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Augustine,
The confessions of Augustin
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THE
•OeiCALSt'
CONFESSIONS OF AFGUSmE.
^liM, toill] m |ntr0ktti0it,
BY
WILLIAM G. T. SHEDD.
Surae libros qiios desiderasti confessionum mearum. Ibi me inspice, ne me laudes
ultra quem sum. Ibi non aliis de me crede, sed milii. Ibi me adtende, et vide quid
fuerim in me ipso per me ipsum; et si quid in me tibi placuerit, lauda ibi mecum quem
laudari volui de me; neque enim me: quoniam ipse fecit nos, et non ipsi nos; nos
autem perdideramus nos, sed qui fecit, refecit. Cum autem ibi me inveneris, era pro
me, ne deficiam, sed perficiar. — Augustini Epistola :i31, Daeio comixi.
BOSTON:
DRAPER AND HALLIDAY.
NOS. 58 AND 60 COKNHILL.
1867
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by
WARREN F. DRAPER,
In tbe Clerk's OflBce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts
A N D O V K K :
KLECTROTTPED AND PKINTED
BY vr . r . D P. A P F. P. .
ADVERTISEMENT
This edition of Augustine's Confessions is a reprint
of an old translation, by an author unknown to the editor,
which was republished in Boston in 1843. A very little
use has also been made of another edition, pubhshed
at Oxford. This contains only ten books, and where
it differs from the old version, almost uniformly differs
for the worse.
The principal labor in preparing this edition, has been
to make a careful comparison of the whole work with the
Latin text, and to add a few explanatory notes. The ob-
ject of comparing the old version with the original, was
not so much to make changes, — for the translation, as a
whole, like all the early English translations from Latin
IV Advertisement.
and Greek, is remarkably faithful and vivid, — as to re-
move obscurities. These arose, in some few instances,
from too great conciseness upon the part of the trans-
lator ; but in many more, from errors in printing and
punctuating. In course of time, under the hands of ed-
itors and proof-readers, the long and involved sentences
of Augustine had become so dislocated, that nothing but
a recurrence to the Latin text would restore them to the
form in which the translator had originally given them.
This was specially true of the last three books, which
are exceedingly subtile and abstract in their trains of
thought, and in many passages had become totally ob-
scure. The editor flatters himself that this revised edition
exhibits the old translation substantially as it was at first,
and that it will be found to be intelligible.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR, Page ix
THE FIRST BOOK.
Confession of the greatness and unsearchableness of God; of God's
mercies in infancy and boyhood, and human wilfulness ; of his own
sins of idleness, abuse of his studies, and of God's gifts up to his fif-
teenth year, 1
THE SECOND BOOK.
Object of these Confessions; further ills of idleness developed in his six-
teenth year; evils of ill society, which betrayed him into theft, 28
THE THIRD BOOK.
His residence at Carthage from his seventeenth to his nineteenth year;
source of his disorders ; love of shows ; advance in studies, and love
of wisdom; distaste for Scripture; led astray to the Manichaeans;
refutation of some of their tenets ; grief of his mother Monica at his
heresy, and prayers for his conversion; her vision from God, and an-
swer through a bishop, 42
VI Contents.
\
THE FOURTH BOOK. |
Augustine's life from nineteen to eight and twenty; himself a Mani- jj
chaean, and seducing others to the same heresy; partial obedience ';
amidst vanity and sin ; consulting astrologers, only partially shaken j )
herein; loss of an early freind, who is converted by being baptized
when in a swoon; reflections on grief; on real and unreal friendship,
and love of fame; writes on "the fair and fit," yet cannot rightly,
though God had given him great talents, since he entertained wrong
notions of God ; and so even his knowledge he applied ill, . 63
THE FIFTH BOOK.
Augustine's twenty-ninth year; Faustus, a snare of Satan to many,
made an instrument of deliverance to Augustine, by showing the ig-
norance of the Manichees on those things, wherein they professed to
have divine knowledge; Augustine gives up all thought of going
further among the Manichees ; is guided to Rome and Milan, where he
hears Ambrose ; leaves the Manichees, and becomes again a Catechu-
men in the Church Catholic, 89
THE SIXTH BOOK.
Arrival of Monica at Milan ; her obedience to Ambrose, and his regard
for her; Ambrose's liabits; Augustine's gradual abandonment of
error; finds that he has blamed the Church Catholic wrongly; desire
of absolute certainty, but struck with the contrary analogy of God's
natural Providence; how shaken in his worldly pursuits ; God's guid-
ance of his friend Alypius ; Augustine debates with himself and his
friends about their mode of life; his inveterate sins, and dread of
judjgment, 115
THE SEVENTH BOOK.
Augustine's thirty-first year; gradually extricated from his errors, but
still with material conceptions of God; aided by an argument of Ne-
Contents. vii
bridius ; sees that the cause of sin lies in free-will ; rejects the Mani-
chasan heresy, but cannot altogether embrace the doctrine of the
Church ; recovered from the belief in Astrology, but miserably per-
plexed about the origin of evil; is led to find in the Platonists the
seeds of the doctrine of the Divinity of the Word, but not of His Hu-
miliation; hence he obtains clearer notions of God's majesty; but, not
knowing Christ to be the Mediator, remains estranged from Him ; all
his doubts removed by the study of Holy Scripture, especially St.
Paul 144
THE EIGHTH BOOK.
Augustine's thirty-second year; he consults Simplicianus; from him
hears the history of the conversion of Victoriuus, and longs to devote
himself entirely to God, but is mastered by his old habits ; is still
further roused by the history of Antony, and of the conversion of two
courtiers ; during a severe struggle, hears a voice from heaven, opens
Scripture, and is converted, with his friend Alypius ; his mother's
vision fulfilled, 176
THE NINTH BOOK.
Augustine determines to devote his life to God, and to abandon his pro-
fession of Ehetoric, quietly, however; retires to the country to pre-
pare himself to receive baptism, and is baptized, with Alypius, and his
son, Adeodatus ; at Ostia, on his way to Africa, his mother, Monica,
dies, in her fifty-sixth year, the thirty-third of Augustine ; her life
and character, 206
THE TENTH BOOK.
Having in the former books spoken of himself before his receiving bap-
tism, in this Augustine confesses what he then was ; but first he in-
quires by what faculty we can know God at all ; whence he enlarges on
vm Contents.
the mysterious character of the memory, wherein God, being made
known, dwells, but which could not discover Him ; then he examines
his own temptations, under the triple division of " lust of the flesh,
lust of the eyes, and lust of rule ; " what Christian continency pre-
scribes as to each; Christ the only Mediator, who heals and will heal
all infirmities, 241
THE ELEVENTH BOOK.
Augustine breaks oiT the history of the mode whereby God led him to
holy orders, in order to " confess " God's mercies in opening to him the
I Scripture ; Moses is not to be understood, but in Christ, not even the
[ first words, " In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth ;''
i answer to cavillers who asked, " "What did God before He created
' heaven and the earth, and whence willed He at length to make them,
whereas He did not make them before?"; inquiry into the nature of
time, 300
THE TWELFTH BOOK.
Augustine proceeds to comment on Gen. i. 1, and explains the " heaven »
to mean that spiritual and incorporeal creation which cleaves to God
unintermittingly, always beholding His countenance, and " earth," the
formless matter whereof the corporeal creation was afterwards formed ;
he does not reject, however, other interpretations, which he adduces,
but rather confesses that such is the depth of Holy Scripture, that
manifold senses may and ought to be extracted from it, and that what-
ever truth can be obtained from its words, does, in fact, lie concealed
in them, 334
THE THIETEENTH BOOK.
Continuation of the exposition of Gen. i. ; it contains the mystery of the
Trinity, and a type of the formation, extension, and support of the
Church, 372
INTRODUCTION
There are a few autobiographies which challenge, and
receive, a special attention from age to age, because they
possess characteristics that are not found in the common
mass of such productions. They are the delineation
of an extraordinary intellect, and the issue of a re-
markable experience. They embody the thoughts of
a deep mind in its most absorbed hours, the emotions
of a vehement soul in its most critical and impas-
sioned moments. In them, the ordinary experiences
of human life attain to such a pitch of intensity, and
such a breadth, range, and depth, as to strike the reader
with both a sense of familiarity, and a sense of strange-
ness. It is his own human thought and human feeling
that he finds expressed ; and yet it is spoken with so
much greater clearness, depth, and energy, than he is
himself capable of, or than is characteristic of the mass
of men, that it seems like the experience of another
sphere, and another race of beings.
Introduction.
The Confessions of Augustine is a work of this
class ; and upon sending forth another edition of it, we
seize the opportunity to notice some of its more dis-
tinctive and remarkable features.
1. The first characteristic that strikes the reader is,
the singular mingling of metaphysical and devotional
elements in the work. The ^vriter passes, with a free-
dom that often amounts to abruptness, from the in-
tensely practical to the intensely speculative. In the
very midst of his confession of sin, or rejoicing over
deliverance from it, his subtle and inquisitive under-
standing raises a query, the answer to which, if answer
were possible, would involve the solution of all the
problems that have bafiled the metaphysical mind from
Thales to Hegel. In the very opening of the work,
for example, when the surcharged and brimming soul
is swelling with its thick-coming emotions, and it is
seeking vent for its sense of the divine mercy which
has saved it from everlasting perdition, it slides, by an
unconscious transition, to the question : ^^How shall I
call upon my God, my God and Lord, since when I
call for Ilim I shall be calling Him into myself? and
what room is there within me, whither my God can
come into me ? Whither can God come into me, God,
who made heaven and earth ? " ^ At the very instant
1 Confessions, I. ii. 2
Introduction. xi
when Augustine is enjoying the most heartfelt and posi-
tive communion with God, his intellect feels the pres-
sure of the problem respecting the possibihty of such
an intercourse. Such transitions are perpetually occur-
ring throughout the work, until, in the eleventh book,
the author leaves his autobiography altogether, and de-
votes the remainder of the work to an interpretation
of the opening chapters of Genesis, in which he dis-
cusses the most recondite problems respecting Time
and Eternity, the Creator and Creation, and the Tri-
unity of the Divine Essence.
It is not, however, from any open or lurking scep-
ticism, or even from any mental unrest, that Augustine
raises such inquiries. These questions are not the issue
and index of a mind tormented by doubts. They are
only the exuberant play and careering of a subtle and
thoughtful intellect, from the vantage-ground of a vital
and assured faith. Conscious of being now, at last, at
rest in God, the Centre of being and blessedness, he
allows his mind to pose itself with the profound truths
which are involved in the childlike faith of the Chris-
tian. His purpose is not to unsettle his own belief, or
that of his reader; but, by the mere immensity of
truth, to stagger and overwhelm the understanding,
and thereby fill the soul with that sense of mystery
which is at once the constituent element of awe, and
xn Introduction.
M,
the nutriment of worship. Nothing can be further
from infidelity, than the spu-it with which Augustine
raises these inquiries respecting time, eternity, the
nature of God and the human soul, the possibility
and manner of creation from nothing, the origin of
evil, and the nature of matter. Neither is there any-
thing of Gnostic curiosity and pride, in his approaches
to the frontiers of this realm of mystery. He merely
desires, by this tentative method, to fill his own mind,
already believing hoping and joying in divine reahties,
with a more distinct consciousness of the infinitude of
the world beyond space and time, and of those truths
and facts which, in his own phrase, cannot enter by any
of the avenues of the flesh. Hence, his questionings
leave him humble, while they leave him more self-in-
telligent. His speculation issues from his religious life
and feeling, and helps both to clarify and deepen it. In
other words, Augustine is here practising upon his own
celebrated dictum, i\i2it faith precedes scientific knowledge.
The practical behef of the truths of Christianity con-
tains much that is latent and undeveloped. The Chris-
tian is wiser than he knows. The moment he begins
to examine the implications of his own vivid and per-
sonal experience, he finds that they contain the entire
rudimental matter of Christian science. For example,
he believes in the one living and personal God. But,
Introduction. xiii
the instant he commences the analysis of this idea of
ideas, he discovers its profound capacity, and its vast im-
plication. Again, he believes in God incarnate. But
when he endeavors to comprehend what is involved in
this truth and fact, he is overwhelmed by the multitude
of its relations, and the richness of its contents. His
faith has really and positively grasped these ideas of God
and the God-Man ; but, — to employ an illustration of
Bernard, — it has grasped them in their closed and
involuted form.^ If he would pass, now, from faith to
scientific reason, he needs only to reflect upon the in-
trinsic meaning of these ideas, until they open along
the lines of their structure, and are perceived philo-
sophically, though not exhaustively. But, in this pro-
cess, faith itself is reinforced and deepened by a reflex
action, while, at the same time, the intellect is kept
reverent and vigilant, because the cognition, though
positive and correct as far as it reaches, is not ex-
haustive and complete, only by reason of the immensity
and infinitude of the object.
Holding such a theory of the relation of reason to
faith, Augustine never shrinks from making excursions
into the region of metaphysical truth. Although he
1 Intellectus ration! innititur, fides authoritati, opinio sola verisimili-
tudine se tuetur. Habent ilia duo certam veritatem, sed fides clausam
et involutam, intelligentia nudara et manifestam. — De Consideratione,
Lib, V. Cap. iii. c. 893. Par. Ed. 1632.
XIV Introduction.
uniformly ai^proaclies the problems of theology upon
their most difficult side, and never attempts to become
clear by becoming shallow, yet there is small fear of
philosophy, and still less disparagement of reason, in the
writings of the bishop of Hippo. And this, because
of the above-mentioned theory. ■ Always making liis
own vital and confident faith the point from which he
departs, and to which he returns, he is at once bold
and safe. Go where he may, he cannot lose sight of
his pole-star; and thus he always keeps his easting.
Like the mariner, far out at sea, with a strong ship'
under him, and the unfathomed abysses beneath him, he
careers courageously over the waste of waters, with no
dread of a lee shore, or of sunken rocks. Hence the
frequency, and oftentimes the strange abruptness, of his
metaphysical queryings. He knows that all truth is
consistent with itself, and that the philosophical answer,
if it come at all, must come out of the material fur-
nished by the Christian consciousness. His reason can-
not contradict his faith, because it is homogeneous and
consubstantial with it... The former is the evolution;
the latter is the involution.
2. A second characteristic of Augustine's Confessions
is, the union of the most minute and exhaustive detail of
sin, with the most intense and spiritual abhorrence of it.
The only work, in any language, that bears any compar-
Introduction. xv
ison with this of the North-African Father, is that in
which Rousseau pours out his life of passion and evil
concupiscence. There is the same abandon and unre-
serve in each ; the same particularity in recounting the
past conduct ; the same subtle unwinding of the course of
transgression. Each absorbs himself in his own biog-
raphy, with an entireness and simphcity that precludes
any thought for a spectator or a hstener ; any regard
for either an unfeeling or a sympathizing world of
readers. Augustine and Rousseau, both alike, with-
draw into the secret and silent confessional of their
own memories and recollections, and there pour out
their confidences with utter self-abandonment.
But the resemblance ceases at this point. The mo-
tive prompting the confession, and the emotions that
accompany it, are as different as light from darkness.
Augustine's confession is really such, — an acknowl-
edgment to God. Rousseau's recital is a soliloquy,
that never goes beyond himself The Christian bishop
confesses his past sinful life only that he may magnify,
and make his boast in that unmerited grace which
plucked him "from the bottom of the bottomless pit."^
He brings out his secret and scarlet sins into the light
of his memory, that he may praise the God of his sal-
vation for his marvellous pity. "I will now call to
1 Confessions, II. iv. 9.
XVI Introduction.
mind," he says, " my past foulness, and the carnal cor-
ruptions of my soul; not because I love them, but
that I may love Thee, O my God. For love of Thy
love I do it ; reviewing my most wicked ways, in the
very bitterness of my remembrance, that Thou mayest
grow sweet unto me." ^ The minuteness, the plainness,
and the exhaustiveness of his account of his sinful
life, only sets in stronger rehef the strangeness of the
mercy that lifted him out of it ; only fills him with a
delirium of joy and love towards his redeeming God.
How different all this is from the motive, and the feel-
ing of Rousseau, it is needless to say. It is not neces-
sary to affirm the existence of a deliberate intention to
debauch the world, by those confessions of sin and guilt,
though such is, unquestionably, the inevitable tendency
of them. It is enough to say, that there certainly was
no intention to waken abhorrence of evil by means of
them ; and still less to reflect any light upon the Divine
character and government. The impelling motive prob-
ably was, to reUeve a stormy and tempest-tossed nature,
by a simple overflow of the pent-up elements. Ron?-
seau merely followed that impulse of a burdened soul
which necessitates self-utterance ; that law of both mind
and matter which absolutely forbids the perpetual sup-
pression of struggling powers and forces. All the de-
1 Confessions, II. i. 1.
Introduction.
XYII
vices of man cannot choke down even the smallest
spring of water, so that it shall never come to the
surface ; and all the efforts of men and angels com-
bined cannot keep under, in eternal burial, the emotions
and passions of an inordinate and billowy spirit. Under
this stress and pressure, the "self-torturing sophist"
enters into the detail of his unworthy and unhappy
life, without the slightest recognition of the claims of
law, and apparently without the slightest fear of its
retributions. The wild and passionate rehearsal goes
on, but with no reference either to the holiness or the
mercy of the Supreme; with no allusion to the sol-
emn relations of an immortal soul either to time or to
eternity.
Again, while Augustine relates the sins of his youth,
and his transgressions, with a plainness which the facti-
tious modesty of an inwardly impure mind has some-
times condemned, it is always with the most genuine
and unaffected sorrow and abhorrence. A more sin-
cere book than the Confessions of Augustine was never
written. Every statement of sin is a wail over it.
Rivers of waters run down the relator's eyes, because
he has not kept the divine law. The plainness of this
book is like that of the prophecy of Ezekiel ; the vile-
ness is brought out into sight only that it may be tram-
pled and stamped upon. And yet it is not a spasmodic,
XVIII
Introduction.
or an affected reprobation. From the depths of a now
spirituaHzed mind, Augustine really abhors his past in-
iquity. He is a new creature ; old things have passed
away, and all things have become new. With the clear
and searching eye of the cherubim, he looks into the
hole of the pit whence he was digged, and beholds ac-
cording to truth. There is no furtive glance towards
the past voluptuousness. It is seen to be sin and guilt,
meriting the wrath and curse of God, fit only to be
burned up in the consuming fire of the Divine immacu-
lateness. All this is perceived with calmness and cer-
tainty; so that the judgment of damnation, which is
passed by the autobiographer upon his personal cor-
ruption, is deep and tranquil, like that of the bar of
final doom.
3. But this is only a negative excellence. A third
characteristic of this book is, that it palpitates with a
positive love of God and goodness. The writer does
not merely look back with aversion and abhorrence,
but he looks forward with aspiration and longing. He
gazes, with a steady and rapt eye, upon the supernal
Beauty, the heavenly Eros. His spiritualized perception
reposes with joy unutterable, and full of glorying, upon
the perfections of God and the realities of eternity.
Hear his impassioned utterance. " Not with doubting, but
with assured consciousness, do I love Thee, Lord. But
Introduction. xix
what do I love when I love Thee ? not the beauty of
bodies, nor the fair harmony of time, nor the brightness
of the light so gladsome to our eyes, nor sweet melodies
of varied songs, nor the fragrant smell of flowers and
ointments and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs
acceptable to the embracements of flesh. None of these
do I love when I love my God ; and yet I love a kind
of light, a kind of melody, a kind of fragrance, a kind
of food, and a kind of embracement, when I love my
God, — the light, the melody, the fragrance, the food,
the embracement, of the inner man : where there
shineth unto my soul what space cannot contain, and
there soundeth what time beareth not away, and there
smelleth what breathing disperseth not, and there tasteth
what eating diminisheth not, and there clingeth what
satiety divorceth not. This is it which I love, ivhen I
love my God'^ The entire emotiveness of that deep,
passionate, North-African nature has been transferred
from sense to spirit, from time to eternity, from earth to
heaven, from the creature to the Creator, and now flows
on like the river of God, which is full of water. In-
deed, the feeling which Augustine bears towards the
Blessed Triune God, cannot be better expressed than
by the word affectionateness. There is in his experi-
ence awe " deep as the centre ; " there is humility
absolute ; there is the reverential fear of the wing-
XX
Introductioti,
veiled seraphim ; but there is, also, in and through it
all, that confiding love which is both warranted and
elicited by the dying prayer of the Redeemer. This
man, who so often denominates himself "evil" and
'• abominable," " miserable" and " godless," — who pros-
trates his whole being, in shame and sorrow unspeak-
able, before the infinite and adorable majesty of God, —
yet finds an answer, in his own regenerate conscious-
ness, to the wonderful suppHcation of the Redeemer,
that his redeemed " all may be one, as thou Father art
in me, and I in thee ; that they may be one even as we
are one ; I in them, and thou in me, that they may be
made perfect in one."
This sense of union with God is very vivid in this
Latin .Father ; as it is, also, in some of the more spirit-
ual of the schoolmen, — particularly Anselm and Ber-
nard. It is very different, however, from that vague
feeling of the Mystic theologian, which, even in its best
forms, sometimes hovers upon the borders of pantheism,
and in its worst form, as in Eckart and Silesius, is little
better than the Hindoo absorption in the deity. On the
contrary, it is that intelligent consciousness of oneness
with God, which issues from the evangelical sense of
reconciliation with him through the hlood of Christ* The
ideas of Licarnation and Redemption shape the whole
experience of Augustine, and his communion with God
Introduction. xxi
has its root in the sense of sin, and the sense of mercy.
But these two utterly preclude the pantheistic intuition.
He who feels himself to be guilty, knows most pierc-
ingly that God and man are two distinct beings. And
he who has rejoiced in the manifested pity of the Crea-
tor towards the creature, cannot possibly confound the
two, either in philosophy or theology. And such is the
foundation upon which Augustine's filial and affectionate
communion with God rests. He knows that if God
spared not his own Son, but freely gave him up for a
guilty criminal like himself, he will certainly, after this,
freely give him all things. Springing from this evan-
gelical root, the affectionateness of Augustine is totally
different, also, from that fatal form of seff-deception
which is seen in the sentimentalist's love of God. He
does not presume to cast himself upon the Divine
mercy, until he has first recognized and acquiesced in
the Divine justice. These Confessions contain none of
that religiousness, to which the intrinsic and eternal
damnableness of sin is an offensive truth, and which
avoids all the retributive and judicial aspects of revela-
tion. Augustine never shrinks from the fact, that a
creature's wilful transgression, in its own nature merits,
and irrespective of Christ's blood of atonement will
receive, an " everlasting punishment " from the living
God. He knows that the doctrine of genuine peni-
XXII Introduction.
tence for sin, stands, or falls, with that of an absolute
ill-desert, and an everlasting penalty ; that every species
of religious anxiety which reluctates at Chidst's repre-
sentations of the final doom, and at the doctrine that
only Christ's Passion stands between a sinner and eter-
nal damnation, is spurious ; and that he who would
throw himself into the arms of the Redeemer, before
he has knelt with a crushed heart at the bar of the
Judge, will ultimately meet a terrific rebuke to his
presumption, and his moral worthlessness. Augustine's
trust in the compassion of God has for its antecedent,
the distinct consciousness of the " wrath to come." The
Divine love is, for his mind, a pity that " bore his sins
on the tree," and thereby delivered him from an eternal
infliction that was merited and actually impending.^
Such thoroughness in Augustine's experience of both
the justice and the mercy of God, resulted in an un-
doubting confidence in Him. The trustfulness of his
feeling towards the Supreme exhibits itself, sometime^!,
almost like the prattling of a child. " I beseech Thee,
my God, I would fain know, if so Thou wiliest, for what
purpose my baptism was then deferred? Was it for
my good, that the rein was laid loose, as it were, upon
me, for me to sin ? " ^ " Bear with me, my God, while I
say sometliing of my wit. Thy gift, and on what dotages
1 Compare Confessions, V. ix. 16. 2 Confessions, I. xi. 18.
Introduction. xxiii
I wasted it."^ In fact, the whole life, the entire experi-
ence of Augustine, with all that is insignificant, equally
with all that is great in it, is poured out into the ear of
the Divine Confessor. To God there is nothing great,
and nothing small ; and this penitent and affectionate,
soul passes from point to point in its detail, without stop-
ping to measure or compare. The Divine ear is not
heavy, that it cannot hear even the minutest items of the
penitential record ; and the filial, grateful heart is never
tired of the exhaustive confession and rehearsal.
Such an experience as this brought the spirit of Au-
gustine into most intimate relations to God. " Some-
times," he says, "Thou admittest me to an affection
very unusual, in my inmost soal ; rising to a strange
sweetness, which, if it were perfected in me, I know not
what in it would not belong to the life to come."^ The
Modern church is too destitute of this child-like affec-
tionateness, and this fervor of love. It is certainly
striking to pass from the more formal and reserved
types of religious experience, characteristic of an over-
civilized Christendom, to the simple and gushing utter-
ances of Augustine, Ansehn, and Bernard. " Too late
I loved Thee, O Thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever
new! too late I loved Thee!"^ "Oh! that I might
1 Confessions, I. xvii. 27. 2 Confessions, X. xl.
3 Confessions, X. xxvii. 38.
XXIV
Introduction.
repose on Thee ! Oh ! that Thou wouldest enter into
my heart, and inebriate it!"^ "Oh I Thou sweetness
never failing, Thou blissful and assured sweetness ! " ^
In one of his Soliloquies, Augustine addresses God as
both father and mother: "Et tu Domine Deus pater
orphanorum, et tu mater pupillorum tuorum, audi eju-
latum filiorum tuorum."^ The soul follows hard after
God, and its pantings often find a natural expression in
language, and terms, as fervid as those which we are
wont to associate only with the most absorbing and con-
suming of earthly passions. The rythmical and sono-
rous Roman speech becomes yet more deep-toned and
sounding in its note, as the rapt mind rises upon the
wings of spiritual intuition and ecstasy. The superla-
tive becomes the positive. "Dulcissime, amantissime,
benignissime, preciosissime, desideratissime, amabilis-
sime, pulcherrime, tu melle dulcior, lacte et nive candi-
dior, nectare suavior, gemmis et auro preciosior, cunctis-
que terrarum divitiis et honoribus mihi carior, quando te
videbo ? Quando apparebo ante faciem tuam ? Quando
satiabor de pulchritudine tuft,?"* This language, it should
be remembered, flows from a mind that is naturally spec-
ulative and dialectic ; that has meditated, not merely pro-
1 Confessions, I. v. 5. 2 Confessions, TI. i. 1.
3 Soliloquiorum liber unus, Opera IX. 763, Ed. Basil, 1569.
4 Meditationum liber unus, Opera IX. 722, 728, Ed. Basil, 1569.
Introduction. xxv
foundly, but systematically, upon the being and attri-
butes of God. It is not the utterance of a senti-
mentalist, but of a robust understanding, out of which
issued the most logical and rigorous of the ancient types
of Christian theology. When we find the most abstract
and intellectual of the Christian Fathers dissolving in
tears, or mounting in ecstasy, we may be certain that
the emotion issues from truth and reahty. When the
rock gushes out water, we may be sure that it is pure
water. Were it not that we find the systematic writings
of Augustine, — which, moreover, constitute the bulk of
his works, — calm as reason itself, consecutive as logic
itself, and entirely free from extravagance, we might
query whether a sinful mortal, an imperfectly sanctified
man, could use such language as the above, without a
latent insincerity ; or, at least, without running far in
advance of his real emotions. But these soliloquies
and meditations are the moments of Christian and
saintly inspiration; seasons when the deep and subtle
reasoning of the renewed mind, having reached its
term, becomes hushed and breathless in the spiritual
intuition, and passes over into awe and worship. The
knowledge of the cherub becomes the love of the
seraph. Each is alike real and true; the one is the
dark root, the other the bright consummate flower of
religion.
XXVI Introduction.
One who imbues his mind with the spirit of Augus-
tine's Confessions finds no difficulty, therefore, in under-
standing the Song of Solomon. An earthly exegesis
can interpret this Song of Songs only from its own point
of view. The conceptions, figures, and terms of the
spiritual lyric are instinctively referred to earthly and
carnal relationships. An unspiritual mind cannot, by
any possibility, rise into the pure ether and element of
incorporeal and heavenly Beauty, in which the writer
of this canticle moves liis wings. But not so the Au-
gustines, the Anselms, and the Bernards. These purged
and clear eyes were granted at certain favored hours,
and as the result and reward of their long vigils and
meditations, the immortal vision of the pure in heart.
