.--ON THE SOURCE AND CAUSE OF TRUE JOY,--THE EXAMPLE OF THE
JOYOUS BEGGAR BEING ADDUCED.
9. I longed for honours, gains, wedlock; and Thou mockedst me. In
these desires I underwent most bitter hardships, Thou being the more
gracious the less Thou didst suffer anything which was not Thou to
grow sweet to me. Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest that I
should recall all this, and confess unto Thee. Now let my soul
cleave to Thee, which Thou hast freed from that fast-holding
bird-lime of death. How wretched was it t And Thou didst irritate
the feeling of its wound, that, forsaking all else, it might be
converted unto Thee, --who art above all, and without whom all
things would be naught,--be converted and be healed.
How wretched was I at that time, and how didst Thou deal with me, to
make me sensible of my wretchedness on that day wherein I was
preparing to recite a panegyric on the Emperor,' wherein I was to
deliver many a lie, and lying was to be applauded by those who knew
I lied; and my heart panted with these cares, and boiled over with
the feverishness of consuming thoughts. For, while walking along one
of the streets of Milan, I observed a poor mendicant,--then, I
imagine, with a full belly,--joking and joyous; and I sighed, and
spake to the friends around me of the many sorrows resulting from
our madness, for that by all such exertions of ours,--as those
wherein I then laboured, dragging along, under the spur of desires,
the burden of my own, unhappiness, and by dragging increasing it, we
yet aimed only to attain that very joyousness which that mendicant
had reached before us, ] who, perchance, never would attain it! For
what he had obtained through a few begged pence, the same was I
scheming for by many a wretched and tortuous turning,--the joy of a
temporary felicity. For he verily possessed not true joy, but yet I,
with these my ambitions, was seeking one much more untrue. And in
truth he was joyous, I anxious; he free from care, I full of alarms.
But should any one inquire of me whether I would rather be merry or
fearful, I would reply, Merry. Again, were I asked whether I would
rather be such as he was, or as I myself then was, I should elect to
be myself, though beset with cares and alarms, but out of
perversity; for was it so in truth? For I ought not to prefer myself
to him because I happened to be more learned than he, seeing that I
took no delight therein, but sought rather to please men by it; and
that not to instruct, but only to please. Wherefore also didst Thou
break my bones with the rod of Thy correction.
10. Away with those, then, from my soul, who say unto it, "It makes
a difference from whence a man's joy is derived. That mendicant
rejoiced in drunkenness; thou longedst to rejoice in glory." What
glory, O Lord? That which is not in Thee. For even as his was no
true joy, so was mine no true glory and it subverted my soul more.
He would digest his drunkenness that same night, but many a night
had I slept with mine, and risen again with it, and was to sleep
again and again to rise With it, I know not how oft. It does indeed
"make a difference whence a man's joy is derived." I know it is so,
and that the joy of a faithful hope is incomparably beyond such
vanity. Yea, and rat that time was he beyond me, for he truly was I
the happier man; not only for that he was thoroughly steeped in
mirth, I torn to pieces with cares, but he, by giving good wishes,
had gotten wine, I, by lying, was following after pride. Much to
this effect said I then to my dear friends, and I often marked in
them how it fared with me; and I found that it went ill with me, and
fretted, and doubled that very ill. And if any prosperity smiled
upon me, I loathed to seize it, for almost before I could grasp it
flew away.
CHAP. VII.--HE LEADS TO REFORMATION HIS FRIEND ALYPIUS, SEIZED WITH
MADNESS FOR THE CIRCENSIAN GAMES.
11. These things we, who lived like friends together, jointly
deplored, but chiefly and most familiarly did I discuss them with
Alypius and Nebridius, of whom Alypius was born in the same town as
myself, his parents being of the highest rank there, but he being
younger, than I. For he had studied under me, first, when I taught in
our own town, and afterwards at Carthage, and esteemed me highly,
because I appeared to him good and learned; and I esteemed him for
his innate love of virtue, which, in one of no great age, was
sufficiently eminent. But the vortex of Carthaginian customs
(amongst whom these frivolous spectacles are hotly followed) had
inveigled him into the madness of the Circensian games. But while he
was miserably tossed about therein, I was professing rhetoric there,
and had a public school. As yet he did not give ear to my teaching,
on account of some ill-feeling that had arisen between me and his
father. I had then found how fatally he doted upon the circus, and
was deeply grieved that he seemed likely--if, indeed, he had not
already done so--to cast away his so great promise. Yet had I no
means of advising, or by a sort of restraint reclaiming him, either
by the kindness of a friend or by the authority of a master. For I
imagined that his sentiments towards me were the same as his
father's; but he was not such. Disregarding, therefore, his father's
will in that matter, he commenced to salute me, and, coming into my
lecture-room, to listen for a little and depart.
12. But it slipped my memory to deal with him, so that he should
not, through a blind and headstrong desire of empty pastimes, undo
so [great a wit. But Thou, O Lord, who governest the helm of all
Thou hast created, hadst not forgotten him, who was one day to be
amongst Thy sons, the President of Thy sacrament; and that his
amendment might plainly be attributed to Thyself, Thou broughtest it
about through me, but I knowing nothing of it. For one day, when I
was sitting in my accustomed place, with my scholars before me, he
came in, saluted me, sat himself down, and fixed his attention on
the subject I was then handling. It so happened that I had a passage
in hand, which while I was explaining, a simile borrowed from the
Circensian games occurred to me, as likely to make what I wished to
convey pleasanter and plainer, imbued with a biting jibe at those
whom that madness had enthralled. Thou knowest, O our God, that I
had no thought at that time of curing Alypius of that plague. But he
took it to himself, and thought that I would not have said it but
for his sake. And what any other man would have made a ground of
offence against me, this worthy young man took as a reason for being
offended at himself, and for loving me more fervently. For Thou hast
said it long ago, and written in Thy book, "Rebuke a wise man, and
he will love thee." But I had not rebuked him, but Thou, who makest
use of all consciously or unconsciously, in that order which Thyself
knowest (and that order is right), wroughtest out of my heart and
tongue burning coals, by which Thou mightest set on fire and cure
the hopeful mind thus languishing. Let him be silent in Thy praises
who meditates not on Thy mercies, which from my inmost parts confess
unto Thee. For he upon that speech rushed out from that so deep pit,
wherein he was wilfully plunged, and was blinded by its miserable
pastimes; and he roused his mind with a resolute moderation;
whereupon all the filth of the Circensian pastimes flew off from
him, and he did not approach them further. Upon this, he prevailed
with his reluctant father to let him be my pupil. He gave in and
consented. And Alypius, beginning again to hear me, was involved in
the same superstition as I was, loving in the Manichaeans that
ostentation of continency which he believed to be true and
unfeigned. It was, however, a senseless and seducing continency,
ensnaring precious souls, not able as yet to reach the height of
virtue, and easily beguiled with the veneer of what was but a
shadowy and feigned virtue.
CHAP. VIII. -- THE SAME WHEN AT ROME, BEING LED BY OTHERS INTO THE
AMPHITHEATRE, IS DELIGHTED WITH THE GLADIATORIAL GAMES.
13. He, not relinquishing that worldly way which his parents had
bewitched him to pursue, had gone before me to Rome, to study law,
and there he was carried away in an extraordinary manner with an
incredible eagerness after the gladiatorial shows. For, being
utterly opposed to and detesting such spectacles, he was one day met
by chance by divers of his acquaintance and fellow-students
returning from dinner, and they with a friendly violence drew him,
vehemently objecting and resisting, into the amphitheatre, on a day
of these cruel and deadly shows, he thus protesting: "Though you
drag my body to that place, and there place me, can you force me to
give my mind and lend my eyes to these shows? Thus shall I be absent
while present, and so shall overcome both you and them." They
hearing this, dragged him on nevertheless, desirous, perchance, to
see whether he could do as he said. When they had arrived thither,
and had taken their places as they could, the whole place became
excited with the inhuman sports. But he, shutting up the doors of
his eyes, forbade his mind to roam abroad after such naughtiness;
and would that he had shut his ears also! For, upon the fall of one
in the fight, a mighty cry from the whole audience stirring him
strongly, he, overcome by curiosity, and prepared as it were to
despise and rise superior to it, no matter what it were, opened his
eyes, and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the other,
whom he desired to see, was in his body; and he fell more miserably
than he on whose fall that mighty clamour was raised, which entered
through his ears, and unlocked his eyes, to make way for the
striking and beating down of his soul, which was bold rather than
valiant hitherto; and so much the weaker in that it presumed on
itself, which ought to have depended on Thee. For, directly he saw
that blood, he therewith imbibed a sort of savageness; nor did he
turn away, but fixed his eye, drinking in madness unconsciously, and
was delighted with the guilty contest, and drunken with the bloody
pastime. Nor was he now the same he came in, but was one of the
throng he came unto, and a true companion of those who had brought
him thither. Why need I say more? He looked, shouted, was excited,
carried away with him the madness which would stimulate him to
return, not only with those who first enticed him, but also before
them, yea, and to draw in others. And from all this didst Thou, with
a most powerful and most merciful hand, pluck him, and taughtest him
not to repose confidence in himself, but in Thee -- but not till
long after.
CHAP. IX. -- INNOCENT ALYPIUS, BEING APPREHENDED AS A THIEF, IS SET
AT LIBERTY BY THE CLEVERNESS OF AN ARCHITECT.
14. But this was all being stored up in his memory for a medicine
hereafter. As was that also, that when he was yet studying under me
at Carthage, and was meditating at noonday in the market-place upon
what he had to recite (as scholars are wont to be exercised), Thou
sufferedst him to be apprehended as a thief by the officers of the
market-place. For no other reason, I apprehend, didst Thou, O our
God, suffer it, but that he who was in the future to prove so great
a man should now begin to learn that, in judging of causes, man
should not with a reckless credulity readily be condemned by man.
For as he was walking up and down alone before the judgment-seat
with his tablets and pen, lo, a young man, one of the scholars, the
real thief, privily bringing a hatchet, got in without Alypius'
seeing him as far as the leaden bars which protect the silversmiths'
shops, and began to cut away the lead. But the noise of the hatchet
being heard, the silversmiths below began to make a stir, and sent
to take in custody whomsoever they should find. But the thief,
hearing their voices, ran away, leaving his hatchet, fearing to be
taken with it. Now Alypius, who had not seen him come in, caught
sight of him as he went out, and noted with what speed he made off.
And, being curious to know the reasons, he entered the place, where,
finding the hatchet, he stood wondering and pondering, when behold,
those that were sent caught him alone, hatchet in hand, the noise
whereof had startled them and brought them thither. They lay hold of
him and drag him away, and, gathering the tenants of the
market-place about them, boast of having taken a notorious thief,
and thereupon he was being led away to apppear before the judge.
15. But thus far was he to be instructed. For immediately, O Lord,
Thou camest to the succour of his innocency, whereof Thou wert the
sole witness. For, as he was being led either to prison or to
punishment, they were met by a certain architect, who had the chief
charge of the public buildings. They were specially glad to come
across him, by whom they used to be suspected of stealing the goods
lost out of the market-place, as though at last to convince him by
whom these thefts were committed. He, however, had at divers times
seen Alypius at the house of a certain senator, whom he was wont to
visit to pay his respects; and, recognising him at once, he took him
aside by the hand, and inquiring of him the cause of so great a
misfortune, heard the whole affair, and commanded all the rabble
then present (who were very uproarious and full of threatenings) to
go with him. And they came to the house of the young man who had
committed the deed. There, before the door, was a lad so young as
not to refrain from disclosing the whole through the fear of
injuring his master. For he had followed his master to the
market-place. Whom, so soon as Alypius recognised, he intimated it
to the architect; and he, showing the hatchet to the lad; asked him
to whom it belonged. "To us," quoth he immediately; and on being
further interrogated, he disclosed everything. Thus, the crime being
transferred to that house, and the rabble shamed, which had begun to
triumph over Alypius, he, the future dispenser of Thy word, and an
examiner of numerous causes in Thy Church, went away better
experienced and instructed.
CHAP. X. -- THE WONDERFUL INTEGRITY OF ALYPIUS IN JUDGMENT. THE
LASTING FRIENDSHIP OF NEBRIDIUS WITH AUGUSTINE.
16. Him, therefore, had I lighted upon at Rome, and he clung to me
by a most strong tie, and accompanied me to Milan, both that he
might not leave me, and that he might practise something of the law
he had studied, more with a view of pleasing his parents than
himself. There had he thrice sat as assessor with an uncorruptness
wondered at by others, he rather wondering at those who could prefer
gold to integrity. His character was tested, also, not only by the
bait of covetousness, but by the spur of fear. At Rome, he was
assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury. There was at that
time a most potent senator, to whose favours many were indebted, of
whom also many stood in fear. He would fain, by his usual power,
have a thing granted him which was forbidden by the laws. This
Alypius resisted; a bribe was promised, he scorned it with all his
heart; threats were employed, he trampled them under foot, -- all
men being astonished at so rare a spirit, which neither coveted the
friendship nor feared the enmity of a man at once so powerful and so
greatly famed for his innumerable means of doing good or ill. Even
the judge whose councillor Alypius was, although also unwilling that
it should be done, yet did not openly refuse it, but put the matter
off upon Alypius, alleging that it was he who would not permit him
to do it; for verily, had the judge done it, Alypius would have
decided otherwise. With this one thing in the way of learning was he
very nearly led away, -- that he might have books copied for him at
praetorian prices. But, consulting justice, he changed his mind for
the better, esteeming equity, whereby he was hindered, more gainful
than the power whereby he was permitted. These are little things,
but "He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in
much." Nor can that possibly be void which proceedeth out of the
mouth of Thy Truth. "If, therefore, ye have not been faithful in the
unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches?
And if ye have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who
shall give you that which is your own?" He, being such, did at that
time cling to me, and wavered in purpose, as I did, what course of
life was to be taken.
17. Nebridius also, who had left his native country near Carthage,
and Carthage itself, where he had usually lived, leaving behind his
fine paternal estate, his house, and his mother, who intended not to
follow him, had come to Milan, for no other reason than that he
might live with me in a most ardent search after truth and wisdom.
Like me he sighed, like me he wavered, an ardent seeker after true
life, and a most acute examiner of the most abstruse questions. So
were there three begging mouths, sighing out their wants one to the
other, and waiting upon Thee, that Thou mightest give them their
meat in due season. And in all the bitterness which by Thy mercy
followed our worldly pursuits, as we contemplated the end, why this
suffering should be ours, darkness came upon us; and we turned away
groaning and exclaiming, "How long shall these things be?" And this
we often said; and saying so, we did not relinquish them, for as yet
we had discovered nothing certain to which, when relinquished, we
might betake ourselves.
CHAP. XI. -- BEING TROUBLED BY HIS GRIEVOUS ERRORS, HE MEDITATES
ENTERING ON A NEW LIFE.
18. And I, puzzling over and reviewing these things, most marvelled
at the length of time from that my nineteenth year, wherein I began
to be inflamed with the desire of wisdom, resolving, when I had
found her, to forsake all the empty hopes and lying insanities of
vain desires. And behold, I was now getting on to my thirtieth year,
sticking in the same mire, eager for the enjoyment of things
present, which fly away and destroy me, whilst I say, "Tomorrow I
shall discover it; behold, it will appear plainly, and I shall seize
it; behold, Faustus will come and explain everything! O ye great
men, ye Academicians, it is then true that nothing certain for the
ordering of life can be attained! Nay, let us search the more
diligently, and let us not despair. Lo, the things in the
ecclesiastical books, which appeared to us absurd aforetime, do not
appear so now, and may be otherwise and honestly interpreted. I will
set my feet upon that step, where, as a child, my parents placed me,
until the clear truth be discovered. But where and when shall it be
sought? Ambrose has no leisure, -- we have no leisure to read. Where
are we to find the books? Whence or when procure them? From whom
borrow them? Let set times be appointed, and certain hours be set
apart for the health of the soul.
Great hope has risen upon us, the Catholic faith doth not teach what
we conceived, and vainly accused it of. Her learned ones hold it as
an abomination to believe that God is limited by the form of a human
body. And do we doubt to 'knock,' in order that the rest may be
'opened'? The mornings are taken up by our scholars; how do we
employ the rest of the day? Why do we not set about this? But when,
then, pay our respects to our great friends, of whose favours we
stand in need? When prepare what our scholars buy from us? When
recreate ourselves, relaxing our minds from the pressure of care?"
19. "Perish everything, and let us dismiss these empty vanities, and
betake ourselves solely to the search after truth! Life is
miserable, death uncertain. If it creeps upon us suddenly, in what
state shall we depart hence, and where shall we learn what we have
neglected here? Or rather shall we not suffer the punishment of this
negligence? What if death itself should cut off and put an end to
all care and feeling? This also, then, must be inquired into. But
God forbid that it should be so. It is not without reason, it is no
empty thing, that the so eminent height of the authority of the
Christian faith is diffused throughout the entire world. Never would
such and so great things be wrought for us, if, by the death of the
body, the life of the soul were destroyed. Why, therefore, do we
delay to abandon our hopes of this world, and give ourselves wholly
to seek after God and the blessed life? But stay! Even those things
are enjoyable; and they possess some and no little sweetness. We
must not abandon them lightly, for it would be a shame to return to
them again. Behold, now is it a great matter to obtain some post of
honour!
And what more could we desire? We have crowds of influential
friends, though we have nothing else, and if we make haste a
presidentship may be offered us; and a wife with some money, that
she increase not our expenses; and this shall be the height of
desire. Many men, who are great and worthy of imitation, have
applied themselves to the study of wisdom in the marriage state."
20. Whilst I talked of these things, and these winds veered about
and tossed my heart hither and thither, the time passed on; but I
was slow to turn to the Lord, and from day to day deferred to live
in Thee, and deferred not daily to die in myself. Being enamoured of
a happy life, I yet feared it in its own abode, and, fleeing from
it, sought after it. I conceived that I should be too unhappy were I
deprived of the embracements of a woman; and of Thy merciful
medicine to cure that infirmity I thought not, not having tried it.
As regards continency, I imagined it to be under the control of our
own strength (though in myself I found it not), being so foolish as
not to know what is written, that none can be continent unless Thou
give it; and that Thou wouldst give it, if with heartfelt groaning I
should knock at Thine ears, and should with firm faith cast my care
upon Thee.
CHAP. XII. -- DISCUSSION WITH ALYPIUS CONCERNING A LIFE OF CELIBACY
21. It was in truth Alypius who prevented me from marrying, alleging
that thus we could by no means live together, having so much
undistracted leisure in the love of wisdom, as we had long desired.
For he himself was so chaste in this matter that it was wonderful --
all the more, too, that in his early youth he had entered upon that
path, but had not clung to it; rather had he, feeling sorrow and
disgust at it, lived from that time to the present most continently.
But I opposed him with the examples of those who as married men had
loved wisdom, found favour with God, and walked faithfully and
lovingly with their friends. From the greatness of whose spirit I
fell far short, and, enthralled with the disease of the flesh and
its deadly sweetness, dragged my chain along, fearing to be loosed;
and, as if it pressed my wound, rejected his kind expostulations, as
it were the hand of one who would unchain me. Moreover, it was by me
that the serpent spake unto Alypius himself, weaving and laying in
his path, by my tongue, pleasant snares, wherein his honourable and
free feet might be entangled.
22. For when he wondered that I, for whom he had no slight esteem,
stuck so fast in the bird-lime of that pleasure as to affirm
whenever we discussed the matter that it would be impossible for me
to lead a single life, and urged in my defense when I saw him wonder
that there was a vast difference between the life that he had tried
by stealth and snatches (of which he had now but a faint
recollection, and might therefore, without regret, easily despise),
and my sustained acquaintance with it, whereto if but the honourable
name of marriage were added, he would not then be astonished at my
inability to contemn that course, -- then began he also to wish to
be married, not as if overpowered by the lust of such pleasure, but
from curiosity. For, as he said, he was anxious to know what that
could be without which my life, which was so pleasing to him, seemed
to me not life but a penalty. For his mind, free from that chain,
was astounded at my slavery, and through that astonishment was going
on to a desire of trying it, and from it to the trial itself, and
thence, perchance, to fall into that bondage whereat he was so
astonished, seeing he was ready to enter into "a covenant with
death;" and he that loves danger shall fall into it. For whatever
the conjugal honour be in the office of well-ordering a married
life, and sustaining children, influenced us but slightly. But that
which did for the most part afflict me, already made a slave to it,
was the habit of satisfying an insatiable lust; him about to be
enslaved did an admiring wonder draw on. In this state were we,
until Thou, O most High, not forsaking our lowliness, commiserating
our misery, didst come to our rescue by wonderful and secret ways.
CHAP. XIII. -- BEING URGED BY HIS MOTHER TO TAKE A WIFE, HE SOUGHT A
MAIDEN THAT WAS PLEASING UNTO HIM.
23. Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I wooed, I was
engaged, my mother taking the greatest pains in the matter, that
when I was once married, the health-giving baptism might cleanse me;
for which she rejoiced that I was being daily fitted, remarking that
her desires and Thy promises were being fulfilled in my faith. At
which time, verily, both at my request and her own desire, with
strong heartfelt cries did we daily beg of Thee that Thou wouldest
by a vision disclose unto her something concerning my future
marriage; but Thou wouldest not. She saw indeed certain vain and
fantastic things, such as the earnestness of a human spirit, bent
thereon, conjured up; and these she told me of, not with her usual
confidence when Thou hadst shown her anything, but slighting them.
For she could, she declared, through some feeling which she could
not express in words, discern the difference betwixt Thy revelations
and the dreams of her own spirit. Yet the affair was pressed on, and
a maiden sued who wanted two years of the marriageable age; and, as
she was pleasing, she was waited for.
CHAP. XIV. -- THE DESIGN OF ESTABLISHING A COMMON HOUSEHOLD WITH HIS
FRIENDS IS SPEEDILY HINDERED.
24. And many of us friends, consulting on and abhorring the
turbulent vexations of human life, had considered and now almost
determined upon living at ease and separate from the turmoil of men.
And this was to be obtained in this way; we were to bring whatever
we could severally procure, and make a common household, so that,
through the sincerity of our friendship, nothing should belong more
to one than the other; but the whole, being derived from all, should
as a whole belong to each, and the whole unto all. It seemed to us
that this society might consist of ten persons, some of whom were
very rich, especially Romanianus, our townsman, an intimate friend
of mine from his childhood, whom grave business matters had then
brought up to Court; who was the most earnest of as all for this
project, and whose voice was of great weight in commending it,
because his estate was far more ample than that of the rest. We had
arranged, too, that two officers should be chosen yearly, for the
providing of all necessary things, whilst the rest were left
undisturbed. But when we began to reflect whether the wives which
some of us had already, and others hoped to have, would permit this,
all that plan, which was being so well framed, broke to pieces in
our hands, and was utterly wrecked and cast aside. Thence we fell
again to sighs and groans, and our steps to follow the broad and
beaten ways of the world; for many thoughts were in our heart, but
Thy counsel standeth for ever. Out of which counsel Thou didst mock
ours, and preparedst Thine own, purposing to give us meat in due
season, and to open Thy hand, and to fill our souls with blessing.
CHAP. XV. -- HE DISMISSES ONE MISTRESS, AND CHOOSES ANOTHER.
25. Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my mistress being
torn from my side as an impediment to my marriage, my heart, which
clave to her, was racked, and wounded, and bleeding. And she went
back to Africa, making a vow unto Thee never to know another man,
leaving with me my natural son by her. But I, unhappy one, who could
not imitate a woman, impatient of delay, since it was not until two
years' time I was to obtain her I sought, -- being not so much a
lover of marriage as a slave to lust, -- procured another (not a
wife, though), that so by the bondage of a lasting habit the disease
of my soul might be nursed up, and kept up in its vigour, or even
increased, into the kingdom of marriage. Nor was that wound of mine
as yet cured which had been caused by the separation from my former
mistress, but after inflammation and most acute anguish it
mortified, and the pain became numbed, but more desperate.
CHAP. XVI. -- THE FEAR OF DEATH AND JUDGMENT CALLED HIM, BELIEVING
IN THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL, BACK FROM HIS WICKEDNESS, HIM WHO
AFORETIME BELIEVED IN THE OPINIONS OF EPICURUS.
26. Unto Thee be praise, unto Thee be glory, O Fountain of mercies!
I became more wretched, and Thou nearer. Thy right hand was ever
ready to pluck me out of the mire, and to cleanse me, but I was
ignorant of it. Nor did anything recall me from a yet deeper abyss
of carnal pleasures, but the fear of death and of Thy future
judgment, which, amid all my fluctuations of opinion, never left my
breast. And in disputing with my friends, Alypius and Nebridius,
concerning the nature of good and evil, I held that Epicurus had, in
my judgment, won the palm, had I not believed that after death there
remained a life for the soul, and places of recompense, which
Epicurus would not believe. And I demanded, "Supposing us to be
immortal, and to be living in the enjoyment of perpetual bodily
pleasure, and that without any fear of losing it, why, then, should
we not be happy, or why should we search for anything else?" -- not
knowing that even this very thing was a part of my great misery,
that, being thus sunk and blinded, I could not discern that light of
honour and beauty to be embraced for its own sake, which cannot be
seen by the eye of the flesh, it being visible only to the inner
man. Nor did I, unhappy one, consider out of what vein it emanated,
that even these things, loathsome as they were, I with pleasure
discussed with my friends. Nor could I, even in accordance with my
then notions of happiness, make myself happy without friends, amid
no matter how great abundance of carnal pleasures. And these friends
assuredly I loved for their own sakes, and I knew myself to be loved
of them again for my own sake. O crooked ways! Woe to the audacious
soul which hoped that, if it forsook Thee, it would find some better
thing! It hath turned and returned, on hack, sides, and belly, and
all was hard, and Thou alone rest. And behold, Thou art near, and
deliverest us from our wretched wanderings, and stablishest us in
Thy way, and dost comfort us, and say, "Run; I will carry you, yea,
I will lead you, and there also will I carry you."
The Confessions (Book VII)
HE RECALLS THE BEGINNING OF HIS YOUTH, i.e. THE THIRTY-FIRST YEAR OF
HIS AGE, IN WHICH VERY GRAVE ERRORS AS TO THE NATURE OF GOD AND THE
ORIGIN OF EVIL BEING DISTINGUISHED, AND THE SACRED BOOKS MORE
ACCURATELY KNOWN, HE AT LENGTH ARRIVES AT A CLEAR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD,
NOT YET RIGHTLY APPREHENDING JESUS CHRIST.
CHAP. I. -- HE REGARDED NOT GOD INDEED UNDER THE FORM OF A HUMAN
BODY, BUT AS A CORPOREAL SUBSTANCE DIFFUSED THROUGH SPACE.
1. DEAD now was that evil and abominable youth of mine, and I was
passing into early manhood: as I increased in years, the fouler
became I in vanity, who could not conceive of any substance but such
as I saw with my own eyes. I thought not of Thee, O God, under the
form of a human body. Since the time I began to hear something of
wisdom, I always avoided this; and I rejoiced to have found the same
in the faith of our spiritual mother, Thy Catholic Church. But what
else to imagine Thee I knew not. And I, a man, and such a man,
sought to conceive of Thee, the sovereign and only true God; and I
did in my inmost heart believe that Thou wert incorruptible, and
inviolable, and unchangeable; because, not knowing whence or how,
yet most plainly did I see and feel sure that that which may be
corrupted must be worse than that which cannot, and what cannot be
violated did I without hesitation prefer before that which can, and
deemed that which suffers no change to be better than that which is
changeable. Violently did my heart cry out against all my phantasms,
and with this one blow I endeavoured to beat away from the eye of my
mind all that unclean crowd which fluttered around it. And lo, being
scarce put off, they, in the twinkling of an eye, pressed in
multitudes around me, dashed against my face, and beclouded it; so
that, though I thought not of Thee under the form of a human body,
yet was I constrained to image Thee to be something corporeal in
space, either infused into the world, or infinitely diffused beyond
it, -- even that incorruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable, which
I preferred to the corruptible, and violable, and changeable; since
whatsoever I conceived, deprived of this space, appeared as nothing
to me, yea, altogether nothing, not even a void, as if a body were
removed from its place and the place should remain empty of any body
at all, whether earthy, terrestrial, watery, aerial, or celestial,
but should remain a void place -- a spacious nothing, as it were.
2. I therefore being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even to myself,
whatsoever was not stretched over certain spaces, nor diffused, nor
crowded together, nor swelled out, or which did not or could not
receive some of these dimensions, I judged to be altogether nothing.
For over such forms as my eyes are wont to range did my heart then
range; nor did I see that this same observation, by which I formed
those same images, was not of this kind, and yet it could not have
formed them had not itself been something great. In like manner did
I conceive of Thee, Life of my life, as vast through infinite
spaces, on every side penetrating the whole mass of the world, and
beyond it, all ways, through immeasurable and boundless spaces; so
that the earth should have Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things
have Thee, and they bounded in Thee, but Thou nowhere. For as the
body of this air which is above the earth preventeth not the light
of the sun from passing through it, penetrating it, not by bursting
or by cutting, but by filling it entirely, so I imagined the body,
not of heaven, air, and sea only, but of the earth also, to be
pervious to Thee, and in all its greatest parts as well as smallest
penetrable to receive Thy presence, by a secret inspiration, both
inwardly and outwardly governing all things which Thou hast created.
So I conjectured, because I was unable to think of anything else;
for it was untrue. For in this way would a greater part of the earth
contain a greater portion of Thee, and the less a lesser; and all
things should so be full of Thee, as that the body of an elephant
should contain more of Thee than that of a sparrow by how much
larger it is, and occupies more room; and so shouldest Thou make the
portions of Thyself present unto the several portions of the world,
in pieces, great to the great, little to the little. But Thou art
not such a one; nor hadst Thou as yet enlightened my darkness.
CHAP. II. -- THE DISPUTATION OF NEBRIDIUS AGAINST THE MANICHAEANS,
ON THE QUESTION "WHETHER GOD BE CORRUPTIBLE OR INCORRUPTIBLE."
3. It was sufficient for me, O Lord, to oppose to those deceived
deceivers and dumb praters (dumb, since Thy word sounded not forth
from them) that which a long while ago, while we were at Carthage,
Nebridius used to propound, at which all we who heard it were
disturbed: "What could that reputed nation of darkness, which the
Manichaeans are in the habit of setting up as a mass opposed to
Thee, have done unto Thee hadst Thou objected to fight with it? For
had it been answered, 'It would have done Thee some injury,' then
shouldest Thou be subject to violence and corruption; but if the
reply were: 'It could do Thee no injury,' then was no cause assigned
for Thy fighting with it; and so fighting as that a certain portion
and member of Thee, or offspring of Thy very substance, should be
blended with adverse powers and natures not of Thy creation, and be
by them corrupted and deteriorated to such an extent as to be turned
from happiness into misery, and need help whereby it might be
delivered and purged; and that this offspring of Thy substance was
the soul, to which, being enslaved, contaminated, and corrupted, Thy
word, free, pure, and entire, might bring succour; but yet also the
word itself being corruptible, because it was from one and the same
substance. So that should they affirm Thee, whatsoever Thou art,
that is, Thy substance whereby Thou art, to be incorruptible, then
were all these assertions false and execrable; but if corruptible,
then that were false, and at the first utterance to be abhorred."
This argument, then, was enough against those who wholly merited to
be vomited forth from the surfeited stomach, since they had no means
of escape without horrible sacrilege, both of heart and tongue,
thinking and speaking such things of Thee.
CHAP. III. -- THAT THE CAUSE OF EVIL IS THE FREE JUDGMENT OF THE
WILL.
4. But I also, as yet, although I said and was firmly persuaded,
that Thou our Lord, the true God, who madest not only our souls but
our bodies, and not our souls and bodies alone, but all creatures
and all things, wert uncontaminable and inconvertible, and in no
part mutable: yet understood I not readily and clearly what was the
cause of evil. And yet, whatever it was, I perceived that it must be
so sought out as not to constrain me by it to believe that the
immutable God was mutable, lest I myself should become the thing
that I was seeking out. I sought, therefore, for it free from care,
certain of the untruthfulness of what these asserted, whom I shunned
with my whole heart; for I perceived that through seeking after the
origin of evil, they were filled with malice, in that they liked
better to think that Thy Substance did suffer evil than that their
own did commit it.
5. And I directed my attention to discern what I now heard, that
free will was the cause of our doing evil, and Thy righteous
judgment of our suffering it. But I was unable clearly to discern
it. So, then, trying to draw the eye of my mind from that pit, I was
plunged again therein, and trying often, was as often plunged back
again. But this raised me towards Thy light, that I knew as well
that I had a will as that I had life: when, therefore, I was willing
or unwilling to do anything, I was most certain that it was none but
myself that was willing and unwilling; and immediately I perceived
that there was the cause of my sin. But what I did against my will I
saw that I suffered rather than did, and that judged I not to be my
fault, but my punishment; whereby, believing Thee to be most just, I
quickly confessed myself to be not unjustly punished. But again I
said: "Who made me? Was it not my God, who is not only good, but
goodness itself? Whence came I then to will to do evil, and to be
unwilling to do good, that there might be cause for my just
punishment? Who was it that put this in me, and implanted in me the
root of bitterness, seeing I was altogether made by my most sweet
God? If the devil were the author, whence is that devil? And if he
also, by his own perverse will, of a good angel became a devil,
whence also was the evil will in him whereby he became a devil,
seeing that the angel was made altogether good by that most Good
Creator?" By these reflections was I again cast down and stifled;
yet not plunged into that hell of error (where no man confesseth
unto Thee), to think that Thou dost suffer evil, rather than that
man doth it.
CHAP. IV. -- THAT GOD IS NOT CORRUPTIBLE, WHO, IF HE WERE, WOULD NOT
BE GOD AT ALL.
6. For I was so struggling to find out the rest, as having already
found that what was incorruptible must be better than the
corruptible; and Thee, therefore, whatsoever Thou wert, did I
acknowledge to be incorruptible. For never yet was, nor will be, a
soul able to conceive of anything better than Thou, who art the
highest and best good. But whereas most truly and certainly that
which is incorruptible is to be preferred to the corruptible (like
as I myself did now prefer it), then, if Thou were not
incorruptible, I could in my thoughts have reached unto something
better than my God. Where, then, I saw that the incorruptible was to
be preferred to the corruptible, there ought I to seek Thee, and
there observe "whence evil itself was," that is, whence comes the
corruption by which Thy substance can by no means be profaned. For
corruption, truly, in no way injures our God, -- by no will, by no
necessity, by no unforeseen chance, -- because He is God, and what
He wills is good, and Himself is that good; but to be corrupted is
not good. Nor art Thou compelled to do anything against Thy will in
that Thy will is not greater than Thy power. But greater should it
be wert Thou Thyself greater than Thyself; for the will and power of
God is God Himself. And what can be unforeseen by Thee, who knowest
all things? Nor is there any sort of nature but Thou knowest it. And
what more should we say "why that substance which God is should not
be corruptible," seeing that if it were so it could not be God?
CHAP. V. -- QUESTIONS CONCERNING THE ORIGIN OF EVIL IN REGARD TO
GOD, WHO, SINCE HE IS THE CHIEF GOOD, CANNOT BE THE CAUSE OF EVIL.
7. And I sought "whence is evil?" And sought in an evil way; nor saw
I the evil in my very search. And I set in order before the view of
my spirit the whole creation, and whatever we can discern in it,
such as earth, sea, air, stars, trees, living creatures; yea, and
whatever in it we do not see, as the firmament of heaven, all the
angels, too, and all the spiritual inhabitants thereof. But these
very beings, as though they were bodies, did my fancy dispose in
such and such places, and I made one huge mass of all Thy creatures,
distinguished according to the kinds of bodies, -- some of them
being real bodies, some what I myself had feigned for spirits. And
this mass I made huge, -- not as it was, which I could not know, but
as large as I thought well, yet every way finite. But Thee, O Lord,
I imagined on every part environing and penetrating it, though every
way infinite; as if there were a sea everywhere, and on every side
through immensity nothing but an infinite sea; and it contained
within itself some sponge, huge, though finite, so that the sponge
would in all its parts be filled from the immeasurable sea. So
conceived I Thy Creation to be itself finite, and filled by Thee,
the Infinite. And I said, Behold God, and behold what God hath
created; and God is good, yea, most mightily and incomparably better
than all these; but yet He, who is good, hath created them good, and
behold how He encircleth and filleth them. Where, then, is evil, and
whence, and how crept it in hither? What is its root, and what its
seed? Or hath it no being at all? Why, then, do we fear and shun
that which hath no being? Or if we fear it needlessly, then surely:
is that fear evil whereby the heart is unnecessarily pricked and
tormented,--and so much a greater evil, as we have naught to fear,
and yet do fear. Therefore either that is evil which we fear, or the
act of fearing is in itself evil. Whence, therefore, is it, seeing
that God, who is good, hath made all these things good? He, indeed,
the greatest and chiefest Good, hath created these lesser goods; but
both Creator and created are all good. Whence is evil? Or was there
some evil matter of which He made and formed and ordered it, but
left something in it which He did not convert into good? But why was
this? Was He powerless to change the whole lump, so that no evil
should remain in it, seeing that He is omnipotent? Lastly, why would
He make anything at all of it, and not rather by the same
omnipotency cause it not to be at all? Or could it indeed exist
contrary to His will? Or if it were from eternity, why did He permit
it so to be for infinite spaces of times in the past, and was
pleased so long after to make something out of it? Or if He wished
now all of a sudden to do something, this rather should the
Omnipotent have accomplished, that this evil matter should not be at
all, and that He only should be the whole, true, chief, and infinite
Good. Or if it were not good that He, who was good, should not also
be the framer and creator of what was good, then that matter which
was evil being removed, and brought to nothing, He might form good
matter, whereof He might create all things. For He would not be
omnipotent were He not able to create something good without being
assisted by that matter which had not been created by Himself Such
like things did I revolve in my miserable breast, overwhelmed with
most gnawing cares lest I should die ere I discovered the truth; yet
was the faith of Thy Christ, our Lord and Saviour, as held in the
Catholic Church, fixed firmly in my heart, unformed, indeed, as yet
upon many points, and diverging from doctrinal rules, but yet my
mind did not utterly leave it, but every day rather drank in more
and more of it.
CHAP. VI.--HE REFUTES THE. DIVINATIONS OF THE ASTROLOGERS, DEDUCED
FROM THE CONSTELLATIONS.
8. Now also had I repudiated the lying divinations and impious
absurdities of the astrologers. Let Thy mercies, out of the depth of
my soul, confess unto thee for this also, O my God. For Thou, Thou
altogether,--for who else is it that calls us back from the death of
all errors, but that Life which knows not how to die, and the Wisdom
which, requiring no light, enlightens the minds that do, whereby the
universe is governed, even to the fluttering leaves of trees?--Thou
providedst also for my obstinacy wherewith I struggled with
Vindicianus, an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young one of
remarkable talent; the former vehemently declaring, and the latter
frequently, though with a certain measure of doubt, saying, "That no
art existed by which to foresee future things, but that men's
surmises had oftentimes the help of luck, and that of many things
which they foretold some came to pass unawares to the predictors,
who lighted on it by their oft speaking." Thou, therefore, didst
provide a friend for me, who was no negligent consulter of the
'astrologers, and yet not thoroughly skilled in those arts, but, as
I said, a curious consulter with them; and yet knowing somewhat,
which he said he had heard from his father, which, how far it would
tend to overthrow the estimation of that art, he knew not. This man,
then, by name Firminius, having received a liberal education, and
being well versed in rhetoric, consulted me, as one very dear to
him, as to what I thought on some affairs of his, wherein his
worldly hopes had risen, viewed with regard to his so-called
constellations; and I, who had now begun to lean in this particular
towards Nebridius' opinion, did not indeed decline to speculate
about the matter, and to tell him what came into my irresolute mind,
but still added that I was now almost persuaded that these were but
empty and ridiculous follies. Upon this he told me that his father
had been very curious in such books, and that he had a friend who
was as interested in them as he was himself, who, with combined
study and consultation, fanned the flame of their affection for
these toys, insomuch that they would observe the moment when the
very dumb animals which bred in their houses brought forth, and then
observed the position of the heavens with regard to them, so as to
gather fresh proofs of this so-called art. He said, moreover, that
his father had told him, that at the time his mother was about to
give birth to him (Firminius), a female servant of that friend of
his father's was also great with child, which could not be hidden
from her master, who took care with most diligent exactness to know
of the birth of his very dogs. And so it came to pass that (the one
for his wife, and the other for his servant, with the most careful
observation, calculating the days and hours, and the smaller
divisions of the hours) both were delivered at the same moment, so
that both were compelled to allow the very selfsame constellations,
even to the minutest point, the one for his son, the other for his
young slave. For so soon as the women began to be in travail, they
each gave notice to the other of what was fallen out in their
respective houses, and had messengers ready to dispatch to one
another so soon as they had information of the actual birth, of
which they had easily provided, each in his own province, to give
instant intelligence. Thus, then, he said, the messengers of the
respective parties met one another in such equal distances from
either house, that neither of them could discern any difference
either in the position of the stars or other most minute points. And
yet Firminius, born in a high estate in his parents' house, ran his
course through the prosperous paths of this world, was increased in
wealth, and elevated to honours; whereas that slave--the yoke of his
condition being unrelaxed--continued to serve his masters, as
Firminius, who knew him, informed me.
9. Upon hearing and believing these things, related by so reliable a
person, all that resistance of mine melted away; and first I
endeavoured to reclaim Firminius himself from that curiosity, by
telling him, that upon inspecting his constellations, I ought, were
I to foretell truly, to have seen in them parents eminent among
their neighbours, a noble family in its own city, good birth,
becoming education, and liberal learning. But if that servant had
consulted me upon the same constellations, since they were his also,
I ought again to tell him, likewise truly, to see in them the
meanness of his origin, the abjectness of his condition, and
everything else altogether removed from and at variance with the
former. Whence, then, looking upon the same constellations, I
should, if I spoke the truth, speak diverse things, or if I spoke
the same, speak falsely; thence assuredly was it to be gathered,
that whatever, upon consideration of the constellations, was
foretold truly,. was not by art, but by chance; and whatever falsely,
was not from the unskillfulness of the art, but the error of chance.
10. An opening being thus made, I ruminated within myself on such
things, that no one of those dotards (who followed such occupations,
and whom I longed to assail, and with derision to confute) might
urge against me that Firminius had informed me falsely, or his
father him: I turned my thoughts to those that are born twins, who
generally come out of the womb so near one to another, that the
small distance of time between them--how much force soever they may
contend that it has in the nature of things--cannot be noted by
human observation, or be expressed in those figures which the
astrologer is to examine that he may pronounce the truth. Nor can
they be true; for, looking into the same figures, he must have
foretold the same of Esau and Jacob, whereas the same did not happen
to them. He must therefore speak falsely; or if truly, then, looking
into the same figures, he must not speak the same things. Not then
by art, but by chance, would he speak truly. For Thou, O Lord, most
righteous Ruler of the universe, the inquirers and inquired of
knowing it not, workest by a hidden inspiration that the consulter
should hear what, according to the hidden deservings of souls, he
ought to hear, out of the depth of Thy righteous judgment, to whom
let not man say, "What is this?" or "Why that?" Let him not say so,
for he is man.
CHAP. VII.--HE IS SEVERELY EXERCISED AS TO THE ORIGIN OF EVIL.
11. And now, O my Helper, hadst Thou freed me from those fetters;
and I inquired, "Whence is evil?" and found no result. But Thou
sufferedst me not to be carried away from the faith by any
fluctuations of thought, whereby I believed Thee both to exist, and
Thy substance to be unchangeable, and that Thou hadst a care of and
wouldest judge men; and that in Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and the
Holy Scriptures, which the authority of Thy Catholic Church pressed
upon me, Thou hadst planned the way of man's salvation to that life
which is to come after this death. These things being safe and
immoveably settled in my mind, I eagerly inquired, "Whence is evil?"