And the immortal vision wakened the immortal lonnrino;.
The environment of earth and time became a prison to
the now illuminated spirit, and it joined for the hill of
frankincense and the mountains of myrrh. Having
seen the King in his beauty, the holy and ethereal soul
fell into love-longing.^
4. A fourth striking characteristic of these Confes-
sions is, the insight which they afford into the origin and
1 The experience of Edwards, as portrayed by himself, more than that
of any other modern, exhibits these same characteristics. That rapt ex-
ulting vision of the Divine majesty and beauty, which fell upon hira
like the dawn, in the opening of his Christian life, flushed his entire
career, and entitles him, also, to the name of the " angelic," the " seraphic "
•doctor.
Introduction. xxvii
progress of the Christian experience. They are the
best commentary yet written upon the seventh and
eighth chapters of Romans. That quickening of the
human spirit, which puts it again into vital and sensitive
relations to the holy and the eternal ; that illumination
of the mmd, whereby it is enabled to perceive with
clearness the real nature of truth and righteousness ; that
empowering of the will, to the conflict and the victory,
— the entire process of restoring the Divine image in the
soul of man, — is delineated in this book, with a vivid-
ness and reality never exceeded by the uninspired mind.
And particularly is the bondage of the enslaved will
brought to view. Augustine, though subject to pangs of
conscience, and the forebodings of an unpardoned soul,
from his earliest years, did not, nevertheless, attain
evangelical peace until the thirty-second year of his
life. He died at the age of seventy-six ; so that nearly
one-half of his earthly existence was spent in unregen-
eracy. He was born and bred in the midst of pagan-
ism, and his tropical, North-African nature immersed
itself in the ambition and sensuality of his clime and his
race, with an intensity to which the career of a Byron,
a Rousseau, or a Heine, affords a nearer parallel, than
does anything which meets the eye in the externally
decent and restrained life of modem society. To such
a soul of flame was uttered, in tones that startled, and
XXVIII Introduction.
tones that shattered, aPxd tones that for the moment
paralyzed, the solemn words: '•^Not in rioting and
drunkenness^ not in chambering and wantonness^ not in
strife and envying ; hut put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ,
and make not provision for the flesh." It was, at first,
like the giving up of the ghost. The effort to obey
was convulsive. " Thou, O Lord, didst press upon me
inwardly with severe mercy, redoubling the lashes of
fear and shame, lest I should again give way, and, not
bursting that slight remaining tie, it should recover
strength, and bind me the faster. For I said within
myself, ' Be it done now, be it done now.' And as I
spake, I all but performed it. I all but did it, and did
it not ; yet sunk not back to my former state, but kept
ray stand hard by, and took breath. And I essayed
again, and wanted somewhat less of it, and somewhat
less, and all but touched and laid hold of it ; hesitating
to die to death, and to live to life ; and the worse,
whereto I was inured, prevailed more with me than the
better, whereto I was unused ; and as the moment ap-
proached wherein I was to become other than I was,
the greater horror did it strike into me ; yet did it not
strike me back, nor turned me away, but held me in
suspense."^ What a subtle and most truthful glimpse
into the workings of inveterate sin, which has grown
1 Confessions, VIII. xi. 25.
hitroduGtion. xxix
with his growth and strengthened with his strength, is
afforded in the petition of his early manhood : " Give
me continence, only not yet ! " ^ These, and a hundred
others like them, bring the whole inward struggle into
plain view. It is a real conflict, in which the kingdom
of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by
force. We know of no other religious book, except the
Bible and Pilgrim's Progress, which makes so deep an
impression of reality as this one. Religion, in the
experience here portrayed, is veritable. The fears and
forebodings which herald it, are actual. The pangs and
throes that bring it to the birth, are actual. The joys
and sorrows, the assurance and the doubts, that accom-
pany its growth, are actual. As the doctrinal system
of Augustine rests upon a basis of realism, so does his
practical life and history. There is nothing upon either
side that is nominal, fictitious, ideal.
But, the whole excellence of this delineation of the
bondage of the apostate will, — which is the cause of all
this struggle, — will not be perceived, unless we notice
that Augustine continually refers the enslavement to the
creature himself, and never to the Creator. It is the
product of self-will, and not of that creative fiat by
which man was originally made a holy and unenslaved
spirit in the image of God. " My wiU the enemy held,
1 Confessions, VIII. vii. 17.
XXX Introduction.
and thence had made a chain for me, and bound me. For,
of a perverse will comes lust ; and a lust yielded to hc'
comes custom ; and custom not resisted becomes necessity.
By which links, as it were, joined together as in a chain,
a hard bondage held me enthralled. And that new will,
which had begun to be in me, to serve Thee freely, and
to wish to enjoy Thee, 0 God, was not yet able com-
pletely to overcome my former long-established wilful-
ness." ^ Thus the bondage is guilt ; and at the very
instant when the soul is weighed down with a sense of
utter impotence to holiness, it is also prostrate before
the judicial bar, with the consciousness of deserved
damnation. The enslavement is not plead in excuse
of sin, because it is acknowledged to be a part of sin,
and thus an aggravation of it. The element of servi-
tude, like the element of blindness, is part and particle
of the evil and abominable thing which the soul of God
hates. The reflex action of transgression upon the
understanding, is spiritual blmdness ; upon the heart,
is spiritual hardness ; and upon the will, is spiritual
bondage. The voluntary faculty cannot escape, any
more than any other faculty of the soul, the reaction
of its self-action. Whosoever commits sin, by and in
that very voluntary act, becomes the slave {hovXo^) of
sin. The cause inevitably carries its consequence.
1 Confessions, VIII. v. 10.
Introduction.
That which is done cannot be undone ; and no will that
self-determinedly apostatizes can be again the sound and
strong faculty, in reference to good, that it was before
apostasy, except through the intervention of Divine
renewing power. The moral bondage, therefore, like
the moral blindness, and the moral hardness, enters into
the sum-total of human depravity, and goes to swell the
sum-total of human condemnation. All this, though not
drawn out in this dialectic manner, is implied in Augus-
tine's anthropology. Nowhere is there a more profound
consciousness of the impotence of the apostate will, and
nowhere is there a more heartfelt and humble sense
of personal ill-desert, than is expressed in these Con-
fessions.^
Such are some of the more salient points in the auto-
biography of Augustine. A moment's reflection upon
them will reveal that they are of the very highest order,
and that such a religious experience as is here por-
1 We have dwelt the longer upon this point, because it has been as-
serted that Augustine's theory of grace and election is fatalism. Mil-
man's portrait of the Latin Father (Primitive Christianity, Book III.
Chap. X.) is, in many of its features, an accurate one; and the general col-
oring is laid on with an admiring, and even an enthusiastic eye. But Mil-
man represents Augustiuianism as " offering up free agency upon the altar
of religion, and thereby degrading the most wonderful work of Omnipo-
tence,— a being endowed with free agency." The misconception arises
from overlooking the fact that, in Augustine's system, the bondage and
impotence of the apostate will are the conseqiimce and result of an act of
will. iSeZ/'-enslavement and selfrvLm is one thing ; enslavement by the
creative act, and ruin by compulsory force, is another. The charge of
fatalism can logically be made only against this latter.
XXXII Introduction.
trayed, cannot be studied without profit. This book is
worthy of being made a manual of devotion. It is not
claimed to be entirely free from erroneous aspects of
truth. No man wholly escapes the faults of his age ;
and the Confessions of Augustine exhibit some of the
deficiencies of the Church of the fourth century. But
in reference to the permanent and everlasting elements
of the Christian experience, the great main charac-
teristics of the Christian Hfe, here is certainly a bold
and accurate, a clear and large utterance. We are con-
fident that familiarity with this book, for even a single
year, would perceptibly affect the individual's religious
experience. It would infuse into it the rare quality of
vividness. There are no stereotyped phrases, no tech-
nical terms or forms. It is the life of God in the soul
of a strong man, rushing and rippling with the freedom
of the life of nature. He who watches can almost see
the growth ; he who listens can hear the perpetual
motion ; and he who is in sympathy will be swept
along.
The editing of these Confessions has been a labor of
love. As we have scanned the sentences and syllables,
we have seemed to hear the beating of that flaming
heart, which, now for fifteen centuries, has burnt and
throbbed with a seraph's affection in the Mount of God.
We have seemed to look into that deep and spiritual
Introduction. xxxiii
eye, which gazed without shrinking, yet with bitter pen-
itential tears, into the depths of a tormenting conscience
and a sinful nature, that it might then gaze without daz-
zHng, and with unutterable rapture, into the eyes and
face of The Eternal. Our Protestantism concedes, with-
out scruple, the cognomen of Saint to this ethereal
spirit. Our Christianity triumphs in that marvellous
power of grace, which wrought such a wonderful trans-
formation. Having this example and living fact before
our view, we believe that Christ, the Lord, has all
power, both in heaven and upon earth ; and that there
is lodged in his pierced and bleeding hands a spiritual
energy that is able to renovate the mightiest, and the
most vitiated forms of humanity. The Caesars and
Napoleons, the Byrons and Rousseaus, all the passion-
ate spirits, all the stormy Titans, are within reach of
that irresistible influence which is garnered up in the
Redemption of the Son of God, and which is accessible
to the prayers and the faith of the church.
The following sketch of the life of Augustine, given
in the compact grouping and terse statement of Gue-
ricke} is appended for the convenience of the reader.
1 Guericke's Church History, § 91.
3
xxxiy Introductio7i.
"Aurelius Augustinus, born at Tagaste, in Numidia,
Nov. 13, 354, a man of deep and powerful nature, not
the most learned, yet the greatest of the fathers, and in
whose energetic mind acuteness and profundity were
blended in their highest degrees, after victoriously pass-
ing through the most violent inward conflicts, had at-
tained evangelical peace of conscience. Though early
pointed to Christ by his excellent mother Monica, he
had become distractingly immersed in the ambitions and
sensualities of earth during his residence in Carthage,
— whither he had repaired for literary culture after
previous studies at Tagaste and Madaura, — when, in
his nineteenth year, the Hortensius of Cicero wakened
a new aspiration within him after the truth. But, with
all his newly-awakened longing after a higher life, the
power to realize his aspiration was ever wanting. As a
teacher of rhetoric at Carthage (from 376), afterwards
at Rome, and finally at Milan (from 384), he was con-
tinually wavering between the world and God, in a
constant conflict between his ambition and lust on the
one hand, and the unmistakable remorse and aspirings
of his soul, and the prayers and tears of his mother, on
the other. For nine years he sought for truth among
the Manicheans, who did not demand or insist upon faith,
but talked much of a higher cognition of the reason ;
and who, by employing apparently Christian phrase-
Introduction.
XXXV
ology, seemed to join on upon the ineradicable impres-
sions and instructions of his childhood. Seeing^ himself
deceived, he began to fall into scepticism, and was again
speculatively reestablished by the Platonic philosophy.
But he could not find in this human system the two
things he was seeking for, namely, peace with conscience
and Gody and the renovating power requisite to a holy
life. Through various remarkable providences, and
stormy conflicts, both of the outer and the inner life,
he was, at length, in the year 386, at Milan, brought to
a believing reception of the gospel, in its purity and
simplicity, — a crisis for which the preparation had long
been going on in his soul, and which was accelerated by
the startling impression made upon him by the passage
in Romans xiii. 13, 14, to which he had casually opened,
on seeming to hear from on high, in a moment of deep
spiritual despondency, the words : " Tolle, lege." He
received baptism, together with his natural son, Adeo-
datus, a youth of fifteen, on Easter-Sunday, 387, from
bishop Ambrose, to whose spiritual instructions he was
greatly indebted for his new experience. From this
time onward, he drew without ceasing from the fountain
of light and peace which welled up within, and there fol-
lowed that new and ever-expanding life of consecration
to God, of Christian knowledge and holiness, which has
made him a teactifir for all succeeding centuries. Au-
XXXVI IntroductioJi.
gustine gave up the profession of a rhetorician, which
had in various ways ministered to his vanity, and in 388
returned to Africa, where, though feeling himself to be
unfit for the office, he was made presbyter in 391, and,
in 395 (at the pressing request of the aged bishop Val-
erius, and in ignorance of the church statute forbidding
it), co-bishop, and then, probably in 396, sole bishop
of Hippo Regius in Numidia. Here he labored, not
merely for his own particular charge, but also, — by
training up capable teachers and clergymen, and in all
other ways, — for the entire North- African church, which
he led and guided by the power of his intellect, with
manifest blessing. In the last part of his life, he was
compelled to see great sufiering befall his church and
native land, from the Vandals, and finally died, August
28, 430, in Hippo, which had already been closely be-
sieged three months by them, — spending the last ten
days of his life absorbed in meditation and prayer."
THE EDITOR.
AiroovEK, AiTGUST 25, 1859.
THE
CONFESSIONS OF AUGUSTINE,
BISHOP OF HIPPO.
THE FIRST BOOK.
CONFESSION OB" THE GREATNESS AND UNSEARCHABLENESS OF GOD —
OF GOD'S MERCIES IN INFANCY AND BOYHOOD, AND HUMAN WIL-
FULNESS — OP HIS OWN SINS OF IDLENESS, ABUSE OF HIS STUDIES.
AND OF GOD'S GIFTS UP TO HIS FIFTi^ENTH YEAR.
I. 1. Great art Thoii^ 0 Lord, mid greatly to he
praised y' great is Thy poioer, and Thy wisdom in-
finite} And Thee man would praise ; man, but a
particle of Thy creation ; man, that bears about him
his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness that
Thou, 0 God, resistest the proud i"^ yet would man
praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation.
Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise ; for Thou
madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, un-
til it repose in Thee. Grant me. Lord, to know and
understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise
Thee ? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee ?
for who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee ? for he
1 Ps. cxlv. 3; cxlvii. 5. 2 Jas. iv. 6; 1 Pet. v. 5.
The greatness of God.
that kDOweth Thee not, may call ou Thee as other
than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee
that we may know Thee ? but how shall they call on
Him in icho^n they have not believed f or how shall
they believe icithout a preacher?^ and they that seek
the Lord shall praise mm:"- for they that seek shall
find Him} and they that find shall j^raise Him. I
will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee ; and I will
call on Thee, believing in Thee ; for to us hast Thou
been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee,
which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast
inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son,
through the ministry of thy Preacher.
II. 2. And how shall I call upon my God, my
God and Lord, since, when I call for Him, I shall be
calling Him into myself? and what room is there
within me, whither my God can come into me?
whither can God come into me, God who made
heaven and earth ? is there, indeed, O Lord my God,
aught in me that can contain Thee ? do then heaven
and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein Thou*
hast made me, contain Thee? or, because nothing
which exists could exist without Thee, doth therefore
whatever exists contain Thee? Since, then, I too
exist, why do I seek that Thou shouldest enter into
me, who were not, wert Thou not in me ? Why ?
because I am not gone down in hell, and yet Thou
art there also. For if I go down into hell^ Thou art
there^ I could not be then, O my God, could not be
at all, wert Thou not in me ; or, rather, unless I were
1 Rom. X. li. 2 Ps xxii. 26. 3 Matt. vii. 7. 4 Ts. cxxxix. 7.
Difficulties in coitceiving of God.
in Thee, of %vhoni are all things^ hg lohoon are all
t/migs, in loJiom are all things?'^ Even so, Lord,
even so. Whither do I call Thee, since I am in
Thee ? or whence canst Thou enter into me ? for
whither can I go beyond heaven and earth, that
thence my God should come into me, who hath said,
I fill the heaven and the earth?
III. 3. Do the heaven and earth, then, contain
Thee, since Thou fillest them ? or dost Thou fill
them and yet overflow, since they do not contain
Thee? And whither, when the heaven and the
earth are filled, pourest Thou fi^rth the remainder of
Thyself? or hast Thou no need that aught contain
Thee, who containest all things, since what Thou
fiUest Thou fillest by containing it? for the vessels
which Thou fillest uphold Thee not, since, though
they were broken. Thou wert not poured out. And
when Thou art poured out"" on us, Thou art not cast
down, but Thou upliftest us ; Thou art not dissii^ated,
but Thou gatherest us. But Thou who fillest all
things, fillest Thou them with Thy whole self? or,
since all things cannot contain Thee w^holly, do they
contain part of Thee ? and all at once the same part ?
or each its own part, the greater more, the smaller
less ? And is, then, one part of Thee greater, an-
other less? or, art Thou wholly everywhere, while
nothing contains Thee wholly?
IV. 4. What art Thou, then, my God? what, but
the Lord God? For who is Lord hut the Lord? or
who is God save our Godf^ Most highest, most
1 Ttom. xi. 36. 2 Jer. xxiii. 24. 3 Acts ii. IS. 4 Ps. xvii. 31.
4 GocVs attributes to 'men contradictory.
good, most potent, most omnipotent ; most merciful,
yet most just ; most hidden, yet most present ; most
beautiful, yet most strong ; stable, yet incomprehen-
sible ; unchangeable, yet all-changing ; never new,
never old ; all-renewing, and bringing age upon the
2wou€l^ and they know it not ; ever working, ever at
rest ; still gathering, yet not ^cking ; supj^orting, fill-
ing, and overspreading; creating, nourishing, and
maturing ; seeking, yet having all things. Thou
lovest, without passion ; art jealous, without anxiety ;
repentest, yet grievest not ; art angry, yet serene ;
changest Thy works, Thy purpose unchanged; re-
ceivest again what Thou findest, yet didst never lose ;
never in need, yet rejoicing in gains; never covetous,
yet exacting usury .^ Thou receivest over and above,
that Thou mayest owe ; and who hath aught that is
not Thine? Thou payest debts, owing nothing;
remittest debts, losing nothing. And what have I
now said, my God, my life, my holy joy? or what
saith any man when he speaks of Thee ? Yet woe
to him that speaketh not, since mute are even the
most eloquent.
V. 5. Oh! that I might repose on Thee! Oh!
that Thou wouldest enter into my heart, and inebri-
ate it, that I may forget my ills, and embrace Thee,
my sole good! What art Thou to me, O Lord?
Plave mercy on me, that I may tell. Or what am I
to Thee, that Thou shouldest command me to love
Thee, yea, and be angry with me, and threaten to
lay huge miseries upon me, if I love Thee not ? Is
1 Matt. XXV. 27.
GocVs mercies in Infancy.
it then a slight woe to love Thee not ? Oh ! for Thy
mercies' sake, tell me, O Lord my God, what Thou
art unto me. Say unto my soul, I am Thy salva-
tion;^ but say it so that I may hear Thee. Behold,
Lord, my heart is before Thee ; open Thou the ears
thereof, and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. I
will run after the sound of Thy voice, and lay hold
on Thee. Hide not Thou Thy face from me. Let
me die that so I may see it ; lest otherwise I may so
die as not to see it.
6. The house of my soul is too strait for Thee to
come into ; but let it, O Lord, be enlarged, that Thou
mayest enter in. It is ruinous ; repair Thou it. It
has that within which must offend Thine eyes ; I con-
fess and know it. But who shall cleanse it ? or to
whom should I cry out, save Thee ? Cleanse me
from my secret faults, 0 Lord, and forgive those
offences to Tliy servant lohich he has caused in other
folks. I believe'^ i7i Thee, and therefore do I speak!'
O Lord, Thou knowest this. Have I not confessed
against myself my transgressions unto Thee, and
Thou, my God, hast forgiven the iniquity of my
heart f^ I contend not in judgment with Thee,^ who
art truth ; I fear to deceive myself; lest my sin
should make me think that lam not sinful!^ There-
fore I contend not in judgment with Thee ; for if
Thou, Lord, shoiddest mark iniquities, 0 Lord, loho
shall abide it f ^
1 Ps. XXXV. 3. 4 Ps. xxxii. 5. 6 Ps. xxvi. 12. — Vulg.
-' Ps. xix. 12, 13. 5 Job ix. 3. 7 Ps. cxxx. 3.
3 Ps. cxvi. 10.
Wilfidutss of Infancy.
YI. 7. Yet suffer Thou me to speak unto Thy
mercy, me, dust and ashes} Yet suffer rae to speak,
smee I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful man.
Thou too, perhaps, dost laugh at me, yet wilt Thou
turn and have co^njmssion^ upon me. For what
would I say, O Lord my God, but that I know not
whence I came into this dying life (shall I call it ?)
or living death. Then immediately did the comforts
of Thy compassion take me up, as I heard (for I
remember it not) from the parents of my flesh, out
of whose substance Thou didst sometime fashion me.
Then the comforts of woman's milk entertained me.
For neither my mother nor my nurses stored their
own breasts for ine ; but Thou didst bestow the food
of my infancy through them, according to Thine ordi-
nance, whereby Thou distributest Thy riches through
the hidden springs of all things. Thou also gavest
me to desire no more than Thou gavest ; and to my
nurses willingly to give me what Thou gavest them.
For they, with an heaven-taught affection, willingly
gave me what they abounded with from Thee. For
this my good from them, was good for them. Nor,
indeed, from them was it, but through them ; for from
Thee, O God, are all good things, ixwdi from my God
is all 7ny health. This I afterwards learned, when
Tliou, through these Thy benedictions, within me
and without, proclaimedst Thyself unto me. For
then I knew but to suck ; to repose in what pleased,
and cry at what offended my flesh ; nothing more.
8. Afterwards I began to smile ; first in sleep, then
1 Gen. xviii. 27. 2 Jer. xii. 15.
Wilfulness of Infancy.
waking ; for so it was told me of myself, and I be-
lieved it ; for we see the like in other infants, though
of myself I remember it not. Thus, little by little,
I began to find where I was; and to have a wish
to express my wishes to those who cpuld content
them, and I could not ; for the wishes were within
me, and those persons without; nor could they by
any sense of theirs enter within my soul. So I flung
about at random limbs and voice, making the few
signs I could, and such as I could, like, though in
truth very little like, what I wished. And when I
was not presently obeyed (my wishes being hurtful
or unintelligible), then I was indignant with my el-
ders for not submitting to me ; with those owing me
no service, for not serving me ; and avenged myself
on them by tears. Such have I learnt infants to be
from observing them ; and, that I was myself such,
they, all unconscious, have shown me better than
my nurses who knew it.
9. And, lo ! my infancy died long since, and I live.
But Thou, Lord, who for ever livest, and in whom
nothing dies : for before the foundation of the worlds,
and before all that can be called " before," Thou art,
and art God and Lord of all which Thou hast cre-
ated : in Thee abide, fixed for qyq\\ the first causes
of all things unabiding ; and of all things changeable,
the springs abide in Thee unchangeable : and in Thee
live the eternal reasons of all things unreasoning and
temporal. Say, Lord, to me. Thy suppliant ; say, nil-
pitying, to me, Thy pitiable one ; say, did my infancy
succeed another ao-e of mine that died before it?
WealcJiess of Infancy.
Was it tluit which I spent within my mother's womb?
for of that I have heard somewhat, and have myself
seen women with child. And what, again, was I be-
fore that life, O God my joy? Was I anywhere or
anybody ? For this have I none to tell me, neither
father nor mother, nor experience of others, nor
mine own memory. Dost Thou laugh at me for
asking this and bid me praise Thee and acknowl-
edge Thee, for that which I do know ?
10. I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and
earth, and praise Thee for my first rudiments of
being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing;
for Thou hast appointed that man should from others
guess much as to himself; and believe much on the
authority of simple women. Even then I had a
being and a life, and (at my infancy's close) I sought
for signs, whereby to make myself known to others.
Whence could such a being be, save from Thee,
Lord? Shall any be his own artificer? or can there
elsewhere be derived any vein, which may stream
essence and life into us, save from Thee, O Lord, in
whom essence and life are not several but one ? for
supremely to live is the very thing in itself which
Thou art. For Thou art supreme^ and art not
changed^^ neither in Thee doth to-day come to a
close ; yet in Thee doth it come to a close ; because
all transitory things also are in Thee. For they had
no way to pass away, unless Thou upheldest them.
And since Thy years fail not^- Thy years are one to-
day. How many of ours and our fathers' years have
1 Mai. iii. 6. 2 Ts. cii. 27.
Sinfulness in infants without actual sin. 9
flowed away through Thy " to-day," and from it re-
ceived the measure and the mould of a kind of
being ; and still others shall flow away, and so
receive the mould of their kind of being. But Thou
art still the same^ and all things of to-morrow, and
all beyond, and all of yesterday, and all behind it.
Thou wilt do in this "to-day," Thou hast done in
this " to-day." What is it to me, though any com-
prehend not this? Let him also rejoice and say.
What thing is this.^ Let him rejoice even thus;
and be content rather by not discovering to discover
Thee, than by discovering not to discover Thee.
VII. 11. Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin ! So
saith man, and Thou pitiest him ; for Thou madest
him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who remind-
eth me of the sins of my infancy ? for in Thy sight
none is pure from sin.^ not even the infant lohose life
is but a day upon the earth? Who remindeth me ?
doth not each little infant, in whom I see what of
myself I remember not ? What then was my sin ?
was it that I hung upon the breast and cried ? for
should I now so do for food suitable to my age, justly
should I be laughed at and reproved. What I then
did was in itself worthy reproof; but since I could
not understand reproof, custom and reason forbade
me to be reproved. For such things, when we are
grown, we root out and cast away. Now, no man,
though he prunes, wittingly casts away what is good.^
Or was it then good, even for a while, to cry for what,
if given, would hurt ? bitterly to resent, that persons
1 Ps. cii. 27. 2 Exod. xvi. 15. 3 Job xxv. 4. 4 John xv. 2.
10 Jnfimfs malice and God's goodness.
free-born, aad its own elder;^. yea, tlie very authors
of its birth, served it not ? that many besides, wiser
than it, obeyed not the nod of its good pleasure ?
to do its best to strike and hurt, because commands
were not obeyed, which had been obeyed to its
hurt? The weakness then of infant limbs, not
its will, is its innocence. Myself have seen and
known even a baby envious; it could not speak, yet
it tui-ned pale and looked bitterly on its foster-
brother. Who knows not this ? Mothers and nurses
tell you, that they allay these things by I know not
what remedies. Is that too innocence, when the
fountain of milk is flowing in rich abundance, not to
endure one to share it though in extremest need, and
whose very life as yet depends thereon ? We bear
gently with all this, not as being no or slight evils,
but because they will disappear as years increase ; for,
though tolerated now, the very same tempers are
utterly intolerable when found in riper years.
12. Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life
to this my infancy, furnishing thus with senses (as
we see) the frame Thou gavest, compacting its limbs,
beautifying its proportions, and, for its general good
and safety, implanting in it all vital functions. Thou
commandest me to praise Thee in these things, to
confess unto Thee, and sing unto Thy name, Thou
most High} For Thou art God, Almighty and
Good, even hadst Thou done nought but only this,
which none could do but Thou : whose Unity is the
mould of all things ; who out of Tliy own beauty
1 Ps. xcii. 1.
Learning to speak. 11
makest all things fair; and orderest all things by
Thy law. This age then, Lord, whereof I have no
remembrance, which I take on others' word, and
guess from other infants that I have passed, true
though the guess be, I am yet loath to count in this
life of mine which I live in this world. For no less
than that which I spent in my mother's womb, is it
hid from me in the shadows of forgetfulness. But
\^ IiiKis shapen in iniquity^ and in sin did my inotlier
conceive me^ where, I beseech Thee, O my God,
where. Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guiltless ?
lint, lo ! that period I pass by ; for what have I now
to do with that, of which I can recall no vestige ?
VIII. 13. From the state of infancy, I came to
boyhood, or rather it came to me, displacing infancy.
Nor did that depart — (for whither went it ?) — and
yet it was no more. For I was no longer a speech-
less inflmt, but a speaking boy. This I remember ;
and have since observed how I learned to speak. It
was not that my elders taught me words (as, soon
after, other learning) in any set method ; but I, long-
ing by cries and broken accents and various motions
of my limbs to express my thoughts, that so I might
have my will, and yet unable to express all I willed,
or to Avhom I willed, did myself, by the understand-
ing which Thou, my God, gavest me, practise the
sounds in my memory. When they named anything,
and as they spoke turned towards it, I saw and re-
membered that they called what they would point
out, by the name they uttered. And that they
1 Ps. ]i. 7.
12 Childish griefs great to children.
meant this tiling and no other, was plain from the
motion of their body, the natural language, as it
were, of all nations, expressed by the countenance,
glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and tones
of the voice, indicating the affections of the mind,
as it pursues, possesses, rejects, or shuns. And thus
by constantly hearing words, as they occurred in va-
rious sentences, I collected gradually for what they
stood ; and having broken in my mouth to these
signs, I thereby gave utterance to my will. Thus I
exchanged with those about me these current signs
of our wills, and so launched deeper into the stormy
intercourse of human life, yet depending on parental
authority and the beck of elders.
IX. 14. O God, my God, what miseries and mock-
eries did I now experience, when obedience to my
teachers was proposed to me, as proper in a boy, in
order that in this world I might prosper, and excel
in tongue-science, which should serve to the " praise
of men," and to deceitful riches. Next I was put to
school to get learning, in which I (poor wretch)
knew not what use there was ; and yet, if idle in
learning, I was beaten. For this was judged right
by our forefathers; and many, passing the same
course before us, framed for us weary paths, through
which we were fain to pass ; multiplying toil and
grief upon the sons of Adam. But, O Lord, we found
that men called upon Thee, and we learnt from them
to think of Thee (according to our powers) as of
some great One, who, though hidden from our senses,
could hear and help us. So I began, yet a boy, to
Inconsistency toward children. 13
pray to Thee for aid and refuge; and I broke the
fetters of my tongue to call on Thee, praying,
though small, yet with no small earnestness, that I
might not be beaten at school. And when Thou
heardest me not (not thereby giving me over to
folly)^ my elders, yea, my very parents, who yet
wished me no ill, laughed at my stripes, my then
great and grievous misery.
15. Is there, Lord, any of soul so great, and cleav-
ing to Thee with so intense affection (for a sort of
stupidity will in a way do it) ; but is there any one
who, from cleaving devoutly to Thee, is endued with
so great a spirit, that he can think as lightly of the
racks and hooks and other torments (against which,
throughout all lands, men call on Thee with extreme
dread), and make sport at those by whom they are
feared most bitterly, as our parents laughed at the tor-
ments which we suffered in boyhood from our mas-
ters? For we feared not those torments less than the
martyrs theirs, nor prayed we less to escape them.
And yet we sinned, in writing, or reading, or study-
ing less than was exacted of us. For we wanted not,
O Lord, memory or capacity, whereof Thy will gave,
enough for our age ; but our sole delight was play ;
and for this we were punished by those who yet them-
selves were doing the like. But elder folks' idleness
is called " business ;" that of boys, although really the
same, is punished by those elders ; and none commis-
erate either boys or men. For will any of sound dis-
discretion approve of m^^ being beaten as a boy, be-
1 Ps. xxi. 3.— Vulg.
4
14 Inconsistency toioard children.
cause, by playing at ball, I made less progress in
studies which I was to learn, only that, as a man, I
might play more dangerously ? for how else was it
with him who beat me? if worsted in some trifling
discussion with his fellow-tutor, he was more embit-
tered and jealous than I, when beaten at ball by a
play-fellow ?
X. 16. And yet, I sinned herein, O Lord God, the
Greater and Orderer of all things in nature, of sin
the Orderer^ only, O Lord my God, I sinned in
transgressing the commands of my jjarents and those
of my masters. For what they, with whatever motive
would have me learn, I might afterward have put to
good use ; and I disobeyed, not from a better choice,
but from love of play, loving the pride of victory in
my contests, and to have my ears tickled with lying
fables, that they might itch the more ; the same cu-
riosity flashing from my eyes more and more, for the
shows and games of my elders. Yet those who give
these shows are in such esteem, that almost all wish
the same for their children, and yet are very willing
that they should be beaten, if those very games de-
tain them from the studies, whereby they would
have them attain to be the givers of them. Look
with pity, Lord, on these things, and deliver us who
call upon Thee now ; deliver those too who call not
on Thee yet, that they may call on Thee, and Thou
mayest deliver them.
XL 17. As a boy, then, I had already heard of an
eternal life, promised us through the humility of the
1 Ordinator.
Baptism v^ronghj deferred. 15
Lord our God stooping to our j^ride ; and even from
the womb of my mother, who greatly hoped in Thee,
I was sealed with the mark of His cross and salted
with His salt.^ Thou sawest, Lord, how while yet a
boy, being seized on a time with sudden oppression
of the stomach, and like near to death — Thou saw-
est, my God (for Thou wert my keeper), with what
eagerness and what faith I sought, from the pious
care of my mother and Thy Church, the mother
of us all, the baptism of Thy Christ my God and
Lord. Whereupon the mother of my flesh, being
much troubled (since, with a heart pure in Thy
faith, she even more lovingly travailed in birth^ of
my salvation), would in eager haste have provided
for my consecration and cleansing by the health-giv-
ing sacraments, confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for the
remission of sins, unless I had suddenly recovered.
And so, as if I must needs be again polluted should
I live, my cleansing was deferred, because the defile-
ments of sin would, after that washing, bring greater
and more perilous guilt. I then already believed :
and my mother, and the whole household, except my
father : yet did not he prevail over the power of my
mother's piety in me, that as he did not yet believe,
so neither should I. For it was her earnest care,
that Thou my God, rather than he, shouldst be my
father ; and in this Thou didst aid her to prevail over
her husband, whom she, although she was the better
1 Salt was at this time administered at baptism as emblematic, and
■with allusion to Mark 9: 49. But the baptism was delaj^ed. — Ed.
2 Gal. iv. 19.
16 Augustiite compelled to learn.
of the two, obeyed, because this was obeying Thee,
who hast so commanded.
18. I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know,
if so Thou wiliest, for what i3urpose my baptism was
then deferred? Was it for my good that the rein was
laid loose, as it were, upon me, for me to sin? or
was it not laid loose ? If not, why does it still echo
in our ears on all sides, " Let him alone, let him do
as he will, for he is not yet baptized ? " but as to bodily
health, no one says, " Let him be worse wounded,
for he is not yet healed." How much better, then,
had I been at once healed ; and then, by my friends'
diligence and my own, my soul's recovered health
had been kept safe in Thy keejjing who gavest it.
Better truly. But how many and great waves of
temptation seemed to hang over me after my boy-
hood ! These my mother foresaw ; and prefeiTed to
expose to them the clay whence I might afterwards
be moulded, than the very cast, when made.
XII. 19. In boyhood itself, however (so much less
dreaded for me than youth), I loved not study, and
hated to be forced to it. Yet I was forced ; and this
was well done towards me, but I did not well ; for,
unless forced, I hal not learnt. But no one doth
well against his will, even though what he doth, be
well. Yet neither did they well who forced me, but
what was well came to me from Thee, my God. For
they were regardless how I should employ what they
forced me to learn, except to satiate the insatiate de-
sires of a wealthy beggary, and a shameful glory.
But Thou, hy whom the very hairs of our head are
Augustine conqyelled to learn. 17
nimibered^ didst use for my good the error of all
who urged me to learn ; and my own, who would
not learn, Thou didst use for my punishment — a fit
penalty for one, so small a boy and so great a sinner.
So by those who did not well, Thou didst well for
me; and by my own sin Thou didst justly punish
me. For Thou hast commanded, and so it is, that
every inordinate affection should be its own punish-
ment.
XIII. 20. But why did I so much hate the Greek,
which I studied as a boy ? I do not yet fully know.
For the Latin I loved; not what my first masters,
but what the so-called grammarians taught me. For
those first lessons, reading, writing, and arithmetic, I
thought as great a burden and penalty as any Greek.
And yet whence was this too, but from the sin and
vanity of this life, because I loas fleshy and a breath
that passeth aioay and cometh not again f^ For
those first lessons were better certainly, because more
certain; by them I obtained, and still retain, the
power of reading what I find written, and myself
writing what I will; whereas in the others, I was
forced to learn and lay up the wanderings of I know
not what ^neas, while I forgot my own, and to weep
for Dido dead, because she killed herself for love ;
the while, with dry eyes, I endured my miserable self
to depart, and die from Thee, 0 my God and my life.
21. For what more miserable than a miserable be-
ing who pities not himself; but weeps the death of
Dido for love to JEneas, instead of weeping his own
1 Matt. X. 30. 2 Ps. Ixxviii. 39.
18 Poetry a vanity to the unregenerate.
death for want of love to Thee, O God. Thou light
of my heart, Thou bread of my inmost soul, Thou
Power who givest vigor to my mind, who quicken-
est my thoughts, I loved Thee not. I committed
fornication against Thee, and all around me also
fornicating echoed "Well done! well done!" for
the friendship of this world is fornication against
Thee ;^ and " Well done ! well done ! " echoes on till
one is ashamed not to be thus a man. And all this
I wept not, I who wept for Dido slain and " seeking
by the sword a stroke and wound extreme," myself
seeking the while a worse extreme, the extremest
and lowest of Thy creatures, having forsaken Thee,
earth j^assing into the earth. And if forbid to read
all this, I was giieved that I might not read what
grieved me. Madness like this is thought a higher
and a richer learning, than that by which I learned
to read and write.
22. But now, my God, cry Thou aloud in my soul,
and let Thy truth tell me, " Not so, not so. Far bet-
ter w^as that first study." For, lo, I would readily
forget the wanderings of ^neas and all the rest,
rather than how to read and Avrite. But over the
entrance of the Grammar School is a veil drawn.
True. Yet is this not so much an emblem of aught
recondite, as a cloak of error. Let not those, whom
I no longer fear, cry out against me, while I confess
to Thee, my God, whatever my soul will, and ac-
quiesce in the condemnation of my evil ways, that I
may love thy good ways. Let not either buyers or
1 Jam. iv. 4,
I}'kso))ituess of learning. 19
sellers of grammar-learning cry out against me. For
if I question them whether it be true, that .^neas
came on a time to Carthage, as the Poet tells, the
less learned will reply that they know not, the more
learned that he never did. But should I ask with
what letters the name "^neas" is written, every one
who has learnt this will answer me aright, as to the
signs which men have conventionally settled. If,
again, I should ask, which might be forgotten with
least detriment to the concerns of life, reading and
writing or these poetic fictions ? who does not fore-
see, what all must answer who have not wholly for-
gotten themselves? I sinned, then, when as a boy
I preferred those empty to those more profitable
studies, or rather loved the one and hated the other.
" One and one, two ^ " " two and two, four ; " this was
to me a hateful sing-song : " the wooden horse lined
with armed men" and " the burning of Troy," ^ and
" Creusa's shade and sad similitude," were the choice
spectacle of my vanity.
XIY. 23. Why then did I hate the Greek classics,
which have the like tales? For Homer also curi-
ously wove the like fictions, and is most sweetly-vain,
yet was he bitter to my boyish taste. And so I sup-
pose would Virgil be to Grecian children, when
forced to learn him as I was Homer. Difiiculty, in
truth, the difficulty of a foreign tongue, dashed, as it
were, with gall all the sweetness of Grecian fable.
For not one word of it did I understand, and to
make me understand I was urged vehemently with
1 Mm. 2.
20 JEvils in classical study
cruel threats and punishments. Time was also (as
an infant), I knew no Latin ; but this I learned with-
out fear or suffering, by mere observation, amid the
caresses of my nursery and jests of friends, smiling
and sportively encouraging me. This I learned
without any pressure of punishment to urge me on,
for my heart urged me to give birth to its concep-
tions, which I could only do by learning words ; but
it was not of teachers, but of those who talked with
me ; in whose ears also I gave birth to the thoughts
which I conceived. Hereby it appears that free
curiosity has more force in our learning of tongues
than frightful enforcement. Only this enforcement
restrains the rovings of that freedom, through Thy
laws, O my God, which begin with the master's
ferule, and go on to the martyr's torments, temper-
ing for us a wholesome bitter, recalUng us to Thyself
from that deadly pleasure which lures us from Tliee.
XV. 24. Hear, Lord, my prayer; let not my soul
faint under Thy discipline, nor let me faint in con-
fessing unto Thee all Thy mercies, whereby Thou
hast drawn me out of all my most evil ways, that
Thou mightest become a delight to me above all the
allurements which I once pursued ; that I may most
entirely love Thee, and clasp Thy hand with all the
roots of my heart, and Thou mayest yet rescue me
from every temptation, even unto the end. For, lo, O
Lord, my King and my God, for Thy service be what-
ever useful thing my childhood learned; for Thy ser-
vice, that I speak — write — read — reckon. For Thou
didst grant me Thy discipline, while I was learning"
degrading God and man. 21
vanities ; and my sin of delighting in those vanities
Thou hast forgiven. In them, indeed, I learnt many
a useful word, but these may as well be learned in
things not vain; and that is the safe path for the
steps of youth.
XVI. 25. But woe is thee, thou torrent of human
custom? Who shall stand against thee? How long
shalt thou not be dried up ? How long shall the sons
of Eve roll and toss in that huge and hideous sea,
which even they scarcely overpass who are shipped in
the cross ? Did not I read in thee of Jove the thun-
derer and the adulterer? both, doubtless, he could
not be ; but so the feigned thunderer might counte-
nance and pander the real adulterer. And now,
which of our gowned masters would hear one ^ who
from their own school cries out, " These were Homer's
fictions, transferring things human to the gods ; would
he had brought down things divine to us!" Yet
more truly had he said, " These are indeed his fic-
tions ; attributing a divine nature to wicked men,
that crimes might be no longer crimes, and whoso
commits them might seem to imitate not abandoned
men, but the celestial gods."
26. And yet, thou hellish torrent, into thee are
cast the sons of men with promise of rich reward, for
compassing such learning ; and a great solemnity is
made of it, when this is going on in the forum, within
sight of laws appointing a salary beside the scholar's
payments ; and thou lashest thy rocks and roarest,
"Hence words are learnt; hence eloquence; most
1 Cicero in Tusc. QitcBst., I. 26. — Ed.
22 Evils in classical study.
necessary to gain your ends, or maintain opinions."
As if we should have never known such words as
" golden shower," " lap," " beguile," " temples of the
heavens," or others in that passage, unless Terence
had brought a lewd youth upon the stage, setting up
Jujiiter as his example of seduction :
Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn,
Of Jove's descending in a golden shower
To Danae's lap, a woman to beguile.
And then mark how he excites himself to lust as by
celestial authority :
And what God? Great Jove,
Who shakes heaven's highest temples with his thunder:
And I, poor mortal man, not do the same?
I did it, and with all my heart I did it. i
N'ot one whit more easily are the words learnt for
all this vileness ; but by their means the vileness is
committed with less shame. Not that I blame the
words, being, as it were, choice and precious vessels ;
but that wine of error which is drunk to us in them
by intoxicated teachers ; and if we, too, drink not,
we are beaten, and have no sober judge to whom we
may appeal. Yet, O my God (in whose presence I
now without hurt may remember this), all this un-
happy I learnt willingly with great delight, and for
this was pronounced a hopeful boy.
XVII. 27. Bear with me, my God, while I say
somewhat of my wit. Thy gift, and on what dotages
I wasted it. For a task was set me, troublesome
enough to my soul, upon terms of praise or shame,
1 Terentii Eunuchus, 3, 5, 36 sq. — Ed.
Human knoioledge preferred to divine. 23
and fear of stripes, to speak the words of Juno, as
she raged and mourned that she could not
This Trojan prince from Latium turn.
Which words I had heard that Juno never uttered ;
but we were forced to go astray in the footsteps of
these poetic fictions, and to say in prose what the
poet had expressed in verse. And his speaking was
most applauded, in whom the passions of rage and
grief were most preeminent, and clothed in the most
fitting language, maintaining the dignity of the char-
acter. What is it to me, O my true life, my God,
that my declamation was applauded above so many
of my own age and class? Was not all this smoke
and wind ? And was there nothing else whereon to
exercise my wit and tongue ? Thy praises. Lord,
Thy praises might have stayed the yet tender shoot
of my heart by the prop of Thy Scriptures ; so had it
not trailed away amid these empty trifles, a defiled
prey for the spirits of the air. For in more ways
than one do men sacrifice to the rebellious angels.
XVIII. 28. But what marvel that I was thus car-
ried away to vanities, and estranged from Thee, O
my God, when men were set before me as models,
who, if in relating some action of theirs, in itself not
ill, they committed some barbarism or solecism, were
abashed ; but when in rich and adorned and well-or-
dered discourse they related their own disordered life
they gloried ? These things Thou seest. Lord, and
boldest Thy peace; long-suffering, and plenteous in
mercy and truth} Wilt Thou hold Thy peace for-
1 Ps. Ixxxvi. 15.
24 Ilmnan knoidcdge preferred to divine.
ever? Even now Thou drawest out of this hor-
rible gulf the soul that seeketh Thee, that thirsteth
for Thy pleasures, lohose heart saith unto Thee I
ham sought Thy face ; Thy face^ Lord^ loill I seek}
For darkened^ affection is removal from Thee. For
it is not by our feet, or change of place, that we
leave Thee, or return unto Thee. Nor did that
younger son of Thine ^ look out for horses or chari-
ots, or ships, and fly with visible wings, or journey
by the motion of his limbs, that he might in a far
country waste in riotous living all Thou gavest at
his departure. A loving Father Thou wert when
Thou gavest, but more loving unto him wert Thou
when he returned empty. Therefore in unclean,
that is, in darkened affections, is the true distance
from Thy face.
29. Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as
Thou art wont, how carefully the sons of men ob-
serve the covenanted rules of letters and syllables
that those who spake before them used, neglect-
ing the eternal covenant of everlasting salvation re-
ceived from Thee. Inasmuch, that a teacher or
learner of the hereditary laws of pronunciation will
more offend men, by speaking without the aspirate,
of a " uman being," in despite of the laws of gram-
mar, than if he, a " human being," hate a " human
being" in despite of Thee. As if an enemy could
be more hurtful than the hatred with which he is in-
censed against another; or could wound more deej^ly
him whom he persecutes, than he wounds his own
1 Ps. xxvii. 8. 2 Rom. i. 21. 3 Luke xv. 12 sq.
Inconsistent wayvmrdness of his cJiildhood. 25
soul by his enmity. Assuredly no science of letters
can be so innate as the record of conscience, " that
he is doing to another what from another he would
be loath to suffer." How deep are Thy ways, O God,
Thou only great that sittest silent on high ^ and by
an unwearied law dispensing penal blindness to law-
less desires. In quest of the fame of eloquence, a
man standing before a human judge, surrounded by
a human throng, declaiming against his enemy with
fiercest hatred, will take heed most watchfully, lest,
by an en'or of the tongue, he murder the word
" human being ;" but takes no heed, lest, through the
malice of his heart, he murder the real human being.
30. This was the world at whose gate I lay while
yet a boy ; this the stage, when I had feared more
to commit a barbarism, than having committed one,
to envy those who had not. These things I speak
and confess to Thee, my God ; for which I had praise
from them, whom I then thought it all virtue to
please. For I saw not the abyss of vileness, wherein
I icas cast ctioay from thine eyes? Before Thine
eyes what was more foul than I, displeasing even to
such as myself? with innumerable lies deceiving my
tutor, my masters, my parents, out of love of play,
eagerness to see vain shows and restlessness to imi-
tate them ! Thefts also I committed, from my par-
ents' cellar and table, enslaved by greediness, or that
I might have to give to boys, who sold me their
games, which all the while they liked no less than I.
In play, too, I often sought unfair conquests, being
1 Is. xxxiii 5. 2 Ps. xxxi. 22.
26 All admirable in him^ hut his si7i.
conquered myself by vain desire of preeminence.
And what could I so impatiently endure, or, when
I detected it, upbraid so fiercely, as that which I
was doing to others; and yet when I was detected
and upbraided, I chose rather to quarrel than to
yield. And is this the innocence prone to boyhood ?
Not so. Lord, not so ; I cry thy mercy, O my God.
For these very sins, as riper years succeed, these very
sins are transferred from tutors and masters, from
nuts and balls and sparrows, to magistrates and kings,
to gold and manors and slaves, just as severer pun-
ishments displace the ferule. It was the low stature
then of childhood, which Thou our King didst com-
mend as an emblem of lowliness, when Thou saidst.
Of such is the kingdom of heaven}
31. Yet, Lord, to Thee, the Creator and Governor
of the universe, most excellent and most good, thanks
were due to Thee our God, even hadst Thou des-
tined for me boyhood only. For even then I was, I
lived, and felt; and had an implanted providence
over my own individual welfare,^ which is a kind of
miniature of that mysterious Unity of Thine, whence
I am derived. By an inward instinct, I preserved
the integrity of my senses, and in these minute pur-
suits, and in my thoughts on things minute, I learnt
to delight in truth. I hated to be deceived; I had
a vigorous memory, was gifted with speech, was re-
galed by friendship, avoided pain of body, baseness
of mind, ignorance. In so small a creature, what was
not wonderful, admirable ? But all were gifts of my
1 Matt. xix. 14. 2 Meamque iucolumitatem .... cura? habebam.
All admirable in Jmn, hut his sin. 27
God ; it was not I, who gnve them me ; and good
these are, and these together are myself. Good, then,
is He that made me, and He is my good ; and before
Him will I exult for every good which as a boy I
had. But herein I sin, that not in Him, but in His
creatures — myself and others — I sought for pleas-
ures, sublimities, truths, and so fell headlong into
sorrows, confusions, errors. Thanks be to Thee,
my joy and my glory and my confidence, my God,
thanks be to Thee for Thy gifts ; but do Thou pre-
serve them to me. For so wilt Thou preserve me,
and those things shall be enlarged and perfected,
which thou hast given me, and I myself shall be with
Thee, since Thou hast given me my being.
THE SECOND BOOK.
OBJECT OP THESE CONFESSIONS — FURTHER ILLS OF IDLENESS DEVEL-
OPED IN HIS SIXTEENTH YEAR — EVILS OF ILL SOCIETY. WHICH
BETRAYED HIM INTO THEFT.
I. 1. I will now call to mmd 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 I do it ; reviewing my most
wicked ways in the very bitterness of my remem-
brance, that Thou mayest grow sweet unto me:
O Thou sweetness never faihng. Thou bUssful and
assured sweetness, gathering me again out of that
dissipation wherein I was torn piecemeal, being
turned from Thee, the One Good, and lost among a
multiplicity of things. For in my youth I burned
to be satiated, and dared to grow rank and wild with
various and shadowy loves: my beauty consumed
away, and I went rotting in Thine eyes'; pleasing
myself, and desirous to please the eyes of men.
II. 2. And what was it that I delighted in but to
love, and be beloved? but I kept not the measure
of love, of mind to mind, friendship's bright boundary;
but out of the muddy concupiscence of the flesh, and
the bubblings of youth, mists fumed up which be-
clouded and overcast my heart, that I could not dis-
cern the clear brightness of love, from the fog of
Object of these coi(fesslo)is. 29
lustfuliiess. Both did confusedly boil in me, and
hurried my unstayed youth over the precipice of
unholy desires, and sunk me in a gulf of flagitious-
ness. Thy wrath had gathered over me, and I knew
it not. I was grown deaf by the clanking of the
chain of ray mortality, the punishment of the pride
of my soul, and I strayed further from Thee, and
Thou lettest me alone, and I was tossed about, and
wasted, and dissipated, and I boiled over in my for-
nications, and Thou heldest Thy peace, O Thou my
tardy joy ! Thou then heldest Thy peace, and I
wandered further and further from Thee, into more
and more fruitless seed-plots of sorrow, with a proud
dejectedness, and a restless weariness.
3. Oh ! that some one had then attempered my dis-
order, and turned to account the fleeting beauties of
these the extreme points of Thy creation ! had put
a bound to their pleasurableness, so that the tides of
my youth might have cast themselves upon the mar-
riage shore, if they could not be calmed, and kept
within the object of a family, as Thy law prescribes,
O Lord : who this way formest the ofl^spring of this
our death, being able with a gentle hand to blunt the
thorns, which were excluded from Thy j^aradise?
For Thy omnipotency is not far from us, even when
we be far from Thee. Else ought I more watchfully
to have heeded the voice from the clouds : Neverthe-
less such shall have trouble in the fleshy hut I spare
you} And it is good for a man not to touch a loo-
rtian? And he that is umnarried thinketh of the
1 1 Cor. vii. 28. siCor. vii. 1.
30 Jiangs tiegUct of youth ^ and GocVs care of it.
things of the Lord^hoio he may please the Lord ; hut
he that is married careth for the things of this icorld,
hoio he may please his icife}
4. To these words had I listened more attentively,
I had more happily awaited Thy embraces ; but I,
poor wretch, foamed like a troubled sea, following
the rushing of my own tide, forsaking Thee, and
transgressing all Thy limitations ; yet I escaped not
Thy scourges. For what mortal can? For Thou
wert ever with me mercifully cruel, besprinkling
with most bitter disgust all my unlawful pleasures :
that I might seek pleasures without alloy. But
where to find such I could not discover, save in
Thee, O Lord, who teachest by sorroio, and woundest
us, to heal ; and killest us, lest we die from Thee.^
Where was I, and how far went I exiled from the
delicacies of Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the
age of my flesh, when the madness of lust took the
rule over me, and I resigned myself wholly to it?
My friends meanwhile took no care by marriage to
save my fall ; their only care was that I should learn
to speak excellently, and be a persuasive orator.
III. 5. For that year were my studies intermitted :
whilst, after my return from Madaura (a neighboring
city, whither I had journeyed to learn grammar and
rhetoric), the expenses for a further journey to Car-
thage were being provided for me ; and that, rather
by the resolution than the means of my father, who
was but a poor freeman of Tageste. To whom tell
I this? not to Thee, my God ; but before Thee to
1 1 Cor. vii. 32, 33. 2 Deut xxxii. 39.
Effects of idleness — his mothef s fears for him. 31
mine own kind, even to such small portion of man-
kind as may light uj^on these writings of mine. And
to what purpose ? that whosoever reads this, may-
think out of what depths v^e are to cry wito Thee}
For what is nearer to Thine ears than a confessing:
heart, and a life of faith ? Who did not extol my
father, that beyond the ability of his means, he would
furnish his son with all necessaries for a far journey
for his studies' sake? Many far abler citizens did
no such thing for their children. But yet this same
father had no concern how I grew towards Thee, or
how chaste I were ; nor, were I but copious in speech,
how barren in Thy culture, O God, was the field of
my heart.
6. But while in that my sixteenth year I lived with
my parents, leaving school for a while (a season
of idleness being interposed, through the narrowness
of my parents' fortunes), the briers of unclean desire
grew rank over my head, and there was no hand to
root them out. When my father saw me at the
baths, now growing toward manhood, and endued
with a restless youthfulness, as if anticipating his
descendants, he gladly told it to my mother; rejoic-
ing in that tumult of the senses wherein the
world forgetteth Thee, its Creator, and becometh
enamoured of Thy creature, instead of Thyself,
through the fumes of the invisible wine of its self-
will, turning aside and bowing down to the very
basest things. But in my mother's breast Thou
hadst already Thy temple, and the foundation of
1 Ps. cxxx. 1.
32 God spake to him through his mother.
Thy holy habitation, whereas my father was as yet
but a catechumen, and that but recently. She then
was startled with an holy fear and trembling ; and
though I was not as yet baptized, feared for me those
crooked ways, in which they walk, who turn their
back to Thee^ and not their face}
7 Woe is me ! and dare I say that Thou heldest
Thy peace, O my God, while I wandered further
from Thee? Didst Thou then indeed hold Thy
peace to me? And whose but thine were those
words which by my mother, Thy faithful one. Thou
sangest in my ears? But it entered not into my
heart to do as she desired. For she wished, and I
remember in private mth great anxiety warned me,
"not to commit fornication; but especially never to
defile another man's wife." These seemed to me old
wives' counsels, which I should blush to obey. But
they were Thine, and I knew it not ; and I thought
Thou wert silent, and that it was she who spake ; by
whom Thou wert not silent unto me: and in her
person wast Thou despised by me, her son, this son of
Thy handmaid^ Thy servant? But I knew it not
then; and I ran headlong with such blindness, that
amongst my equals I was ashamed to be less vicious,
when I heard them boast of their wickedness ; yea,
and the more boast, the more they were degraded ;
and I took pleasure, not only in the pleasure of the
deed, but in the praise. What is worthy of blame
but Vice ? But I made myself worse than I was,
that I might not be dispraised ; and when in any-
1 Jer. ii. 27. 2 Ps. cxvi. 16.
God spake to him through his mother. 33
thing I had not sinned like the abandoned ones, I
would say that I had done what I had not done,
tliat I might not seem contemj^tible in proportion as
I was innocent : or of less account, the more chaste.