What torments did my travailing heart then endure! What sighs, O my
God! Yet even there were Thine ears open, and I knew it not; and
when in stillness I sought earnestly, those silent contritions of my
soul were strong cries unto Thy mercy. No man knoweth, but only
Thou, what I endured. For what was that which was thence through my
tongue poured into the ears of my most familiar friends? Did the
whole tumult of my soul, for which neither time nor speech was
sufficient, reach them? Yet went the whole into Thine ears, all of
which I bellowed out from the sightings of my heart; and my desire
was before Thee, and the light of mine eyes was not with me; for
that was within, I without. Nor was that in place, but my attention
was directed to things contained in place; but there did I find no
resting-place, nor did they receive me in such a way as that I could
say, "It is sufficient, it is well;" nor did they let me turn back,
where it might be well enough with me. For to these things was I
superior, but inferior to Thee; and Thou art my true joy when I am
subjected to Thee, and Thou hadst subjected to me what Thou
createdst beneath me. And this was the true temperature and middle
region of my safety, to continue in Thine image, and by serving Thee
to have dominion over the body. But when I lifted myself proudly
against I Thee, and "ran against the Lord, even on His l neck, with
the thick bosses" of my buckler, even these inferior things were
placed above l me, and pressed upon me, and nowhere was/ there
alleviation or breathing space. They/ encountered my sight on every
side in crowds I and troops, and in thought the images of l bodies
obtruded themselves as I was returning to Thee, as if they would say
unto me, "Whither goest thou, unworthy and base one?" And these
things had sprung forth out of my wound; for thou humblest the proud
like one that is wounded, and through my own swelling was I
separated from Thee; yea, my too much swollen face closed up mine
eyes.
CHAP. VIII.--BY GOD'S ASSISTANCE HE BY DEGREES ARRIVES AT THE TRUTH.
12. "But Thou, O Lord, shall endure for ever," yet not for ever art
Thou angry with us, } because Thou dost commiserate our dust and it
ashes; and it was pleasing in Thy sight to reform my deformity, and
by inward stings didst Thou disturb me, that I should be
dissatisfied/t until Thou wert made sure to my inward sight. }k And
by the secret hand of Thy remedy was my swelling lessened, and the
disordered and darkened eyesight of my mind, by the sharp anointings
of healthful sorrows, was from day to day made whole.
CHAP. IX.--HE COMPARES THE DOCTRINE OF THE PLATONISTS CONCERNING THE
LORD WITH THE MUCH MORE EXCELLENT DOCTRINE OF CHRISTIANITY.
13. And Thou, willing first to show me how Thou "resistest the
proud, but givest grace" and by how great art act of mercy Thou
hadst pointed out to men the c path of humility, in that Thy "Word
was made flesh" and dwelt among men,--Thou procuredst for me, by the
instrumentality of one inflated with most monstrous pride, certain
books of the Platonists, translated from 'Greek into Latin. And
therein I read, not indeed in the same words, but to the selfsame
effects enforced by many and divers reasons, that, "In the
beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was
God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by
Him; and without Him was not any thing made that was made." That
which was made by Him is "life; and the life was the light of men.
And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehendeth it
not." And that the soul of man, though it "bears witness of the
light," yet itself" is not that light; but the Word of God, being
God, is that true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the
world." And that "He was in the world, and the world was made by
Him, and the world knew Him not." But that: "He came unto His own,
and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them
gave He power to become the sons of God, even to then: that believe
on His name." This I did not read there.
14. In like manner, I read there that God the Word was born not of
flesh, nor of blood,: nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the
flesh, but of God. But that "the Word was made flesh, and dwelt
among us," s I read not there. For I discovered in those books that
it was in many and divers ways said, that the Son was in the form of
the Father, and "thought it not robbery to be equal with God," for
that naturally He was the same substance. But that He emptied
Himself, "and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in
the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled
Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the
cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him" from the dead,
"and given Him a name above every name; that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and
things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father;', those books
have not. For that before all times, and above all times, Thy
only-begotten Son remaineth unchangeably co-eternal with Thee; and
that of "His fullness" souls receive, that they may be blessed; and
that by participation of the wisdom remaining in them they are
renewed, that they may be wise, is there. But that "in due time
Christ died for the ungodly," n and that Thou sparedst not Thine
only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us all, is not there. "Because
Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast
revealed them unto babes;" that they "that labour and are heavy
laden" might "come" unto Him and He might refresh them, because He
is "meek and lowly in heart." "The meek will He guide in judgment;
and the meek will He teach His way;" looking upon our humility and
our distress, and forgiving all our sins. But such as are puffed up
with the elation of would-be sublimer learning, do not hear Him
saying, "Learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall
find rest unto your souls." "Because that, when they knew God, they
glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in
their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing
themselves to be wise, they became fools."
15. And therefore also did I read there, that they had changed the
glory of Thy incorruptible nature into idols and divers forms,--"
into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and
four-footed beasts, and creeping things," namely, into that Egyptian
food for which Esau lost his birthright; for that Thy first-born
people worshipped the head of a four-footed beast instead of Thee,
turning back in heart towards Egypt, and prostrating Thy
image--their own soul--before the image "of an ox that eateth
grass." x These things found I there; but I fed not on them. For it
pleased Thee, O Lord, to take away the reproach of diminution from
Jacob, that the elder should serve the younger; and Thou hast called
the Gentiles into Thine inheritance. And I had come unto Thee from
among the Gentiles, and I strained after that gold which Thou
willedst Thy people to take from Egypt, seeing that wheresoever it
was it was Thine? And to the Athenians Thou saidst by Thy apostle,
that in Thee "we live, and move, and have our being;" as one of
their own poets has said. And verily these books came from thence.
But I set not my mind on the idols of Egypt, whom they ministered to
with Thy gold "who changed the truth of God into a lie, and
worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator."
CHAP. X. -- DIVINE THINGS ARE THE MORE CLEARLY MANIFESTED TO HIM WHO
WITHDRAWS INTO' THE RECESSES OF HIS HEART.
16. And being thence warned to return to myself, I entered into my
inward self, Thou leading me on; and I was able to do it, for Thou
wert become my helper. And I entered, and with the eye of my soul
(such as it was) saw above the same eye of my soul, above my mind,
the Unchangeable Light? Not this common light, which all flesh may
look upon, nor, as it were, a greater one of the same kind, as
though the brightness of this should be much more resplendent, and
with its greatness fill up all things. Not like this was that light,
but different, yea, very different from all these. Nor was it above
my mind as oil is above water, nor as heaven above earth; but above
it was, because it made me, and I below it, because I was made by
it. He who knows the Truth knows that Light; and he that knows it
knoweth eternity. Love knoweth it. O Eternal Truth, and true Love,
and loved Eternity! s Thou art my God; to Thee do I sigh both night
and day. When I first knew Thee, Thou liftedst me up, that I might
see there was that which I might see, and that yet it was not I that
did see. And Thou didst beat back the infirmity of my sight, pouring
forth upon me most strongly Thy beams of light, and I trembled with
love and fear; and I found myself to be far off from Thee, in the
region of dissimilarity, as if I heard this voice of Thine from on
high: "I am the food of strong men; grow, and thou shalt feed upon
me; nor shall thou convert me, like the food of thy flesh, into
thee, but thou shall be converted into me." And I learned that Thou
for iniquity dost correct man, and Thou dost make my soul to consume
away like a spider? And I said, "Is Truth, therefore, nothing
because it is neither diffused through space, finite, nor infinite?"
And Thou criedst to me from afar, "Yea, verily, 'I AM THAT I AM'"
And I heard this, as things are heard in the heart, nor was there
room for doubt; and I should more readily doubt that I live than
that Truth is not, which is "clearly seen, being understood by the
things that are made."
CHAP. XI.--THAT CREATURES ARE MUTABLE AND GOD ALONE IMMUTABLE.
17. And I viewed the other things below Thee, and perceived that
they neither altogether are, nor altogether are not. They are,
indeed, because they are from Thee; but are not, because they are
not what Thou art. For that truly is which remains immutably? It is
good, then, for me to cleave unto God, for if I remain not in Him,
neither shall I in myself; but He, remaining in Himself, reneweth
all things. And Thou art the Lord my God, since Thou stand-est not
in need of my goodness.
CHAP. XII.--WHATEVER THINGS THE GOOD GOD HAS CREATED ARE VERY GOOD.
18. And it was made clear unto me that those things are good which
yet are corrupted, which, neither were they supremely good, nor
unless they were good, could be corrupted; because if supremely
good, they were incorruptible, and if not good at all, there was
nothing in them to be corrupted. For corruption harms, but, less it
could diminish goodness, it could not harm. Either, then,
corruption harms not, which cannot be; or, what is most certain, all
of which is corrupted is deprived of good. But if they be deprived
of all good, they will cease to be. For if they be, and cannot be at
all corrupted, they will become better, because they shall remain
incorruptibly. And what more monstrous than to assert that those
things which have lost all their goodness are made better?
Therefore, if they shall be deprived of all good, they shall no
longer be. So long, therefore, as they are, they are good; therefore
whatsoever is, is good. That evil, then, which I sought whence it
was, is not any substance; for were it a substance, it would be
good. For either it would be an incorruptible substance, land so a
chief good, or a corruptible substance, which unless it were good it
could not be corrupted. I perceived, therefore, and it was made
clear to me, that Thou didst make all things good, nor is there any
substance at all that was not made by Thee; and because all that
Thou hast made are not equal, therefore all things are; because
individually they are good, and altogether very good, because our
God made all things very good.
CHAP. XIII.--IT IS MEET TO PRAISE THE CREATOR FOR THE GOOD THINGS
WHICH ARE MADE IN HEAVEN AND EARTH.
19. And to Thee is there nothing at all evil, and not only to Thee,
but to Thy whole creation; because there is nothing without which
can break in, and mar that order which Thou hast appointed it. But
in the parts thereof, some things, because they harmonize not with
others, are considered evil; whereas those very things harmonize
with others, and are good, and in themselves are good. And all these
things which do not harmonize together harmonize with the inferior
part which we call earth, having its own cloudy and windy sky
concordant to it. Far be it from me, then, to say, "These things
should not be." For should I see nothing but these, I should indeed
desire better; but yet, if only for these, ought I to praise Thee;
for that Thou art to be praised is shown from the "earth, dragons,
and all deeps; fire, and hail; snow, and vapours; stormy winds
fulfilling Thy word; mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and
all cedars; beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying
fowl; kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of
the earth; both young men and maidens; old men and children," praise
Thy name. But when, "from the heavens," these praise Thee, praise
Thee, our God, "in the heights," all Thy "angels," all Thy "hosts,"
"sun and moon," all ye stars and light, "the heavens of heavens,"
and the "waters that be above the heavens," praise Thy name. I did
not now desire better things, because I was thinking of all; and
with a better judgment I reflected that the things above were better
than those below, but that all were better than those above alone.
CHAP. XIV. --BEING DISPLEASED WITH SOME PART; OF GOD'S CREATION, HE
CONCEIVES OF TWO ORIGINAL SUBSTANCES.
20. There is no wholeness in them whom aught of Thy creation
displeased no more than there was in me, when many things which Thou
madest displeased me. And, because my soul dared not be displeased
at my God, it would not suffer aught to be Thine which displeased
it. Hence it had gone into the opinion of two substances, and
resisted not, but talked foolishly. And, returning thence, it had
made to itself a god, through infinite measures of all space; and
imagined it to be Thee, and placed it in its heart, and again had
become the temple of its own idol, which was to Thee an abomination.
But after Thou hadst fomented the. head of me unconscious of it, and
closed mine eyes test they should "behold vanity," * I ceased from
myself a little, and my madness was lulled to sleep; and I awoke in
Thee, and saw Thee to be infinite, though in another way; and this
sight was not derived from the flesh.
CHAP. XV.--WHATEVER IS, OWES ITS BEING TO GOD.
21. And I looked hack on other things, and I perceived that it was
to Thee they owed their being, and that they were all bounded in
Thee; but in another way, not as being in space, but because Thou
boldest all things in Thine hand in truth: and all things are true
so fir as they have a being; nor is there any falsehood, unless that
which is not is thought to be. And I saw that all things harmonized,
not with their places only, but with their seasons also. And that
Thou, who only art eternal, didst not begin to work after
innumerable spaces of times; for that all spaces of times, both
those which have passed and which shall pass, neither go nor come,
save through Thee, working and abiding.
CHAP. XVI--EVIL ARISES NOT FROM A SUBSTANCE, BUT FROM THE PERVERSION
OF THE WILL.
22. And I discerned and found it no marvel, that bread which is
distasteful to an unhealthy palate is pleasant to a healthy one; and
that the light, which is painful to sore eyes, is delightful ' to
sound ones. And Thy righteousness displeaseth the wicked; much more
the viper and: little worm, which Thou hast created good, ' fitting
in with inferior parts of Thy creation;. with which the wicked
themselves also fit in, the more in proportion as they are unlike
Thee, but with the superior creatures, in proportion as they become
like to Thee And I inquired what iniquity was, and ascertained it
not to be a substance, but a perversion of the will, bent aside
from-Thee, O God, the Supreme Substance, towards these lower things,
and casting out its bowels, and swelling outwardly.
CHAP. XVII.--ABOVE HIS CHANGEABLE MIND, HE DISCOVERS THE
UNCHANGEABLE AUTHOR OF TRUTH.
23. And I marvelled that I now loved Thee, and no phantasm instead
of Thee. And yet I did not merit to enjoy my God, but was
transported to Thee by Thy beauty, and presently torn away from Thee
by mine own weight, sinking with grief into these inferior things.
This weight was carnal custom. Yet was there a remembrance of Thee
with me; nor did I any way doubt that there was one to whom I might
cleave, but that I was not yet one who could cleave unto Thee; for
that the body which is corrupted presseth down the soul, and the
earthly dwelling weigheth down the mind which thinketh upon many
things? And most certain I was that Thy "invisible things from the
creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the
things that are made, even Thy eternal power and Godhead." For,
inquiring whence it was that I admired the beauty of bodies whether
celestial or terrestrial, and what supported me in judging correctly
on things mutable, and pronouncing, "This should be thus, this not,
",--inquiring, then, whence I so judged, seeing I did so judge, I
had found the unchangeable and true eternity of Truth, above my
changeable mind. And thus, by degrees, I passed from bodies to the
soul, which makes use of the senses of the body to perceive; and
thence to its inward faculty, to which the bodily senses represent
outward things, and up to which reach the capabilities of beasts;
and thence, again, I passed on to the reasoning faculty, unto which
whatever is received from the senses of the body is referred to be
judged, which also, finding itself to be variable in me, raised
itself up to its own intelligence, and from habit drew away my
thoughts, withdrawing itself from the crowds of contradictory
phantasms; that so it might find out that light by which it was
besprinkled, when, without all doubting, it cried out, "that the
unchangeable was to be preferred before the changeable;" whence also
it knew that unchangeable, which, unless it had in some way known,
it could have had no sure ground for preferring it to the
changeable. And thus, with the flash of a trembling glance, it
arrived at that which is. And then I saw Thy invisible things
understood by the things that are made? But I was not able to fix my
gaze thereon; and my infirmity being beaten back, I was thrown again
on my accustomed habits, carrying along with me naught but a loving
memory thereof, and an appetite for what I had, as it were, smelt
the odour of, but was not yet able to eat.
CHAP. XVIII.--JESUS CHRIST, THE MEDIATOR, IS THE ONLY WAY OF SAFETY.
24. And I sought a way of acquiring strength sufficient to enjoy
Thee; but I found it not until I embraced that "Mediator between God
and man, the man Christ Jesus,"' "who is over all, God blessed for
ever," calling unto me, I and saying, "I am the way, the truth, and
the life," and mingling that food which I was unable to receive with
our flesh. For "the Word was made flesh," s that Thy wisdom, by
which Thou createdst all things, might provide milk for our infancy.
For I did not grasp my Lord Jesus,--I, though humbled, grasped not
the humble One; nor did I know what lesson that infirmity of His
would teach us. For Thy Word, the Eternal Truth, pre-eminent above
the higher parts of Thy creation, raises up those that am subject
unto Itself; but in this lower world built for Itself a humble
habitation of our clay, whereby He intended to abase from themselves
such as would be subjected and bring them over unto Himself,
allaying their swelling, and fostering their love; to the end that
they might go on no further in self-confidence, but rather should
become weak, seeing before their feet the Divinity weak by taking
our "coats of skins;" s and wearied, might cast themselves down upon
It, and It rising, might lift them up.
CHAP. XIX.--HE DOES NOT YET FULLY UNDERSTAND THE SAYING OF JOHN,
THAT "THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH."
25. But I thought differently, thinking only of my Lord Christ as of
a man of excellent wisdom, to whom no man could be equalled;
especially for that, being wonderfully born of a virgin, He seemed,
through the divine care for us, to have attained so great authority
of leadership,--for an example of contemning temporal things for the
obtaining of immortality. But what mystery there was in, "The Word
was made flesh,"' I could not even imagine. Only I had learnt out of
what is delivered to us in writing of Him, that He did eat, drink,
sleep, walk, rejoice in spirit, was sad, and discoursed; that flesh
alone did not cleave unto Thy Word, but with the human soul and
body. All know thus who know the unchangeableness of Thy Word, which
I now knew as well as I could, nor did I at all have any doubt about
it. For, now to move the limbs of the body at will, now not; now to
be stirred by some affection, now not; non, by signs to enunciate
wise sayings, now to keep silence, are properties of a soul and mind
subject to change. And should these things be falsely written of
Him, all the rest would risk the imputation, nor would there remain
in those books any saving faith for the human race. Since, then,
they were written truthfully, I acknowledged a perfect man to be in
Christ--not the body of a man only, nor with the body a sensitive
soul without a rational, but a very! man; whom, not only as being a
form of truth, but for a certain great excellency of human nature
and a more perfect participation of wisdom, I decided was to be
preferred before others. But Alypius imagined the Catholics to
believe that God was so clothed with flesh, that, besides God and
flesh, there was no soul in Christ, and did not think that a human
mind was ascribed to Him. And, because He was thoroughly persuaded
that the actions which were recorded of Him could not be performed
except by a vital and rational creature, he moved the more slowly
towards the Christian faith. But, learning afterwards that this was
the error of the Apollinarian heretics, he rejoiced in the Catholic
faith, and was conformed to it. But somewhat later it was, I
confess, that I learned how in the sentence, "The Word was made
flesh," the Catholic truth can be distinguished from the falsehood
of Photinus? For the disapproval of heretics makes the tenets of Thy
Church and sound doctrine to stand out boldly? For them must be also
heresies, that the approved may be made manifest among the weak?
CHAP. XX.--HE REJOICES THAT HE PROCEEDED FROM PLATO TO THE HOLY
SCRIPTURES, AND NOT THE REVERSE.
26. But having then read those books of the Platonists, and being
admonished by them to search for incorporeal truth, I saw Thy
invisible things, understood by those things that are made; x and
though repulsed, I perceived what that was, which through the
darkness of my mind I was not allowed to contemplate,--assured that
Thou wert, and wert infinite, and yet not diffused in space finite
or infinite; and that Thou truly art, who art the same ever? varying
neither in part nor motion; and that all other things are from Thee,
on this most sure ground alone, that they are. Of these things was I
indeed assured, yet too weak to enjoy Thee. I chattered as one well
skilled; but had I not sought Thy way in Christ our Saviour, I would
have proved not skilful, but ready to perish. For now, filled with
my punishment, I had begun to desire to seem wise; yet mourned I
not, but rather was puffed up with knowledge? For where was that
charity building upon the' "foundation" of humility, "which is Jesus
Christ"? Or, when would these books teach me it? Upon these,
therefore, I believe, it was Thy pleasure that I should fall before
I studied Thy Scriptures, that it might be impressed on my memory
how I was affected by them; and that afterwards when I was subdued
by Thy books, and when my wounds were touched by Thy healing
fingers, I might discern and distinguish what a difference there is
between presumption and confession,--between those who saw whither
they were to go, yet saw not the way, and the way which leadeth not
only to behold but to inhabit the blessed country. For had I first
been moulded in Thy Holy Scriptures,. and hadst Thou, in
the familiar use of them, grown sweet unto me, and had I afterwards
fallen upon those volumes, they might perhaps have withdrawn me from
the solid ground of piety; or, had I stood firm in that wholesome
disposition which I had thence imbibed, I might have thought that it
could have been attained by the study of those books alone;
CHAP. XXI.--WHAT HE FOUND IN THE SACRED BOOKS WHICH ARE NOT TO BE
FOUND IN PLATO.
27. Most eagerly, then, did I seize that venerable writing of Thy
Spirit, but more especially the Apostle Paul; and those
difficulties vanished away, in which he at one time appeared to me
to contradict himself, and the text of his discourse not to agree
with the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. And the face of
that pure speech appeared to me one and the same; and I learned to
"rejoice with trembling." So I commenced, and found that whatsoever
truth I had there read was declared here with the recommendation of
Thy grace; that he who sees may not so glory as if he had not
receiveds not only that which he sees, but also that he can see (for
what hath he which he hath not received?); and that he may not only
be admonished to see Thee, who art ever the same, but also may be
healed, to hold Thee; and that he who from afar off is not able to
see, may still walk on the way by which he may reach, behold, and
possess Thee. For though a man "delight in the law of God after the
inward man,,' what shall he do with that other law in his members
which warreth against the law of his mind, and bringeth him into
captivity to the law of sin, which is in his members? For Thou art
righteous, O Lord, but we have sinned and committed iniquity, and
have done wickedly and Thy hand is grown heavy upon us, and we are
justly delivered over unto that ancient sinner, the governor of
death; for he induced our will to be like his will, whereby he
remained not in Thy truth. What shall "wretched man" do? "Who shall
deliver him from the body of this death," but Thy grace only,
"through Jesus 'Christ our Lord," whom Thou hast begotten
co-eternal, and createdst in the beginning of Thy ways, in whom the
Prince of this world found nothing worthy of death, yet killed he
Him, and the handwriting which was contrary to us was blotted out?'
This those writings contain not. Those pages contain not the
expression of this piety, --the tears of confession, Thy sacrifice,
a troubled spirit, "a broken and a contrite heart," the salvation of
the people, the espoused city,' the earnest of the Holy Ghost, the
cup of our redemption? No man sings there, Shall not my soul be
subject unto God? For of Him cometh my salvation, for He is my God
and my salvation, my defender, I shall not be further moved? No one
there hears Him calling, "Come unto me all ye that labour." They
scorn to learn of Him, because He is meek and lowly of heart; for
"Thou hast hid those things from the wise and prudent, and hast
revealed them unto babes." For it is one thing, from the mountain's
wooded summit to see the land of peace, and not to find the way
thither,--in vain to attempt impassable ways, opposed and waylaid by
fugitives and deserters, under their captain the "lion" and the
"dragon;" and another to keep to the way that leads thither, guarded
by the host of the heavenly general, where they rob not who have
deserted the heavenly army, which they shun as torture.