8. Behold with what companions I walked the
streets of Babylon, and wallowed in the mire thereof,
as if in a bed of spices and precious ointments. And
that I might be knit the more firmly to the very root
of sin, the invisible enemy trod me down, and se-
duced me, for I was then made fit matter for him
to work upon. Neither did the mother of my flesh
(who had now fled out of the centre of BaJyylon^
yet went more slowly in the skirts thereof), al-
though she advised me to chastity, so heed what
she had heard of me from her husband, as to re-
strain within the bounds of conjugal affection (if it
could not be pared away to the quick), what she felt
to be pestilent at present, and for the future danger-
ous. She heeded not this, lest a wife should prove a
clog and hindrance to my hopes. Not those hopes
of the world to come, which my mother reposed in
Thee; but the hope of learning, which both my
parents were too desirous I should attain ; my father,
because he had next to no thought of Thee, and of
me but vain conceits ; my mother, because she ac-
counted that those usual courses of learning would
not only be no hindrance, but even some further-
ance towards attaining Thee. Thus I conjecture, re-
calling, as well as I may, the disposition of my pa-
rents. The reins, meantime, were slackened to me,
1 Jer. li. 6.
34 Theft for the pleasure of thieving.
beyond all reason, to spend my time in si^ort, yea,
giving too large a scope to my affections. And in
all was a mist, intercepting from me, O my God, the
brightness of Thy truth; and mine iniquity hurst
out as from very fatness}
ly. 9. Theft is punished by Thy Law, 0 Lord,
and the law written in the hearts of men, which
iniquity itself cannot blot out. For what thief will
endure a thief? not even a rich thief will endure one
who steals through want. Yet I lusted to thieve, and
did it, compelled by no hunger, nor poverty, but
through a disgust at well-doing, and a pampered-
ness of iniquity. For I stole that of which I had
enough and much better. Nor cared I to enjoy what I
stole, but joyed in the theft and sin itself. A pear tree
there was near our vineyard, laden with fruit, tempt-
ing neither for color nor taste. To shake and rob
this, some lewd young fellows of us went, late one
night (having, according to our pestilent custom, pro-
longed our sports in the streets till then), and took
huge loads, not for our eating, but to fling to the
very hogs, having only tasted them. And this we
did only because we would do that which was not
lawful.^ Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart,
which Thou hadst pity upon in the bottom of the
bottomless pit. Now, behold let my heart tell Thee
what it sought when I would be gratuitously evil,
having no temptation to ill, but the ill itself It was
foul, and I loved it ; I loved to perish, I loved my
1 Ps Ixxiii. 7.
2 Baxter in his autobiography makes a confession almost identical
with this one. See Book I. Ft. i. — Ed.
All sin j-^roposes some end. 35
own fault ; not that for which I was faulty, but my
fault itself Foul soul, falling from Thy firmament
to utter destruction ; not seeking aught through the
shame, but the shame itself!
Y. 10. For there is an attractiveness in beautiful
bodies, in gold and silver, and all things; and in
bodily touch sympathy has much influence, and
each other sense hath his proper object answerably
tempered. Worldly honor hath also its grace, and
the power of overcoming, and of mastery; whence
springs also the thirst of revenge. But yet, to obtain
all these, we may not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor
decline from Thy law. The life also whereby w^e
live hath its own enchantment, through a certain
proportion of its own, and a correspondence w^ith all
things beautiful here below. Human friendship also
is endeared with a sweet tie, by reason of the unity
formed of many souls. Upon occasion of all these,
and the like, is sin committed, while through an im-
moderate inclination towards these goods of the
lowest order, the better and higher are forsaken, —
Thyself, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law.
For these lower things have their delights, but they
are not like my God, who made all things ; for ^?^
IRjn doth the righteous delight, and lie is the joy
of the upright in heart}
11. When, therefore, inquiry is made why any
.wickedness was done, it is usually conceived to have
proceeded either from the desire of obtaining some
of those things which we called low^er goods, or
1 Ps. Ixiv. 10.
36 All sm 2)ro2)oses some encl^ and
from a fear of losing them. For they are beautiful
and comely; although, compared with higher and
beatific goods, they be abject and low. A man hath
murdered another; why? he loved his wife or his
estate ; or would rob for his own livelihood ; or
feared to lose something by him ; or was on fire to
be revenged. Would any commit murder only for
the delight he takes in murdering ? Who would be-
lieve it ? For as for that furious and savage man, of
whom it is said that he was gratuitously evil and
cruel, yet is the cause assigned ; " lest," saith he,
"through idleness hand or heart should grow inac-
tive." ^ And to what end ? that, through that prac-
tice of guilt, he might, when once he had taken the
city, attain to honor, empire, riches, and be freed
from fear of the laws, which he feared through the
conscience of his own villany, and from the possi-
bility of want. So not even Catiline himself loved
his own villanies, but something else, to obtain which
he would be wicked.
YI. 12. What then did wretched I so love in
thee, thou theft of mine, thou deed of darkness, in
that sixteenth year of my age ? Lovely thou wert
not, because thou wert theft. But art thou any
thing, that thus I speak to thee? Fair were the
pears we stole, because they were Thy creation.
Thou fairest of all. Creator of all. Thou good God ;
God, the sovereign good and my true good. Fair
were those i;)ears, but not them did my wretched
soul desire; for I had store of better, and I gath-
1 Sallustii Catilina, 16- — Ed.
imitates perviertedhj some excellence of God. 37
ered those only that I might steal. For, when gath-
ered, I flung them away, my only feast therein being
my own sin, which I was pleased to enjoy. For if
aught of those pears came within my mouth, what
sweetened it was the sin. And now, O Lord my
God, I enquire what in that theft delighted me ; and
behold it hath no loveliness ; I mean not such loveli-
ness as in justice and wisdom ; nor such as is in the
mind and memory, and senses, and animal life of
man ; nor yet as the stars are glorious and beautiful
in their orbs; or the earth, or sea, full of embryo
life, replacing by its birth that which decayeth ; nay
nor even that false and shadowy beauty, which be-
longeth to deceiving vices.
13. For so doth pride imitate exaltedness ; whereas
Thou alone art God exalted over all. Ambition,
what seeks it, but honors and glory? whereas Thou
alone art to be honored above all, and glorious for
evermore. The cruelty of the great would fain be
feared ; but who is to be feared but God alone, out
of whose power what can be wrested or withdrawn ?
when, or where, or whither, or by whom ? The ten-
derness of the wanton would fain be counted love :
yet is nothing more tender than Thy charity ; nor is
aught loved more healthfully than that Thy truth,
bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity makes
semblance of a desire of knowledge ; whereas Thou
supremely knowest all. Yea, ignorance and foolish-
ness itself is cloaked under the name of simplicity
and harmlessness ; yet nothing is found more single
than Thee: and w^hat less injurious, since they are
38 3Ien seek the creature instead of the Creator.
his own works, which injure the sinner? Yes, sloth
would fain be at rest; but what stable rest be-
sides the Lord ? Luxury affects to be called plenty
and abundance ; but Thou art the fulness and nev-
er-failing plenteousness of incorruptible pleasures.
Prodigality presents a show of liberality : but Thou
art the most overflowing Giver of all good. Cov-
etousness would possess many things ; and Thou
possessest all things. Envy wrangles for precedence ;
but what can contend with Thee? Ansrer seeks
revenge ; and who revenges justly but Thou ? Fear
startles at things unwonted or sudden, which endan-
ger things beloved, and takes forethought for their
safety ; but to Thee what is unwonted or sudden, or
Avho can separate from Thee what Thou lovest ?^ Or
where but with Thee is safety ? Grief pines away
for the lost delight of its desires ; and wishes that it
might not be deprived of any thing, more than Thou
canst be.
14. Thus doth the soul commit fornication, when
she turns from Thee, seeking otherwhere than in
Thee, what she findeth not pure and untainted till
she returns to Thee. Thus perversely all imitate
Thee, who remove far from Thee, and lift themselves
up against Thee. But even by thus imitating Thee,
they imply Thee to be the Creator of all nature;
and that there is no place whither they can retire
from Thee. What then did I love in that theft?
and wherein did I even corruptly and perversely
imitate my Lord ? Did I wish, by a kind of sleight,
1 Rom. viii. 9.
Through God alo)ie are 'men kept from sin. 39
to do contrary to Thy law, because I could not by
strong hand ; that whilst I was no better than a
bond slave, I might counterfeit a false liberty, by
doing without punishment what I could not do with-
out sin, in a darkened likeness of Thy Omnipotency ?
yil. 15. Behold this slave, fleeing from his Lord,
and laying hold of a shadow.^ O rottenness! O
monstrousness of life, and depth of death ! did I like
what I ought not, only because I ought not ? What
shall I render unto the Lord^ that, whilst my mem-
ory recalls these things, my soul is not affrighted
at them? 3Iake me to love Thee^ 0 Lord^ and
thank Thee, and confess unto Thy name; because
Thou hast forgiven me these great and heinous
deeds of mine, and hast melted away my sins as
they were ice. To Thy grace I ascribe also what-
soever sins I have not committed ; for what might I
not have done, who even loved a sin for its own
sake ? Yea, I confess all to have been forgiven me ;
both what evils I committed by my own wilfulness,
and what by Thy helj) I committed not. What man
is he, who, weighing his own infirmity, dares to as-
cribe his chastity and innocency to his own strength ;
that so he should love Thee the less, as if he less
needed Thy mercy, whereby Thou remittest sins to
those that turn to Thee ? For whosoever, called by
Thee, followed Thy voice, and avoided those things
which he finds me recalling and confessing of my-
self, let him not laugh at me, who, being sick,
was cured by that Physician, through whose aid it
1 Jonah i. 4. 2 Ps. cxvi. 12.
40 2Ian )iot strong enough
was that lie is not sick at all, or rather is less sick ;
but let him love Thee as much as I do, yea, and
more ; since he sees me to have been recovered from
such deep consumption of sin, by Him who pre-
served him from the like consumption of sin.
YIII. 16. And if^hat fruit had I even from those
things^ of the remembrance tchereof I am noio
ashamed? ^ Especially from that theft which I loved
for the theft's sake; it was nothing, and therefore
the more miserable was I, who loved it. Alone, I
had not done it : such as I was then, I remember,
alone I had never done it. I loved it in the com-
pany of the accomplices, with whom I did it. Did
I then love something else besides the theft? Nay I
did love nothing else ; for that circumstance of the
company was also nothing. Who can teach me the
truth, save He that enlighteneth my heart, and dis-
covereth its dark corners? What is this which I
take in hand to inquire, and discuss, and consider ?
For had I loved the pears I stole, and wished to
enjoy them, I might have done it alone, had the
bare commission of the theft sufficed to secure my
pleasure ; nor needed I have inflamed the itching of
my desires, by the excitement of accomplices. But
since my pleasure was not in those pears, it was in
the offence itself, to which the comj^any of fellow-
sinners did concur.
IX. 17. What, then, was this feeling? Of a truth
it was foul : and woe was me, who had it ; but yet
what was it? W/io can understand his errors f^ It
1 Rom. vi. 21. 2 rs. xix. 12.
to bear ill society. 41
was the sport, which, as it were, tickled our hearts,
in that we deceived those who little thought what
we were doing, and would have disliked it. Why
then was my delight of such sort, that I did it not
alone ? Because none doth ordinarily laugh alone ?
ordinarily no one; yet laughter sometimes masters
men alone and singly when no one whatever is with
them, if anything very ludicrous presents itself to
their senses or mind. But I had not done this
alone ; alone, I had never, never done it. Behold,
my God, before Thee, the vivid remembrance of my
soul; alone, I had never committed that theft; for
what I stole pleased me not. O friendship, thou art
too unfriendly ! thou incomprehensible seducer of
the soul ; out of mirth and wantonness grow desire
to do others hurt, without lust of onr own gain or
revenge : but when it is said, " Let 's go, let 's do it,"
we are ashamed not to be shameless.
X. 18. Who can disentangle that twisted and in-
tricate knottiness of my soul ? Foul is it : I hate to
think on it, to look on it. But Thee I long for, O
Righteousness and Innocency, beautiful and comely
to all pure eyes, and of a satisfaction unsating.
With Thee is rest entire, and life imperturbable. He
that enters into Thee, enters into the joy of his
Lord ;^ and shall not fear, and shall do excellently in
the All-Excellent. I sank away from Thee, and I
wandered, O ray God, too much astray from Thee
my stay, in these days of my youth, and I became to
myself a barren land.
1 Matt. XXV. 21.
THE THIRD BOOK.
HIS RESIDENCE AT CARTHAGE PROM HIS SEVENTEENTH TO HIS NINE-
TEENTH YEAR — SOURCE OF HIS DISORDERS — LOVE OF SHOWS —
ADVANCE IN STUDIES, AND LOVE OF WISDOM — DISTASTE FOR SCRIP-
TURE—LED ASTRA r TO THE MANICHiBANS — REPUTATION OF SOME
OP THEIR TENETS — GRIEF OF HIS MOTHER MONICA AT HIS HERESY,
AND PRAYERS FOR HIS CONVERSION — HER VISION FROM GOD, AND
ANSWER THROUGH A BISHOP.
I. 1. To Carthage I came, where there sang all
around me in my ears a cauldron of unholy loves.
I loved not truly, as yet, yet I loved to love, and out
of a deep-seated craving, I hated myself for not crav-
ing. I sought what I might love, in love with loving,
and safety I hated, and a way without snares. For
within me was a famine of that inward food. Thyself,
my God ; yet, through that famine I was not hun-
gered ; but was without all longing for incorruptible
sustenance, not because filled therewith, but the more
empty, the more I loathed it. For this cause my
soul was sickly and full of sores, it miserably cast
itself forth, desiring to be scraped by the touch of
objects of sense. Yet if these had not a soul, they
would not be objects of love. To love then, and to
be beloved, was sweet to me ; but more when I ob-
tained to enjoy the person I loved. I defiled, there-
fore, the clear spring of friendship with the filth of
concupiscence, and I beclouded its brightness with the
True and false si/rnpathy. 43
hell of lustfulness; and thus foul and unseemly,! would
fain, through exceeding vanity, be fine and courtly.
I fell headlong then into the love wherein I longed
to be ensnared. My God, my Mercy, with how much
gall didst Thou out of Thy great goodness besprinkle
for me that sweetness? For I was both beloved,
and secretly arrived at the bond of enjoying; and
was with joy fettered with sorrow-bringing bonds,
that I might be scourged with the iron burning-rods
of jealousy, and suspicions, and fears, and angers, and
quarrels.
II. 2. Stage plays also carried me away, full of
images of my miseries, and of fuel to my fire. Why
is it, that man desires to be made sad, beholding
doleful and tragical things, which yet himself would
by no means suffer ? yet he desires as a spectator to
feel sorrow at them, and this very sorrow is his plea-
sure. What is this but a miserable madness ? for a
man is the more affected with these actions, the less
free he is from such afiections. When a man suf-
fers in his own person, it is styled misery; when
he compassionates others, then it is mercy. But
what sort of compassion is this for feigned and
scenical passions ? for the auditor is not called on to
relieve, but only to grieve : and he applauds the ac-
tor of these fictions the more, the more he grieves.
And if the calamities of those persons (whether of
old times, or mere fiction) be so acted that the spec-
tator is not moved to tears, he goes away disgusted
and criticising; but if he be moved to passion, he
stays intent, and weeps for joy.
44 True and false sijmpatlvj.
3. Are griefs then too loved? Yerily all desire
joy. Or since no man likes to be miserable, is he
yet pleased to be merciful ? which because it cannot
be without sorrow, for this reason alone is sorrow
loved? This also springs fi'om the vein of friend-
ship. But whither goes that vein ? whither flows it ?
wherefore runs it into that torrent of pitch bubbling
forth those monstrous tides of foul lustfulness, into
which it is wilfully changed and transformed, being
of its own will precipitated and corrupted from its
heavenly clearness ? Shall compassion then be put
away? by no means. Let griefs then sometimes be
loved. But beware of uncleanness, O my soul, un-
der the guardianship of my God, the God of our
fathers^ who is to be praised and exalted above all
for ever^ beware of uncleanness. For I do not take
myself to be without pity ; but then in the theatres I
rejoiced with lovers, wlien they wickedly enjoyed one
another, although this was imaginary only in the
play. And when they lost one another, as if very
compassionate, I sorrowed with them, yet had my
delight in both. But now I much more pity him
that rejoiceth in his wickedness, than him who is
thought to sufier hardship, by missing some perni-
cious pleasure, and the loss of some miserable felicity.
This certainly is the truer mercy, but in it, grief de-
lights not. For though he that grieves for the mis-
erable, be commended for his office of charity ; yet
had he, who is genuinely compassionate, rather there
were nothing to grieve for. For if good will be ill-
1 Song of the Three Children, ver. 3.
Injury of false sy^iipathy. 4o
willed (u'hicli can never be), then may he, who truly
and sincerely commiserates, wish there might be
some miserable, that he might commiserate. Some
sorrow may then be allowed, none loved. For thus
dost Thou, O Lord God, who lovest souls far more
purely than we, and hast a more incorruptible pity,
yet art wounded with no sorrowfulness. And icho is
sufficient for these things f^
4. But I, miserable, then loved to grieve, and
sought out what to grieve at ; and that acting best
pleased me, and attracted me the most vehemently,
which drew tears from me. What marvel was it that
a forlorn sheep, straying from Thy flock, and impa-
tient of Thy keeping, I became infected with a foul
disease? And hence the love of griefs; not such as
sliould sink deep into me ; for I loved not to suffer
what I loved to look on ; but such as upon hearing
their fictions should lightly scratch the surface ; from
which, as from envenomed nails, followed inflamed
swelling, impostumes, and a j^utrified sore. My life
being such, was it life, O my God ?
III. 5. And Thy faithful mercy hovered over me
from afar. Upon how grievous iniquities consumed I
myself, following a sacrilegious curiosity, that having
forsaken Thee, it might bring me to the treacherous
abyss, and the beguiling service of devils, to whom I
offered my evil actions as a sacrifice. And in all these
things Thou didst scourge me ! I dared even, while
Thy solemnities were celebrated within the walls
of Thy church, to lust, and to compass a business
1 2 Cor. ii. 16.
6
46 Augustints literary ambition.
havino" death for its fruits, for which Thou scourgedst
me with grievous punishments, though nothing to my
eternal undoing, O Thou my exceeding mercy, my
God, my refuge from those terrible destroyers, among
whom I wandered with a stiff neck, withdrawing
further from Thee, loving mine own ways, and not
Thine ; loving a vagrant liberty.
6. Those studies, also, which were accounted com-
mendable, had a view to excelling in the courts of
litigation; the more be-praised, the craftier. Such
is men's blindness, glorying even in their blindness !
And now I was chief in the rhetoric school, whereat
I rejoiced proudly, and I swelled with arrogancy;
although (Lord, Thou knowest) far quieter and alto-
gether removed from the subvertings of those "sub-
verters"^ (for this ill-omened and devilish name was
the very badge of gallantry) among whom I lived,
with a shameless shame that I was not even as they.
With them I lived, and was sometimes delighted
with their friendship, whose doings I ever did abhor;
^. e., their " subvertings," ^ wherewith they wantonly
persecuted the modesty of strangers, whom they dis-
turbed by a gratuitous jeering, feeding their mali-
cious mirth. Nothing can be liker the very actions
of devils than these. What then could they be more
truly called than " subverters " ? themselves sub-
verted and perverted first, the deceiving spirits se-
1 Eversores; who are described in Augustine's Liher De vera religions
(75), as " homines qui gaudent miseriis alienis, et risus sibi ac ludicra
spectacula exhibent, vel exhiberi voluut eversionibus et erroribus ali-
orum ■" — Ed.
2 Eversiones.
Philosophy commenced his conversion. 47
cretly deriding and seducing them, by that wherein
they themselves dehghted to jeer at and deceive
others.
IV. 7. Among such as these, in that unsettled age
of mine, learned I books of eloquence, wherein I
desired to be eminent, out of a damnable and vain-
glorious end, a joy in human vanity. In the ordinary
course of study, I fell upon a certain book of Cicero,
whose sj^eech almost all admire; not so his heart.
This book of his contains an exhortation to philoso-
phy, and is called '-'' Horteyisiusr But this book
altered my feelings, and turned my prayers to Thy-
sel:^ O Lord ; and made me have other purposes and
desires. Every vain hope at once became worthless
to me ; and I longed with an incredibly burning de-
sire for an immortality of wisdom, and began now
to arise, that I might return to Thee. For not to
sharpen my tongue (which thing I seemed to be
purchasing with my mother's allowances, in that my
nineteenth year, my father being dead two years be-
fore), not to sharpen my tongue did I employ that
book ; nor did it infuse into me its style, but its
matter.
8. How did I burn then, my God, how did I burn
to remount from earthly things to Thee ; nor knew I
what Thou wouldest do with me. For with Thee is
wisdom. But the love of wisdom is in Greek called
"philosophy," with which that book inflamed me.
Some there be that seduce through philosophy, un-
der a great, and smooth, and honorable name color-
ing and disguising their own errors : and almost all
48 Augustme^s love of the name of CJwist^
who iu that and former ages were such, are in that
book censured and set forth. There also is made plain
that wholesome advice of Thy Spirit, by Thy good
and devout servant : BevKtre lest any man spoil you
through philosophy and vain deceit^ after the tradi-
tio7i of men^ after the rudiments of the tcorld, and
not after Christ. For in Sim dicelleth all the ful-
ness of the Godhead hodily} And since at that time
(Thou, O Light of my heart, knowest) Apostolic
Scripture was not known to me, I was delighted
with that exhortation, so far only, that I was thereby
strongly roused, and kindled, and inflamed to love,
and seek and obtain, and hold, and embrace, not this
or that sect, but wisdom itself, whatever it were ;
and this alone checked me, thus enkindled, that the
name of Christ was not in it. For this name, accord-
ing to Thy mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour
Thy Son, had my tender heart, even with my mo-
ther's milk, devoutly drunk in, and deeply treasured ;
and whatsoever was without that name, though never
so learned, polished, or true, took not entire hold of
me.
V. 9. I resolved then to bend my mind to the
holy Scriptures, that I might see what they were.
But behold, I see a thing not understood by the
proud, nor laid open to children, lowly in access, in
its recesses lofty, and veiled with mysteries ; and I
was not such as could enter into it, or stoop my neck
to follow its steps. For not as I now speak, did I
feel when I turned to those Scriptures; but they
1 Col. ii. 8, 9.
hut distaste for Scripture. 49
seemed to me unworthy to be compared to the state-
liness of Tully: for my swelling pride shrunk from
their lowliness, nor could my sharp wit pierce the
interior thereof. Yet were they such as would grow
up in a little one. But I disdained to be a little one ;
and, swollen with pride, took myself to be a great
one.
VI. 10. Therefore I fell among men proudly do-
ting, exceeding carnal and prating, in whose mouths
were the snares of the devil, limed with the mixture
of the syllables of Thy name, and of our Lord Jesus
Christ, and of the Holy Ghost, the Paraclete, our
Comforter. These names were frequent in their
mouth, so fir forth as the sound and the noise of the
tongue went, but their heart was void of truth. Yet
they cried out " Truth, Truth," and spake much
thereof to me, though it loas 7iot in t/iem:^ and they
spake falsehood, not of Thee only (who truly art
Truth), but even of those elements of this world. Thy
creatures. And I indeed ought to have passed by
even philosophers who spake truth concerning them,
for love of Thee, my Father, supremely good, Beauty
of all things beautiful. O Truth, Truth, how in-
wardly did even then the marrow of my soul jjant after
Thee, when they often and diversely, and in many
and huge books, echoed of Thee to me, though it
was but an echo. And these were the dishes where-
in to me, hungering after Thee, they, instead of Thee,
served up the Sun and Moon, beautiful works of
Thine, but yet Thy works, not Thyself, no, nor Thy
1 John ii. 4
50 His love of truth while he fell into error.
first works. For Thy spiritual works are before these
corporeal works, celestial though they be, and shin-
ing. But now I hungered and thirsted not even after
those first Avorks of Thine, but after Thee Thyself,
the Truth in lohom is no variableness^ 7ieither shadoio
of turning:^ yet still they set before me in those
dishes glittering fantasies, than which better were it
to love this very sun (which is real to our sight at
least), than those fantasies which by our eyes deceive
our mind. Yet because I thought them to be Thee,
I fed thereon ; not eagerly, for Thou didst not in
them taste to me as Thou art ; for Thou wast not in
these fictions, nor was I nourished by them, but ex-
hausted rather. Food in sleep shows very like our
food awake ; yet are not those asleep nourished by
it, because they are asleep. But those fictions were
not in any way like to Thee, as Thou hast since'
revealed Thyself to me; for those were corporeal
fantasies, false bodies, than which these true bodies,
celestial or terrestrial, which with our fleshly sight
we behold, are far more certain : these things the
beasts and birds discern 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 conjecture other vaster and infinite bodies
which have vso being. Such empty husks was I then
fed on : and was not fed. But Thou, my soul's Love,
towards whom I languish, that I may gather strength,
art neither those bodies which we see, thoufrh in
heaven ; nor those which we do not see there ; for
1 James i. 17.
Erroneous belief in God nourishes not. 51
Thou hast created them, nor dost Thou account them
among the chiefest of Thy works. How far then art
Thou from those fantasies of mine, fantasies of bodies
which are not at all ; than which the images of those
bodies, which are, are far more certain ; and more
certain still the bodies themselves, which yet Thou
art not ; no, nor yet the soul, which is the life of the
bodies. Better and more certain is the life of the
bodies, than the bodies; 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 wert Thou then to me, and how
far from me ? Far, verily, was I straying from Thee,
barred from the very husks of the swine, whom with
husks I fed. For how much better are the flxbles of
poets and grammarians, than these snares? For
verses, and poems, and " Medea flying," are more
profitable truly, than these men's five elements,^ vari-
ously disguised, answering to five dens of darkness,
which have no being, yet slay the believer. For
verses and poems I can turn to true food, and though
I did sing " Medea flying," yet I maintained it not as
true ; though I heard it sung, I believed it not : but
those things I did believe. Woe, woe, by what steps
was I brought down to the depths of hell P toiling and
turmoiling through want of Truth! For I sought
after Thee, my God (to Thee I confess it, who hadst
mercy on me, before I confessed), not according to
the understanding of the mind, wherein Thou will-
edst that I should excel the beasts, but according to
1 The allusion is to the Manichsean " elements." — Ed. 2 Prov. ix. 18.
o2 JErrvueous belief i)i God nourishes 7iot.
the sense of the flesh. But Thou wert more inward
to me, than my most inward part ; and higher than
my highest. I Hghted upon that bold woman, simple
and knoioeth nothing^ shadowed out in Solomon, sit-
ting at the door^ and saying^ Eat ye bread of secre-
cies willingly^ and drink ye stolen vmters which are
sweet :^ she seduced me, because she found my soul
dwelling abroad in the eye of my flesh, and ruminat-
ing on such food as through it I had devoured.
VII. 12. For other than this, that which really is,
I knew not ; and was, as it were through sharpness
of wit, persuaded to assent to foolish deceivers, when
they asked me, " Whence is evil ? " " Is God bounded
by a bodily shape, and has hairs and nails ? " " Are
they to be esteemed righteous, who had many
wives at once, and did kill men, and sacrificed living
creatures?"^ At which I, in my ignorance, was
much troubled, and departing from the truth, seemed
to myself to be making towards it ; because as yet I
knew not that evil was nothing but a privation of
good, until at last a thing ceases altogether to be ;
which how should I see, the sight of whose eyes
reached only to bodies, and of my mind to a phan-
tasm ? And I knew not God to be a Sjnrit,^ not one
who hath parts extended in length and breadth, or
whose being was bulk ; for every bulk is Iqss in a
part, than in the whole : and if it be infinite, it must
be less in such part as is defined by a certain space,
than in its infinitude ; and so is not wholly every-
where, as Spirit, as God. And what that is in us, by
1 Prov. ix. 13—17. 2 1 Kings xviii. 40. 3 John iv. 24-
God sought vyronghj is not found.
which we are like to God, and in Scripture are
rightly said to be after the image of God^ I was
altoGjether isfnorant.