These things did in a wonderful manner sink into my bowels, when I
read that "least of Thy apostles," and had reflected upon Thy works,
and feared greatly.
The Confessions (Book VIII)
HE FINALLY DESCRIBES THE THIRTY-SECOND YEAR OF HIS AGE, THE MOST
MEMORABLE OF HIS WHOLE LIFE, IN WHICH, BEING INSTRUCTED BY
SIMPLICIANUS CONCERNING THE CONVERSION OF OTHERS, AND THE MANNER OF
ACTING, HE IS, AFTER A SEVERE STRUGGLE, RENEWED IN HIS WHOLE MIND,
AND IS CONVERTED UNTO GOD.
CHAP. 1.--HE, NOW GIVEN TO DIVINE THINGS, AND YET ENTANGLED BY THE
LUSTS OF LOVE, CONSULTS SIMPLICIANUS IN REFERENCE TO THE RENEWING OF
HIS MIND.
I. O MY God, let me with gratitude remember and confess unto Thee
Thy mercies bestowed upon me. Let my bones be steeped in Thy love,
and let them say, Who is like unto Thee, O Lord? "Thou hast loosed
my bonds, I will offer unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving." And
how Thou hast loosed them I will declare; and all who worship Thee
when they hear these things shall say: "Blessed be the Lord in
heaven and earth, great and wonderful is His name." Thy words had
stuck fast into my breast, and I was hedged round about by Thee on
every side. Of Thy eternal life I was now certain, although I had
seen it' "through a glass darkly."* Yet I no longer doubted that
there was an incorruptible substance, from which was derived all
other substance; nor did I now desire to be more certain of Thee,
but more steadfast in Thee. As for my temporal life, all things were
uncertain, and my heart had to be purged from the old leaven? The
"Way," the Saviour Himself, was pleasant unto me, but as yet I
disliked to pass through its straightness. And Thou didst put into
my mind, and it seemed good in my eyes, to go unto Simplicianus, who
appeared to me a faithful servant of Thine, and Thy grace shone in
him. I had also heard that from his very youth he had lived most
devoted to Thee. Now he had grown into years, and by reason of so
great age, passed in such zealous following of Thy ways, he appeared
to me likely to have gained much experience; and so in truth he had.
Out of which experience I desired him to tell me (setting before him
my griefs) which would be the most fitting way for one afflicted as
I was to walk in Thy way.
2. For the Church I saw to. be full, and one went this way, and
another that. But it was displeasing to me that I led a secular
life; yea, now that my passions had ceased to excite me. as of old
with hopes of honour and wealth, a very grievous burden it was to
undergo so great a servitude. For, compared with Thy sweetness, and
the beauty of Thy house, which I loved, those things delighted me no
longer. But still very tenaciously was I held by the love of women;
nor did the apostle forbid me to marry, although he exhorted me to
something better, especially wishing that all men were as he himself
was.' But I, being weak, made choice of the more agreeable place,
and because 'of this alone was tossed up and down in all beside,
faint and languishing with withering cares, because in other matters
I was compelled, though unwilling, to agree to a married life, to
which I was given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of
truth that "there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for
the kingdom of heaven's sake;" but, saith He, "he that is able to
receive it, let him receive it." Vain, assuredly, are all men in
whom the. knowledge of God is not, and who could not, out of the
good things which are seen, find out Him who is good? But I was no
longer in that vanity; I had surmounted it, and by the united
testimony of Thy whole creation had found Thee, our Creator, and Thy
Word, God with Thee, and together with Thee and the Holy Ghost one
God, by whom Thou createdst all things. There is yet another kind of
impious men, who "when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God,
neither were thankful." Into this also had I fallen; but Thy right
hand held me up, and bore me away, and Thou placedst me where I
might recover. For Thou hast said unto man, "Behold, the fear of the
Lord, that is wisdom;"' and desire not to seem wise, because,
"Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools." s But I had
now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that I had, I ought
to have bought; and I hesitated.
CHAP. II.--THE PIOUS OLD MAN REJOICES THAT HE READ PLATO AND THE
SCRIPTURES, AND TELLS HIM OF THE RHETORICIAN VICTORINUS HAVING BEEN
CONVERTED TO THE FAITH THROUGH THE READING OF THE SACRED BOOKS.
3. To Simplicianus then I went,--the father of Ambrose (at that time
a bishop) in receiving Thy grace, and whom he truly loved as a
father. To him I narrated the windings of my error. But when I
mentioned to him that I had read certain books of the Platonists,
which Victorinus, sometime Professor of Rhetoric at Rome (who died a
Christian, as I had been told), had translated into Latin, he
congratulated me that I had not fallen upon the writings of other
philosophers, which were full of fallacies and deceit, "after the
rudiments of the world," whereas they, in many ways, led to the
belief in God and His word? Then, to exhort me to the humility of
Christ, hidden from the wise, and revealed to little ones, he spoke
of Victorinus himself, whom, whilst he was at Rome, he had known
very intimately; and of him he related that about which I will not
be silent. For it contains great praise of Thy grace, which ought to
be confessed unto Thee, how that most learned old man, highly
skilled in all the liberal sciences, who had read, criticised, and
explained so many works of the philosophers; the teacher of so many
noble senators; who also, as a mark of his excellent discharge of
his duties, had (which men of this world esteem a great honour) both
merited and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum, he, even to that
age a worshipper of idols, and a participator in the sacrilegious
rites to which almost all the nobility of Rome were wedded, and had
inspired the people with 'the love of "The dog Anubis, and a medley
crew Of monster gods [who] 'gainst Neptune stand in arms, 'Gainst
Venus and Minerva, steel-clad Mars," whom Rome once conquered, now
worshipped, all which old Victorinus had with thundering eloquence
defended so many years,--he now blushed not to be the child of Thy
Christ, and an infant at Thy fountain, submitting his neck to the
yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach of the
Cross.
4. O Lord, Lord, who hast bowed the heavens and come down, touched
the mountains and they did smoke, by what means didst Thou convey
Thyself into that bosom? He used to read, as Simplicianus said, the
Holy Scripture, most studiously sought after and searched into all
the Christian writings, and said to Simplicianus,--not openly, but
secretly, and as a friend,--" Know thou that I am a Christian." To
which he replied, "I will not believe it, nor will I rank you among
the Christians unless I see you in the Church of Christ." Whereupon
he replied derisively, "Is it then the walls that make Christians?"
And this he often said, that he already was a Christian; and
Simplidanus making the same answer, the conceit of the "walls" was
by the other as often renewed. For he was fearful of offending his
friends, proud demon-worshippers, from the height of whose
Babylonian dignity, as from cedars of Lebanon which had not yet been
broken by the Lord, he thought a storm of enmity would descend upon
him. But after that, from reading and inquiry, he had derived
strength, and feared lest he should be denied by Christ before the
holy angels if he now was afraid to confess Him before men,$ and
appeared to himself guilty of a great fault in being ashamed of the
sacraments of the humility of Thy word, and not being ashamed of the
sacrilegious rites of those proud demons, whose pride he had
imitated and their rites adopted, he became bold-faced against
vanity, and shame-faced toward the truth, and suddenly and
unexpectedly said to Simplicianus,--' as he himself informed me,--"
Let us go to the church; I wish to be made a Christian." But he, not
containing himself for joy, accompanied him. And having been
admitted to the first sacraments of instruction, he not long after
gave in his name, that he might be regenerated by baptism,--Rome
marvelling, and the Church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were
enraged; they gnashed with their teeth, and melted away! But the
Lord God was the hope of Thy servant, and He regarded not vanities
and lying madness.
5. Finally, when the hour arrived for him to make profession of his
faith (which at Rome they who are about to approach Thy grace are
wont to deliver from an elevated place, in view of the faithful
people, in a set form of words learnt by heart the presbyters, he
said, offered Victorinus to make his profession more privately, as
the custom was to do to those who were likely, through bashfulness,
to be afraid; but he chose rather to profess his salvation in the
presence of the holy assembly. For it was not salvation that he
taught in rhetoric, and yet he had publicly professed that. How much
less, therefore, ought he, when pronouncing Thy word, to dread Thy
meek flock, who, in the delivery of his own words, had not feared
the mad multitudes! So, then, when he ascended to make his
profession, all, as they recognised him, whispered his name one to
the other, with a voice of congratulation. And who was there amongst
them that did not know him? And there ran a low murmur through the
mouths of all the rejoicing multitude, "Victorinus! Victorinus!"
Sudden was the burst of exultation at the sight of him; and suddenly
were they: hushed, that they might hear him. He pronounced the true
faith with an excellent boldness, and all desired to take him to
their very heart--yea, by their love and joy they took him thither;
such were the hands with which they took him.
CHAP. III.--THAT GOD AND THE ANGELS REJOICE MORE ON THE RETURN OF
ONE SINNER THAN OF MANY JUST PERSONS.
6. Good God, what passed in man to make him rejoice more at the
salvation of a soul despaired of, and delivered from greater danger,
than if there had always been hope of him, or the danger had been
less? For so Thou also,, O merciful Father, dost "joy over one
sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons
that need no repentance." And with much joyfulness do we hear,
whenever we hear, how the lost sheep is brought home again on the
Shepherd's shoulders, while the angels rejoice, and the drachma is
restored to Thy treasury, the neighhours rejoicing with the woman
who found it and the joy of the solemn service of Thy house
constraineth to tears, when in Thy house it is read of Thy younger
son that he "was dead, and is alive again, and was lost, and is
found."' For Thou rejoicest both in us and in Thy angels, holy
through holy charity. For Thou art ever the same; for all things
which abide neither the same nor for ever, Thou ever knowest after
the same manner.
7. What, then, passes in the soul when it more delights at finding
or having restored to it the thing it loves than if it had always
possessed them? Yea, and other things bear witness hereunto; and all
things are full of witnesses, crying out, "So it is." The victorious
commander triumpheth; yet he would not have conquered had he not
fought, and the greater the peril of the battle, the more the
rejoicing of the triumph. The storm tosses the voyagers, threatens
shipwreck, and every one waxes pale at the approach of death; but
sky and sea grow calm, and they rejoice much, as they feared much. A
loved one is sick, and his pulse indicates danger; all who desire
his safety are at once sick at heart: he recovers, though not able
as yet to walk with his former strength, and there is such joy as
was not before when he walked sound and strong. Yea, the very
pleasures of human life--not those only which rush upon us
unexpectedly, and against our wills, but those that are voluntary
and designed--do men obtain by difficulties. There is no pleasure at
all in eating and drinking unless the pains of hunger and thirst go
before. And drunkards eat certain salt meats with the view of
creating a troublesome heat, which the drink allaying causes
pleasure. It is also the custom that the affianced bride should not
immediately be given up, that the husband may not less esteem her
whom, as betrothed, he longed not for. This law obtains in base and
accursed joy; in that joy also which is permitted and lawful; in the
sincerity of honest friendship; and in Him who was dead, and lived
again, had been lost, and was found. The greater joy is everywhere
preceded by the greater pain. What meaneth this, O Lord my God, when
Thou art, an everlasting joy unto Thine own self, and some things
about Thee are ever rejoicing in Thee. What meaneth this, that this
portion of things thus ebbs and flows, alternately offended and
reconciled? Is this the fashion of them, and is this all Thou hast
allotted to them, whereas from the highest heaven to the lowest
earth, from' the beginning of the world to its end, from the angel
to the worm, from the first movement unto the last, Thou settedst
each in its right place, and appointedst each its proper seasons,
everything good after its kind? Woe is me! How high art Thou in the
highest, and how deep in the deepest! Thou withdrawest no whither,
and scarcely do we return to Thee.
CHAP. IV.--HE SHOWS BY THE EXAMPLE OF VICTORINUS THAT THERE IS MORE
JOY IN THE CONVERSION OF NOBLES.
9. Haste, Lord, and act; stir us up, and call us back; inflame us,
and draw us to Thee; stir us up, and grow sweet unto us; let us now
love Thee, let us "run after Thee." Do not many men, out of a deeper
hell of blindness than that of Victorinus, return unto Thee, and
approach, and are enlightened, receiving that light, which they that
receive, receive power from Thee to become Thy sons? But if they be
less known among the people, even they that know them joy less for
them. For when many rejoice together, the joy of each one is the
fuller in that they are incited and inflamed by one another. Again,
because those that are known to many influence many towards
salvation, and take the lead with many to follow them. And,
therefore, do they also who preceded them much rejoice in regard to
them, because they rejoice not in them alone. May it be averted that
in Thy tabernacle the persons of the rich should be accepted before
the poor, or the noble before the ignoble; since rather "Thou hast
chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are
mighty and base things of the world, and things which are despised,
hast Thou chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to naught
things that are." And yet, even that "least of the apostles," by
whose tongue Thou soundest out these words, when Paulus the
proconsuls--his pride overcome by the apostle's warfare--was made to
pass under the easy yokes of Thy Christ, and became a provincial of
the great King,--he also, instead of Saul, his former name, desired
to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy
is more overcome in one of whom he hath more hold, and by whom he
hath hold of more. But the proud hath he more hold of by reason of
their nobility; and by them of more, by reason of their authority?
By how much the more welcome, then, was the heart of Victorinus
esteemed, which the devil had held as an unassailable retreat, and
the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and cutting weapon he
had slain many; so much the more abundantly should Thy sons rejoice,
seeing that our King hath bound the strong man? and they saw his
vessels taken from him and cleansed, and made meet for Thy honour,
and become serviceable for the Lord unto every good work?
CHAP. V.--'OF THE CAUSES WHICH ALIENATE US FROM GOD.
10. But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related this to me
about Victorinus, I burned to imitate him; and it was for this end
he had related it. But when he had added this also, that in the time
of the Emperor Julian, there was a law made by which Christians were
forbidden to teach grammar and oratory, and he, in obedience to this
law, chose rather to abandon the wordy school than Thy word, by
which Thou makest eloquent the tongues of the dumb's,--he appeared
to me not more brave than happy, in having thus. discovered an
opportunity of waiting on Thee only, which thing I was sighing for,
thus bound, not with the irons of another, but my own iron will. My
will was the enemy master of, and thence had made a chain for me and
bound me. Because of a perverse will was lust made; and lust
indulged in became custom; and custom not resisted became necessity.
By which links, as it were, joined together (whence I term it a
"chain "), did a hard bondage hold me enthralled? But that new will
which had begun to develop in me, freely to worship Thee, and to
wish to enjoy Thee, O God, the only sure enjoyment, was not able as
yet to overcome my former willfulness, made strong by long
indulgence. Thus did my two wills, one old and the other new, one
carnal, the other spiritual, contend within me; and by their discord
they unstrung my soul.
11. Thus came I to understand, from my own experience, what I had
read, how that "the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit
against the flesh." I verily lusted both ways; yet more in that
which I approved in myself, than in that which I disapproved in
myself. For in this last it was now rather not "I," because in much
I rather suffered against my will than did it willingly. And yet it
was through me that custom became more combative against me, because
I had come willingly whither I willed not. And who, then, can with
any justice speak against it, when just punishment follows the
sinner? Nor had I now any longer my wonted excuse, that as yet I
hesitated to be above the world and serve Thee, because my
perception of the truth was uncertain; for now it was certain. But
I, still bound to the earth, refused to be Thy soldier; and was as
much afraid of being freed from all embarrassments, as we ought to
fear to be embarrassed.
12. Thus with the baggage of the world was I! sweetly burdened, as
when in slumber; and the thoughts wherein I meditated upon Thee were
like unto the efforts of those desiring to awake, who, still
overpowered with a heavy drowsiness, are again steeped therein. And
as no one desires to sleep always, and in the sober judgment of all
waking is better, yet does a man generally defer to shake off
drowsiness, when there is a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, and,
though displeased, yet even after it is time to rise with pleasure
yields to it, so was I assured that it were much better for me to
give up my t self to Thy charity, than to yield myself to my own
cupidity; but the former course satisfied and vanquished me, the
latter pleased me and fettered me. Nor had I aught to answer Thee
[calling to me, "Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead,
and Christ shall give thee light." And to Thee showing me on every
side, that what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by the truth, had
nothing at all to reply, but the drawling and drowsy words:
"Presently, lo, presently;" "Leave me a little while." But
"presently, presently," had no present; and my "leave me a little
while" went on for a long while. In vain did I "delight in Thy law
after the inner man," when "another law in my members warred against
the law of my mind, and brought me into captivity to the law of sin
which is in my members." For the law of sin is the violence of
custom, whereby the mind is drawn and held, even against its will;
deserving to be so held in that it so willingly falls into it. "O
wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this
death" but Thy grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord?
CHAP. VI.--PONTITIANUS' ACCOUNT OF ANTONY, THE FOUNDER OF MONACHISM,
AND OF SOME WHO IMITATED HIM.
13. And how, then, Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of carnal
desire, wherewith I was most firmly lettered, and out of the
drudgery of worldly business, will I now declare and confess unto
Thy name, "O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer." Amid increasing
anxiety, I was transacting my usual affairs, and daily sighing unto
Thee. I resorted as frequently to Thy church as the business, under
the burden of which I groaned, left me free to do. Alypius was with
me, being after the third sitting disengaged from his legal
occupation, and awaiting further opportunity of selling his counsel,
as I was wont to sell the power of speaking, if it can be supplied
by teaching. But Nebridius had, on account of our friendship,
consented to teach under Verecundus, a citizen and a grammarian of
Milan, and a very intimate friend of us all; who vehemently desired,
and by the right of friendship demanded from our company, the
faithful aid he greatly stood in need of. Nebridius, then, was not
drawn to this by any desire of gain (for he could have made much
more of his learning had he been so inclined), but, as a most sweet
and kindly friend, he would not be wanting in an office of
friendliness, and slight our request. But in this he acted very
discreetly, taking care not to become known to those personages whom
the world esteems great; thus avoiding distraction of mind, which he
desired to have free and at leisure as many hours as possible, to
search, or read, or hear something concerning wisdom.
14. Upon a certain day, then, Nebridius being away (why, I do not
remember), lo, there came to the house to see Alypius and me,
Pontitianus, a countryman of ours, in so far as he was an African,
who held high office in the emperor's court. What he wanted with us
I' know not, but we sat down to talk together, and it fell out that
upon a table before us, used for games, he noticed a book; he took
it up, opened it, and, contrary to his expectation, found it to be
the Apostle Paul,--for he imagined it to be one of those books which
I was wearing myself out in teaching. At this he looked up at me
smilingly, and expressed his delight and wonder that he had so
unexpectedly found this book, and this only, before my eyes. For he
was both a Christian and baptized, and often prostrated himself
before Thee our God in the church, in constant and daily prayers.
When, then, I had told him that I bestowed much pains upon these
writings, a conversation ensued on his speaking of Antony, the
Egyptian I monk, whose name was in high repute among Thy servants,
though up to that time not familiar to us. When he came to know
this, he lingered on that topic, imparting to us a knowledge of this
man so eminent, and marvelling at our ignorance. But we were amazed,
hearing Thy wonderful works most fully manifested in times so
recent, and almost in our own, wrought in the true faith and the
Catholic Church. We all wondered--we, that they were so great, and
he, that we had never heard of them.
15. From this his conversation turned to the companies in the
monasteries, and their manners so fragrant unto Thee, and of the
fruitful deserts of the wilderness, of which we knew nothing. And
there was a monastery at Milan full of good brethren, without the
walls of the city, under the fostering care of Ambrose, and we were
ignorant of it. He went on with his relation, and we listened
intently and in silence. He then related to us how on a certain
afternoon, at Triers, when the emperor was taken up with seeing the
Circensian games, he and three others, his comrades, went out for a
walk in the gardens close to the city walls, and there, as they
chanced to walk two and two, one strolled away with him, while the
other two went by themselves; and these, in their rambling, came
upon a certain cottage inhabited by some of Thy servants, "poor in
spirit," of whom "is the kingdom of heaven," where they found a book
in which was written the life. of Antony. This one of them began to
read, marvel at, and be inflamed by it; and in the reading, to
meditate on embracing such a life, and giving up his worldly
employments to serve Thee. And these were of the body called "Agents
for Public Affairs." Then, suddenly being overwhelmed with a holy
love and a sober sense of shame, in anger with himself, he cast his
eyes upon his friend, exclaiming, "Tell me, I entreat thee, what end
we are striving for by all these labours of ours. What is our aim?
What is our motive in doing service? Can our hopes in court rise
higher than to be ministers of the emperor? And in such a position,
what is there not brittle, and fraught with danger, and by how many
dangers arrive we at greater danger?
And when arrive we thither? But if I desire to become a friend of
God, behold, I am even now made it." Thus spake he, and in the pangs
of the travail of the new life, he turned his eyes again upon the
page and continued reading, and was inwardly changed where Thou
sawest, and his mind was divested of the world, as soon became
evident; for as he read, and the surging of his heart rolled along,
he raged awhile, discerned and resolved on a better course, and now,
having become Thine, he said to his friend, "Now have I broken loose
from those hopes of ours, and am determined to serve God; and this,
from this hour, in this place, I enter upon. If thou art reluctant
to imitate me, hinder me not." The other replied that he would
cleave to him, to share in so great a reward and so great a service.
Thus both of them, being now Thine, were building a tower at the
necessary cost of forsaking all that they had and following Thee.
Then Pontitianus, and he that had walked with him through other
parts of the garden, came in search of them to the same place, and
having found them, reminded them to return as the day had declined.
But they, making known to him their resolution and purpose, and how
such a resolve had sprung up and become confirmed in them, entreated
them not to molest them, if they refused to join themselves unto
them. But the others, no whir changed from their former selves, did
yet (as he said) bewail themselves, and piously congratulated them,
recommending themselves to their prayers; and with their hearts
inclining towards earthly things, returned to the palace. But the
other two, setting their affections upon heavenly things, remained
in the cottage.
And both of them had affianced brides, who, when they heard of this,
dedicated also their virginity unto God.
CHAP. VII.--HE DEPLORES HIS WRETCHEDNESS, THAT HAVING BEEN BORN
THIRTY-TWO YEARS, HE HAD NOT YET FOUND OUT THE TRUTH.
16. Such was the story of Pontitianus. But Thou, O Lord, whilst he
was speaking, didst turn me towards myself, taking me from behind my
back, where I had placed myself while unwilling to exercise
self-scrutiny; and Thou didst set me face to face with myself, that
I might behold how foul I was, and how crooked and sordid, bespotted
and ulcerous. And I beheld and loathed myself; and whither to fly
from myself I discovered not. And if I sought to turn my gaze away
from myself, he continued his narrative, and Thou again opposedst me
unto myself, ' and thrustedst me before my own eyes, that I might
discover my iniquity, and hate it.' I had known it, but acted as
though I knew it not,--winked at it, and forgot it.
17. But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful
affections I heard tell of, that they had given up themselves wholly
to Thee to be cured, the more did I abhor myself when compared with
them. For man), of my years (perhaps twelve) had passed away since
my nineteenth, when, on the reading of Cicero's Hartensius, I was
roused to a desire for wisdom; and still I was delaying to reject
mere worldly happiness, and to devote myself to search out that
whereof not the finding alone, but the bare search, ought to have
been preferred before the treasures and kingdoms of this world,
though already found, and before the pleasures of the body, though
encompassing me at my will. But I, miserable young man, supremely
miserable even in the very outset of my youth, had entreated
chastity of Thee, and said, "Grant me chastity and continency, but
not yet." For I was afraid lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and
soon deliver me from the disease of concupiscence, which I desired
to have satisfied rather than extinguished. And I had wandered
through perverse ways in a sacrilegious superstition; not indeed
assured thereof, but preferring that to the others, which I did not
seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.
18. And I had thought that I delayed from day to day to reject
worldly hopes and follow Thee only, because there did not appear
anything certain whereunto to direct my course. And now had the day
arrived in which I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience
was to chide me. "Where art thou, O my tongue? Thou saidst, verily,
that for an uncertain truth thou wert not willing to cast off the
baggage of vanity. Behold, now it is certain, and yet doth that
burden still oppress thee; whereas they who neither have so worn
themselves out with searching after it, nor yet have spent ten years
and more in thinking thereon, have had their shoulders unburdened,
and gotten wings to fly away." Thus was I inwardly consumed and
mightily confounded with an horrible shame, while Pontitianus was
relating these things. And he, having finished his story, and the
business he came for, went his way. And unto myself, what said I not
within myself? With what scourges of rebuke lashed I not my soul to
make it follow me, struggling to go after Thee! Yet it drew back; it
refused, and exercised not itself. All its arguments were exhausted
and confuted. There remained a silent trembling; and it feared, as
it would death, to be restrained from the flow of that custom
whereby it was [wasting away even to death.
CHAP. VIII.--THE CONVERSATION WITH ALYPIUS BEING ENDED, HE RETIRES
TO THE GARDEN, WHITHER HIS FRIEND FOLLOWS HIM.
19. In the midst, then, of this great strife of my inner dwelling,
which I had strongly raised up against my soul in the chamber of my
heart, troubled both in mind and countenance, I seized upon Alypius,
and exclaimed: "What is wrong with us? What is this? What heardest
thou? The unlearned start up and ' take ' heaven, and we, with our
learning, but wanting heart, see where we wallow in flesh and blood!
Because others have preceded us, are we ashamed to follow, and not
rather ashamed at not following?" Some such words I gave utterance
to, and in my excitement flung myself from him, while he gazed upon
me in silent astonishment. For I spoke not in my wonted tone, and my
brow, cheeks, eyes, colour, tone of voice, all expressed my emotion
more than the words. There was a little garden belonging to our
lodging, of which we had the use, as of the whole house; for the
master, our landlord, did not live there.
Thither had the tempest within my breast hurried me, where no one
might impede the fiery struggle in which I was engaged with myself,
until it came to the issue that Thou knewest, though I did not. But
I was mad that I might be whole, and dying that I might have life,
knowing what evil thing I was, but not knowing what good thing I was
shortly to become. Into the garden, then, I retired, Alypius
following my steps. For his presence was no bar to my solitude; or
how could he desert me so troubled? We sat down at as great a
distance from the house as we could. I was disquieted in spirit,
being most impatient with myself that I entered not into Thy will
and covenant, O my God, which all my bones cried out unto me to
enter, extolling it to the skies. And we enter not therein by ships,
or chariots, or feet, no, nor by going so far as I had come from the
house to that place where we were sitting. For not to go only, but
to enter there, was naught else but to will to go, but to will it
resolutely and thoroughly; not to stagger and sway about this way
and that, a changeable and half-wounded will, wrestling, with one
part falling as another rose.
20. Finally, in the very fever of my irresolution, I made many of
those motions with my body which men sometimes desire to do, but
cannot, if either they have not the limbs, or if their limbs be
bound with fetters, weakened by disease, or hindered in any other
way. Thus, if I tore my hair, struck my forehead, or if, entwining
my fingers, I clasped my knee, this I did because I willed it. But I
might have willed and not done it, if the power of motion in my
limbs had not responded. So many things, then, I did, when to have
the will was not to have the power, and I did not that which both
with an unequalled desire I longed more to do, and which shortly
when I should will I should have the power to do; because shortly
when I should will, I should will thoroughly. For in such things the
power was one with the will, and to will was to do, and yet was it
not done; and more readily did the body obey the slightest wish of
the soul in the moving its limbs at the order of the mind, than the
soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone this its great
will.
CHAP. IX.--THAT THE MIND COMMANDETH THE MIND, BUT IT WILLETH NOT
ENTIRELY.
21. Whence is this monstrous thing? And why is it? Let Thy mercy
shine on me, that I may inquire, if so be the hiding-places of man's
punishment, and the darkest contritions of the sons of Adam, may
perhaps answer me. Whence is this monstrous thing? and why is it?
The mind commands the body, and it obeys forthwith; the mind
commands itself, and is resisted. The mind commands the hand to be
moved, and such readiness is there that the command is scarce to be
distinguished from the obedience. Yet the mind is mind, and the hand
is body. The mind commands the mind to will, and yet, though it be
itself, it obeyeth not. Whence this monstrous thing? and why is it?
I repeat, it commands itself to will, and would not give the command
unless it willed; yet is not that done which it commandeth. But it
willeth not entirely; therefore it commandeth not entirely. For so
far forth it commandeth, as it willeth; and so far forth is the
thing commanded not done, as it willeth not. For the will commandeth
that there be a will; -- not another, but itself. But it doth not
command entirely, therefore that is not which it commandeth. For
were it entire, it would not even command it to be, because it would
already be. It is, therefore, no monstrous thing partly to will,
partly to be unwilling, but an infirmity of the mind, that it doth
not wholly rise, sustained by truth, pressed down by custom. And so
there are two wills, because one of them is not entire; and the one
is supplied with what the other needs.
CHAP. X. -- HE REFUTES THE OPINION OF THE MANICHAEANS AS TO TWO
KINDS OF MINDS, -- ONE GOOD AND THE OTHER EVIL.
22. Let them perish from Thy presence, O God, as "vain talkers and
deceivers" of the soul do perish, who, observing that there were two
wills in deliberating, affirm that there are two kinds of minds in
us, -- one good, the other evil. They themselves verily are evil
when they hold these evil opinions; and they shall become good when
they hold the truth, and shall consent unto the truth, that Thy
apostle may say unto them, "Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are
ye light in the Lord." But, they, desiring to be light, not "in the
Lord," but in themselves, conceiving the nature of the soul to be
the same as that which God is, are made more gross darkness; for
that through a shocking arrogancy they went farther from Thee, "the
true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world."
Take heed what you say, and blush for shame; draw near unto Him and
be "lightened," and your faces shall not be "ashamed." I, when I was
deliberating upon serving the Lord my God now, as I had long
purposed, -- I it was who willed, I who was unwilling. It was I,
even I myself. I neither willed entirely, nor was entirely
unwilling. Therefore was I at war with myself, and destroyed by
myself. And this destruction overtook me against my will, and yet
showed not the presence of another mind, but the punishment of mine
own. "Now, then, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth
in me," -- the punishment of a more unconfined sin, in that I was a
son of Adam.
23. For if there be as many contrary natures as there are
conflicting wills, there will not now be two natures only, but many.
If any one deliberate whether he should go to their conventicle, or
to the theatre, those men at once cry out, "Behold, here are two
natures, --one good, drawing this way, another bad, drawing back
that way; for whence else is this indecision between conflicting
wills?" But I reply that both are bad -- that which draws to them,
and that which draws back to the theatre. But they believe not that
will to be other than good which draws to them. Supposing, then, one
of us should deliberate, and through the conflict of his two wills
should waver whether he should go to the theatre or to our church,
would not these also waver what to answer? For either they must
confess, which they are not willing to do, that the will which leads
to our church is good, as well as that of those who have received
and are held by the mysteries of theirs, or they must imagine that
there are two evil natures and two evil minds in one man, at war one
with the other; and that will not be true which they say, that there
is one good and another bad; or they must be converted to the truth,
and no longer deny that where any one deliberates, there is one soul
fluctuating between conflicting wills.
24. Let them no more say, then, when they perceive two wills to be
antagonistic to each other in the same man, that the contest is
between two opposing minds, of two opposing substances, from two
opposing principles, the one good and the other bad. For Thou, O
true God, dost disprove, check, and convince them; like as when both
wills are bad, one deliberates whether he should kill a man by
poison, or by the sword; whether he should take possession of this
or that estate of another's, when he cannot both; whether he should
purchase pleasure by prodigality, or retain his money by
covetousness; whether he should go to the circus or the theatre, if
both are open on the same day; or, thirdly, whether he should rob
another man's house, if he have the opportunity; or, fourthly,
whether he should commit adultery, if at the same time he have the
means of doing so, -- all these things concurring in the same point
of time, and all being equally longed for, although impossible to be
enacted at one time. For they rend the mind amid four, or even
(among the vast variety of things men desire) more antagonistic
wills, nor do they yet affirm that there are so many different
substances.
Thus also is it in wills which are good. For I ask them, is it a
good thing to have delight in reading the apostle, or good to have
delight in a sober psalm, or good to discourse on the gospel? To
each of these they will answer, "It is good." What, then, if all
equally delight us, and all at the same time? Do not different wills
distract the mind, when a man is deliberating which he should rather
choose? Yet are they all good, and are at variance until one be
fixed upon, whither the whole united will may be borne, which before
was divided into many. Thus, also, when above eternity delights us,
and the pleasure of temporal good holds us down below, it is the
same soul which willeth not that or this with an entire will, and is
therefore torn asunder with grievous perplexities, while out of
truth it prefers that, but out of custom forbears not this.
CHAP. XI.--IN WHAT MANNER THE SPIRIT STRUGGLED WITH THE FLESH, THAT
IT MIGHT BE FREED FROM THE BONDAGE OF VANITY.
25. Thus was I sick and tormented, accusing myself far more severely
than was my wont, tossing and turning me in my chain till that was
utterly broken, whereby I now was but slightly, but still was held.
And Thou, O Lord, pressedst upon me in my inward parts by a severe
mercy, redoubling the lashes of fear and shame, lest I should again
give way, and that same slender remaining tie not being broken off,
it should recover strength, and enchain me the faster. For I said
mentally, "Lo, let it be done now, let it be done now." And
as I
spoke, I all but came to a resolve. I all but did it, yet I did it
not. Yet fell I not back to my old condition, but took up my
position hard by, and drew breath. And I tried again, and wanted but
very little of reaching it, and somewhat less, and then all but
touched and grasped it; and yet came not at it, nor touched, nor
grasped it, hesitating to die unto death, and to live unto life; and
the worse, whereto I had been habituated, prevailed more with me
than the better, which I had not tried. And the very moment in which
I was to become another man, the nearer it approached me, the
greater horror did it strike into me; but it did not strike me back,
nor turn me aside, but kept me in suspense.
26. The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my old
mistresses, still enthralled me; they shook my fleshly garment, and
whispered softly, "Dost thou part with us? And from that moment
shall we no more be with thee for ever? And from that moment shall
not this or that be lawful for thee for ever?" And what did they
suggest to me in the words "this or that?" What is it that they
suggested, O my God? Let Thy mercy avert it from the soul of Thy
servant. What impurities did they suggest! What shame! And now I far
less than half heard them, not openly showing themselves and
contradicting me, but muttering, as it were, behind my back, and
furtively plucking me as I was departing, to make me look back upon
them. Yet they did delay me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake
myself free from them, and to leap over whither I was called, -- an
unruly habit saying to me, "Dost thou think thou canst live without
them?"
27. But now it said this very faintly; for on that side towards
which I had set my face, and whither I trembled to go, did the
chaste dignity of Continence appear unto me, cheerful, but not
dissolutely gay, honestly alluring me to come and doubt nothing, and
extending her holy hands, full of a multiplicity of good examples,
to receive and embrace me. There were there so many young men and
maidens, a multitude of youth and every age, grave widows and
ancient virgins, and Continence herself in all, not barren, but a
fruitful mother of children of joys, by Thee, O Lord, her Husband.
And she smiled on me with an encouraging mockery, as if to say,
"Canst not thou do what these youths and maidens can? Or can one or
other do it of themselves, and not rather in the Lord their God? The
Lord their God gave me unto them.
Why standest thou in thine own strength, and so standest not? Cast
thyself upon Him; fear not, He will not withdraw that thou shouldest
fall; cast thyself upon Him without fear, He will receive thee, and
heal thee." And I blushed beyond measure, for I still heard the
muttering of those toys, and hung in suspense. And she again seemed
to say, "Shut up thine ears against those unclean members of thine
upon the earth, that they may be mortified.
They tell thee of delights, but not as doth the law of the Lord thy
God." This controversy in my heart was naught but self against self.
But Alypius, sitting close by my side, awaited in silence the result
of my unwonted emotion.
CHAP. XII. HAVING PRAYED TO GOD, HE POURS FORTH A SHOWER OF TEARS,
AND, ADMONISHED BY A VOICE, HE OPENS THE BOOK AND READS THE WORDS IN
ROM. 13:13; BY WHICH, BEING CHANGED IN HIS WHOLE SOUL, HE DISCLOSES
THE DIVINE FAVOUR TO HIS FRIEND AND HIS MOTHER.
28. But when a profound reflection had, from the secret depths of my
soul, drawn together and heaped up all my misery before the sight of
my heart, there arose a mighty storm, accompanied by as mighty a
shower of tears. Which, that I might pour forth fully, with its
natural expressions, I stole away from Alypius; for it suggested
itself to me that solitude was fitter for the business of weeping.
So I retired to such a distance that even his presence could not be
oppressive to me. Thus was it with me at that time, and he perceived
it; for something, I believe, I had spoken, wherein the sound of my
voice appeared choked with weeping, and in that state had I risen
up. He then remained where we had been sitting, most completely
astonished. I flung myself down, how, I know not, under a certain
fig-tree, giving free course to my tears, and the streams of mine
eyes gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice unto Thee. And, not indeed
in these words, yet to this effect, spake I much unto Thee,-- "But
Thou, O Lord, how long?" "How long, Lord? Wilt Thou be angry for
ever? Oh, remember not against us former iniquities;" for I felt
that I was enthralled by them. I sent up these sorrowful cries, - "how
long, how long? Tomorrow, and tomorrow? Why not now? Why is there
not this hour an end to my uncleanness?"
29. I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter
contrition of my heart, when, lo, I heard the voice as of a boy or
girl, I know not which, coming from a neighbouring house, chanting,
and oft repeating, "Take up and read; take up and read." Immediately
my countenance was changed, and I began most earnestly to consider
whether it was usual for children in any kind of game to sing such
words; nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. So,
restraining the torrent of my tears, I rose up, interpreting it no
other way than as a command to me from Heaven to open the book, and
to read the first chapter I should light upon. For I had heard of
Antony, that, accidentally coming in whilst the gospel was being
read, he received the admonition as if what was read were addressed
to him, "Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou
shalt have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me." And by such
oracle was he forthwith converted unto Thee. So quickly I returned
to the place where Alypius was sitting; for there had I put down the
volume of the apostles, when I rose thence. I grasped, opened, and
in silence read that paragraph on which my eyes first fell, -- "Not
in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in
strife and envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make
not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof." No
further would I read, nor did I need; for instantly, as the sentence
ended, -- by a light, as it were, of security infused into my heart,
-- all the gloom of doubt vanished away.
30. Closing the book, then, and putting either my finger between, or
some other mark, I now with a tranquil countenance made it known to
Alypius. And he thus disclosed to me what was wrought in him, which
I knew not. He asked to look at what I had read. I showed him; and
he looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what
followed. This it was, verily, "Him that is weak in the faith,
receive ye;" which he applied to himself, and discovered to me. By
this admonition was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and
purpose, very much in accord with his character (wherein, for the
better, he was always far different from me), without any restless
delay he joined me. Thence we go in to my mother. We make it known
to her, -- she rejoiceth. We relate how it came to pass, -- she
leapeth for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth Thee, who art "able to
do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think; for she
perceived Thee to have given her more for me than she used to ask by
her pitiful and most doleful groanings. For Thou didst so convert me
unto Thyself, that I sought neither a wife, nor any other of this
world's hopes, -- standing in that rule of faith in which Thou, so
many years before, had showed me unto her in a vision. And thou
didst turn her grief into a gladness, much more plentiful than she
had desired, and much dearer and chaster than she used to crave, by
having grandchildren of my body.
The Confessions (Book IX)
The death of St. Monica at Ostia
HE SPEAKS OF HIS DESIGN OF FORSAKING THE PROFESSION OF RHETORIC; OF
THE DEATH OF HIS FRIENDS, NEBRIDIUS AND VERECUNDUS; OF HAVING
RECEIVED BAPTISM IN THE THIRTY-THIRD YEAR OF HIS AGE; AND OF THE
VIRTUES AND DEATH OF HIS MOTHER, MONICA.
CHAP. I.--HE PRAISES GOD, THE AUTHOR OF SAFETY, AND JESUS CHRIST,
THE REDEEMER, ACKNOWLEDGING HIS OWN WICKEDNESS.
1. "O LORD, truly I am Thy servant; I am Thy servant, and the son of
Thine handmaid Thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to Thee the
sacrifice of thanksgiving." Let my heart and my tongue praise Thee,
and let all my bones say, "Lord, who is like unto Thee?" Let them so
say, and answer Thou me, and "say unto my soul, I am Thy salvation."
Who am I, and what is my nature? How evil have not my deeds been; or
if not my deeds, my words; or if not my words, my will? But Thou, O
Lord, art good and merciful, and Thy right hand had respect unto the
profoundness of my death, and removed from the bottom of my heart
that abyss of corruption. And this was the result, that I willed not
to do what I willed, and willed to do what thou willedst. But where,
during all those years, and out of what deep and secret retreat was
my free will summoned forth in a moment, whereby I gave my neck to
Thy "easy yoke," and my shoulders to Thy "light burden," O Christ
Jesus, "my strength. and my Redeemer"? How sweet did it suddenly
become to me to be without the delights of trifles! And what at one
time I feared to lose, it was now a joy to me to put away. For Thou
didst cast them away from me, Thou true and highest sweetness. Thou
didst cast them away, and instead of thorn didst enter in Thyself,
-- sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood;
brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mysteries; more
exalted than all honour, but not to the exalted in their own
conceits. Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of seeking and
getting, and of wallowing and exciting the itch of lust. And I
babbled unto Thee my brightness, my riches, and my health, the Lord
my God.
CHAP. II.--AS HIS LUNGS WERE AFFECTED, HE MEDITATES WITHDRAWING
HIMSELF FROM PUBLIC FAVOUR.
2. And it seemed good to me, as before Thee, not tumultuously to
snatch away, but gently to withdraw the service of my tongue from
the talker's trade; that the young, who thought not on Thy law, nor
on Thy peace, but on mendacious follies and forensic strifes, might
no longer purchase at my mouth equipments for their vehemence. And
opportunely there wanted but a few days unto the Vacation of the
Vintage; and I determined to endure them, in order to leave in the
usual way, and, being redeemed by Thee, no more to return for sale.
Our intention then was known to Thee; but to men -- excepting our
own friends -- was it not known. For we had determined among
ourselves not to let it get abroad to any; although Thou hadst given
to us, ascending from the valley of tears, and singing the song of
degrees, "sharp arrows," and destroying coals, against the
"deceitful tongue," which in giving counsel opposes, and in showing
love consumes, as it is wont to do with its food.
3. Thou hadst penetrated our hearts with Thy charity, and we carried
Thy words fixed, as it were, in our bowels; and the examples of Thy
servant, whom of black Thou hadst made bright, and of dead, alive,
crowded in the bosom of our thoughts, burned and consumed our heavy
torpor, that we might not topple into the abyss; and they enkindled
us exceedingly, that every breath of the deceitful tongue of the
gainsayer might inflame us the more, not extinguish us.
Nevertheless, because for Thy name's sake which Thou hast sanctified
throughout the earth, this, our vow and purpose, might also find
commenders, it looked like a vaunting of oneself not to wait for the
vacation, now so near, but to leave beforehand a public profession,
and one, too, under general observation; so that all who looked on
this act of mine, and saw how near was the vintage-time I desired to
anticipate, would talk of me a great deal as if I were trying to
appear to be a great person. And what purpose would it serve that
people should consider and dispute about my intention, and that our
good should be evil spoken of?
4. Furthermore, this very summer, from too great literary labour, my
lungs began to be weak, and with difficulty to draw deep breaths;
showing by the pains in my chest that they were affected, and
refusing too loud or prolonged speaking. This had at first been a
trial to me, for it compelled me almost of necessity to lay down
that burden of teaching; or, if I could be cured and become strong
again, at least to leave it off for a while. But when the full
desire for leisure, that I might see that Thou art the Lord, arose,
and was confirmed in me, my God, Thou knowest I even began to
rejoice that I had this excuse ready, -- and that not a feigned one,
-- which might somewhat temper the offence taken by those who for
their sons' good wished me never to have the freedom of sons. Full,
therefore, with such joy, I bore it till that period of time had
passed, -- perhaps it was some twenty days, -- yet they were bravely
borne; for the cupidity which was wont to sustain part of this
weighty business had departed, and I had remained overwhelmed had
not its place been supplied by patience. Some of Thy servants, my
brethren, may perchance say that I sinned in this, in that having
once fully, and from my heart, entered on Thy warfare, I permitted
myself to sit a single hour in the seat of falsehood. I will not
contend. But hast not Thou, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and
remitted this sin also, with my others, so horrible and deadly, in
the holy water?