13. Nor knew I that true inward righteousness,
which judge th not according to custom, but out of
the most rightful la^v of God Almighty, whereby the
ways of places and times were disposed, according
to those times and places ; itself meantime being 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, were righteous, and all those commended by
the mouth of God ; but were judged unrighteous by
silly TUQn^ judging out of maii^s judgment^ and meas-
uring by their own petty habits the moral habits of
the whole human race. As if in an armory, one,
ignorant what were adapted to each part, should
cover his head with greaves, or seek to be shod with
a helmet, and complain that they fitted not ; or as if
on a day, when business is publicly stopped in the
afternoon, one were angered at not being allowed to
keep open shop, because he had been in the fore-
noon ; or when in one house he observeth some ser-
vant take a thing in his hand, which the butler is not
suffered to meddle with ; or something permitted out
of doors, which is forbidden in the dining-room ; and
should be angry, that in one house, and one family,
the same thing is not allotted everywhere, and to all.
Even such are they, who are fretted to hear some-
thing to have been lawful for righteous men for-
1 Gen. i. 27. 2 l Cor. iv. 3.
54 GocVs law the same ; m application varies.
merly, which now is not; or that God, for certain
temporal respects, commanded some one thing, and
some another, while both obeyed the same righteous-
ness : whereas they see, in one man, and one day,
and one house, different things to be fit for different
members, and a thing formerly lawful, after a certain
time not so ; in one corner jDermitted or commanded,
but in another rightly forbidden and punished. Is
justice therefore various or mutable ? No, but the
times, over which it presides, flow not evenly, be-
cause they are times. Men, whose days are fev^
upon the earth^ by their senses cannot harmonize
the causes of things in former ages and other nations,
which they have had no experience of, with those
which they have experience of; whereas in one
and the same body, day, or family, they easily see
what is fitting for each member, and season, part,
and person ; to the one they take exceptions, to the
other they submit.
14 These things I then knew not, nor observed;
they struck my sight on all sides, but I saw them
not. I indited verses, in which I might not place
every foot everywhere, but differently in different
metres ; nor even in any one metre the self-same
foot in all places. Yet the art itself, by which I in-
dited, 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 obeyed,
did far more excellently and sublimely contain in one
all those things which God commanded, and in no
1 Job xiv. 1.
Actions of Patriarchs prophetic. 55
part varied ; although in varying times it prescribed
not everything at once, but apportioned and enjoined
what was fit for each. And I, in my blindness, cen-
sured the holy Fathers, not only wherein they made
use of things present as God commanded and in-
spired them, but also wherein they were fortelling
things to come, as God was revealing in them.
VIII. 15. Can it at any time or place be unjust to
love God with all his hearty loith all his soul, and
with all his mind ; and his neighbor as himself?^
Therefore are those foul oflTences which are against
nature, to be everywhere and at all times detested
and punished ; such as those of the men of Sodom :
which, should all nations commit, they would all
stand guilty of the same crime, by the law of God,
who hath not made men that they should so abuse
one another. For even that intercourse which
should be between God and us is violated, when that
same nature, of which He is Author, is polluted by
perversity of lust. But those actions which are
offences against the customs of men, are to be
avoided according to the customs severally prevail-
ing ; so that a thing agreed upon, and confirmed, by
custom or law of any city or nation, may not be vio-
lated at the lawless pleasure of any, whether native
or foreigner. For any part which harmonizeth not
with its whole, is offensive. But when God com-
mands a thing to be done, against the customs or
compact of any people, though it were never done
by them heretofore, it is to be done ; and if inter-
1 Matt. xxii. 37—39.
56 God to he obeyed in, or against human laios.
mitted, it is to be restored; and if never ordained,
is now to be ordained. For if it be lawful for a king,
in the state which he reigns over, to command what
no one before him, nor he himself heretofore, had
commanded ; and if to obey him cannot be against
the common weal of the state (nay, it were against
it if he were not obeyed, for to obey princes is a
general compact of human society) ; how much more
unhesitatingly ought we to obey God, in all which
He commands, the Ruler of all His creatures ! For,
as among the powers in man's society, the greater
authority is obeyed in preference to the lesser, so
must God above all.
16. So in acts of violence, where there is a wish to
hurt, whether by reproach or injury; and this either
for revenge, as one enemy against another; or for
some profit belonging to another, as the robber to
the traveller ; or to avoid some evil, as towards one
who is feared ; or through envy, as one less fortunate
to one more so, or one well thriven in anything, to
him whose being on a par with himself he fears, or
grieves at; or for the mere j^leasure at another's
pain, as spectators of gladiators, or deriders and
mockers of others : all these are the varied forms of
iniquity, which spring from the lust of the flesh, of
the eye,^ or of rule, either singly, or two combined,
or all together. And so do men live ill against
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
1 1 John ii. 16. 2 Ts. cxliv. 9.
8elf-v:ill and self-love source of all sin. 67
against Thee, who canst not be defiled ? or what acts
of violence against Thee, who canst not be harmed ?
But Thou avengest what men commit against them-
selves, since when they sin against Thee, they do
wickedly against their own souls, and iniquity gives
itself the lie^ by corrupting and perverting the nature
which Thou hast created and ordained ; either by an
immoderate use of things allowed ; or in hurning
in things unallowed, to that ^ use which is against
nature y'^ or in guiltily raging with heart and tongue
against Thee, kicking against the pricks ^'^ or when,
bursting the pale of human society, they boldly joy
in self-willed combinations or divisions, according
as they have any object to gain or cause of offence.
And these things are done when Thou art forsaken,
O Fountain of Life, who art the only and true Crea-
tor and Governor of the Universe, and by a self-
willed pride any one false thing is selected therefrom
and loved. So then by a humble devoutness we re-
turn to Thee ; and Thou cleansest us fi'om our evil
habits, and art merciful to those who confess their
sins, and hearest the groaning of the prisoner^ and
loosest us from the chains which we made for our-
selves, if we lift not up against Thee the horns of an
unreal liberty, suffering the loss of all through covet-
ousness of more, by loving more our own private
good, than Thee, the Good of all.
IX. 17. Amidst these offences of foulness and vio-
lence, and these many iniquities, are the sins of those
men, who are, on the whole, making proficiency;
1 Ps. xxvi. 12. Vulg. 2 Rom. i. 27. 3 Acts ix. 5. * Ps cii. 20.
58 Self-itnll and self-love^ source of all sin.
which, by those that judge rightly according to the
rule of perfection, are condemned, yet the persons
themselves are commended, upon hope of future
fruit, as in the green blade of growing corn. And
there are some actions resembling offences of foul-
ness or violence, which yet are no sins ; because they
offend neither Thee, our Lord God, nor human so-
ciety ; as when things fitting for a given period are
obtained for the service of the whole life, and we
know not whether out of a lust of having ; or when
things are, for the sake of correction, by constituted
authority punished, and we know not whether out
of a lust of hurting. Many an action, also, which in
men's sight is disapproved, is by Thy testimony
approved; and many, by men praised, are (Thou
being witness), condemned : because the appearance
of the action, and the mind of the doer, and the un-
known exigency of the time, severally vary. But
when Thou on a sudden commandest an unw^onted
and unthought-of thing, yea, although Thou hast
heretofore forbidden it, and still for the time hidest
the reason of Thy command, and it be against the
ordinance of some society of men, who doubts but it
is to be done, seeing that that society of men is just
which serves Thee ? But blessed are they who know
that Thou hast given commands ! For all things are
done by Thy servants, either to show forth what is
needful for the present, or to foreshow things to
come.
X. 18. Being ignorant of these things, I scoffed at
those Thy holy servants and prophets. And what
Who speak against truth fall into gross error, 59
gained I by scoffing at them, but to be scoffed at by
Thee, being insensibly and step by step drawn on to
such follies, as to believe that a fig wept when
it was plucked, and the tree, its mother, shed milky
tears ? Which fig, notwithstanding (plucked by some
other's, not his own, guilt), had some (Manichaian)
saint eaten, and mingled with his bowels, he should
breathe out of it angels ; yea, there should burst forth
particles of divinity, at every moan or groan in his
prayer ; which particles of the most high and true
God had remained bound in that fig, unless they had
been set at liberty by the teeth or belly of some
" Elect " saint ! And I, miserable, believed that
more mercy was to be shown to the fruits of the
earth, than to men, for whom they were created.
For if any one an hungered, not a Manichaean, should
ask for any, that morsel would seem as it were con-
demned to capital punishment, which should be given
him.^
XI. 19. And Thou sentest Thine hand from ahove^
and drewest my soul out of that profound darkness ;
my mother, thy fiiithful one, weeping to Thee for
me, more than mothers weep the bodily deaths of
their children. For she, by that faith and spirit
which she had fi'om Thee, discerned the death
wherein I lay, and Thou heardest her, O Lord ;
Thou heardest her, and despisedst not her tears,
when, streaming down, they watered the ground
under her eyes in every place where she prayed ;
yea. Thou heardest her. For whence was that
1 See Guericke's Church History, § 54, p. 190. — Ed. 2 Ps. cxliv. 7.
60 Augustine's conversio)i foretokl to
dream whereby Thou comforteclest her, so that she
allowed me to live with her, and to eat at the same
table in the house, which she had begun to shrink
from, abhorring and detesting the blasphemies of my
error? For she saw herself standing on a certain
wooden rule, and a shining youth coming towards
her, cheerful, and smiling u2:)on her who was sad, and
overwhelmed with grief But he having (in order
to instruct, as is their wont, and not to be in-
structed) inquired of her the causes of her grief and
daily tears, and she answering that she was bewailing
my perdition, he bade her rest contented, and told
her to look and observe, " That where she was, there
was I also." And when she looked, she saw me
standing by her on the same rule. Whence was
this, but that Thine ears were towards her heart?
O Thou Good omnii>otent, who so carest for every
one of us, as if Thou caredst for him only ; and so
for all, as if all were but one !
20. Whence was this, also, that when she had told
me this vision, and I would fain bend it to mean,
" That she rather should not despair of being one
day what I was ; " she presently, without any hesita-
tion, replies: "No; for it was not told me that,
' where he, there thou also ; ' but ' where thou, there
he also ? '" I confess to Thee, O Lord, that to the
best of my remembrance (and I have often spoken
of this), that Thy answer through my waking mo-
ther — in that she was not perplexed by the plausi-
bility of my false interpretation, and so quickly saw
what was to be seen, and which I certainly had not
his mother hi a dream. 61
perceived before she spake — even then moved me
more than the dream itself, whereby the joy to that
holy woman, to be fulfilled so long after, was foretold
for the consolation of her present anguish. For
almost nine years passed, in which I wallowed in the
mire of that deep pit, and the darkness of falsehood,
often essaying to rise, but dashed down the more
grievously. All which time that chaste, godly, and
sober widow (such as Thou lovest), now more
cheered with hope, yet no whit relaxing in her
weeping and mourning, ceased not at all hours of
her devotions to bewail my case unto Thee. And
her prayers entered into Thy presence ;^ and yet
Thou suiferedst me to be involved and re-involved
in that darkness.
XII. 21. Thou gavest her meantime another an-
swer, which I call to mind ; for I pass by much, to
confess those things which are most imj^ortant, and
much I do not remember. Thou gavest her then
another answer, by a priest of Thine, a certain
bishop brought up in Thy Church, and well studied
in Thy books. Whom when she had entreated him
to converse with me, refute my errors, unteach me ill
things, and teach me good things (for this he was
wont to do, when he found persons fitted to receive
it), he refused, wisely, as I afterwards perceived.
For he answered, that I was yet unteachable, being
pufied up with the novelty of that heresy, and had
already perplexed divers unskilful persons with cap-
tious questions, as she had told him : " But let him
1 Ps. Ixxxviii. 1.
7
62 Unceasing prayers and tears never fail.
alone awliile," saith he, " only pray God for him ; he
will of himself, by reading, find what that error is,
and how great its impiety." At the same time, he
told her how himself, when a little one, had by his
seduced mother been consigned over to the Ma-
nichees, and had not only read, but frequently copied
out almost all their books, and had (without any
argument or proof from any one) seen how much
that sect was to be avoided ; and had avoided it.
And when she would not be satisfied, but urged him
more, with entreaties and many tears, that he would
see me, and discourse with me, a little displeased at
her importunity, he said, " Go thy ways, and God
bless thee, for it is not possible that the son of these
tears should perish." Which answer she took (as
she often mentioned in her conversations with me)
as if it had sounded fi'om heaven.
THE FOURTH BOOK.
AUGUSTINE'S LIFE PROM NINETEEN TO EIGHT-AND-TWENTY — HIMSELF
A MANICH^AN, AND SEDUCING OTHERS TO THE SAME HERESY^
PARTIAL OBEDIENCE AMIDST VANITY AND SIN — CONSULTING AS-
TROLOGERS, ONLY PARTIALLY SHAKEN HEREIN — LOSS OP AN EARLY
FRIEND, WHO IS CONVERTED BY BEING BAPTIZED IN A SWOON — RE-
FLECTIONS ON GRIEF, ON REAL AND UNREAL FRIENDSHIP, AND
LOVE OP FAME — WRITES ON THE "PAIR AND PIT," YET CANNOT
RIGHTLY, THOUGH GOD HAD GIVEN HIM GREAT TALENTS, SINCE
HE ENTERTAINED WRONG NOTIONS OP GOD — AND SO EVEN HIS
KNOWLEDGE HE APPLIED ILL.
I. 1. For this space of nine years then (from my
nineteenth year to my eighth-and-twentieth ) I lived
seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving, in
divers lusts ; openly, by sciences which they call lib-
eral ; secretly, with a false-named religion ; here
proud, there superstitious, everywhere vain. Here
hunting after the emptiness of popular j^raise, down
even to theatrical applauses, and poetic prizes, and
strifes for gi-assy garlands, and the follies of shows,
and the intemperance of desires. There, desiring to
be cleansed fi'om these defilements, by carrying food
to those who were called " elect " and " holy," out of
which, in the workhouse of their stomachs, they
should forge for us Angels and Gods, by whom we
might be cleansed. These things did I follow, and
practise with my friends, deceived by me, and with
me. Let the arrogant mock me, and such as have
04: jSi?i 7'estramed, but without fixed principles.
not been, to their soul's health, stricken and cast
down by Thee, O ray God ; but I would still confess
to Thee mine own shame in Thy praise. Suffer me,
I beseech Thee, and give me grace to go over in
my present remembrance the wanderings of my fore-
passed time, and to offer unto Thee the sacrifice of
thcmksgiving} For without Thee, what am I to my-
self, but a guide to mine own downfall? or what am
I even at the best, but an infant sucking the milk
Thou givest, and feeding upon Thee, the food that
perisheth not ?^ But what sort of a man is any man,
seeing he is but a man ? Let now the strong and the
mighty laugh at me, but let me, the p)oor and 7ieedy^
confess unto Thee.
II. 2. In those years I taught rhetoric, and, over-
come by cupidity, made sale of a loquacity to over-
come by. Yet I preferred (Lord, Thou knowest)
honest scholars (as they are accounted), and without
artifice I taught them artifices, not to be practised
against the life of the guiltless, though sometimes
for the life of the guilty. And Thou, O God, from
afar perceivedst me stumbling in that slippery course,
and amid much smoke sending out some sparks of
faithfulness, which I showed in my guidance oi such
as loved vanity^ and sought after leasing^ myself
their companion. In those years I had one comj^an-
ion, not in that which is called lawful marriage, but
whom I had found out in a wayward passion void of
understanding ; yet but one, remaining faithful even
1 Ps. xlix. 14. 3 Ps. Ixxiii. 21.
2 John vi. 27. 4 Is. xlii. 5; Matt. xii. 20; Ps. iv. 2.
JSfo real love of God without sound faith. 65
to her ; in whom I m my own case experienced what
difference there is betwixt the self-restraint of the
marriage-covenant, for the sake of issue, and the
bargain of a histful love, where children are born
against their parents' will, although once born they
may constrain love.
3. I remember, also, that when I had settled to
enter the lists for a theatrical prize, some wizard
asked me what I would give him to win : but I, de-
testing and abhorring such foul mysteries, answered,
" Though the garland were of imperishable gold, I
would not suffer a fly to be killed to gain me it."
For he was to kill some living creatures in his sacri-
fices, and by that means to induce the devils to favor
me. But this ill also I rejected, not out of pure love
to Thee, O God of my heart ; for I knew not how to
love Thee, not knowing how to conceive aught be-
yond a material brightness. And doth not a soul,
sighing after such fictions, commit fornication against
Thee, trust in things unreal, and feed the windf^
Still I would not, forsooth, have sacrifices offered to
devils for me, to whom I was sacrificing myself by
that superstition. For what else is it to feed the
wind, but to feed devils ; that is, by going astray, to
become their pleasure and derision ?
III. 4. Those impostors, then, whom they style
Mathematicians,^ I consulted without scruple; be-
cause they seemed to use no sacrifice, nor to pray to
any spirit for their divinations : which art, however.
1 Hos. xii. 1.
2 Astrologers; " pulsi Italia mathematici," Taciti Historia II. 62.— Ed.
66 Vanity of Divination.
Christian and true jjiety consistently rejects and con-
demns. For, it is a good thing to confess unto Thee^
and to say, Save mercy upon me, heal my soul, for J
have simied against T/iee;^ and not to abuse Thy
mercy for a license to sin, but to remember the
Lord's words, behold, thou art made whole, sin no
more, lest a worse thing come unto theec- All which
wholesome advice they labor to destroy, saying,
" The cause of thy sin is inevitably determined in
heaven ;" and "This did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars :"
that man, forsooth, flesh and blood, and j)roud cor-
ruption, might be blameless ; while the Creator and
Ordainer of heaven and the stars is to bear the
blame." ^ And who is He but our God? the very
sweetness and well-spring of righteousness, who ren-
derest to every man according to his toorks : and a
bro7ce?i and contrite heart wilt TJiou not despise.^
5. There was in those days a wise man,^ very skil-
ful in physic, and renowned therein, who had with
his own proconsular hand put the Agonistic garland
upon my distemj^ered head, but not as a physician :
for this disease Thou only curest, who resistest the
proud and givest grace to the humble.^ Thou didst
speak to me even by that old man, to heal my soul.
For having become more acquainted with him, and
hanging assiduously and fixedly on his speech (for
1 Ps. xli. 4.
2 Johu V. 14.
3 Compare "This is the excellent foppery," etc.; King Lear, Act I. Sc.
2. — Ed.
4 Rom. ii. 6; Matt xvi. 27; Ps. li. 17.
5 Vinrliciaiius; spokeii of again in Book VII. c. vi. — Ed.
6 1 Pet. V. 5; Jam. iv. 6.
Proofs agamst divination difficult to him. G7
though in simple terms, it was vivid, lively, and
earnest), when he had gathered, by my discourse,
that I was given to the books of nativity-casters, he
kindly and fatherly advised me to cast them away,
and not fruitlessly bestow a care and diligence nec-
essary for useful things, upon these vanities ; saying,
that he had in his earliest years studied that art, so
as to make it the profession whereby he should live,
and that, understanding Hippocrates, he could soon
have understood such a study as this ; and yet he
had given it ov^er, and taken to physic, for no other
reason but that he found it utterly fjilse ; and he, as
an honest man, would not get his living by deluding
people. "But thou," saith he, "hast rhetoric to
maintain thyself by, so that thou followest this false
art of fi-ee choice, not from necessity of a support ;
the more then oughtest thou to give me credit in
respect to it, who labored to acquire it so perfectly,
as to get my living by it alone." Of whom, when I
had demanded how then could many true things be
foretold by it, he answered me (as well as he could),
" That the force of chance, diffused throughout the
whole order of things, brought this about. For if,
when a man by bap-hazard opens the pages of some
poet, who sang and thought of something wholly
different, a verse oftentimes fell out wondrously
agreeable to the present business ; it were not to be
wondered at if, out of the soul of man, unconscious
what takes place in it, by some higher instinct an
answer should be given, by hap, not by art, corre-
sponding to the business and actions of the de-
mander."
68 Augustine's friend.
6. And thus much, either from or through him,
Thou conveyeclst to me, and tracedst in my memory
what I might hereafter examine for myself But at
that time neither he, nor my dearest Nebridius, a
youth singularly good and of a holy fear, who de-
rided the whole system of divination, could persuade
me to cast it aside, the authority of the authors
swaying me yet more, and as yet I had found no
certain proof (such as I sought) whereby it might
without all doubt appear, that what had been truly
foretold by those consulted was the result of hap-
hazard, not of the art of the star-gazers.
IV. 7. In those years when I first began to teach
rhetoric in my native town, I had found a fiiend in
one blooming with me in the same bud of youth, and
whom a community of studies made extremely dear
to me. He had grown up of a child with me, and to-
gether we went to school, and to play. But he was
not yet my friend as afterwards, nor even then, as
true friendship is : for none is true but that which
Thou cementest together between such as cleave
unto Thee, through that love lohich is shed abroad in
our hearts hy the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us}
Yet was it but too sweet, ripened by the warmth of
kindred studies : for, from the true faith (which he
as a youth had not soundly and thoroughly imbibed)
I had warped him also to those superstitious and
pernicious fables for which my mother bewailed me.
With me he now erred in mind, nor could my soul
be without him. But behold Thou wert close on the
1 Rom. V. 5. '
Jests at his friend'' s baptism^ and is reproved. 69
steps of Thy fugitives, at once God of vengeance}
and Fountain of mercies, turning us to Thyself by
wonderful means; Thou tookest that man out of
this life, when he had scarce filled up one whole year
of my friendship, sweet to me above all sweetness
of my life.
8. Who can recount all Thy praises^ which Thou
hast deserved in reference to this single person ?
What didst Thou then, my God, and how unsearch-
able is the abyss of TJiy judgtnents f^ For long,
sore sick of a fever, he lay senseless in a death-
sweat; and his recovery being despaired of, he was
baptized, unconscious, myself meanwhile little re-
garding, and presuming that his soul would retain
rather what it had received of me, not what was
wrought on his unconscious body. But it proved
far otherwise: for he was refreshed, and restored.
Forthwith, as soon as I could speak with him (and I
could, so soon as he was able, for I never left him,
and we hung but too much upon each other), I
essayed to jest with him, as though he would jest
with me at the baptism which he had received when
utterly absent in mind and feeling, but had now
understood that he had received. But he shrunk
from me, as from an enemy ; and with a wonderful
and sudden freedom bade me, as I would continue
his friend, forbear such language to him. I, all
astonished and amazed, suppressed all my emotions
till he should grow well, and his health were strong
enough for me to deal with him as I would. But he
1 Ps. xciv. 1. 2 Ps. cvi. 2. 3 Vs. xxxvi. 2.
70 GocVs mercy in the death of Jus friend.
was taken away from my frenzy, that with Thee
he might be preserved for my comfort ; a few days
after, in my absence, he was attacked again by the
fever, and so departed.
9. At this grief my heart was utterly darkened ;
and whatever I beheld was death. My native coun-
try was a torment to me, and my father's house a
strange unhappiness ; and whatever I had shared
with him, now that he was gone, became a distract-
ing torture. Mine eyes sought him everywhere, but
found him not ; and I hated all 2:>laces because they
held him not ; nor could they now tell me, " He is
coming," as when he was alive and absent. I became
a great riddle to myself, and I asked my soul, ichy
she icas so sad^ and lohy she disquieted tne sorely :^
but she knew not what to answer me. And if I
said Trust in God^ she very rightly obeyed me not ;
because that most dear fiiend, whom she had lost,
being a man, was both truer and better, than that
phantasm she was bid to trust in. Only tears were
sweet to me, for they succeeded my friend as the
solace of my mind.
V. 10. And now, Lord, these things are passed by,
and time hath assuaged my wound. May I learn
from Thee, who art Truth, and approach the ear of
my heart unto Thy mouth, that Thou mayest tell me
why weeping is sweet to the miserable ? Hast
Thou, although present everywhere, cast away our
misery far from Thee? Thou abidest in Thyself,
but we are tossed about in divers trials. And yet
1 Ps. xlii. 5.
He loathes life and dreads death.
unless we mourn in Thine ears, we should have no
hope left. How then is sweet fruit gathered from
the bitterness of life, fi-om groaning, tears, sighs, and
complaints? Doth this sweeten it, that we hope
Thou hearest ? This is true of prayer, for therein is
a longing to approach unto Thee. But was it so in
my grief for my friend lost, and the sorrow where-
with I was then overwhelmed ? For I neither hoped
he should return to life, nor did I desire this with my
tears. I wept and grieved because I was miserable,
and had lost my joy. Or is weeping bitter when we
have the things which we enjoy, but grows pleasant
when we lose them ?
yi. 11. But why speak I of these things? for
now is no time to question, but to confess unto Thee.
Wretched I was ; and wretched is every soul bound
by friendship to perishable things ; he is torn asun-
der when he loses them, and feels the wretchedness
which he was liable to ere yet he lost them. So
was it then with me ; I wept most bitterly, and found
my repose in bitterness. Thus was I wretched, but
that wretched^ life I held even dearer than my friend.
For though I would willingly have changed it, yet
was I more unwilling to part with it, than with him ;
yea, I know not whether I would have parted with
it even for him, as is related (if not feigned) of Py-
lades and Orestes, that they would gladly have died
for each other or together, not to live together being
to them worse than death. But in me there had
arisen some inexplicable feeling, wholly contrary to
this ; for at once I loathed exceedingly to live and
72 Misery increased by distraction.
feared to die. I suppose, the more I loved him, the
more did I hate and fear (as a most cruel enemy)
death, which had bereaved me of him : and I imag-
ined it would speedily make an end of all men, since
it had power over him. Thus was it with me, I re-
member. Behold my heart, O my God ! behold, and
see into me ; for well I remember it, O my Hope,
who cleansest me from the impurity of such affec-
tions, directing mine eyes towards Tliee^ and pluck-
ing my feet out of the snare} For I wondered that
others, subject to death, did live, since he, whom I
loved, as if he should never die, was dead ; and I
wondered yet more that myself, who was to him a
second self, could live, he being dead. Well said
one concerning his friend, "Thou half of my soul :"
for I felt that my soul and his soul were " one soul
in two bodies : " and therefore was my life a horror
to me, because I would not live halved. And there-
fore, perchance I feared to die, lest he whom I so
much loved should die wholly.^
VII. 12. O madness, which knows not how to
love men as men ! O foolish man tbat I then was,
suffering so imj^atiently the lot of man ! I fretted,
sighed, wept, was distracted ; found neither i-est nor
counsel. For I bore about a shattered and bleeding
soul, impatient of being borne by me, yet where to
repose it, I found not. Not in calm groves, not in
1 Ps. XXV. 14.
2 Augustine in his Retractationes (Liber II.) remarks that what he has
said here, " quasi declamatio levis et gravis confessio videtur, quamvis
utcunque temperata sit haec ineptia in eo quod additum est, forte." —
Ed.
Misery increased by distraction. 73
games and music, nor in fragrant spots, nor in curi-
ous banquetings, nor in the j^leasures of the bed
and the conch ; nor (finally) in books or poesy, found
it repose. All things looked ghastly, yea, the very
light ; whatsoever was not what he was, was revolt-
ing and hateful, except groaning and tears ; for in
those alone found I a little refreshment. But when
my soul ceased from them, a huge load of misery
weighed me down. To Thee, O Lord, it ought to
have been raised, for Thee to lighten ; I knew it ;
but neither could nor would, since, when I thought
of Thee, Thou wert not to me any solid or substan-
tial thing. For Thou wert not Thyself, but a mere
phantom, and my error was my God. If I offered to
discharge my load thereon, that it might rest, it
glided through the void, and came rushing down
again on me ; and thus I was to myself a hapless
spot, where I could neither stay nor hence depart.
For whither could my heart flee from my heart?