CHAP. III.--HE RETIRES TO THE VILLA OF HIS FRIEND VERECUNDUS, WHO
WAS NOT YET A CHRISTIAN, AND REFERS TO HIS CONVERSION AND DEATH, AS
WELL AS THAT OF NEBRIDIUS.
5. Verecundus was wasted with anxiety at that our happiness, since
he, being most firmly held by his bonds, saw that he would lose our
fellowship. For he was not yet a Christian, though his wife was one
of the faithful; and yet hereby, being more firmly enchained than by
anything else, was he held back from that journey which we had
commenced. Nor, he declared, did he wish to be a Christian on any
other terms than those that were impossible. However, he invited us
most courteously to make use of his country house so long as we
should stay there. Thou, O Lord, wilt "recompense" him for this "at
the resurrection of the just," seeing that Thou hast already given
him "the lot of the righteous." For although, when we were absent at
Rome, he, being overtaken with bodily sickness, and therein being
made a Christian, and one of the faithful, departed this life, yet
hadst Thou mercy on him, and not on him only, but on us also; lest,
thinking on the exceeding kindness of our friend to us, and unable
to count him in Thy flock, we should be tortured with intolerable
grief. Thanks be unto Thee, our God, we are Thine. Thy exhortations,
consolations, and faithful promises assure us that Thou now repayest
Verecundus for that country house at Cassiacum, where from the fever
of the world we found rest in Thee, with the perpetual freshness of
Thy Paradise, in that Thou hast forgiven him his earthly sins, in
that mountain flowing with milk, that fruitful mountain, -- Thine
own.
6. He then was at that time full of grief; but Nebridius was joyous.
Although he also, not being yet a Christian, had fallen into the pit
of that most pernicious error of believing Thy Son to be a phantasm,
yet, coming out thence, he held the same belief that we did; not as
yet initiated in any of the sacraments of Thy Church, but a most
earnest inquirer after truth. Whom, not long after our conversion
and regeneration by Thy baptism, he being also a faithful member of
the Catholic Church, and serving Thee in perfect chastity and
continency amongst his own people in Africa, when his whole
household had been brought to Christianity through him, didst Thou
release from the flesh; and now he lives in Abraham's bosom.
Whatever that may be which is signified by that bosom, there lives
my Nebridius, my sweet friend, Thy son, O Lord, adopted of a
freedman; there he liveth. For what other place could there be for
such a soul? There liveth he, concerning which he used to ask me
much, -- me, an inexperienced, feeble one. Now he puts not his ear
unto my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto Thy fountain, and
drinketh as much as he is able, wisdom according to his desire,
--happy without end. Nor do I believe that he is so inebriated with
it as to forget me, seeing Thou, O Lord, whom he drinketh, art
mindful of us. Thus, then, were we comforting the sorrowing
Verecundus (our friendship being untouched, concerning our
conversion, and exhorting him to a faith according to his condition,
I mean, his married state. And tarrying for Nebridius to follow us,
which being so near, he was just about to do, when, behold, those
days passed over at last; for long and many they seemed, on account
of my love of easeful liberty, that I might sing unto Thee from my
very marrow. My heart said unto Thee,--I have sought Thy face; "Thy
face, Lord, will I seek."
CHAP. IV.--IN THE COUNTRY HE GIVES HIS ATTENTION TO LITERATURE, AND
EXPLAINS THE FOURTH PSALM IN CONNECTION WITH THE HAPPY CONVERSION OF
ALYPIUS. HE IS TROUBLED WITH TOOTHACHE.
7. And the day arrived on which, in very deed, I was to be released
from the Professorship of Rhetoric, from which in intention I had
been already released. And done it was; and Thou didst deliver my
tongue whence Thou hadst already delivered my heart; and full of joy
I blessed Thee for it, and retired with all mine to the villa. What
I accomplished here in writing, which was now wholly devoted to Thy
service, though still, in this pause as it were, panting from the
school of pride, my books testify, -- those in which I disputed with
my friends, and those with myself alone before Thee; and what with
the absent Nebridius, my letters testify. And when can I find time
to recount all Thy great benefits which Thou bestowedst upon us at
that time, especially as I am hasting on to still greater mercies?
For my memory calls upon me, and pleasant it is to me, O Lord, to
confess unto Thee, by what inward goads Thou didst subdue me, and
how Thou didst make me low, bringing down the mountains and hills of
my imaginations, and didst straighten my crookedness, and smooth my
rough ways; and by what means Thou also didst subdue that brother of
my heart, Alypius, unto the name of Thy only-begotten, our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ, which he at first refused to have inserted in
our writings. For he rather desired that they should savour of the
"cedars" of the schools, which the Lord hath now broken down, than
of the wholesome herbs of the Church, hostile to serpents.
8. What utterances sent I up unto Thee, my God, when I read the
Psalms of David, those faithful songs and sounds of devotion which
exclude all swelling of spirit, when new to Thy true love, at rest
in the villa with Alypius, a catechumen like myself, my mother
cleaving unto us, -- in woman's garb truly, but with a man's faith,
with the peacefulness of age, full of motherly love and Christian
piety! What utterances used I to send up unto Thee in those Psalms,
and how was I inflamed towards Thee by them, and burned to rehearse
them, if it were possible, throughout the whole world, against the
pride of the human race! And yet they are sung throughout the whole
world, and none can hide himself from Thy heat. With what vehement
and bitter sorrow was I indignant at the Manichaeans; whom yet again
I pitied, for that they were ignorant of those sacraments, those
medicaments, and were mad against the antidote which might have made
them sane! I wished that they had been somewhere near me then, and,
without my being aware of their presence, could have beheld my face,
and heard my words, when I read the fourth Psalm in that time of my
leisure, -- how that Psalm wrought upon me. When I called upon Thee,
Thou didst hear me, O God of my righteousness; Thou hast enlarged me
when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer. Oh
that they might have heard what I uttered on these words, without my
knowing whether they heard or no, lest they should think that I
spake it because of them! For, of a truth, neither should I have
said the same things, nor in the way I said them, if I had perceived
that I was heard and seen by them; and had I spoken them, they would
not so have received them as when I spake by and for myself before
Thee, out of the private feelings of my soul.
9. I alternately quaked with fear, and warmed with hope, and with
rejoicing in Thy mercy, O Father. And all these passed forth, both
by mine eyes and voice, when Thy good Spirit, turning unto us, said,
O ye sons of men, how long will ye be slow of heart? "How long will
ye love vanity, and seek after leasing?" For I had loved vanity, and
sought after leasing. And Thou, O Lord, hadst already magnified Thy
Holy One, raising Him from the dead, and setting Him at Thy right
hand, whence from on high He should send His promise, the Paraclete,
"the Spirit of Truth." And He had already sent Him, but I knew it
not; He had sent Him, because He was now magnified, rising again
from the dead, and ascending into heaven. For till then "the Holy
Ghost was not yet given, because that Jesus was not yet glorified."
And the prophet cries out, How long will ye be slow of heart? How
long will ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? Know this, that
the Lord hath magnified His Holy One. He cries out, "How long?" He
cries out, "Know this," and I, so long ignorant, "loved vanity, and
sought after leasing." And therefore I heard and trembled, because
these words were spoken unto such as I remembered that I myself had
been. For in those phantasms which I once held for truths was there
"vanity" and "leasing." And I spake many things loudly and
earnestly, in the sorrow of my remembrance, which, would that they
who yet "love vanity and seek after leasing" had heard! They would
perchance have been troubled, and have vomited it forth, and Thou
wouldest hear them when they cried unto Thee; for by a true death in
the flesh He died for us, who now maketh intercession for us with
Thee.
10. I read further, "Be ye angry, and sin not." And how was I moved,
O my God, who had now learned to "be angry" with myself for the
things past, so that in the future I might not sin! Yea, to be
justly angry; for that it was not another nature of the race of
darkness which sinned for me, as they affirm it to be who are not
angry with themselves, and who treasure up to themselves wrath
against the day of wrath, and of the revelation of Thy righteous
judgment. Nor were my good things now without, nor were they sought
after with eyes of flesh in that sun; for they that would have joy
from without easily sink into oblivion, and are wasted upon those
things which are seen and temporal, and in their starving thoughts
do lick their very shadows. Oh, if only they were wearied out with
their fasting, and said, "Who will show us any good?" And we would
answer, and they hear, O Lord. The light of Thy countenance is
lifted up upon us. For we are not that Light, which lighteth every
man, but we are enlightened by Thee, that we, who were sometimes
darkness, may be light in Thee. Oh that they could behold the
internal Eternal, which having tasted I gnashed my teeth that I
could not show It to them, while they brought me their heart in
their eyes, roaming abroad from Thee, and said, "Who will show us
any good?" But there, where I was angry with myself in my chamber,
where I was inwardly pricked, where I had offered my "sacrifice,"
slaying my old man, and beginning the resolution of a new life,
putting my trust in Thee, -- there hadst Thou begun to grow sweet
unto me, and to "put gladness in my heart." And I cried out as I
read this outwardly, and felt it inwardly. Nor would I be increased
with worldly goods, wasting time and being wasted by time; whereas I
possessed in Thy eternal simplicity other corn, and wine, and oil.
11. And with a loud cry from my heart, I called out in the following
verse, "Oh, in peace!" and "the self-same!" Oh, what said he, "I
will lay me down and sleep!" For who shall hinder us, when "shall be
brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in
victory?" And Thou art in the highest degree "the self-same," who
changest not; and in Thee is the rest which forgetteth all labour,
for there is no other beside Thee, nor ought we to seek after those
many other things which are not what Thou art; but Thou, Lord, only
makest me to dwell in hope. These things I read, and was inflamed;
but discovered not what to do with those deaf and dead, of whom I
had been a pestilent member, -- a bitter and a blind declaimer
against the writings behonied with the honey of heaven and luminous
with Thine own light; and I was consumed on account of the enemies
of this Scripture.
12. When shall I call to mind all that took place in those holidays?
Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will I be silent about the
severity of Thy scourge, and the amazing quickness of Thy mercy.
Thou didst at that time torture me with toothache; and when it had
become so exceeding great that I was not able to speak, it came into
my heart to urge all my friends who were present to pray for me to
Thee, the God of all manner of health. And I wrote it down on wax,
and gave it to them to read. Presently, as with submissive desire we
bowed our knees, that pain departed. But what pain? Or how did it
depart? I confess to being much afraid, my Lord my God, seeing that
from my earliest years I had not experienced such pain. And Thy
purposes were profoundly impressed upon me; and, rejoicing in faith,
I praised Thy name. And that faith suffered me not to be at rest in
regard to my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Thy
baptism.
CHAP. V.--AT THE RECOMMENDATION OF AMBROSE, HE READS THE PROPHECIES
OF ISAIAH, BUT DOES NOT UNDERSTAND THEM.
13. The vintage vacation being ended, I gave he citizens of Milan
notice that they might provide their scholars with another seller of
words; because both of my election to serve Thee, and my inability,
by reason of the difficulty of breathing and the pain in my chest,
to continue the Professorship. And by letters I notified to Thy
bishop, the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and present
resolutions, with a view to his advising me which of Thy books it
was best for me to read, so that I might be readier and fitter for
the reception of such great grace. He recommended Isaiah the
Prophet; I believe, because he foreshows more clearly than others
the gospel, and the calling of the Gentiles. But I, not
understanding the first portion of the book, and imagining the whole
to be like it, laid it aside, intending to take it up hereafter,
when better practised in our Lord's words.
CHAP. VI.--HE IS BAPTIZED AT MILAN WITH ALYPIUS AND HIS SON
ADEODATUS. THE BOOK "DE MAGISTRO."
14. Thence, when the time had arrived at which I was to give in my
name, having left the country, we returned to Milan. Alypius also
was pleased to be born again with me in Thee, being now clothed with
the humility appropriate to Thy sacraments, and being so brave a
tamer of the body, as with unusual fortitude to tread the frozen
soil of Italy with his naked feet. We took into our company the boy
Adeodatus, born of me carnally, of my sin. Well hadst Thou made him.
He was barely fifteen years, yet in wit excelled many grave and
learned men. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts, O Lord my God, Creator
of all, and of exceeding power to reform our deformities; for of me
was there naught in that boy but the sin. For that we fostered him
in Thy discipline, Thou inspiredst us, none other, -- Thy gifts I
confess unto Thee. There is a book of ours, which is entitled The
Master. It is a dialogue between him and me. Thou knowest that all
things there put into the mouth of the person in argument with me
were his thoughts in his sixteenth year. Many others more wonderful
did I find in him. That talent was a source of awe to me. And who
but Thou could be the worker of such marvels? Quickly didst Thou
remove his life from the earth; and now I recall him to mind with a
sense of security, in that I fear nothing for his childhood or
youth, or for his whole self. We took him coeval with us in Thy
grace, to be educated in Thy discipline; and we were baptized, and
solicitude about our past life left us. Nor was I satiated in those
days with the wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of Thy
counsels concerning the salvation of the human race. How greatly did
I weep in Thy hymns and canticles, deeply moved by the voices of Thy
sweet-speaking Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and the
truth was poured forth into my heart, whence the agitation of my
piety overflowed, and my tears ran over, and blessed was I therein.
CHAP. VII.---OF THE CHURCH HYMNS INSTITUTED AT MILAN; OF THE
AMBROSIAN PERSECUTION RAISED BY JUSTINA; AND OF THE DISCOVERY OF THE
BODIES OF TWO MARTYRS.
15. Not long had the Church of Milan begun to employ this kind of
consolation and exhortation, the brethren singing together with
great earnestness of voice and heart. For it was about a year, or
not much more, since Justina, the mother of the boy-Emperor
Valentinian, persecuted Thy servant Ambrose in the interest of her
heresy, to which she had been seduced by the Arians. The pious
people kept guard in the church, prepared to die with their bishop,
Thy servant. There my mother, Thy handmaid, bearing a chief part of
those cares and watchings, lived in prayer. We, still unmelted by
the heat of Thy Spirit, were yet moved by the astonished and
disturbed city. At this time it was instituted that, after the
manner of the Eastern Church, hymns and psalms should be sung, lest
the people should pine away in the tediousness of sorrow; which
custom, retained from then till now, is imitated by many, yea, by
almost all of Thy congregations throughout the rest of the world.
16. Then didst Thou by a vision make known to Thy renowned bishop
the spot where lay the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, the
martyrs (whom Thou hadst in Thy secret storehouse preserved
uncorrupted for so many years), whence Thou mightest at the fitting
time produce them to repress the feminine but royal fury. For when
they were revealed and dug up and with due honour transferred to the
Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were troubled with unclean
spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were healed, but a
certain man also, who had been blind many years, a well-known
citizen of that city, having asked and been told the reason of the
people's tumultuous joy, rushed forth, asking his guide to lead him
thither. Arrived there, he begged to be permitted to touch with his
handkerchief the bier of Thy saints, whose death is precious in Thy
sight. When he had done this, and put it to his eyes, they were
forthwith opened. Thence did the fame spread; thence did Thy praises
burn, -- shine; thence was the mind of that enemy, though not yet
enlarged to the wholeness of believing, restrained from the fury of
persecuting. Thanks be to Thee, O my God. Whence and whither hast
Thou thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these things
also unto Thee,--great, though I, forgetful, had passed them over?
And yet then, when the "savour" of Thy "ointments" was so fragrant,
did we not "run after Thee." And so I did the more abundantly weep
at the singing of Thy hymns, formerly panting for Thee, and at last
breathing in Thee, as far as the air can play in this house of
grass.
CHAP. VIII.--OF THE CONVERSION OF EVODIUS, AND THE DEATH OF HIS
MOTHER WHEN RETURNING WITH HIM TO AFRICA; AND WHOSE EDUCATION HE
TENDERLY RELATES.
17. Thou, who makest men to dwell of one mind in a house,' didst
associate with us Evodius also, a young man of our city, who, when
serving as an agent for Public Affairs,' was converted unto Thee and
baptized prior to us; and relinquishing his secular service,
prepared himself for Thine. We were together, and together were we
about to dwell with a holy purpose. We sought for some place where
we might be most useful in our service to Thee, and were going back
together to Africa. And when we were at the Tiberine Ostia my mother
died. Much I omit, having much to hasten. Receive my confessions and
thanksgivings, O my God, for innumerable things concerning which I
am silent. But I will not omit aught that my soul has brought forth
as to that Thy handmaid who brought me forth,--in her flesh, that I
might be born to this temporal light, and in her heart, that I might
be born to life eternal? I will speak not of her gifts, but Thine in
her; for she neither made herself nor educated herself. Thou
createdst her, nor did her father nor her mother know what a being
was to proceed from them. And it was the rod of Thy Christ, the
discipline of Thine only Son, that trained her in Thy fear, in the
house of one of Thy faithful ones, who was a sound member of Thy
Church. Yet this good discipline did she not: so much attribute to
the diligence of her mother, I as that of a certain decrepit
maid-servant, who had carried about her father when an infant, as
little ones are wont to be carried on the backs: of elder girls. For
which reason, and on account of her extreme age and very good
character, was she much respected by the heads of that Christian
house. Whence also was committed to her the care of her master's
daughters, which she with diligence performed, and was earnest in
restraining them when necessary, with a holy severity, and
instructing them with a sober sagacity. For, excepting at the hours
in which they were very temperately fed at their parents' table, she
used not to permit them, though parched with thirst, to drink even
water; thereby taking precautions against an evil custom, and adding
the wholesome advice, "You drink water only because you have not
control of wine; but when you have come to be married, and made
mistresses of storeroom and cellar, you will despise water, but the
habit of drinking will remain." By this method of instruction, and
power of command, she restrained the longing of their tender age,
and regulated the very thirst of the girls to such a becoming limit,
as that what was not seemly they did not long for.
18. And yet--as Thine handmaid related to me, her son--there had
stolen upon her a love of wine. For when she, as being a sober
maiden, was as usual bidden by her parents to :draw wine from the
cask, the vessel being held under the opening, before she poured the
wine into the bottle, she would wet the tips of her lips with a
little, for more than that her inclination refused. For this she did
not from any craving for drink, but out of the overflowing buoyancy
of her time of life, which bubbles up with sportiveness, and is, in
youthful spirits, wont to be repressed by the gravity of elders. And
so unto that little, adding daily littles (for "he that contemneth
small things shall fall by little and little"), she contracted such
a habit as, to drink off eagerly her little cup nearly full of wine.
Where, then, was the sagacious old woman with her earnest restraint?
Could anything prevail against a secret disease if Thy medicine, O
Lord, did not watch over us? Father, mother, and nurturers absent,
Thou present, who hast created, who callest, who also by those who
are set over us workest some good for the salvation of our souls,
what didst Thou at that time, O my God? How didst Thou heal her? How
didst Thou make her whole?' Didst Thou not out of another woman's
soul evoke a hard and bitter insult, as a surgeon's knife from Thy
secret store, and with one thrust remove all that putrefaction For
the maidservant who used to accompany her to the cellar, falling
out, as it happens, with her little mistress, when she was alone
with her, cast in her teeth this vice, with very bitter insult,
calling her a "wine-bibber." Stung by this taunt, she perceived her
foulness, and immediately condemned and renounced it. Even as
friends by their flattery pervert, so do enemies by their taunts
often correct us. Yet Thou renderest not unto them what Thou dost by
them, but what was proposed by them. For she, being angry, desired
to irritate her young mistress, not to cure her; and did it in
secret, either because the time and place of the dispute found them
thus, or perhaps lest she herself should be exposed to danger for
disclosing it so late. But Thou, Lord, Governor of heavenly and
earthly things, who convertest to Thy purposes the deepest torrents,
and disposest the turbulent current of the ages, healest one soul by
the unsoundness of another; lest any man, when he remarks this,
should attribute it unto his own power if another, whom he wishes to
be reformed, is so through a word of his.
CHAP. IX.--HE DESCRIBES THE PRAISEWORTHY HABITS OF HIS MOTHER; HER
KINDNESS TOWARDS HER HUSBAND AND HER SONS.
19. Being thus modestly and soberly trained, and rather made subject
by Thee to her parents, than by her parents to Thee, when she had
arrived at a marriageable age, she was given to a husband whom she
served as her lord. And she busied herself to gain him to Thee,
preaching Thee unto him by her behaviour; by which Thou madest her
fair, and reverently amiable, and admirable unto her husband. For
she so bore the wronging of her bed as never to have any dissension
with her husband on account of it. For she waited for Thy mercy upon
him, that by believing in Thee he might become chaste. And besides
this, as he was earnest in friendship, so was he violent in anger;
but she had learned that an angry husband should not be resisted,
neither in deed, nor even in word. But so soon as he was grown calm
and tranquil, and she saw a fitting moment, she would give him a
reason for her conduct, should he have been excited without cause.
In short, while many matrons, whose husbands were more gentle,
carried the marks of blows on their dishonoured faces, and would in
private conversation blame the lives of their husbands, she would
blame their tongues, monishing them gravely, as if in jest: "That
from the hour they heard what are called the matrimonial tablets
read to them, they should think of them as instruments whereby they
were made servants; so, being always mindful of their condition,
they ought :not to set themselves in opposition to their lords." And
when they, knowing what a furious husband she endured, marvelled
that it had never been reported, nor appeared by any indication,
that Patricius had beaten his wife, or that there had been any
domestic strife between them, even for a day, and asked her in
confidence the reason of this, she taught them her rule, which I
have mentioned above. They who observed it experienced the wisdom of
it, and rejoiced; those who observed it not were kept in subjection,
and suffered.
20. Her mother-in-law, also, being at first prejudiced against her
by the whisperings of evil-disposed servants, she so conquered by
submission, persevering in it with patience and meekness, that she
voluntarily disclosed to her son the tongues of the meddling
servants, whereby the domestic peace between herself and her
daughter-in-law had been agitated, begging him to punish them for
it. When, therefore, he had--in conformity with his mother's wish,
and with a view to the discipline of his family, and to ensure the
future harmony of its members--corrected with stripes those
discovered, according to the will of her who had discovered them,
she promised a similar reward to any who, to please her, should say
anything evil to her of her daughter-in-law. And, none now daring to
do so, they lived together with a wonderful sweetness of mutual
good-will.