Whither could I flee from myself? How not follow
myself? And yet I fled out of my native country;
for so should mine eyes less look about for my lost
friend, where they were not wont to see him. And
thus from Tageste, I came to Carthage.
yill. 13. Times lose no time ; nor do they roll
idly by ; through our senses they work strange oper-
ations on the mind. Behold, they went and came
day by day, and by coming and going introduced
into my mind other imaginations, and other remem-
brances ; and little by little patched me up again
with my old kind of dehghts, unto which my sorrow
74 The world cures grief hy sources of fresh grief.
gave way. And yet there succeeded, not indeed
other griefs, but the causes of other griefs. For
whence had that former grief so easily reached my
very inmost soul, but that I had poured out my soul
upon the dust, in loving one that must die, as if he
would never die ? For what restored and refreshed
me chiefly, was the solaces of other friends, with
whom I had loved him instead of Thee ; and this
was a gi-eat fable, and protracted lie, by whose adul-
terous stimulus my soul, which lay itching in my
ears, was defiled. But that fiible would not die to
me, so oft as any of my friends died. There were
other things which in them did more take my mind ;
to talk and jest together; to do kind oflices by turns;
to read together honied books ; to play the fool or
be earnest together; to dissent at times without
quarrelling, as a man might with his own self; and
even with the unfrequency of these dissentings, to
season our more frequent consentings ; sometimes to
teach, and sometimes learn ; to long for the absent
with impatience, and welcome the coming with joy :
these, and the like expressions, proceeding out of the
hearts of those that loved and were loved again, by
the countenance, the tongue, the eyes, and a thou-
sand pleasing gestures, Avere so much fuel to melt
our souls together, and out of many make but one.
IX. 14. This is what is loved in fi-iends; and so
loved, that a man's conscience condemns itself, if he
love not the one that loves him, looking for nothing
from him but demonstrations of his love. Hence
that mourning, if one die, that darkening of sorrows.
The changes of the creature.
that steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness
turned to bitterness ; and upon the loss of the dying,
the death of the living. Blessed is the man that
loveth Thee, and his friend in Thee, and his enemy
for Thee. 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 made heaven
and earthy and filleth them^ because by filling them
He created them ? None loseth, but he who leaveth
Thee. And who leaveth Thee, whither goeth or
whither fleeth he, but from Thee pleased to Thee
displeased ? For doth he not find Thy law in his
own punishment ? A7id Thy law is truth^ and
truth is Thyself.
X. 15. Turn us, 0 God of Hosts, show us Thy
countenance, and we shall he whole? For whitherso-
ever the soul of man turns itself, unless towards Thee,
it is fastened upon sorrows ; yea, even though it is
fastened on things beautiful, which are out of Thee,
and out of the soul, and yet were not all, unless
they were from Thee. They rise and set ; and by
rising, they begin, as it were, to be ; they grow, that
they may be perfected ; and perfected, they wax old
and wither ; and some perish without waxing old. So
then when they rise and tend to be, the more quickly
they grow that they may be, so much the more they
haste not to be. This is the law of their nature.
Thus much hast Thou allotted them, because they
are portions of things which exist not all at once, but,
1 Gen. ii. 24; Jer. xxiii. 24. 3 Ps. Ixxx. 19.
2 Ps. cxix. 142 : John xiv. 6.
76 Rest only in the Creator.
by passing away and succeeding, together complete
that universe whereof they are portions; even as
our speech is completed by separate vocal signs ; but
not unless one word pass away when it hath sounded
its part, that another may succeed. Out of all these
things let my soul praise Thee, O God, Creator of
all; yet let not my soul be fastened unto these
things with the glue of love, through the senses of
the body. For they go whither they were meant to
go, that they might cease to be ; and they rend the
soul with pestilent longings, because she longs to be,
yet loves to repose in what she loves. But in these
things is no place of repose ; they abide not, they
flee ; and who can follow them with the senses of
the flesh ? yea, who can grasp them, vrhen they are
hard by ? For the sense of the flesh is slow, because
it is the sense of the flesh ; and by the flesh is it
bounded. It sufliceth for the end that it was made
for ; but it sufliceth not to stay things from running
their course from their appointed starting-place to
the end appointed. For in Thy Word, by which
they are created, they hear theii* decree, " hence and
hitherto."
XI. 16. Be not foolish, O my soul, nor become
deaf in the ear of thine heart with the tumult of thy
folly. Hearken thou, also. The Word Itself calleth
thee to return to that j)lace of rest imperturbable,
where love is not forsaken, if itself forsaketh not to
love. Behold, some things pass away, that others
may replace them, and so this lower universe be
completed by all its parts. But do I ever depart ?
God invites us hy the changes around us. 11
saitli the Word of God. There fix thy dwelling,
trust there whatsoever thou hast, O my soul, for now
thou art tu*ed out with vanities. Entrust to Truth,
whatsoever thou hast from the Truth, and thou shalt
lose nothing ; and thy decay shall bloom again, and
all thy diseases he healed} and thy mortal parts be
reformed and renewed, and bound around thee : nor
shall they lay thee whither themselves descend ; but
they shall stand fast with thee, and abide forever
before God, %i:ho abideth and standeth i^st foreve7\-
17. Why then be perverted and follow thy flesh?
Let it be converted and follow thee. Whatever by
it thou hast sense of, is only a part ; but the whole,
whereof this is a part, thou knowest not; and yet
the mere part delights thee. But had the sense of
thy flesh a capacity for comprehending the whole,
and not (for thy punishment) a part only, thou
would est wish that all the parts should pass away,
that so, the whole might ravish thee. For what we
speak also, by the same sense of the flesh thou hear-
est ; yet wouldest not thou have the syllables stay,
but fly away, that others may come, and thou hear
the whole. And so ever, when any one thing is
made up of many, all of which do not exist together,
collectively they would please more than they do
severally, could all be perceived collectively. But
better still than the collective whole is He who made
the whole ; He is our God ; He doth not pass away,
neither doth aught succeed Him.
Xn. 18. If bodies please thee, praise God for
1 Ps. ciii. 3. 2 1 Pet. i. 23.
All things are to he loved in God.
them, and dart back thy love upon their Maker ; lest
in these things which please thee, thou displease
Him. If souls please thee, love them in God : for
separate they are mutable, but in Him they are
firmly stablished ; else would they pass, and pass
away. In Him then be they beloved; and carry
unto Him along with thee what souls thou canst,
and say to them, " Him let us love. Him let us love :
He made all things, nor is He far off. For He did
not make them, and then depart, but they are of
Him, and in Him, See, there He is where truth is
loved. He is within the very heart, yet hath the
heart strayed from Him. Go hack into your hearty
ye transgressors^ and cleave fast to Him that made
you. Stand with Him, and ye shall stand fast. Rest
in Him, and ye shall be at rest. Whither go ye in
rough ways ? Whither go ye ? The good that you
love is from Him ; but it is good and pleasant through
reference to Him, and justly shall it be embittered, if
He be forsaken for it. To what end then would ye
still and ever walk these difficult and toilsome ways ?
There is no rest, where ye seek it. Seek still 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 how should there be a blessed life, where life
itself is not ? "
19. "But our true Life came down hither, and
bore our death, and slew our death, out of the abun-
dance of His own life : and He thundered, calling
aloud to us to return to Him into the secret place,
whence He came forth to us, through the Virgin's
Christ humbled that ice might rise. 79
womb, wherein lie espoused the human creation, our
mortal flesh, that it might not be forever mortal, and
thence like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber^
rejoicing as a giant to run his course} For he lin-
gered not, but ran, calling aloud by words, deeds,
death, life, descent, ascension ; crying aloud to us to
return unto Him. And he departed from our eyes,
that we might return into our heart, and there find
Him. For He departed, and lo ! He is here. He
would not remain with us, yet left us not ; for He
departed thither, whence He never parted, because
the icorldvxis made by Him? And in this world He
was, and into this world He cajne to save sinners^
unto whom my soul confesseth, and He healeth it, for
it hath si7ined against Hiin^ 0 ye sons of 7nen,
how long so slow of heart? ^ Even now, after the
descent of hfe to you, will ye not ascend and live?
But whither ascend ye, when ye are high in your
own conceits, and set your mouth against the heav-
ens f^ Descend, that ye may ascend, and ascend to
God. For ye are fallen, by rising against Him."
Tell thy friends this, that they may weep in the val-
ley of tearsj and so carry them up with thee unto
God ; because out of His Spirit thou speakest thus
unto them, if thou speakest burning with the fire of
charity.
XIII. 20. These things I then knew not, and I
loved these lower beauties, and I was sinking to the
very depths, and to my friends I said, " Do we love
1 Ps. xix. 5 3 1 Tim. i. 15. 5 Ps. iv. 3. Vulg. 7 Ps. Ixxxiv. 6.
2 John i. 10 4 Ps. xli. 4. 6 Ps. Ixxiii. 9.
80 Augustine's love of the beautiful.
anything but the beautiful ? What, then, is the beau-
tiful ? and what is beauty ? What, then, is it that
attracts and wins us to things we love ? for unless
there were in thera a grace and beauty, they could by
no means draw us unto them." And I marked and
l^erceived in bodies themselves there was a beauty
from their forming a sort of whole, and again, another
beauty from apt and mutual correspondence, as of a
part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a
foot, and the like. And this consideration sprang up
in my mind, out of my inmost heart, and I wrote
" On the Fair and Fit," I think, two or three books.
Thou knowest how many, O Lord, for it is gone from
me ; for I have them not, but they are strayed from
me, I know not how.
XIV. 21. But what moved me, O Lord my God,
to dedicate these books unto Hierius, an orator of
Rome, whom I knew not by face, but loved for the
fame of his learning, which was eminent in him, and
some words of his I had heard, which pleased me ?
But he pleased me chiefly because he pleased others,
who highly extolled him, amazed that out of a Syrian,
first instructed in Greek eloquence, should afterwards
be formed a wonderful Latin orator, and learned phi-
losojDher. One is commended, and straightway he is
loved without being seen : doth this love enter the
heart of the hearer from the mouth of the com-
mender? Not so. But by one who loveth is an-
other kindled. For he who is commended is loved
because the commender is believed to extol him with
an unfeigned heart ; that is, because one that loves
him praises him.
Mmi^s self-contradictions. 81
22. For so did I then love men, upon the judgment
of men, not Thine, O my God, in whom no man is
deceived. But yet I loved men not for qualities like
those of a famous charioteer, or fighter with beasts
in the theatre, known far and wide by a vulgar popu-
larity, but far otherwise, and earnestly, and so as I
would be myself commended. For I would not be
commended or loved, as actors are (though I myself
did commend and love them), but had rather be un-
known, than so known ; and even hated, than so
loved. How are the impulses to such various and
divers kinds of loves laid up in one soul ? Why,
since we are equally men, do I love in another what
I should spurn and cast from myself? For it holds
not, that as a good horse is loved by him who would
not be that horse, therefore the same may be said of
an actor, who shares our nature. Do I then love in a
man what I, who am a man, hate to be ? Man him-
self is a great deep, whose very hairs Thou mmiber-
est^ O Lord, and they fall not to the ground without
Thee} And yet are the hairs of his head easier to
be numbered than are his feelings, and the beatings
of his heart.
23. But that orator was of that sort whom I loved,
as wishing to be myself such ; and I erred through a
swelling pride, and was tossed about icith every vyind^
but yet was steered by Thee, though very secretly.
And how do I know, and so confidently confess unto
Thee, that I loved him more for the sake of his com-
menders, than for the very things for which he was
1 1 Matt. X. 29, 30. 2 Eph. iv. 14.
82 Man sees not the truth before hhn.
commended ? Because, had he been unpraised, and
these self-same men had dispraised him, and with
dispraise and contempt told the very same things of
him, I had never been so kindled and excited to love
him. And yet the things had not been other, nor he
himself other ; but only the feelings of the relators.
See where the impotent soul lies prostrate, that is not
yet stayed up by the solidity of truth ! Just as the
gales of tongues blow from the breast of the opinion-
ative, so are we carried this way and that, driven
forward and backward, our light is overclouded, and
the truth unseen. And lo, the truth is before us. It
was to me a great matter that my discourse and
labors should be known to that man : which, should
he approve, I were the more kindled ; but if he dis-
approved, my empty heart, void of Thy solidity, had
been wounded. And yet the " Fair and Fit," where-
on I wrote to him, I dwelt on with pleasure, and
surveyed it, and admired it, though none joined
therein.
XV. 24. But I saw not yet, whereon this weighty
matter turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent,
icho only doest wonders;^ and my mind ranged
through corporeal forms ; and " fair," I defined and
distinguished as so in itself, and " fit," as so in cor-
respondence to some other thing : and this I sup-
ported by corporeal examples. And I turned to the
nature of the mind, but the false notion which I had
of spiritual things let me not see the truth. Yet
the force of truth did of itself flash into mine eyes,
1 Ps. cvi. 4-
One error huiders from seeing other truth. 83
and I turned away my panting soul from incorporeal
substance to lineaments, and colors, and bulky mag-
nitudes. And not being able to see these in the
mind, I concluded that I could not have any knowl-
edge of the mind. And whereas in virtue I loved
peace, and in viciousness I abhorred discord ; in the
first I observed an unity, but in the other, a sort 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 miserably imagined
there to be some unknown substance of irrational
life, and the nature of the chief evil, which should
not only be a substance, but real life also, and yet
not derived from Thee, O my God, of whom are all
things. And yet that first I called a Monad, as it
had been a soul without sex ; but the latter a Duad,
— dividing into anger, in deeds of violence, and into
lust, in deeds of flagitiousness ; not knowing whereof
I spake. For I had not known or learned that nei-
ther was evil a substance, nor our soul that chief and
unchangeable good.
25. For as deeds of violence arise if that emotion
of the soul be corrupted whence vehement action
springs, stirring itself insolently and unrulily; and
as lusts arise if that afiection of the soul is ungov-
erned whereby carnal pleasures are drunk in : so do
errors and false opinions defile the conversation if
the reasonable soul itself be corrupted; as it was
then in me, who knew not that the soul must be
enlightened by another light, that it may be partaker
of truth, seeing that itself is not that essential nature
84 God repels proud^ though earnest^ search.
of truth. J^^or Thou shalt light my candle^ 0 Lord
7)iy God^ Thou shalt e)dighten tny darkness:^ and of
Thy fulness have loe all received^ for Thou art the
true light that lighteth every man that cometh into
the world ^"^ for in T/iee there is no variableness^ nei-
ther shadow of change?
26. But I pressed towards Thee, and was thrust
from Thee, that I might taste of death : for Thou
resistest the proud.^ But what prouder than forme,
with a strange madness, to assert myself to be that
by nature which Thou art ? For whereas I was sub-
ject to change (so much being manifest to me, since
my very desire to become wise, was a wish, of worse
to become better), yet chose I rather to imagine
Thee subject to change, than myself not to be that
which Thou art. Therefore I was repelled by Thee,
and Thou resistedst my vain stiffneckedness, and I
imagined corporeal forms, and although myself flesh,
I accused flesh ; and though I was a wind that pass-
eth away^ I returned not^ to Thee, but I passed on
and on to things which have no being, neither in
Thee, nor in me, nor in the body. Neither were
they created for me by Thy truth, but by my vanity
devised out of things corporeal. And I was wont to
ask Thy faithful little ones, my fellow-citizens (from
whom, unknown to myself, I stood exiled), I was
wont, prating and foolishly, to ask them, " Why then
doth the soul, which God created, err?" But I
would not be asked, "Why, then, doth God err?"
1 rs. xviii. 28. 3 Jam. i. 17. 5 Ps. Ixxviii. 39.
sjohni. 16. 9. 4 1 Pet. v. 5; Jam. iv. 6.
Great quickness^ ichen relied vj)on^ a hindrance. 85
And I maintained that Thy unchangeable substance
did err upon constraint, rather than confess that my
changeable substance had gone astray voluntarily,
and now, in punishment, lay in error.
27. I was then some six or seven and twenty years
old when I wrote those volumes ; revolving within
me corporeal fictions, buzzing in the ears of my heart,
which I turned, O sweet Truth, to thy inward melody,
meditating on the " fair and fit," and longing to stand
and hearken to Thee, and to rejoice greatly at the
Bridegroom'' s voiced but could not; for by the
voices of mine own errors I was hurried abroad, and
through the weight of my own pride I was sinking
into the lowest pit. For Thou didst not 7nake me to
hear joy and gladness^ nor did the hones exult vnhich
were not yet humbled?
XYI. 28. And what did it profit me, that scarce
twenty years old, a book of Aristotle, which they
call the ten Predicaments,^ falling into my hands (on
whose very name I hung, as on something great and
divine, whenever my rhetoric master of Carthage,
and others, accounted learned, mouthed it with
cheeks bursting with pride), I read and understood
it unaided? And on my conferring with others,
who said that they scarcely understood it with very
able tutors, not only orally explaining it, but drawing
many things in sand, they could tell me no more of
1 John iii. 29.
2rs. Ii.8.
3 All the relations of things were comprised by Aristotle under nine
heads; as quantity, quality, etc. ; and these, with the "substance" in
which all inhere, make up the ten Predicaments, or Categories.
86 Piety^ not Jcnoioledge^ or talents^ enlightens.
it than I had learned, readmg it by myself. And
the book appeared to me to speak very clearly of
substances, such as " man," and of their qualities, as
the figure of a man, of what sort it is ; and 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 be shod or armed ; or
does, or suffers anything ; and all the innumerable
things which might be ranged under these nine Pre-
dicaments, of which I have given some specimens,
or under that chief Predicament of Substance.
29. What did all this further me, seeing it even
hindered me ? for imagining all being to be compre-
hended under those ten Predicaments, I essayed in
such wise to understand, O my God, Thy wonderful
and unchangeable Unity also, as if Thou also hadst
been subjected to Thine own greatness or beauty ; so
that (as in bodies) they should exist in Thee, as their
subject : whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness
and beauty ; but a body is not great or fair in that it
is a body, seeing that, though it were less great or
fair, it should notwithstanding be a body. But it
was falsehood which I conceived concernins: Thee,
not truth ; fictions of my misery, not the realities of
Thy Blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and
it was done in me, that the earth should bring forth
briers mid thorns to nie^ and that in the sioeat of my
brov^s I should eat my bread. ^
30. And what did it profit me, that all the books I
could procure of the so-called liberal arts, I, the vile
1 Gen. iii 18, 19.
God uncha7igeable, maii may returyi unto Him. 87
slave of vile affections, read by myself, and under-
stood? And I delighted in them, but knew not
whence came all that was true or certain in them.
For I had my back to the light, and my face to the
things enlightened ; whence my face, with which I
discerned the things enlightened, itself was not en-
lightened. Whatever was written, either on rhet-
oric, or logic, geometry, music, and arithmetic, I
understood by myself without much difficulty, or
any instructor. Thou knowest, O Lord, my God ; be-
cause both quickness of understanding, and acutc-
ness in discerning, is Thy gift : yet did I not give
thanks for them to Thee. So then it served not to
my use, but rather to my perdition, since I went
about to get so good 2, portion of my substance into
my own keeping ; and I kept 7iot my strength for
Thee-, but wandered from Thee iyito afar country., to
spend it upon harlotries} For what profited me
good abilities, not employed to good uses ? For T
perceived not that those arts were attained with
great difficulty, even by the studious and talented,
until I attempted to explain them to such ; w^hen he
most excelled in them, who followed me altogether
slowly.
31. But what did this profit me, imagining that
Thou, O Lord God, the Truth, wert a vast and bright
body, and I a fragment of that body ? Perverseness
too great ! But such was I. Nor do I blush, O my
God, to confess to Thee Thy mercies toioards me.,
and to call upon Thee ; I who blushed not then to
1 Luke XV. ; Ps. Iviii. 10. Vulg.
All things hnoxon to God.
profess to men my blasphemies, and to bark against
Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in
those sciences and all those most knotty volumes,
unravelled by me, without aid from human instruc-
tion ; seeing I erred so foully, and with such sacri-
legious shamefulness, in the doctrine of j^iety? A
far slower wit was more j^rofitable to Thy little ones,
since they departed not far from Thee, that in the
nest of Thy Church they might securely be fledged,
and nourish the wings of charity by the food of a
sound faith. O Lord our God, under the shadoio of
Thy icings let us hope;^ protect us, and carry us.
Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to
hoary hairs wilt Thou cai'ry us ;'^ for our firmness,
only when it is in Thee, is firmness ; but when it is
our own, it is infirmity. Our good ever lives with
Thee; from which when we turn away, we are per-
verted. Let us, then, O Lord, return that we may
riot be overturned; because with Thee good lives
without any decay, for Thou art good ; nor need we
fear, lest there be no j^lace whither to return, because
we fell from it : for our mansion, — Thy eternity, — -
fell not when we left Thee.
1 Ps. Ixiii. 7. 2 Is. xlvi. 4.
V
THE FIFTH BOOK.
AUGUSTINE'S TWENTY-NINTH TEAR — PAUSTU8, A SNARE OP SATAN
TO MANY, MADE AN INSTRUMENT OF DELIVERANCE TO AUGUSTINE
BY SHOWING THE IGNORANCE OP THE MANICHEES ON THOSE THINGS
WHEREIN THEY PROPESSED TO HAVE DIVINE KNOWLEDGE — AUGUS-
TINE GIVES UP ALL THOUGHT OP GOING PURTHER AMONG THE MA-
NICHEES—IS GUIDED TO ROME AND MILAN, WHERE HE HEARS
AMBROSE, LEAVES THE MANICHEES, AND BECOMES AGAIN A CATE-
CHUMEN IN THE CHURCH CATHOLIC.
I. 1. Accept, O Lord, the sacrifice of my confes-
sions from the ministry of my tongue, which Thou
hast formed and stirred up to confess unto Thy
name. Heal Thou all my bones^ and let them say^
0 Lord^ who is like unto Theef^ For he who
confesses to Thee, doth not teach Thee what takes
place within him ; seeing a closed heart shuts not
out Thy eye, nor can man's hardheartedness thrust
back Thy hand : for Thou dissolvest it at Thy will
in pity or in vengeance, and 7iothing can hide itself
from Thy heat? But let my soul praise Thee, that
it may love Thee ; and let it confess Thy own mer-
cies to Thee, that it may praise Thee. Thy whole
creation ceaseth not, nor is silent in Thy praises ;
neither the spirit of man, with voice directed unto
Thee, nor creation animate or inanimate, by the
voice of those who meditate thereon : that so our
1 Ps. XXXV. 20. 2 Ps. xix. 6.
90 All things hiiovm to God.
aouls may from their weariness arise towards Thee,
leaning on those things which Thou hast created,
and passing on to Thyself who madest them won-
derfully; whereby cometh refreshment and true
strength.
IL 2. Let the restless, the godless, depart and flee
from Thee ; yet Thou seest them, and dividest the
darkness. And behold, the universe with them is
fair, though they are foul. But how can they injure
Thee? or how disgrace Thy government, which,
from the heaven to this lowest earth, is just and per-
fect? For whither fled they, when they fled from
Thy presence?^ or where dost not Thou find them?
They fled, that they might not see Thee looking at
them, and blinded, might stumble ag;iinst Thee:^
(because Thou for sakest nothing Thou hast made ;^)
that the unjust, I say, might stumble upon Thee, and
justly be hurt; withdrawing themselves from Thy
gentleness, and stumbling at Thy uprightness, and
falling \\^ox\ their own ruggedness. Ignorant, in
truth, that Thou art everywhere, Whom no place
encompasseth ! that Thou alone art near, even to
those th2i% reonove far from Thee} Let them, then,
turn, and seek Thee ; because not as they have for-
saken their Creator, hast Thou forsaken Tliy crea-
tion. Let them be turned and seek Thee ; for
behold. Thou art there in their heart, in the heart of
those that confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon
Thee, and weep in Thy bosom, after all their rugged
1 Ps. cxxxix. 7. 3 Wisd. xi. 25, old vers.
2 Gen. xvi. 14. •* Ps. Ixxiii. 27.
The wicked obey not, hut onust serve God.
91
ways. Then dost Thou gently wipe away their tears,
and they weep the more, and joy in weeping ; even
for that Thou, Lord, — not man of flesh and blood,
but — Thou, Lord, who madest them, remakest and
comfortest them. But where was I when I was
seeking Thee? Thou wert before me, but I had
gone away from Thee ; nor did I find myself, how
mucli less Thee !
III. 3. I would lay open before my God that nine-
and-twentieth year of mine age. There had then
come to Carthage, a certain Bishop of the Manichees,
Faustus by name, a great snare of the Devil, and
many were entangled by him through the lure of his
smooth language : which, though I did commend,
yet could I separate from the truth of the things
which I was earnest to learn : nor did I so much
regard the service of oratory, as the science which
this Faustus, so praised among them, set before me
to feed upon. Fame had before bespoken hira most
knowing in all valuable learning, and exquisitely
skilled in the liberal sciences. And since I had read
and well remembered much of the philosophers, I
compared some things of theirs with those long
flibles of the Manichees, and found the former the
more probable; even although thej could only p^^e-
vciil so far as to make judgment of this lower loorld^
the Lord of it they coidd hy no means find out}
For TJiou art greats 0 Lord^ and hast respect unto
the humble., but the proud Thou beholdest afar off.'^
Nor dost Thou draw near, but to the contrite in
1 Wisd. xiii. 9. 2 Ps. cxxxviii. 6.
92 Discoveries of science lead not to God.
heart^ nor art found by the proud, no, not though
by curious skill they could number the stars and
the sand, and measure the starry heavens, and track
the courses of the planets.
4. For with their understanding and wit, which
Thou bestowedst on them, they search out these
things ; and much have they found out ; and foretold,
many years before, eclipses of those luminaries, the
sun and moon, — what day and hour, and how many
digits, — nor did their calculation fail, but it came to
pass as they foretold ; and they wrote down the rules
they had found out, and these are read at this day,
and out of them do others foretell in what year, and
month of the year, and what day of the month, and
what hour of the day, and what part of its light,
moon or sun is to be eclipsed, and so it shall be as it
is foreshowed. At these things men, that know not
this art, marvel and are astonished, and they that
know it, exult, and are puffed up ; and by an ungodly
pride departing from Thee, and failing of Thy light,
they foresee so long before, a failure of the sun's
light, which shall be, but see not the failure of their
own, which now is. For they search not religiously
to know whence they have the wit wherewith they
search out this. And finding that Thou madest
them, they give not themselves up to Thee, to pre-
serve what Thou madest, nor sacrifice to Thee, what
they have made themselves ; nor slay their own soar-
ing imaginations, as folds of the air^ nor their own
diving curiosities (wherewith, like the fishes of the
1 Ps. xxxiv. 18.
We must sacrifice self] to know God. 93
seay tbey wander over the unknown paths of the
abyss), nor their own luxuriousness, as beasts of the
field., that Thou^ Lord^ a consmniag fire^ may est
burn up those dead cares of theirs, and recreate
themselves immortally.
5. For they knew not the Way, Thy Word,^ by
Whom Thou madest these things which they num-
ber, and themselves who number, and the sense
whereby they perceive what they number, and the
understanding out of which they number; or that
of Thy wisdom there is no number.^ But the Only
Begotten is Himself tnade unto us wisdom^ and
righteousness^ and sanctification^ and was numbered
among us, and jyaid tribute unto Cmsar^ They
knew not this Way whereby to descend to Him
from themselves, and by Him ascend unto Him.
They knew not this Way, and deemed themselves
exalted among the stars and shining; and behold,
they/e^^ upon the earthy and their foolish heart was
darkened! They discourse many things truly con-
cerning the creature; but Truth, Artificer of the
creature, they seek not piously, and therefore find
Him not ; or if they find Him, knoioing Sim to be
God^ they glorify Sim not as God^ neither are
thankful., but become vain in their imaginations., and
profess themselves to be vjise,^ attributing to them-
selves what is Thine ; and thereby with most per-
verse blindness, study to impute to Thee what is
1 Ps. viii. 7, 8. 4 Ps. cxlvii. 5. 7 Is. xiv. 13 ; Kev. xii. 4 ; Rom. i. 21.
2 Deut. iv. 24. 5 1 Cor. i. 30. 8 Rom. i. 21.
3 John i. 3. 6 Matt. xvii. 27.
9
94 Knowledge of God the greatest happiness.
their own, forging lies of Thee who art the Truth,
and changing the glory of the uncorruptible God into
an image made like corriiptihle man^ and to birds,
and four-footed beasts, and creepbig things, changing
Thy truth into a lie, and worshipping and serving
the creature more than the Creator}
6. Yet many truths concerning the creature learned
I from these men, and saw the reason thereof from
calculations, the succession of times, and the visible
testimonies of the stars ; and compared them with
the views of Manichseus, which in his frenzy he had
written out most largely on these subjects ; but I
discovered not any account of the solstices, or equi-
noxes, or the eclipses of the greater lights, nor what-
ever of this sort I had learned in the books of secular
philosoj^hy. But I was commanded to believe ; and
yet it corresponded not with what had been estab-
lished by calculations and my own sight, but was
quite contrary.
lY. 7. Doth then, O Lord God of truth, he who
knoweth these things, therefore please Thee ? Surely
unhappy is he who knoweth all these, and knoweth
not Thee: but happy whoso knoweth Thee, though
he know not these. And whoso knoweth both Thee
and them, is not the happier for them, but for Thee
only, if knowing Tliee, he glorifies Thee as God, and
is thankful, and becomes not vain in his imagina-
tions? For as he is better off who knows how to
possess a tree, and return thanks to Thee for the use
thereof, although he know not how many cubits high
1 Rom. i. 23. 2 Rom. i. 21.
Heretics a warning to the faithful. 95
it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that can meas-
ure it, and count all its boughs, and neither owns it
nor knows or loves its Creator: so a believer, to
whom all this world of wealth belongs (since having
nothing^ he yet possesseth all things^ by cleaving
unto Thee, whom all things serve), though he know
not even the circles of the Great Bear, is doubtless
in a better state than one who can measure the heav-
ens and number the stars, and poise the elements,
yet neglecteth Thee who hast made all things in
number, weight and measure.^
V. 8. But yet who bade that unknown Manichgeus
to write on these things, the knowledge of which is
no element of piety? For Thou hast said to man,
Behold, piety and loisdom ;^ of which he might be
ignorant, though he had perfect knowledge of these
things. But since Manichseus in reality knew not
these things, and yet most impudently dared to teach
them, he plainly could have no knowledge of piety.