21. This great gift Thou bestowedst also, my God, my mercy, upon
that good handmaid of Thine, out of whose womb Thou createdst me,
even that, whenever she could, she showed herself such a peacemaker
between any differing and discordant spirits, that when she had
heard on both sides most bitter things, such as swelling and
undigested discord is wont to give vent to, when the crudities of
enmities are breathed out in bitter speeches to a present friend
against an absent enemy, she would disclose nothing about the one
unto the other, save what might avail to their reconcilement. A
small good this might seem to me, did I not know to my sorrow
countless persons, who, through some horrible and far-spreading
infection of sin, not only disclose to enemies mutually enraged the
things said in passion against each other, but add some things that
were never spoken at all; whereas, to a generous man, it ought to
seem a small thing not to incite or increase the enmities of men by
ill-speaking, unless he endeavour likewise by kind words to
extinguish them. Such a one was she,--Thou, her most intimate
Instructor, teaching her in the school of her heart.
22. Finally, her own husband, now towards the end of his earthly
existence, did she gain over unto Thee; and she had not to complain
of that in him, as one of the faithful, which, before he became so,
she had endured. She was also the servant of Thy servants. Whosoever
of them knew her, did in her much magnify, honour, and love Thee;
for that through the testimony of the fruits of a holy conversation,
they perceived Thee to be present in her heart. For she had "been
the wife of one man," had requited her parents, had guided her house
piously, was "well-reported of for good works," had "brought up
children," x as often travailing in birth of them as she saw them
swerving from Thee. Lastly, to all of us, O Lord (since of Thy
favour Thou sufferest Thy! servants to speak), who, before her
sleeping in' Thee lived associated together, having received the
grace of Thy baptism, did she devote, care such as she might if she
had been mother of us all; served us as if she had been child of
all.
CHAP. X.--A CONVERSATION HE HAD WITH HIS MOTHER CONCERNING THE
KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.
23. As the day now approached on which she was to depart this life
(which day Thou knewest, we did not), it fell out--Thou, as I
believe, by Thy secret ways arranging it--that she and I stood
alone, leaning in a certain window, from which the garden of the
house we occupied at Ostia could be seen; at which place, removed
from the crowd, we were resting ourselves for the voyage, after the
fatigues of a long journey. We then were conversing alone very
pleasantly; and, "forgetting those things which are behind, and
reaching forth unto those things which are before," we were seeking
between ourselves in the presence of the Truth, which Thou art, of
what nature the eternal life of the saints would be, which eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath entered into the heart of man.
But yet we opened wide the mouth of our heart, after those supernal
streams of Thy fountain, "the fountain of life," which is "with
Thee; " that being sprinkled with it according to our capacity, we
might in some measure weigh so high a mystery.
24. And when our conversation had arrived at that point, that the
very highest pleasure of the carnal senses, and that in the very
brightest material light, seemed by reason of the sweetness of that
life not only not worthy of comparison, but not even of mention, we,
lifting ourselves with a more ardent affection towards "the
Selfsame," did gradually pass through all corporeal things, and even
the heaven itself, whence sun, and moon, and stars shine upon the
earth; tea, we soared higher yet by inward musing, and discoursing,
and admiring Thy works; and we came to our own minds, and went
beyond them, that we might advance as high as that region of
unfailing plenty, where Thou feedest Israel for ever with the food
of truth, and where life is that Wisdom by whom all these things are
made, both which have been, and which are to come; and she is not
made, but is as she hath been, and so shall ever be; yea, rather, to
"have been," and "to be hereafter," are not in her, but only "to
be," seeing she is eternal, for to "have been" and "to be hereafter"
are not eternal. And while we were thus speaking, and straining
after her, we slightly touched her with the whole effort of our
heart; and we sighed, and there left bound "the first-fruits of the
Spirit;" and returned to the noise of our own mouth, where the word
uttered has both beginning and end. And what is like unto Thy Word,
our Lord, who remaineth in Himself without becoming old, and "maketh
all things new"?
25. We were saying, then, If to any man the tumult of the flesh were
silenced,--silenced the phantasies of earth, waters, and air,
--silenced, too, the poles; yea, the very soul be silenced to
herself, and go beyond herself by not thinking of
herself,--silenced fancies and imaginary revelations, every tongue,
and every sign, and whatsoever exists by passing away, since, if any
could hearken, all these say, "We created not ourselves, but were
created by Him who abideth for ever:" If, having uttered this, they
now should be silenced, having only quickened our ears to Him who
created them, and He alone speak not by them, but by Himself, that
we may hear His word, not by fleshly tongue, nor angelic voice, nor
sound of thunder, nor the obscurity of a similitude, but might hear
Him--Him whom in these we love--without these, like as we two now
strained ourselves, and with rapid thought touched on that Eternal
Wisdom which remaineth over all. If this could be sustained, and
other visions of a far different kind be withdrawn, and this one
ravish, and absorb, and envelope its beholder amid these inward
joys, so that his life might be eternally like that one moment of
knowledge which we now sighed after, were not this "Enter thou into
the joy of Thy Lord"? And when shall that be? When we shall all rise
again; but all shall not be changed?
26. Such things was I saying; and if not after this manner, and in
these words, yet, Lord, Thou knowest, that in that day when we were
talking thus, this world with all its delights grew contemptible to
us, even while we spake. Then said my mother, "Son, for myself, I
have no longer any pleasure in aught in this life. What I want here
further, and why I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this
world are satisfied. There was indeed one thing for which I wished
to tarry a little in this life, and that was that I might see thee a
Catholic Christian before I died? My God has exceeded this
abundantly, so that I see thee despising all earthly felicity, made
His servant,--what do I here?"
CHAP. XI.--HIS MOTHER, ATTACKED BY FEVER, DIES AT OSTIA.
27. What reply I made unto her to these things I do not well
remember. However, scarcely five days after, or not much more, she
was prostrated by fever; and while she was sick, she one day sank
into a swoon, and was 'for a short time unconscious of visible
things. We hurried up to her; but she soon regained her senses, and
gazing on me and my brother as we stood by her, she said to us
inquiringly, "Where was I?" Then looking intently at us stupefied
with grief, "Here," saith she, "shall you bury your mother." I was
silent, and refrained from weeping; but my brother said something,
wishing her, as the happier lot, to die in her own country and not
abroad. She, when she heard this, with anxious countenance arrested
him with her eye, as savouring of such things, and then gazing at
me, "Behold," saith she, "what he saith;" and soon after to us both
she saith, "Lay this body anywhere, let not the care for it trouble
you at all. This only I ask, that you will remember me at the Lord's
altar, wherever you be." And when she had given forth this opinion
in such words as she could, she was silent, being in pain with her
increasing sickness.
28. But, as I reflected on Thy gifts, O thou invisible God, which
Thou instillest into the hearts of Thy faithful ones, whence such
marvelous fruits do spring, I did rejoice and give thanks unto
Thee, calling to mind what I knew before, how she had ever burned
with anxiety respecting her burial-place, which she had provided and
prepared for herself by the body of her husband. For as they had
lived very peacefully together, her desire had also been (so little
is the human mind capable of grasping things divine) that this
should be added to that happiness, and be talked of among men, that
after her wandering beyond the sea, it had been granted her that
they both, so united on earth, should lie in the same grave. But
when this uselessness had, through the bounty of Thy goodness, begun
to be no longer in her heart, I knew not, and I was full of joy
admiring what she had thus disclosed to me; though indeed in that
our conversation in the window also, when she said, "What do I here
any longer?" she appeared not to desire to die in her own country. I
heard afterwards, too, that at the time we were at Ostia, with a
maternal confidence she one day, when I was absent, was speaking
with certain of my friends on the contemning of this life, and the
blessing of death; and when they--amazed at the courage which Thou
hadst given to her, a woman--asked her whether she did not dread
leaving her body at such a distance from her own city, she replied,
"Nothing is far to God; nor need I fear lest He should be ignorant
at the end of the world of the place whence He is to raise me up."
On the ninth day, then, of her sickness, the fifty-sixth year of her
age, and the thirty-third of mine, was that religious and devout
soul set free from the body.
CHAP. XII. -- HOW HE MOURNED HIS DEAD MOTHER,
29. I closed her eyes; and there flowed a great sadness into my
heart, and it was passing into tears, when mine eyes at the same
time, by the violent control of my mind, sucked back the fountain
dry, and woe was me in such a struggle! But, as soon as she breathed
her last the boy Adeodatus burst out into wailing, but, being
checked by us all, he became quiet. In like manner also my own
childish feeling, which was, through the youthful voice of my heart,
finding escape in tears, was restrained and silenced. For we did not
consider it fitting to celebrate that funeral with tearful plaints
and groanings; for on such wise are they who die unhappy, or are
altogether dead, wont to be mourned. But she neither died unhappy,
nor did she altogether die. For of this were we assured by the
witness of her good conversation her "faith unfeigned," and other
sufficient grounds.
30. What, then, was that which did grievously pain me within, but
the newly-made wound, from having that most sweet and dear habit of
living together suddenly broken off? I was full of joy indeed in her
testimony, when, in that her last illness, flattering my
dutifulness,: she called me "kind," and recalled, with great
affection of love, that she 'had never heard any harsh or
reproachful sound come out of my mouth against her. But yet, O my
God, who madest us, how can the honour which I paid to her be
compared with her slavery for me? As, then, I was left destitute of
so great comfort in her, my soul was stricken, and that life torn
apart as it were, which, of hers and mine together, had been made
but one.
31. The boy then being restrained from weeping, Evodius took up the
Psalter, and began to sing--the whole house responding--the Psalm,
"I will sing of mercy and judgment: unto Thee, O Lord." a But when
they heard what we were doing, many brethren and religious women
came together; and whilst they whose office it was were, according
to custom, making ready for the funeral, I, in a part of the house
where I conveniently could, together with those who thought that I
ought not to be left alone, discoursed on what was suited to the
occasion; and by this alleviation of truth mitigated the anguish
known unto Thee--they being unconscious of it, listened intently,
and thought me to be devoid of any sense of sorrow. But in Thine
ears, where none of them heard, did I blame the softness of my
feelings, and restrained the flow of my grief, which yielded a
little unto me; but the paroxysm returned again, though not so as to
burst forth into tears, nor to a change of countenance, though I
knew what I repressed in my heart. And as I was exceedingly annoyed
that these human things had such power over me, which in the due
order and destiny of our natural condition must of necessity come to
pass, with a new sorrow I sorrowed for my sorrow, and was wasted by
a twofold sadness.
32. So, when the body was carried forth, we both went and returned
without tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth
unto Thee when the sacrifice of our redemption was offered up unto
Thee for her,--the dead body being now placed by the side of the
grave, as the custom there is, prior to its being laid
therein,--neither in their prayers did I shed tears; yet was I most
grievously sad in secret all the day, and with a troubled mind
entreated 'Thee, as I was able, to heal my sorrow, but Thou didst
not; fixing, I believe, in my memory by this one lesson the power of
the bonds of all habit, even upon a mind which now feeds not upon a
fallacious word. It appeared to me also a good thing to go and
bathe, I having heard that the bath [balneum] took its name from the
Greek balaneton, because it drives trouble from the mind. Lo, this
also I confess unto Thy mercy, "Father of the fatherless," that I
bathed, and felt the same as before I had done so. For the
bitterness of my grief exuded not from my heart. Then I slept, and
on awaking found my grief not a little mitigated; and as I lay alone
upon my bed, there came into my mind those true verses of Thy
Ambrose, for Thou art " Deus creator omnium, Pollque rector,
vesfiens Diem decon [umine, Noctem sopon gratia; Artus solutos ut
quies Reddat laboris usui, Mentesque fessas alevet, Luctusque
solvat. anxios."
33. And then little by little did I bring back my former thoughts of
Thine handmaid, her devout conversation towards Thee, her holy
tenderness and attentiveness towards us, which was suddenly taken
away from me; and it was pleasant to me to weep in Thy sight, for
her and for me, concerning her and concerning myself. And I set free
the tears which before I repressed, that they might flow at their
will, spreading them beneath my heart; and it rested in them, for
Thy ears were nigh me,--not those of man, who would have put a
scornful interpretation on my weeping. But now in writing I confess
it unto Thee, O Lord! Read it who will, and interpret how he will;
and if he finds me to have sinned in weeping for my mother during so
small a part of an hour,--that mother who was for a while dead to
mine eyes, who had for many years wept for me, that I might live in
Thine eyes,--let him not laugh at me, but rather, if he be a man of
a noble charity, let him weep for my sins against Thee, the Father
of all the brethren of Thy Christ.
CHAP. XIII.--HE ENTREATS GOD FOR HER SINS, AND ADMONISHES HIS
READERS TO REMEMBER HER PIOUSLY.
34. But,--my heart being now healed of that wound, in so far as it
could be convicted of a carnal I affection,--I pour out unto Thee, O
our God, on behalf of that Thine handmaid, tears of a far different
sort, even that which flows from a spirit broken by the thoughts of
the dan- ] gets of every soul that dieth in Adam. And although she,
having been "made alive" in Christs even before she was freed from
the flesh had so lived as to praise Thy name both by her faith and
conversation, yet dare I not say that from the time Thou didst
regenerate her by baptism, no word went forth from her mouth against
Thy precepts. And it hath been declared by Thy Son, the Truth, that
"Whosoever shall say to his brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger
of hell fire." And woe even unto the praiseworthy life of man, if,
putting away mercy, Thou shouldest investigate it. But because Thou
dost not narrowly inquire after sins, we hope with confidence to
find some place of indulgence with Thee. But whosoever recounts his
true merits to Thee, what is it that he recounts to Thee but Thine
own gifts? Oh, if men would know themselves to be men; and that "he
that glorieth" would "glory in the Lord! "
35. I then, O my Praise and my Life, Thou God of my heart, putting
aside for a little her good deeds, for which I joyfully give thanks
to Thee, do now beseech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto
me, through that Medicine Of our wounds who hung upon the tree, and
who, sitting at Thy right hand, "maketh intercession for us." I know
that she acted mercifully, and from the hearts forgave her debtors
their debts; do Thou also forgive her debts whatever she
contracted during so many ears since the water of salvation. Forgive
here, O Lord, forgive her, I beseech Thee; 'center not into judgment"
with her. Let Thy mercy be exalted above Thy justice, because Thy
words are true, and Thou hast promised mercy unto "the merciful;"
which Thou gavest them to be who wilt ' ' have mercy" on whom Thou
wilt "have mercy," and wilt "have compassion" on whom Thou hast had
compassion.*
36. And I believe Thou hast already done that which I ask Thee; but
"accept the free-will offerings of my mouth, O Lord." For she, when
the day of her dissolution was near at hand, took no thought to have
her body sumptuously covered, or embalmed with spices; nor did she
covet a choice monument, or desire her paternal burial-place. These
things she entrusted not to us, but only desired to have her name
remembered at Thy altar, which she had served without the omission
of a single day; whence she knew that the holy sacrifice was
dispensed, by which the handwriting that was against us is blotted
out; by which the enemy was triumphed over, who, summing up our
offences, and searching for something to bring against us, found
nothing in Him in whom we conquer. Who will restore to Him the
innocent blood? Who will repay Him the price with which He bought
us, so as to take us from Him? Unto the sacrament of which our
ransom did Thy handmaid bind her soul by the bond of faith. Let none
separate her from Thy protection. Let not the "lion" and the
"dragon" introduce himself by force or fraud. For she will not reply
that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and got the better of
by the wily deceiver; but she will answer that her "sins are
forgiven" by Him to whom no one is able to repay that price which
He, owing nothing, laid down for us.
37. May she therefore rest in peace with her husband, before or
after whom she married none; whom she obeyed, with patience bringing
forth fruit unto Thee, that she might gain him also for Thee. And
inspire, O my Lord my God, inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy
sons my masters, who with voice and heart and writings I serve, that
so many of them as shall read these confessions may at Thy altar
remember Monica, Thy handmaid, together with Patricius, her sometime
husband, by whose flesh Thou introducedst me into this life, in what
manner I know not. May they with pious affection be mindful of my
parents in this transitory light, of my brethren that are under Thee
our Father in our Catholic mother, and of my fellow-citizens in the
eternal Jerusalem, which the wandering of Thy people sigheth for
from their departure until their return. That so my mother's last
entreaty to me may, through my confessions more than through my
prayers, be more abundantly fulfilled to her through the prayers of
many.
The Confessions (Book X)
HAVING MANIFESTED WHAT HE WAS AND WHAT HE IS, HE SHOWS THE GREAT
FRUIT OF HIS CONFESSION; AND BEING ABOUT TO EXAMINE BY WHAT METHOD
GOD AND THE HAPPY LIFE MAY BE FOUND, HE ENLARGES ON THE NATURE AND
POWER OF MEMORY. THEN HE EXAMINES HIS OWN ACTS, THOUGHTS AND
AFFECTIONS, VIEWED UNDER THE THREEFOLD DIVISION OF TEMPTATION; AND
COMMEMORATES THE LORD, THE ONE MEDIATOR OF GOD AND MEN.
 St.
Augustine writing in his cell, by Sandro Boticelli
CHAP. I.--IN GOD ALONE IS THE HOPE AND JOY OF MAN.
1. LET me know Thee, O Thou who knowest me; let me know Thee, as I
am known O Thou strength of my soul, enter into it, and prepare it
for Thyself, that Thou mayest have and hold it without "spot or
wrinkle." This is my hope, "therefore have I spoken;" and in this
hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice soberly. Other things of this life
ought the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sorrowed for;
and ought the more to be sorrowed for, the less men do sorrow for
them. For behold, "Thou desirest truth, seeing that he who does it
"cometh to the light.. This wish I to do in confession in my heart
before Thee, and in my writing before many witnesses.
CHAP. II.--THAT ALL THINGS ARE MANIFEST TO GOD. THAT CONFESSION UNTO
HIM IS NOT' MADE BY THE WORDS OF THE FLESH, BUT OF! THE SOUL, AND
THE CRY OF REFLECTION.
2. And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the depths of man's
conscience are naked. what in me could be hidden though I were
unwilling to confess to Thee? For so should I hide Thee from myself,
not myself from Thee. But now, because my groaning witnesseth that I
am dissatisfied with myself, Thou shinest forth, and satisfiest, and
art beloved and desired; that I may blush for myself, and renounce
myself, and choose Thee, and may neither please Thee nor myself,
except in Thee. To Thee, then, O Lord, am I manifest, whatever I am,
and with what fruit I may confess unto Thee I have spoken. Nor do I
it with words and sounds of the flesh, but with the words of the
soul, and that cry of reflection which Thine ear knoweth.
For when I am wicked, to confess to Thee is naught but to be
dissatisfied with myself; but when I am truly devout, it is naught
but not to attribute it to myself, because Thou, O Lord, dost "bless
the righteous;, but first Thou justifiest him "ungodly." My
confession, therefore, O my God, in Thy sight, is made unto Thee
silently, and yet not silently. For m noise it is silent, in
affection it cries aloud. For neither do I give utterance to
anything that is right unto men which Thou hast not heard from me
before, nor dost Thou hear anything of the kind from me which
Thyself saidst not first unto me.
CHAP. III.--HE WHO CONFESSETH RIGHTLY UNTO GOD BEST KNOWETH HIMSELF.
3. What then have I to do with men, that they should hear my
confessions, as if they were going to cure all my diseases. A people
curious to know the lives of others, but slow to correct their own.
Why do they desire to hear from me what I am, who are unwilling to
hear from Thee what they are? And how can they tell, when they hear
from me of myself, whether I speak the truth, seeing that no man
knoweth what is in man, "save the spirit of man which is in him "?,o
But if they hear from Thee aught concerning themselves, they will
not be able to say, "The Lord lieth." For what is it to hear from
Thee of themselves, but to know themselves? And who is he that
knoweth himself and saith, "It is false," unless he himself lieth?
But because "charity believeth all things" n (amongst those at all
events whom by union with itself it maketh one), I too, 0 Lord, also
so confess unto Thee that men may hear, to whom I cannot prove
whether I confess the truth, yet do they believe me whose ears
charity openeth unto me.
4. But yet do Thou, my most secret Physician, make clear to me what
fruit I may reap by doing it. For the confessions of my past
sins,--which Thou hast "forgiven" and "covered," x that Thou
mightest make me happy in Thee, changing my soul by faith and Thy
sacrament,--when they are read and heard, stir up the heart, that it
sleep not in despair and say, "I cannot;" but that it may awake in
the love of Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, by which he
that is weak is strong? if by it he is made conscious of his own
weakness. As for the good, they take delight in hearing of the past
errors of such as are now freed from them; and they delight, not
because they are errors, but because they have been and are so no
longer. For what fruit, then, 0 Lord my God, to whom my conscience
maketh her daily confession, more confident in the hope of Thy mercy
than in her own innocency,--for what fruit, I beseech Thee, do I
confess even to men in Thy presence by this book what I am at this
time, not what I have been? For that fruit I have both seen and
spoken of, but what I am at this time, at the very moment of making
my confessions, divers people desire to know, both who knew me and
who knew me not,--who have heard of or from me,--but their ear is
not at my heart, where I am whatsoever I am. They are desirous,
then, of hearing me confess what I am within, where they can neither
stretch eye, nor ear, nor mind; they desire it as those willing to
believe,--but will they understand? For charity, by which they are
good, says unto them that I do not lie in my confessions, and she in
them believes me.
CHAP. IV.--THAT IN HIS CONFESSIONS HE MAY DO GOOD, HE CONSIDERS
OTHERS.