For it is vanity to make profession of these worldly
things even when known ; but confession to Thee is
piety. Wherefore this errorist to this end spake
much of these things, that convicted by those who
had truly learned them, it might be manifest what
understanding he had in the other abstruser things.
For he would not have himself meanly thought of,
but went about to persuade men, " That the Holy
Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher of Thy faithful
ones, was with plenary authority personally within
him." When, therefore, he was found out to have
1 Cor. vi. 10. 2 Wisd. xi. 20. 3 Job xxviii. 28. LXX.
96 Truth not to he valued^ nor
taught falsely of the heaven and stars, and of the
motions of the sun and moon (although these things
pertain not to the doctrine of religion), his sacri-
legious presumption became evident enough, seeing
he delivered things which not only he knew not, but
which were falsified, with so mad a vanity of pride,
that he sought to ascribe them to himself, as to a
divine person.
9. For when I hear any Christian brother ignorant
of these things, and mistaken on them, I can patiently
behold such a man holding his opinion ; nor do I see
that any ignorance as to the position or character of
the corporeal creation can injure him, so long as he
doth not believe anything unworthy of Thee, O
Lord, the Creator of all. But it doth injure him if
he imagine it to pertain to the form of the doctrine
of piety, and will afiirm that too stiffly whereof he is
ignorant. And yet is even such an infirmity, in the
infancy of faith, borne by our mother Charity, till the
new-born may groio up unto a perfect tnany so as not
to he carried about with every toind of doctrine}
But in the instance of him who in such wise pre-
sumed to be the teacher, source, guide, chief of all
whom he could so persuade, that whoso followed
him thought that he followed not a mere man, but
Thy Holy Spirit ; who would not judge that when
he were once convicted of having taught anything
false, he were to be detested and utterly rejected ?
But I had not as yet clearly ascertained whether the
vicissitudes of longer and shorter days and nights,
1 Eph. iv. 13, 14.
suspected^ for its outioard garb. 97
and of day and night itself, with the eclipses of the
greater lights, and whatever else of the kind I had
read of in other books, might be explained consist-
ently with his sayings ; so that, if they by any
means might be, it should still remain a question to
me whether it were so or no ; and yet I might, on
account of his reputed sanctity, rest my credence
uj^on his authority.
yi. 10. And for almost all those nine years,
wherein with unsettled mind I had been their disci-
ple, I had longed but too intensely for the coming
of this Faustus. For the rest of the sect, whom by
chance I had lighted upon, when unable to solve my
objections about these things, still held out to me
the coming of this Faustus, by conference with
whom, these and greater difficulties, if I had them,
were to be most readily and abundantly cleared.
When, then, he came, I found him a man of pleasing
discourse, and who could speak fluently and in better
terms, yet still but the self-same things which they
were wont to say. But what availed the utmost
neatness of the cup-bearer, to my thirst for a more
precious draught ? Mine ears were already cloyed
with the like, nor did they seem to mo therefore
better, because better said ; nor therefore true, be-
cause eloquent ; nor the soul therefore wise, because
the face was comely and the language graceful. But
they who held him out to me were no good judges
of things ; and therefore to them he appeared intel-
ligent and wise, because his words were pleasing. I
remembered, however, that another sort of people
98 Faustus' superficiality^ how disguised.
were suspicious even of truth, and refused to assent
to it, if delivered in a smooth and copious discourse.
But Thou, O my God, hadst ah-eady taught me by
wonderful and secret ways ; and I believe that Thou
taughtest me, because it is truth; nor is there, besides
Thee, any teacher of truth, where or whencesoever
it may shine upon us. Of Thyself, therefore, had I
now learned that neither ought anything to seem to
be spoken truly, because eloquently; nor therefore
falsely, because the utterance of the lips is. inharmo-
nious ; nor, again, therefore true, because rudely de-
livered ; nor therefore false, because the language is
rich ; but that wisdom and folly are as wholesome
and unwholesome food ; and adorned or unadorned
phrases, as courtly or country vessels : either kind of
meats may be served up in either kind of dishes.
11. That longing, then, wherewith I had so long
expected that man, was delighted verily with his
action and feeling when disputing, and his choice
and readiness of words to clothe his ideas. I was
delighted, and, with many others and more than
they, did I praise and extol him. It troubled me,
however, that in the assembly of his auditors, I was
not allowed to put in, and communicate those ques-
tions that troubled me, in familiar converse with
him. Which, when I might, and with my friends
becran to en^^asre his ears at such times as it was not
unbecoming for him to discuss with me, and had
brought forward such things as moved me, I found
him first utterly ignorant of liberal sciences, save
grammar, and that but in an ordinary way. But
Fatistus' superfickdlty^ hoio disguised. 99
because he had read some of Tally's Orations, a very
few books of Seneca, some thmgs of the poets, and
such few volumes of his own sect as were written in
Latin and neatly, and was daily practised in speak-
ing, he acquired a certain eloquence, wdiich proved
the more pleasing and seductive because under the
guidance of a good wit, and with a kind of natural
gracefulness. Was it not thus, as I recall it, 0 Lord
my God, Thou Judge of my conscience ? My heart
and my remembrance is before Thee, Who didst at
that time direct me by the hidden mystery of Thy
providence, and didst set those shameful errors of
mine before my face, that I might see and hate
them.^
yil. 12. For, after it was clear that he was igno-
rant of those arts in which I thought he excelled, I
began to despair of his opening and solving the diffi-
culties which perplexed me (of which, indeed, how-
ever ignorant, he might yet have held the truths of
piety, had he not been a Manichee) ; for their books
are fraught with prolix fables of the heaven, and
stars, sun and moon ; and I now no longer thought
him able satisfactorily to decide what I much desired,
whether, on comparison of these things with the cal-
culations I had elsewhere read, the account given in
the books of Manichseus were preferable, or at least
as good. Which, when I proposed to be considered
and discussed, he, so far modestly, shrunk from the
burthen. For he knew that he knew not these
things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he
1 Ps. I. 21.
100 Snares to others disentangle Augustine.
was not one of those talking persons, many of whom
I had endm-ed, who undertook to teach me these
things, and said nothing. But this man had a heart,
though not right towards Thee, yet neither alto-
gether treacherous to himself. For he was not al-
together ignorant of his own ignorance, nor would
he rashly be entangled in a dispute, whence he could
neither retreat, nor extricate himself fairly. Even
for this I liked him the better. For fairer is the
modesty of a candid mind, than the knowledge of
those things which I desired. ; and such I found him
in all the more difficult and subtile questions.
13. My zeal for the writings of Manichseus being
thus blunted, and despairing yet more of their other
teachers, seeing that in divers things which perplexed
me, he, so renowned among them, had so turned out ;
I began to engage with him in the study of that lit-
erature, on which he also was much set (and which
as rhetoric-reader I was at that time teaching young
students at Carthage), and to read with him, either
what himself desired to hear, or such as I judged fit
for his genius. But all my efforts whereby I had
purposed to advance in that sect, upon knowledge
of that man, came utterly to an end ; not that I
detached myself from them altogether, but as one
finding nothing better, I had settled to be content
meanwhile with what I had in whatever way fallen
upon, unless by chance something more eligible
should dawn upon me. Thus Faustus, to so many a
snare of death, had now, neither willing nor witting
it, begun to loosen that wherein I was taken. For
Augustine led to Rome^for his salvation. 101
Thy hands, O my God, in the secret purpose of Thy
providence, did not forsake my soul ; and out of my
mother's heart's blood, through her tears, night and
day poured out, was a sacrifice offered for me unto
Thee ; and Thou didst deal with me by wondrous
ways.^ Thou didst it, 0 my God : for the steps of a
vnan are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose
his way?' Or how shall we obtain salvation, but
from Thy hand, remaking what It made ?
VIII. 14. It was Thy doi^g, O Lord, that I should
be persuaded to go to Rome, and to teach there
vs^hat I was teaching at Carthage. And how I was
persuaded to this, I will not neglect to confess to
Thee : because herein also the deepest recesses of
Thy wisdom, and Thy most present mercy to us,
must be considered and confessed. I did not wish
to go to Rome, because higher gains and bigher
dignities were waiTanted me by my friends who
persuaded me to this (though even these things had
at that time an influence over my mind) ; but my
chief and almost only reason was, that I heard that
young men studied there more peacefully, and were
kept quiet under a restraint of more regular disci-
pline ; so that they did not, at their pleasure, petu-
lantly rush into the school of one whose pupils they
were not, nor were even admitted without his per-
mission. Whereas, at Carthage, there reigns among
the scholars a most disgraceful and unruly license.
They burst in audaciously, and, with gestures almost
frantic, disturb all order which any one hath estab-
1 Joel ii. 26. 2 Ps. xxxvii. 23.
102 Others' vanities and his own,
lislied for the good of liig scholars. Divers outrages
they commit, with a wonderful stolidity, punishable
by law, did not custom, uphold them ; that custom
evincing them to be the more miserable, in that they
now do as lawful what by Thy eternal law shall never
be lawful ; and they think they do it unpunished,
whereas they are punished with the very blindness
whereby they do it, and suffer incomparably worse
than what they do. The manners, then, which, when
a student, I would not make my own, I was fain, as
a teacher, to endure in others : and so I was well
pleased to go where all that knew assured me that
the like was not done. But Thou, my refuge and
my portion in the land of the living,^ that I might
change my earthly dwelling for the salvation of my
soul, at Carthage didst goad me, that I might thereby
be torn from it ; and at Rome didst proffer me allure-
ments, whereby I might be drawn thither, by men in
love with a dying life : the one class doing frantic,
the other promising vain, things ; and, to connect my
steps, didst secretly use their and my own perverse-
ness. For both they who disturbed my quiet were
blinded with a disgraceful fi-enzy, and they who in-
vited me elsewhere, savored of earth. And I, who
here detested real misery, went there seeking unreal
happiness.
15. But why I went hence, and went thither,
Thou knowest, O God, yet showedst it neither to
me nor to my mother, who grievously bewailed my
journey, and followed me as far as the sea. But I
1 Ps cxlii. 5.
His mother's prayers heard^ though denied. 103
deceived her, as she held me by force, that either she
might keej) me back, or go with me ; and I feigned
that I had a friend whom I could not leave, till he
had a fair wind to sail. And I lied to my mother,
and to such a mother, and escaped. For this also
hast Thou mercifully forgiven me, preserving me,
thus full of execrable defilements, from the waters
of the sea, for the water of Thy Grace; whereby,
when I was cleansed, the streams of my mother's
eyes should be dried, with which for me she daily
watered the ground under her face. And yet refus-
ing to return without me, I scarcely persuaded her
to stay that night in a place hard by our ship, where
was an Oratory in memory of the blessed Cyprian.
That night I privily departed, but she remained
weeping and in prayer. And what, O Lord, was she
with so many tears asking of Thee, but that Thou
wouldest not suffer me to sail? But Thou, in the
depth of Thy counsels and hearing the main point
of her desire, regardest not what she then asked,
that Thou mightest make me what she ever asked.
The wind blew and swelled our sails, and withdrew
the shore from our sight; and she on the morrow
was there, frantic with sorrow, and with complaints
and groans filled Thine ears, who didst then disre-
gard them ; whilst through my desires. Thou wert
hurrying me to end all desire, and the earthly part
of her affection to me was chastened by the allotted
scourge of sorrows. For she loved to have me with
her, as mothers do, but much more than most; and
she knew not how great joy Thou wert about to
104 His apatJiy i7i dangerous illness.
work for her out of my absence. She knew not ;
therefore did she weep and wail, and by this agony
there appeared in her the inheritance of Eve, with
sorrow seeking what in sorrow she had brought forth.
And yet, after accusing my treachery and hardheart-
edness, she betook herself again to intercede to Thee
for me, went to her wonted place, and I to Rome.
IX. 16. And lo ! there was I received by the
scourge of bodily sickness, and I was going down to
hell, carrying all the sins which I had committed,
both against Thee, and myself, and others, many and
grievous, over and above that bond of original sin,
whereby we. all die in Adam.} For Thou hadst not
forgiven me any of these things in Christ, nor had
He abolished by His cross the enmity which by my
sins I had incurred by Thee. For how could He, by
the crucifixion of a j^hantasm, which I believed Him
to be ? Thus the death of my soul was as real as
the death of His flesh seemed to me false ; and as
real as was the death of His body, so false was the
life of my soul, which did not believe it. And now,
the fever heightening, I was parting and departing
forever. For had I then parted hence, whither had
I departed, but into fire and torments, such as my
misdeeds deserved in the truth of Thy appointment ?
And this my mother knew not, yet in absence prayed
for me. But Thou, everywhere present, heardest her
where she was, and, where I was, hadst compassion
upon me ; that I should recover the health of my
body, though frenzied as yet in my sacrilegious heart.
1 1 Cor. XV. 22.
Monica's devotions and visions. 105
For I did not in all that danger desire Thy baptism ;
and I was better as a boy, when I begged it of my
mother's piety, as I have before recited and con-
fessed. But I had grown up to my own shame, and
I madly scoffed at the prescripts of Thy medicine,
yet wouldest Thou not suffer me, being such, to die
a double death. With which wound had my mo-
ther's heart been pierced, it could never be healed.
For I cannot express the affection she bare to me,
and with how much more vehement anguish she
was now in labor of me in the spirit, than at her
childbearing in the flesh .^
17. I see not then how she should have been
healed, had such a death of mine stricken through
the bowels of her love. And where, then, would
have been her so strong and unceasing prayers ?
But wouldest Thou, O God of mercies, despise the
contrite and humbled heart^ of that chaste and sober
widow, so frequent in almsdeeds, so full of duty and
service to Thy saints, no day intermitting the oblation
at Thine altar, twice a day, morning and evening,
without any intermission, coming to Thy church, not
for idle tattlings and old wiy es' fables,^ but that she
might hear Thee in Thy discourses, and Thou her, in
her prayers ? Couldest Thou despise and reject from
Thy aid the tears of such an one, wherewith she
begged of Thee not gold or silver, nor any mutable
or passing good, but the salvation of her son's soul ?
Thou, by whose gift she was such ? Never, Lord.
Yea, Thou wert at hand, and wert hearing and doing,
1 Gal. iv. 9. 2 Ps. li. 51. 3 i Tim. v. 10.
106 Augustine continues a Manichee.
in that order wherein Thou hadst determined before,
that it should be done. Far be it that Thou should-
est deceive her in Thy visions and answers, some
whereof I have, some I have not mentioned, which
she laid up in her faithful heart, and ever praying,
urged upon Thee, as Thine own handwriting. For
Thou, because Thy mercy endureth forever^ vouch-
safest to those to whom Thou forgivest all their
debts, to become also a debtor by Thy promises.
X. 18. Thou recoveredst me then of that sickness,
and healedst the son of Thy handmaid, for the time,
in body, that he might live, for Thee to bestow upon
him a better and more abiding health. And even
then, at Rome, I joined myself to those deceiving
and <Jeceived " holy ones ; " not with their disciples
only (of which number was he in whose house I had
fallen sick and recovered) ; but also with those whom
they call ^' The Elect." For I still thought, " that it
was not we that sin, but that I knoAV not what other
nature sinned in us;" and it delighted toy pride to
be free from blame, and when I had done any evil,
not to confess I had done any, that Thou mightest
heal my soul because it had si?in6d against Thee:^
but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse I know not
what other thing, which was with me, but which I
was not. But in truth it was wholly I, and mine
impiety had divided me against myself: and that sin
was the more incurable, whereby I did not judge
myself a sinner: and execrable iniquity it was, that
I had rather have Thee, Thee, O God Almighty, to
1 Ps. xli. 4.
Bisk of scepticism in 2Kirti7ig from error. 107
be overcome in me to my destruction, than myself
to be overcome of Thee to salvation. Not as yet
then liadst Thou set a watch hefore my mouthy and a
door of safe keeping around 'my li^^s^ that my heart
might not turn aside to vncked speeches^ to make
excuses of si7is, with men that wm^k hiiquit/y : and
therefore was I still united with their Elect}
19. But now despairing to make proficiency in that
false doctrine, even those things, with which, if I
should find no better, I had resolved to rest con-
tented, I now held more laxly and carelessly. For
there half arose a thought in me, that those philoso-
phers, whom they call Academics, were wiser than
the rest, for that they held, men ought to doubt
everything, and laid down that no truth can be com-
prehended by man : for so, not then understanding
even their meaning, I also was clearly convinced that
they thought as they are commonly reported. Yet
did I freely and openly discourage that host of mine
from that over-confidence which I perceived him to
have in those fables, which the books of Manichseiis
are full of. Yet I lived in more familiar friendship
with them than with others who were not of this
heresy. Nor did I maintain it with my ancient
eagerness; still my intimacy with that sect (Rome
secretly harboring many of them) made me slower
to seek any other way : especially since I despaired
of finding the truth, from which they had turned me
aside, in Thy Church, O Lord of heaven and earth,
Creator of all things visible and invisible: and it
1 Ps. Cjxli. 3, 4. VuJg.
108 One lorong doctrine
seemed to me very unseemly to believe Thee to have
the shape of human flesh, and to be bounded by the
bodily lineaments of our members. And because,
when I wished to think 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 anything), this was
the greatest, and almost only cause of my inevitable
error.
20. For hence I believed Evil also to be some kind
of substance, and to have its own foul and hideous
bulk ; whether gross, which they called earth, or thin
and subtile (like the body of the air), which they
imagine to be some malignant mind creeping through
that earth. And because a piety, such as it was,
constrained me to believe, that the good God never
created any evil nature, I conceived two masses, con-
trary to one another, both unbounded, but the evil
narrower, the good more expansive. And from this
23estilent beginning, the other sacrilegious conceits
followed on me. For when my mind endeavored to
recur to the Catholic faith, I was driven back, since
that was not the Catholic faith, which I thought to
be so. And I seemed to myself more reverential, if
I regarded Thee, my God (to whom Thy mercies
confess out of my mouth), as unbounded at least on
all other sides (although on that one where the mass
of evil was opposed to Thee I was constrained to
confess Thee bounded), than if on all sides I should
imagine Thee to be bounded by the form of a human
body. And it seemed to me better to believe Thee
to have created no evil (which to me in my igno-
the parent of others. 109
ranee seemed not only a substance, but a bodily
substance, because I could not conceive of mind un-
less as a subtile body, and that diffused in definite
spaces), than to believe that the nature of evil, such
as I conceived it, could come from Thee. Yea, and
our Saviour Himself, Thy Only Begotten, I believed
to have been reached forth (as it were) for our sal-
vation, out of the mass of Thy most lucid substance,
so as to believe nothing of Him but what I could
image in my vanity. His Nature, then, being such,
I thought could not be born of the Virgin Mary,
without being mingled with the flesh : and how that
which I had so figured to myself could be mingled,
and not defiled, I saw not. I feared therefore to be-
lieve Him born in the flesh, lest I should be forced to
believe Him defiled by the flesh. Now will Thy
spiritual ones mildly and lovingly smile upon me,
if they shall read these my confessions. Yet such
was I.
XL 21. Furthermore, what the Manichees had
criticized in Thy Scriptures, I thought could not be
defended ; yet at times verily I had a wish to confer
upon these several points with some one very well
skilled in those books, and to make trial what he
thought thereon ; for the words of one Helpidius, as
he spoke and disputed face to face against the said
Manichees, had begun to stir me even at Carthage :
in that he had produced things out of the Scriptures
not easily withstood, the Manichees' answer whereto
seemed to me weak. And this answer they liked
not to give publicly, but only to us in private. It
10
110 3Ianichees and Scripture opposed.
was, that the Scriptures of the New Testament had
been corrupted by certain ones, I know not whom,
who wished to engraft the law of the Jews upon the
Christian faith : yet themselves produced not any
uncorruj^ted copies. But I, conceiving of things
corporeal only, was strongly held down, vehemently
oppressed, and, in a manner, suffocated, by those
"masses;" panting under which after the breath of
Thy truth, I could not breathe it pure and untainted.
XII. 22. I began then diligently to practise that
for which I came to Rome, to teach rhetoric ; and
first, to gather some to my house, to whom, and
through whom, I had begun to be known ; when lo !
I found other offences committed in Rome, to which
I was not exposed in Africa. True, those " subvert-
ings " by profligate young raen,^ were not here prac-
tised, as Avas told me : but on a sudden, said they, to
avoid paying their master's stipend, a number of
youths plot together, and remove to another, —
breakers of faith, who for love of money hold justice
cheap. These also my heart hated^ though not icith
a perfect hatred:^ for perchance I hated them more
because I was to suffer by them, than because they
did things utterly unlawful. Of a truth, such are
base persons, and they go a whoring from Thee, lov-
ing these fleeting mockeries of things temporal, and
filthy lucre, which fouls the hand that grasps it;
hugging the fleeting world, and despising Thee, who
abidest, and recallest, and forgivest the adulteress
soul of man, when she returns to Thee. And now I
1 Supra, p. 46. 2 Ps. cxxxix. 22.
Sotu-res of Ambrose'' s injluenct. Ill
hate such dei3raved and crooked persons, thouo"h I
love them if they can be corrected so as to prefer to
money the learning which they acquire, and to learn-
ing, Thee, O God, the truth and fulness of assured
good, and most pure peace. But then, I rather for
my own sake disliked them, and wished them evil,
than liked and wished them good for Thine.
XITI. 23. When, therefore, they of Milan had sent
to Rome, to the prefect of the city, to furnish them
with a rhetoric reader for their city, and send him at
the public expense, I made application (through
those very persons, intoxicated with ManichaBan van-
ities, to be freed wherefrom I was to go, neither of
us, however, knowing it) that Symmachus, then pre-
fect of the city, would try me by setting me some
subject, and so send me. To Milan I came, to Am-
brose the Bishop, known to the whole Avorld as
among the best of men. Thy devout servant ; whose
eloquent discourse did then plentifully dispense unto
Thy people the fatness of Thy wheat, the gladness
of Thy oil, and the sober inebriation of Thy wine.^
To him was I unconsciously led by Thee, that by him
I might consciously be led to Thee. That man of
God received me as a father, and showed me an
episcopal kindness on my coming. Thenceforth I
began to love him, at first indeed not as a teacher
of the truth (which I utterly despaired of in Thy
Church), but as a person kind towards myself And
I listened diligently to him preaching to the people,
not with the intent I ought, but, as it were, trying
1 Ps. iv. 7; civ. 15.
112 A agasti/ie's perplexed notions.
his eloquence, whether it answered the fame thereof,
or flowed fuller or lower than was reported ; and I
hung on his words attentively ; but of the matter I
was as a careless and scornful looker-on ; and I was
delighted with the sweetness of his discourse, more
recondite, yet in manner less winning and harmoni-
ous, than that of Faustus. Of the matter, however,
there was no comparison ; for the one was wandering
amid Manichsean delusions, the other teaching salva-
tion most soundly. But salvation is far from sin-
ners^ such as I then stood before him ; and yet was
I drawing nearer by little and little, and uncon-
sciously.
XIY. 24. For though I took no pains to learn
what he spake, but only to hear how he spake (for
that empty interest in style alone was left me, de-
spairing of a way, open for man, to Thee) ; yet
together with the words which I would choose, came
also into my mind the things which I would refuse ;
for I could not separate them. And while I opened
my heart to admit " how eloquently he spake," there
also entered "how truly he spake ;" but this by de-
grees. For first, the things spoken by Ambrose
began now to appear to me capable of defence ; and
the Catholic faith, for which I had thought nothing
could be said against the Manichees' objections, I
now thought might be maintained without sharae-
lessness; especially after I had heard one or two
places of the Old Testament resolved, and ofttimes
"m a figure,''^ which when I understood only accord-
1 Ps. cxix. 155. 2 1 Cor. xiii. 12; 2 Cor. iii. 6.
Augustine's perplexed 7iotio7is. 113
ing to tlie letter, I was slain. Very many places
then of those books having been explained, I now
blamed my despair, in believing that no answer
could be given to such as hated and scoffed at the
Law and the Prophets. Yet did I not therefore
then see, that the Catholic w^ay was to be held, be-
cause it also could find learned maintainers, who
could at large and with some show of reason answer
objections; nor that what I held was therefore to
be condemned, because both sides could be main-
tained. For the Catholic cause seemed to me in
such sort not vanquished, as still not as yet to be
victorious.
25. Hereupon I earnestly bent my mind, to see if
in any way I could by any certain proof convict the
Manichees of falsehood. Could I once have con-
ceived a spiritual substance, all their strongholds
had been beaten down, and cast utterly out of
mind ; but I could not. Notwithstanding, concern-
ing the frame of this world, and the whole of na-
ture, which the senses of the flesh can reach to, as I
more and more considered and compared things, I
judged the tenets of most of the philosophers to
have been much more probable. So, then, after the
manner of the Academics (as they are supposed) ^
doubting everything, and wavering between all, I
settled so far, that the Manichees were to be aban-
doned ; judging that, even while doubting, I ought
not to continue in that sect to which I already pre-
ferred some of the philosophers ; to which philoso-
1 Compare Augustine's De Civitate Dei, Lib. XIX. c. i. — Ed.
114 He returns to the Church.
phers, notwithstanding, for that they were without
the saving Name of Christ, I utterly refused to com-
mit the cure of my sick soul. I determined there-
fore to be a Catechumen in the Catholic Church, to
which I had been commended by my parents, until
something certain should dawn upon me, whither I
might steer my course.
THE SIXTH BOOK.
ARRIVAL OP MONICA AT MILAN— HER OBEDIENCE TO AMBROSE, AND
HIS REGARD FOR HER — AMBROSE'S HABITS — AUGUSTINE'S GRAD-
UAL ABANDONMENT OF ERROR — FINDS THAT HE HAS BLAMED THE
CATHOLIC CHURCH WRONGLY — DESIRE OF ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY,
BUT STRUCK WITH THE CONTRARY ANALOGY OF GOD'S NATURAL
PROVIDENCE— HOW SHAKEN IN HIS WORLDLY PURSUITS— GOD'S
GUIDANCE OP HIS FRIEND ALYPIU8 —AUGUSTINE DEBATES WITH
HIMSELF AND HIS FRIENDS ABOUT THEIR MODE OF LIFE — HIS IN-
VETERATE SINS, AND DREAD OF JUDGMENT.
I. 1. 0 Thou^ my hope from my youth^ where
wert Thou to me, and whither wert Thou gone?
TTadst not Thou created me, and separated me from
the beasts of the field, and fowls of the air? Thou
liadst made me wiser, yet did I walk in darkness,
and in slippery places, and sought Thee abroad out
of myself, and found not the God of my heart ; and
had come into the depths of the sea, and distrusted
and depaired of ever finding truth. My mother had
now come to me, resolute through piety, following
me over sea and land, in all perils confiding in Thee.
For in perils of the sea, she comforted the very mar-
iners (by whom passengers unacquainted with the
deep, used rather to be comforted when trouble('),
assuring them of a safe arrival, because Thou hadst
1 Ps. Ixxi. 5.
116 MonictOs liopes of her son.
by a vision assured her thereof. She found me in
grievous peril, through despair of ever finding truth.