5. But for what fruit do they desire this? Do they wish me happiness
when they learn how near, by Thy gift, I come unto Thee; and to pray
for me, when they learn how much I am kept back by my own weight? To
such will I declare myself. For it is no small fruit, O Lord my God,
that by many thanks should be given to Thee on our behalf. and that
by many Thou shouldest be entreated for us. Let the fraternal soul
love that in me which Thou teachest should be loved, and lament that
in me which Thou teachest should be lamented. Let a fraternal and
not an alien soul do this, nor that "of strange children, whose
mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of
falsehood, but that fraternal one which, when it approves me,
rejoices for me, but when it disap proves me, is sorry for me;
because whether it approves or disapproves it loves me. To such will
I declare myself; let them breathe freely at my good deeds, and sigh
over my evil ones. My good deeds are Thy institutions and Thy gifts,
my evil ones are my delinquencies and Thy judgments? Let them
breathe freely at the one, and sigh over the other; and let hymns
and tears ascend into Thy sight out of the fraternal hearts--Thy
censers. And do Thou, O Lord, who takest delight in the incense of
Thy holy temple, have mercy upon me according to Thy great mercy.
"for Thy name's sake;". and on no account leaving what Thou hast
begun in me, do Thou complete what is imperfect in me.
6. This is the fruit of my confessions, not of what I was, but of
what I am, that I may confess this not before Thee only, in a secret
exultation with trembling. and a secret sorrow with hope, but in the
ears also of the believing sons of men,--partakers of my joy, and
sharers of my mortality, my fellow-citizens and the companions of my
pilgrimage, those who are gone before, and those that are to follow
after, and the comrades of my way. These are Thy servants, my
brethren, those whom Thou wish-est to be Thy sons; my masters, whom
Thou hast commanded me to serve, if I desire to live with and of
Thee. But this Thy word were little to me did it command in
speaking, without going before in acting. This then do I both in
deed and word, this I do under Thy wings, in too great danger, were
it not that my soul, under Thy wings, is subject unto Thee, and my
weakness known unto Thee. I am a little one, but my Father liveth
for ever, and my Defender is "sufficient. for me. For He is the same
who begat me and who defends me; and Thou Thyself art all my good;
even Thou, the Omnipotent, who art with me, and that before I am
with Thee. To such, therefore, whom Thou commandest me to serve will
I declare, not what I was, but what I now am, and what I still am.
But neither do I judge myself.. Thus then I would be heard.
CHAP. V.--THAT MAN KNOWETH NOT HIMSELF WHOLLY.
7. For it is Thou, Lord, that judgest me;" for although no "man
knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him,
yet is there something of man which "the spirit of man which is in
him" itself knoweth not. But Thou, Lord, who hast made him, knowest
him wholly. I indeed, though in Thy sight I despise myself, and
reckon "myself but dust and ashes,"' yet know something concerning
Thee, which I know not concerning myself. And assuredly "now we see
through a glass darkly," not yet "face to face.. So long, therefore,
as I be "absent" from Thee, I am more "present" with myself than
with Thee;' and yet know I that Thou canst not suffer violence; but
for myself I know not what temptations I am able to resist, and what
I am not able But there is hope, because Thou art faithful, who
wilt not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able, but wilt
with the temptation also make a way to escape, that we may be able
to bear it. I would therefore confess what I know concerning myself;
I will confess also what I know not concerning myself. And because
what I do know of myself, I know by Thee enlightening me; and what I
know not of myself, so long I know not until the time when my
"darkness be as the noonday" in Thy sight.
CHAP. VI.--THE LOVE OF GOD, IN HIS NATURE SUPERIOR TO ALL CREATURES,
IS ACQUIRED BY THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE SENSES AND THE EXERCISE OF
REASON.
8. Not with uncertain, but with assured consciousness do I love
Thee, O Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy word, and I loved
Thee. And also the heaven, and earth, and all that is therein,
behold, on every side 1;hey say that I should love Thee; nor do they
cease to speak unto all, "so that they are without excuse." But more
profoundly wilt Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and
compassion on whom Thou wilt have compassion. otherwise do both
heaven and earth tell forth Thy praises to deaf ears. But what is it
that I love in loving Thee? Not corporeal beauty, nor the splendour
of time, nor the radiance of the light, so pleasant to our eyes, nor
the sweet melodies of songs of all kinds, nor the flagrant smell of
flowers, and ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs
pleasant to the embracements of flesh. I love not these things when
I love my God; and yet I love a certain kind of light, and sound,
and fragrance, and food, and embracement in loving my God, who is
the light, sound, fragrance, food, and embracement of my inner
man--where that light shineth unto my soul which no place can
contain, where that soundeth which time snatcheth not away, where
there is a fragrance which no breeze disperseth, where there is a
food which no eating can diminish, and where that clingeth which no
satiety can sunder. This is what I love, when I love my God.
9. And what is this? I asked the earth; and it answered, "I am not
He;" and whatsoever are therein made the same confession. I asked
the sea and the deeps, and the creeping things that lived, and they
replied, "We are not thy God, seek higher than we." I asked the
breezy air, and the universal air with its inhabitants answered,' 'Anaximenes.
was deceived, I am not God." I asked the heavens, the sun, moon, and
stars: "Neither," say they, "are we the God whom thou seekest." And
I answered unto all these things which stand about the door of my
flesh, "Ye have told me concerning my God, that ye are not He; tell
me something about Him." And with a loud voice they exclaimed, "He
made us." My question-mg was my observing of them; and their beauty
was their reply? And I directed my thoughts to myself, and said,
"Who art thou?" And I answered, "A man." And lo, in me there appear
both body and soul, the one without, the other within. By which of
these should I seek my God, whom I had sought through the body from
earth to heaven, as far as I was able to send messengers--the beams
of mine eyes? But the better part is that which is inner; for to it,
as both president and judge, did all these my corporeal messengers
render the answers of heaven and earth and all things therein, who
said, "We are not God, but He made us." These things was my inner
man cognizant of by the ministry of the outer; I, the inner man,
knew all this--I, the soul, through the senses of my body. I asked
the vast bulk of the earth of my God, and it answered me, "I am not
He, but He made me."
10. Is not this beauty visible to all whose senses are unimpaired?
Why then doth it not speak the same things unto all? Animals, the
very small and the great, see it, but they are unable to question
it, because their senses are not endowed with reason to enable them
to judge on what they report. But men can question it, so that "the
invisible things of Him . . . are clearly seen, being understood by
the things that are made;"' but by loving them, they are brought
into subjection to them; and subjects are not able to judge. Neither
do the creatures reply to such as question them, unless they can
judge; nor will they alter their voice (that is, their beauty). if
so be one man only sees, another both sees and questions, so as to
appear one way to this man, and another to that; but appearing the
same way to both, it is mute to this, it speaks to that--yea,
verily, it speaks unto all but they only understand it who compare
that voice received from without with the truth within. For the
truth declareth unto me, "Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any body
is: thy God." This, their nature declareth unto him that beholdeth
them.
"They are a mass; a mass is less in part than in the whole." Now, O
my soul, thou art my better part, unto thee I speak; for thou
animatest the mass of thy body, giving it life, which no body
furnishes to a body but thy God is even unto thee the Life of life.
CHAP. VII.--THAT GOD IS TO BE FOUND NEITHER FROM THE POWERS OF THE
BODY NOR OF THE SOUL.
11. What then is it that I love when I love my God? Who is He that
is above the head of my soul? By my soul itself will I mount up unto
Him. I will soar beyond that power of mine whereby I cling to the
body, and fill the whole structure of it with life. Not by that
power do I find my God; for then the horse and the mule, "which have
no understanding," a might find Him, since it is the same power by
which their bodies also live. But there is another power, not that
only by which I quicken, but that also by which I endow with sense
my flesh, which the Lord hath made for me; bidding the eye not to
hear, and the ear not to see; but that, for me to see by, and this,
for me to hear by; and to each of the other senses its own proper
seat and office, which being different, I, the single mind, do
through them govern. I will soar also beyond this power of mine; for
this the horse and mule possess, for they too discern through the
body.
CHAP. VIII.----OF THE NATURE AND THE AMAZING POWER OF MEMORY.
12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature also,
ascending by degrees unto Him who made me. And I enter the fields
and roomy chambers of memory, where are the treasures of countless
images, imported into it from all manner of things by the senses.
There is treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by
enlarging or diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those
things which the sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath
been entrusted to it and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet
engulfed and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I demand that
what I wish should be brought forth, and some things immediately
appear; others require to be longer sought after, and are dragged,
as it were, out of some hidden receptacle; others, again, hurry
forth in crowds, and while another thing is sought and inquired for,
they leap into view, as if to say, "Is it not we, perchance?" These
I drive away with the hand of my heart from before the face of my
remembrance, until what I wish be discovered making its appearance
out of its secret cell. Other things suggest themselves without
effort, and in continuous order, just as they are called for,--those
in front giving place to those that follow, and in giving place are
treasured up again to be forthcoming when I wish it. All of which
takes place when I repeat a thing from memory.
13. All these things, each of which entered by its own avenue, are
distinctly and under general heads there laid up: as, for example,
light, and all colours and forms of bodies, by the eyes; sounds of
all kinds by the ears; all smells by the passage of the nostrils;
all flavours by that of the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole
body is brought in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or
rough, heavy or light, whether external or internal to the body. All
these doth that great receptacle of memory, with its many and
indescribable departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth
when required; each, entering by its own door, is hid up in it. And
yet the things themselves do not enter it, but only the images of
the things perceived are there ready at hand for thought to, recall.
And who can tell how these images formed, notwithstanding that it is
evident which of the senses each has been fetched 'm and treasured
up? For even while I live in darkness and silence, I can bring out
colours in memory if I wish, and discern between black and white,
and what others I wish; nor yet do sounds break in and disturb what
is drawn in by mine eyes, and which I am considering, seeing that
they also are there, and are concealed, laid up, as it were, apart.
For these too I can summon if I please, and immediately they appear.
And though my tongue be at rest, and my throat silent, yet can I
sing as much as I will; and those images of colours, which not
withstanding are there, do not interpose themselves and interrupt
when another treasure is under consideration which flowed in through
the ears. So the remaining things carried in and heaped up by the
other senses, I recall at my pleasure. And I discern the scent of
lilies from that of violets while smelling nothing; and I prefer
honey to grape-syrup, a smooth thing to a rough, though then I
neither taste nor handle, but only remember.
14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For
there are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think upon
in them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I meet
with myself, and recall myself,--what, when, or where I did a thing,
and how I was affected when I did it. There are all which I
remember, either by personal experience or on the faith of others.
Out of the same supply do I myself with the past construct now this,
now that likeness of things, which either I have experienced, or,
from having experienced, have believed; and thence again future
actions, events, and hopes, and upon all these again do I meditate
as if they were present. "I will do this or that," say I to myself
in that vast womb of my mind, filled with the images of things so
many and so great, "and this or that shall follow upon it." "Oh that
this or that might come to pass!" "God avert this or that!" Thus
speak I to myself; and when I speak, the images of all I speak about
are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor could I say
anything at all about them were the images absent.
15. Great is this power of memory, exceeding great, O my God,--an
inner chamber large and boundless! Who has plumbed the depths!
thereof? Yet it is a power of mine, and appertains unto my nature;
nor do I myself grasp l all that I am. Therefore is the mind too
narrow to contain itself. And where should that be which it doth not
contain of itself? Is it outside and not in itself?
How is it, then, that it doth not grasp itself? A great admiration
rises upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at
the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow
of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the
stars, and omit to wonder at themselves; nor do they marvel that
when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking on them with my
eyes, and yet could not speak of them unless those mountains, and
waves, and rivers, and stars which I saw, and that ocean which I
believe in, I saw inwardly in my memory, and with the same vast
spaces between as when I saw them abroad. But I did not by seeing
appropriate them when I looked on them with my eyes; nor are the
things themselves with me, but their images. And I knew by what
corporeal sense each made impression on me.
CHAP. IX.--NOT ONLY THINGS, BUT ALSO LITERATURE AND IMAGES, ARE
TAKEN FROM THE MEMORY, AND ARE BROUGHT FORTH BY THE
ACT OF REMEMBERING.
16. And yet are not these all that the illimitable capacity of my
memory retains. Here also is all that is apprehended of the liberal
sciences, and not yet forgotten--removed as it were into an inner
place, which is not a place; nor are they the images which am
retained, but the things themselves. For what is literature, what
skill in disputation, whatsoever I know of all the many kinds of
questions there are, is so m my memory, as that I have not taken in
the image and left the thing without, or that it should have sounded
and passed away like a voice imprinted on the ear by that trace,
whereby it might be recorded, as though it sounded when it no longer
did so; or as an odour while 'it passes away, and vanishes into
wind, affects the sense of smell, whence it conveys the image of
itself into the memory, which we realize in recollecting; or like
food, which assuredly in the belly hath now no taste, and yet hath a
kind of taste in the memory, or like anything that is by touching
felt by the body, and which even when removed from us is imagined by
the memory. For these things themselves are not put into it, but the
images of them only are caught up, with a marvelous quickness, and
laid up, as it were, in most wonderful garners, and wonderfully
brought forth when we remember.
CHAP. X.--LITERATURE IS NOT INTRODUCED TO THE MEMORY THROUGH THE
SENSES, BUT IS BROUGHT FORTH FROM ITS MORE SECRET PLACES.
17. But truly when I hear that there are three kinds of questions,
"Whether a thing is? what it is?--of what kind it is?" I do indeed
hold fast the images of the sounds of which these words are
composed, and I know that those sounds passed through the air with a
noise, and now are not. But the things themselves which are
signified by these sounds I never arrived at by any sense of the
body, nor ever perceived them otherwise than by my mind; ' and in my
memory have I laid up not their images, but themselves, which, how
they entered into me, let them tell if they are able. 'For I examine
all the gates of my flesh, but find not by which of them they
entered. For the eyes say, "If they were coloured, we announced
them." The ears say, "If they sounded, we gave notice of them." The
nos trils say, "If they smell, they passed in by us." The sense of
taste says, "If they have no flavour, ask not me." The touch says,
"If it have not body, I handled it not, and if I never handled it, I
gave no notice of it." Whence and how did these things enter into my
memory? I know not how. For when I learned them, I gave not credit
to the heart of another man, but perceived them in my own; and I
approved them as true, and committed them to it, laying them up, as
it were, whence I might fetch them when I willed. There, then, they
were, even before I learned them, but were not in my memory. Where
were they, then, or wherefore, when they were spoken, did I
acknowledge them, and say, "So it is, it is true," unless as being
already in the memory, though so put back and concealed, as it were,
in more secret caverns, that had they not been drawn forth by the
advice of another I would not, perchance, have been able to conceive
of them?
CHAP. XI.--WHAT IT IS TO LEARN AND TO THINK.
18. Wherefore we find that to learn these things, whose images we
drink not in by our senses, but perceive within as they axe by
themselves, without images, is nothing else but by meditation as it
were to concentrate, and by observing to take care that those
notions which the memory did before contain scattered and confused,
be laid up at hand, as it were, in that same memory, where before
they lay concealed, scattered and neglected, and so the more easily
present themselves to the mind well accustomed to observe them. And
how many things of this sort does my memory retain which have been
found out already, and, as I said, are, as it were, laid up ready to
hand, which we are said to have learned and to have known; which,
should we for small. intervals of time cease to recall, they are
again so submerged and slide back, as it were, into the more remote
chambers, that they must be evolved thence again as if new (for
other sphere they have none), and must be marshalled [cogenda] again
that they may become known; that is to say, they must be collected [calligenda],
as it were, from their dispersion; whence we have the word cagitare.
For cogo lit collect] and cogira [I re-collect] have the same
relation to each other as ago and agito, lucia and factira. But the
mind has appropriated to itself this word [cogitation], so that not
that which is collected anywhere, but what is collected that is
marshalled. in the mind, is properly said to be "cogitated."'
CHAP. XII.--ON THE RECOLLECTION OF THINGS MATHEMATICAL.
19. The memory containeth also the reasons and innumerable laws of
numbers and dimensions, none of which hath any sense of the body
impressed, seeing they have neither colour, nor sound, nor taste,
nor smell, nor sense of touch. I have heard the sound of the words
by which these things are signified when they are discussed; but the
sounds are one thing, the things another. For the sounds are one
thing in Greek, another in Latin; but the things themselves are
neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I have seen the
lines of the craftsmen, even the finest, like a spider's web; but
these are of another kind, they are not the images of those which
the eye of my flesh showed me; he knoweth them who, without any idea
whatsoever of a body, perceives them within himself. I have also
observed the numbers of the things with which we number all the
senses of the body; but those by which we number are of another
kind, nor are they the images of these, and therefore they certainly
are. Let him who sees not these things mock me for saying them; and
I will pity him, whilst he mocks me.
CHAP. XIII.--MEMORY RETAINS ALL THINGS.
20. All these 'things I retain in my memory, and how I learnt them I
retain. I retain also many. things which I have heard most falsely
objected against them, which though they be false, yet is it not
false that I have remembered them; and I remember, too, that I have
distinguished between those truths and these falsehoods uttered
against them; and I now see that it is one thing to distinguish
these things, another to remember that I often distinguished I them,
when I often reflected upon them. I both remember, then, that I have
often understood these things, and what I now distinguish and
comprehend I store away in my memory, that hereafter I may remember
that I understood it now. Therefore also I remember that I have
remembered; so that if afterwards I shall call to mind that I have
been able to remember these things, it will be through the power of
memory that I shall call it to mind.
CHAP. XIV.---CONCERNING THE MANNER IN WHICH JOY AND SADNESS MAY BE
BROUGHT BACK TO THE MIND AND MEMORY.
21. This same memory contains also the affections of my mind; not in
the manner in which the mind itself contains them when it suffers
them, but very differently according to a power peculiar to memory.
For without being joyous, I remember myself to have had joy; and
with out being sad, I call to mind my past sadness; and that of
which I was once afraid, I remember without fear; and without desire
recall a former desire. Again, on the contrary, I at times remember
when joyous my past sadness, and when sad my joy. Which is not to be
wondered at as regards the body; for the mind is one thing, the body
another. If I, therefore, when happy, recall some past bodily pain,
it is not so strange a thing. But now, as this very memory itself is
mind (for when we give orders to have a thing kept in memory, we
say, "See that you bear this in mind;" and when we forget a thing,
we say, "It did not enter my mind," and, "It slipped from my mind,"
thus calling the memory itself mind), as this is so, how comes it to
pass that when being joyful I remember my past sorrow, the mind has
joy, the memory sorrow, --the mind, from the joy than is in it, is
joyful, yet the memory, from the sadness that is in it, is not sad?
Does not the memory perchance belong unto the mind? Who will say so?
The memory doubtless is, so to say, the belly of the mind, and joy
and sadness like sweet and bitter food, which, when entrusted to the
memory, are, as it were, passed into the belly, where they can be
reposited, but cannot taste. It is ridiculous to imagine these to be
alike; and yet they are not utterly unlike.
22. But behold, out of my memory I educe it, when I affirm that
there be four perturbations of the mind,--desire, joy, fear, sorrow;
and whatsoever I shall be able to dispute on these, by dividing each
into its peculiar species, and by defining it, there I find what I
may say, and thence I educe it; yet am I not disturbed by any of
these perturbations when by remembering them I call them to mind;
and before I! recollected and reviewed them, they were there;
wherefore by remembrance could they be brought thence. Perchance,
then, even as meat is in ruminating brought up out of the belly, so
by calling to mind are these educed from the memory. Why, then, does
not the disputant, thus recollecting, perceive in the mouth of his
meditation the sweetness of joy or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the
comparison unlike in this because not like in all points? For who
would willingly discourse on these subjects, if, as often as we name
sorrow or fear, we should be compelled to be sorrowful or fearful?
And yet we could never speak of them, did we not find in' our memory
not merely the sounds of the names, according to the images
imprinted on it by the senses of the body, but the notions of the
things themselves, which we never received by any door of the flesh,
but which the mind itself, recognising by the experience of its own
passions, entrusted to the memory, or else which the memory itself
retained without their being entrusted to it.
CHAP. XV.--IN MEMORY THERE ARE ALSO IMAGES OF THINGS WHICH ARE
ABSENT.
23. But whether by images or no, who can well affirm? For I name a
stone, I name the sun, and the things themselves are not present to
my senses, but their images are near to my memory. I name some pain
of the body, yet it is not present when there is no pain; yet if its
image were not in my memory, I should be Ignorant what to say
concerning it, nor in arguing be able to distinguish it from
pleasure. I name bodily health when sound in body; the thing itself
is indeed present with me, but unless its image also were in my
memory, I could by no means call to mind what the sound of this name
signified. Nor would sick people know, when health was named, what
was said, unless the same image were retained by the power of
memory, although the thing itself were absent from the body. I name
numbers whereby we enumerate; and not their images, but they
themselves are in my memory. I name the image of the sun, and this,
too, is in my memory. For I do not recall the image of that image,
but itself, for the image itself is present when I remember it. I
name memory, and I know what I name. But where do I know it, except
in the memory itself? Is it also present to itself by its image, and
not by itself?
CHAP. XVI.--THE PRIVATION OF MEMORY IS FORGETFULNESS.
24. When I name forgetfulness, and know, too, what I name, whence
should I know it if I did not remember it? I do not say the sound of
the name, but the thing which it signifies which, had I forgotten, I
could not know what that sound signified. When, therefore, I
remember memory, then is memory present with itself, through itself.
But when I remember forgetfulness, there are present both memory and
forgetfulness,--memory, whereby I remember, forgetfulness, which I
remember. But what is forgetfulness but the privation of memory?
How, then, is that present for me to remember, since, when it is so,
I cannot remember? But if what we remember we retain in memory, yet,
unless we remembered forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing of
the name know the thing meant by it, then is forgetfulness retained
by memory. Present, therefore, it is, lest we should forget it; and
being so, we do forget. Is it to be inferred from this that
forgetfulness, when we remember it, is not present to the memory
through itself, but through its image; because, were forgetfulness
present through itself, it would not lead us to remember, but to
forget? Who will now investigate this? Who shall understand how it
is?
25. Truly, O Lord, I labour therein, and labour in myself. I am
become a troublesome soil that requires overmuch labour. For we are
not now searching out the tracts of heaven, or measuring the
distances of the stars, or inquiring about the weight of the earth.
It is I my-self--I, the mind--who remember. It is not much to be
wondered at, if what I myself am not be far from me. But what is
nearer to me than myself? And, behold, I am not able to comprehend
the force of my own memory, though I cannot name myself without it.
For what shall I say when it is plain to me that I remember
forgetfulness?
Shall I affirm that which I remember is not in my memory? Or shall I
say that forgetful |