But when I had discovered to her that I was now
no longer a Manichee, though not yet a Catholic
Christian, she was not overjoyed, as at something
unexpected ; although she was now relieved concern-
ing a part of my misery, for which she bewailed me
as one dead, though to be reawakened by Thee. I
was carried forth, therefore, upon the hier of her
thoughts, that Thou mightest say to the son of the
vndow^ Young man, I say unto thee. Arise ; and he
shoidd revive, and begin to speaTc, and thou shoiddest
deliver ?dm to his mother} Her heart then was
shaken with no tumultuous exultation, when she
heard that what she daily with tears desired of
Thee, was already in so great part realized ; in that,
though I had not yet attained the truth, I was res-
cued from falsehood; but, as being assured that
Thou, who hadst promised the whole, wouldest one
day give the rest, more calmly, and with an heart
full of confidence, she repUed to me, " She believed
in Christ, that before she departed this life, she
should see me a Catholic believer." Thus much to
me. But to Thee, Fountain of mercies, poured she
forth more copious prayers and tears, that Thou
wouldest hasten Thy help, and enlighten my dark-
ness; and she hastened the more eagerly to the
Church, and hung upon the lips of Ambrose, praying
for the fountain of that loater, v:hich springeth up
unto life emrlasting? But that man she loved as an
1 Luke vii. 14, 15. 2 John iv. 14.
Her obedience to Ambrose. 117
angel of God^ because she knew that by him I had
been brought for the present to that doubtful state
of faith I now was in, through which she anticipated
most confidently that I should pass from sickness
unto health, after the access, as it were, of a sharper
fit, which physicians call "the crisis."
II. 2. When then my mother had once, as she was
wont in Africa, brought to the churches built in
memory of the saints, certain cakes, and bread and
wine, and was forbidden by the door-keeper ; so soon
as she knew the bishop had forbidden this, she so
piously and obediently embraced his wishes, that I
myself wondered how readily she censured her own
practice, rather than discuss his prohibition.^ For
wine-bibbing did not lay siege to her spirit, nor did
love of wine provoke her to hatred of the truth, as
it doth too many (both men and women), who revolt
at a lesson of sobriety, as men well-drunk at a
draught mingled with water. But she, when she had
brought her basket of festival-food, to be but tasted
by herself, and then given away, never joined there-
with more than one small cup of wine, diluted ac-
cording to her own abstemious habits, which for
courtesy she would taste. And if there were many
churches of the departed saints, that were to be
honored in that manner, she still carried round that
same one cup, to be used everywhere; and this,
though not only made very watery, but unpleasantly
heated by carrying about, she would distribute to
those about her by small sips ; for she sought there
1 Compare Augustini Epistolae xxii., xxix. — Ed.
118 Her ohedience to Ambrose.
devotion, not pleasure. So soon, then, as she found
this custom to be forbidden by that famous j^reacher,
and most pious prelate, even to those that would use
it soberly, lest so an occasion of excess might be
given to the drunken, — and furthermore, because
these, as it were, anniversary funeral solemnities did
much resemble the superstition of the Gentiles, —
she most willingly forbare it : and in the place of a
basket filled with the fruits of the earth, she learned
to bring to the churches of the martyrs a breast
filled with more purified petitions, and to give what
she could to the poor ; that so the communication of
the Lord's Body might be rightly celebrated in the
places 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 thinks my
heart of it in Thy sight, that perhaps she would not
so readily have yielded to the cutting ofi* of this cus-
tom, had it been forbidden by another whom she
loved not as Ambrose, Avhom, for my salvation, she
loved most entirely ; and he loved her again, for her
most religious conversation, whereby in good works,
^o fervent in sjnrit, she was constant at church; so
that, when he saw me, he often burst forth in her
praise, congratulating me that I had such a mother ;
not knowing what a son she had in me, who doubted
of all these things, and imagined the way to life could
not be found out.
III. 3. Nor did I yet groan in my prayers, that
Thou wouldest help me; but my spirit was wholly
intent on learning, and restless to disj^ute. And
Ambrose's mode of life. 119
Ambrose himself, as the world counts happy, I es-
teemed a happy man, whom personages so great held
in such honor; only his celibacy seemed to me a
painful course. But what hope he bore within him,
what struggles he had against the temptations which
beset his very excellencies, or what comfort in adver-
sity, and what sweet joys Thy Bread had for the
hidden mouth of his spirit, when chewing the cud
thereof, I neither could conjecture, nor had experi-
enced. Nor did he know the tides of my feelings,
or the abyss of my danger. For I could not ask of
him what I would as I would, being shut out both
from his ear and speech by multitudes of busy peo-
ple, whose weaknesses he served. With whom,
when he was not taken up (which was but a little
time), he was either refreshing his body with the
sustenance absolutely necessary, or his mind with
reading. But when he was reading, his eye glided
over the pages, and his heart searched out the sense,
but his voice and tongue were at rest. Ofttimes
when we had come (for no man was forbidden to
enter, nor was it his wont that any who came should
be announced to him), we saw him thus reading to
himself, and never otherwise; and having long sat
silent (for who durst intrude on one so intent ?) we
were fain to depart, conjecturing, that in the small
interval, which he obtained, free from the din of
others' business, for the recruiting of his mind, he
was loath to be taken off; and perchance he feared
lest if the author he read should deliver anything
obscurely, some attentive or perplexed hearer should
120 Ambrose'' s mode of life.
desire him to expound it, or to discuss some of the
harder questions; so that his time being thus spent,
he could not turn over so many volumes as he
desired; although the preserving of his voice (which
a very little speaking would weaken), might be the
truer reason for his reading to himself But with
what intent soever he did it, certainly in such a man
it was good.
4. I, however, had no opportunity of inquiring
what I wished of that so holy oracle of Thine,
his breast, unless the thing might be answered
briefly. But those tides in me, to be poured out
to him, required his full leisure, and never found
it. I heard him indeed every Lord's day, rightly ex-
pounding the Word of truth} among the people ;
and I was more and more convinced, that all the
knots of those crafty calumnies, which those our
deceivers had knit against the Divine Books, could
be unravelled. But when I understood witiial, that
the words, " man^ created by Thee, after Thine oicn
iraage^l'' were not so understood by Thy spiritual
sons, whom of the Catholic Mother Thou hast regen-
erated through grace, as though they believed and
conceived of Thee as bounded by human shape ;
(although what a spiritual substance should be I had
not even a faint or shadowy notion) ; yet, with joy I
blushed at having so many years barked not against
the Catholic faith, but against the fictions of carnal
imaginations. For so rash and impious had I been,
that what I ought by inquiring to have learned, T
1 2 Tim. ii. 15.
Augustine's notions of the Catholic faith. 121
had ignorantly pronounced upon, condemning. For
Thou, Most High, and most near, most secret, and
most present, Who hast not limbs some larger, some
smaller, but art wholly everywhere, and nowhere in
space, art not of corporeal shape, yet hast Thou made
man after Thine own image ; and behold, from head
to foot is he contained in space.
IV. 5. Being ignorant then how this Thy image
should subsist, I should have knocked and proposed
the question, how it was to be believed, and not in-
sultingly opposed it, as if believed. Doubt, then, as
to what to hold for certain, the more sharply gnawed
my heart, the more ashamed I was, that so long de-
luded and deceived by the promise of certainties, I
had with childish error and vehemence, prated of so
many uncertainties. For that they were falsehoods,
became clear to me later. However, I was certain
that they were uncertain, and that I had formerly
accounted them certain, when with a blind conten-
tiousness, I accused Thy Catholic Church, whom I
now discovered, not indeed as yet to teach truly, but
at least not to teach that for which I had grievously
censured her. So I was confounded, and converted :
and I joyed, O my God, that the One Only Church,
the body of Thine Only Son (wherein the name of
Christ had been put upon me as an infant), had no
taste for infantine conceits ; nor in her sound doc-
trines maintained any tenet which should confine
Thee, the Creator of all, in space, however great and
large, yet bounded everywhere by the limits of a
human form.
122 Process 'whereby Augustine
6. I joyed also that the old Scriptures of the law
and the prophets were laid before me, not now to be
perused with that eye to which before they seemed
absurd, when I reviled Thy holy ones for so thinking,
whereas indeed they thought not so : and with joy I
heard Ambrose, in his sermons to the people, often-
times most dihgently recommend this text for a rule.
The letter Jcilleth, but the jSjmHt giveth Ufe;^ whilst
he drew aside the mystic veil, laying open spiritually
what, according to the letter, seemed to teach some-
thing unsound ; teaching herein nothing that of-
fended me, though he taught what I knew not as yet
whether it were true. For I kept my heart from
assenting to anything, fearing to fall headlong ; but
by hanging in suspense I Avas the worse killed. For I
wished to be as assured of the things I saw not, as I
was that seven and three are ten. For I was not so
mad as to think that even this could not be compre-
hended ; but I desired to have other things as clear
as this, whether things corporeal, which were not
present to my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew
not how to conceive, except corporeally. By believ-
ing I might have been cured, and the eyesight of my
soul being cleared, might have been directed to Thy
truth, which abideth always, and in no part faileth.
But as 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, re-
fused to be cured ; resisting Thy hands, who hast
1 2 Cor. iii. 6.
ca7ne to believe the Scriptures, 123
prepared the medicines of fliitli, and hast appHed
them to the diseases of the whole world, and given
unto them so great authority.
V. 7. Being led, however, from this to prefer the
Catholic doctrine, I felt that her proceeding was
more unassuming and honest, in that she required
belief in things not demonstrated (whether it was
that they could in themselves be demonstrated but
not to certain persons, or could not at all be), whereas
among the Manichees our credulity was mocked by
a promise of certain knowledge, and then so many
most fabulous and absurd things were imposed to be
believed, because they could not be demonstrated.
Then Thou, O Lord, little by little with most tender
and merciful hand, touching and composing my heart,
didst persuade me, — considering what innumerable
things I believed, which I saw not, nor was present
while they were done, as so many things in secular
history, so many reports of places and of cities which
I had not seen, so many reports of friends, so many
of physicians, so many continually of other men,
which unless we should believe, we should know noth-
ing at all in this life ; lastly, with how unshaken an
assurance I believed of what parents I was born,
which I could not know had I not believed upon
hearsay, — considering all this. Thou didst persuade
me, that not they w^ho believed Thy Books (which
Thou hast established in so great authority among
almost all nations), but they who believed them not,
were to be blamed ; and that they were not to be
heard who should say to me, " How knowest thou
124 Begins to believe the Scriptures.
those Scriptures to have been imparted unto man-
kind by the Spirit of the one true and most true
God?" For this very thing was of all most to be
believed, since no contentiousness of all that multi-
tude of blasphemous questionings which I had read
in the self-contradicting philosophers, could wring
this belief from me, "That Thou art" whatsoever
Thou art^ (what I knew not), and "That the gov-
ernment of human things belongs to Thee."
8. This I believed, sometimes more strongly, more
weakly other-whiles ; yet I ever believed both that
Thou art, and hast a care of us; though I was
ignorant both what was to be thought of Thy sub-
stance, and what way led or led back to Thee.
Since, then, we are too weak by abstract reasonings
to find out truth, and for this very cause need the
authority of Holy Writ, I began to believe that
Thou wouldest never h;;ve given such excellency of
authority to Scripture in all lands, hadst Thou not
willed thereby to be believed in, and sought. For
those things, sounding strangely in the Scripture,
which were wont to offend me, being now expounded
satisfactorily, I referred to the depth of the myste-
ries; and its authority appeared to me the more
venerable, and more worthy of religious credence,
in that while it lay open to all to read, it reserved
the majesty of its mysteries within its profounder
meaning, stooping to all in the great j^lainness of its
words and lowliness of its style, yet calling forth the
in tensest application of such as are not light of
1 Ex. iii. 14.
Augustine's inward unrest. 125
heart ; that so it might receive all in its open bosom,
and through narrow passages waft over towards Thee
some few, yet many more than if it stood not aloft
on such a height of authority, nor drew multitudes
w^ithin its bosom by its holy lowliness. These things
I thought on, and Thou wert with me ; I sighed, and
Thou heardest me ; I wavered and Thou didst guide
me ; I wandered through the broad way of the world,
and Thou didst not forsake me.
VI. 9. I panted after honors, gains, marriage ; and
Thou deridedst me. In these desires I underwent
most bitter crosses, Thou being the more gracious,
the less Thou sufferedst aught to grow sweet to me
which was not Thyself. Behold my heart, O Lord,
who wouldest I should remember all this, and con-
fess to Thee. Let my soul cleave unto Thee, now
that Thou hast freed it from that fast-holding bird-
lime of death. How wretched was it! and Thou
didst irritate the sense of its wounds, that, forsaking
all else, it might be converted unto Thee, who art
above all, and without whom all things would be
nothing; and so be converted, and healed. How
miserable was I then, and how didst Thou deal with
me to make me feel my misery on that day when I
was preparing to recite a panegyric of the Emperor,^
wherein I was to utter many a lie, and, lying, was to
be applauded by those who knew I lied, and my
heart was panting with these anxieties, and boiling
with the feverishness of consuming thoughts. For,
1 Valentinian II. : Compare Aug. Contra Petilianum, III. 25, and Pos-
sidonius De Vita Augustini, 1. — Ed.
11
126 The sight of a drunken beggar a lesson.
passing through one of the streets of Milan, I ob-
served a poor beggar, then, I suppose, with a full
belly, joking and joyous: and I sighed, and spoke to
the friends around me of the many sorrows of our
ambitions; for that by all such efforts of ours, as
those wherein I then toiled, draggiiig along, under
the goading of desire, the burthen of my own
wretchedness, and, by dragging, augmenting it, we
yet looked to arrive only at that very joyousness,
whither that beggar-man had arrived before us, who
should never perchance attain it. For what he had
obtained by means of a few begged pence, the same
was I plotting for by many a toilsome turning and
winding, — the joy of a temporary felicity. For he
verily had not the true joy ; but yet I, with those my
ambitious designs, was seeking one much less true.
For certainly he was joyous, I anxious; he void of
care, I full of fears. But should any ask me, had I
rather be merry or fearful ? I would answer, merry.
Again, if he asked had I rather be such as he was,
or what I then was? I should choose to be myself,
though worn with cares and fears ; but would this be
wise, and according to reason ? For I ought not to
prefer myself to him, because more learned than he,
seeing I had no joy therein, but sought to please
men by it ; and that not to instruct, but simply to
please. Wherefore, also Thou didst break my bones
with the staff of Thy correction.
10. Away with those, then, from my soul, who say
to her, "It makes a difference whence a man's joy
is. That beggar-man joyed in drunkenness; Thou
Sis fr lend A lyp lus. 127
wouldest joy in glory." What glory, Lord ? That
which is not in Thee. For even as his was no true
joy, so was that no true glory: and it overthrew my
soul more. For he that very night would digest his
drunkenness ; but I had slept and risen again with
mine, and was to sleep again, and again to rise with
it, how many days. Thou, God, knowest. But " it
doth make a difference whence a man's joy is." I
know it, and the joy of a faithful hope lieth incom-
parably beyond such vanity. Yea, and so was that
beggar then beyond me : for he verily was the hap-
pier; not only for that he was thoroughly drenched
in mirth, I disembowelled with cares : but he, by fair
wishes had gotten wine ; I, by lying, was seeking for
empty, swelling praise. Much to this purpose said I
then to my friends : and I often marked in them the
same experience with my own ; and I found it w^ent
ill with me, and grieved, and doubled that very ill ;
and if any prosperity smiled on me, I was loath to
catch at it, for almost before I could grasp it, it flew
away.
VII. 11. These things we, who were living as
friends together, bemoaned together, but chiefly and
most familiarly did I speak thereof with Alypius and
Nebridius. Alypius was born in the same town with
me, of persons of chief rank there, but he was
younger than I. He had studied under me, both
when I first lectured in our town, and afterwards at
Carthage, and he loved me much, because I seemed
to him kind, and learned ; and I loved him for his
great towardliness to virtue, which was eminent in
128 His friend Alypius cured hy God^
one of no greater years. Yet the whirlpool of Car-
thaginian habits (amongst whom those idle spectacles
are hotly followed) had drawn him into the madness
of the Circus. But while he was miserably tossed
therein, and I, professing rhetoric there in a public
school, he as yet came not under my teaching, by
reason of some unkindness risen betwixt his father
and me. I had found how deadly he doted upon the
Circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely
to throw away so great j^romise : yet had I no means
of advising or with a sort of constraint reclaiming
him, either by the kindness of a friend, or the author-
ity of a master. For I supposed that he thought of
me as his father did ; but it was not so ; and laying-
aside his father's mind in that matter, he began to
greet me, came sometimes into my lecture-room, hear
a little, and begone.
12. I, however, had forgotten to deal with him, so
that he should not, through a blind and headlong
desire of vain pastimes, undo so good a wit. But
Thou, O Lord, who guidest the course of all Thou
hast created, hadst not forgotten him, who Avas one
day to be among Thy children, a priest and dis-
penser of Thy Sacrament ; and that his amendment
might plainly be attributed to Thyself, Thou effect-
edst it through me, but unknowingly. For as one
day I sat in my accustomed place, with my scholai-s
before me, he entered, greeted me, sat down, and
applied his mind to what I then handled. I had by
chance a passage in hand, which, while I was explain-
ing, a likeness from the Circensian races occurred to
through a chance icord of Augicstine. 129
me, as likely to make what I would convey pleas-
anter and plainer, seasoned with biting mockery of
those whom that madness had enthralled; God,
Thou knowest, that I then thought not of curing
Alypius of that infection. But he took it wholly to
himself, and thought that I said it simply for his
sake. And what another would have taken as occa-
sion of offence with me, that right-minded youth
took as a ground of being offended at himself, and
loving me more fervently. For Thou hadst said it
long ago, and jDut it into Thy book. Rebuke a icise
man and he will love thee} But I had not rebuked
him, but Thou, who employest all, knowing or not
knowing, in that order which Thyself knowest (and
that order is just), didst of my heart and tongue
make burning coals, by which to set on fire the hope-
ful mind, thus languishing, and so cure it. Let him
be silent in Thy praises, who considers not Thy mer-
cies, which confess unto Thee out of my inmost soul.
For upon that speech, Alypius burst out of that pit
so deep, wherein he was wilfully plunged, and was
blinded with its wretched pastimes ; and he roused
his mind with a strong self-command ; whereupon all
the filths of the Circensian pastimes flew off from
him, nor returned he again thither. Upon this, he
prevailed with his unwilling father, that he might be
my scholar. He gave way, and gave in. And Alyp-
ius beginning to be my hearer again, was involved
in the same superstition with me, loving in the Man-
ichees that show of consistency, which he suj^posed
1 Prov. ix. 8.
130 Al7/2)his betrayed hy self-confidence
true and unfeigned. Whereas it was a senseless and
seducing continency, ensnaring precious souls, un-
able as yet to reach the depth of virtue, yet readily
beguiled with the surface of what was but a shadowy
and counterfeit virtue.
Yin. 13. Not forsaking that secular course which
his parents had charmed him to pursue, he had gone
before me to Rome, to study law, and there he was
carried away incredibly with an incredible eagerness
after the shows of gladiators. For being utterly
averse to and detesting such spectacles, he was one
day by chance met by divers of his acquaintances and
fellow-students coming from dinner, and they with a
familiar violence haled him, vehemently refusing and
resisting, into the Amphitheatre, during these cruel
and deadly shows, he thus protesting : " Though you
hale my body to that place, and there set me, can
you force me also to turn my mind or my eyes to
those shows? I shall then be absent while pres-
ent, and so shall overcome both you and them."
They hearing this, led him on nevertheless, desirous
perchance to try that very thing, whether he could
do as he said. When they were come thither, and
had taken their places as they could, the whole place
kindled with that savage pastime. But he, closing
the passages of his eyes, forbade his mind to range
abroad after such evils ; and would he had stopped his
ears also ! For in the fight, when one fell, a mighty
cry of the whole people striking him strongly, over-
come by curiosity, and as if prepared to despise and
be superior to it whatsoever it were, even when seen,
to love gladiatorial combats. 131
he opened his eyes, and was stricken with a deeper
wound in his soul, than the gladiator, whom he de-
sired to behold, was in his body ; and he fell more
miserably than he, upon whose fall that mighty noise
was raised, which entered through his ears and un-
locked his eyes, to make way for the striking and
beating down of a soul, bold rather than resolute,
and the weaker, in that it had presumed on itself,
which ought to have relied on Thee. For so soon
as he saw that blood, he therewith drunk down sav-
ageness ; nor turned away, but fixed his eye, drinking
in frenzy, unawares, and was delighted with that
guilty fight, and intoxicated with the bloody pastime.
Xor was he now the man he came, but one of the
throng he came unto, yea, a true associate of theirs
that brought him thither. Why say more ? He be-
held, shouted, kindled, carried thence with him the
madness which should goad him to return not only
with them who first drew him thither, but also before
them, yea, and to draw in others. Yet thence didst
Thou with a most strong and most merciful hand
pluck him, and taughtest him to have confidence not
in himself, but in Thee. But this was afterwards.
IX. 14. All this was being laid up in his memory
to be a medicine hereafter. So was this, also, that
when he was yet studying under me at Carthage,
and was thinking over at mid-day in the market-
place what he was to say by heart (as scholars are
accustomed). Thou sufieredst him to be apprehended
by the officers of the market-place for a thief For
no other cause I deem, didst Thou, our God, suffer
132 God instructs beforehand
it, but that he, who was hereafter to prove so great a
man, should ah-eady begin to learn that, in judging
of causes, man is not readily to be condemned by
man out of a rash credulity. For as he was walking
up and down by himself before the judgment-seat,
with his note-book and pen, lo ! a young man, a law-
yer, the real thief, privily bringing a hatchet, got in,
unperceived by Alypius, as far as the leaden grat-
ings, which fence in the silversmiths' shops, and
began to cut away the lead. But the noise of the
hatchet being heard, the silversmiths beneath began
to make a stir, and sent to apprehend whomever
they should find. But the thief hearing their voices,
ran away, leaving his hatchet, fearing to be taken
with it. Alypius now, w^ho had not seen him enter,
was aware of his leaving, and saw with what speed
he made away. And being desirous to know the
matter, entered the place ; where finding the hatchet,
he was standing, wondering and considering it, when
behold, those that had been sent, find him alone
with the hatchet in his hand, the noise whereof had
startled and brought them thither. They seize him,
hale him away, and gathering the dwellers in the
market-place together, boast of having taken a noto-
rious thief, and so he was being led away to be taken
before the judge.
15. But thus fir was Alypius to be instructed.
For forthwith, O Lord, Tliou succoredst his inno-
cency, whereof Thou alone wert witness. For as he
was being led either to prison or to punishment, a
certain architect met them, who had the chief charge
those vihom He employs. 133
of the public buildings. Glad they were to meet
him especially, by whom they were Avont to be sus-
pected of stealing the goods lost out of the market-
place, that they might show him at last by whom
these thefts were committed. He, however, had
frequently seen Alypius at a certain senator's house,
to whom he often went to pay his respects ; and re-
cognizing him immediately, he took him aside by the
hand, and inquiring the occasion of so great a calam-
ity, heard the whole matter, and bade all present,
amid much uproar and threats, to go with him. So
they came to the house of the young man, who had
done the deed. There, before the door, was a boy,
so young, as to be likely, not apprehending any harm
to his master, to disclose the whole. For he had
attended his master to the market-jjlace. Whom, so
soon as Alypius remembered, he told the architect :
and he, showing the hatchet to the boy, asked him
" Whose that was?" — " Ours," quoth he, presently :
and being further questioned, he discovered every-
thing. Thus the crime was transferred to that house,
and the multitude which had begun to insult over
Alypius, was ashamed ; and he who was to be a dis-
penser of Thy Word, and an examiner of many causes
in Thy Church, went away better experienced and
instructed.
X. 16. This Alypius I found at Rome, and he
clave to me by a strong tie, and went with me to
Milan, both that he might not leave me, and might
practise something of the law he had studied, more
to please his parents than himself. There he had
134 Aly plus's unusual honesty.
thrice sat as assessor with an uncorruptness much
wondered at by others, he wondering at others,
rather, who could jDrefer gold to honesty. His char-
acter was tiied, besides, not only with the bait of
covetousness, but with the goad of fear. At Rome
he was assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury.
There was at that time a very powerful senator, to
whose favors many stood indebted, and whom many
much feared. He would needs do, by abuse of power,
what by the laws was unallowed. Alypius resisted
it : a bribe was j^romised ; with all his heart he
scorned it : threats were held out ; he trampled upon
them ; all wondering at so unwonted a spirit, which
neither desired the friendship, nor feared the enmity
of one so great and so renowned for innumerable
means of doing good or evil. And the very judge
also, whose counsellor Alypius was, although unwill-
ing it should be, yet did not openly refuse, but put
the matter off upon Alypius, alleging that he would
not allow him to do it : for in truth had the judge
done it, Alypius would have decided otherwise.
With this one thing in the way of learning, however,
was he well-nigh seduced, namely, that he might
have books coj^ied for him at the city's expense ; but
consulting justice, he altered his deliberation for the
better; esteeming equity whereby he was hindered
more gainful than the power whereby he were al-
lowed. These are slight things, hut he that is faith-
ful in little^ is faithful also in much} Nor can that
be void which proceeded out of the mouth of Thy
1 Luke xvi. 10.
Augustine's longing after amendment. 135
•
Truth ; If ye have not been faithful in the unright-
eous Mammon^ icho will commit to your trust true
riches f And if ye have not heen faithfid in that
which is another ma^i's^ loho shcdl give you that
which is your oionf^ He being such, did at that
time cleave to me, and with me wavered in purpose,
what course of Ufe was to be taken.
17. Nebridius, also, who, having left his native
country near Carthage, yea, and Carthage itself, where
he had lived some time, leaving his excellent family-
estate and house, and a mother behind, who was
not to follow him, had come to Milan, for no other
reason but that with me he might live in a most
ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he
sighed, like me he wavered, an ardent searcher after
true life, and a most acute examiner of the most diffi-
cult questions. Thus were there the mouths of three
indigent persons sighing out their wants one to an-
other, and waiting upon Thee that Thou mightest
give them their meat in due seaso7i? And in all the
bitterness, which by Thy mercy followed our worldly
affairs, as we looked towards the end, and asked why
we should suffer all this, darkness met us; and we
turned away groaning, and saying, Soio long shall
these things he f This, too, we often said : and yet,
so saying, forsook not these worldly things ; for as
yet there dawned nothing certain which we might
embrace in the place of them.
XI. 18. And I, viewing and reviewing things,
wondered extremely at the length of time that had
1 Luke xvi. 11, 12. 2 Ps. cxlv. 15.
136 Augustine's longing after amendment.
elapsed since my nineteenth year, when I first began
to kindle with the desire of wisdom, resolving when
I had found it to abandon all the empty hopes and
lying frenzies of vain desires. And lo ! I was now in
my thirtieth year, sticking in the same mire, greedy
of enjoying present things, which passed away and
wasted my soul ; while I said to myself, " To-moiTow
I shall find it; it will appear manifestly, and 1 shall
grasp it ; lo ! Faustus the Manichee will come, and
clear up everything ! O you great men, ye Acade-
micians, it is true then that no certainty can be
attained for the ordering of life ! Nay, let me search
the more diligently, and despair not. Lo ! things in
the ecclesiastical books are not absurd to me now,
which sometimes seemed absurd, and may be other-
wise taken, and in a good sense. I will take my
stand where, as a child, my parents placed me, until
the clear truth be found out. But where shall it be
sought, or when ? Ambrose has no leisure ; I have
no leisure to read ; where shall I find even the
books ? Whence, or when procure them ? from
whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed,
and certain hours ordered for the health of my soul.
Great hope has dawned ; the Catholic Faith teaches
not what I thought, and vainly accused it of; her in-
structed members hold it profane to believe God to
be bounded by the figure of a human body : and
shall 1 hesitate to 'knock,' that the rest 'may be
opened ?' The forenoons my scholars take up ; what
do I during the rest of the day? Why not exam-
ine this subject? But when shall I pay court to my
Augustine' s perplexities and vacillations. 137
great friends, whose favor I need ? When compose
what I may sell to scholars ? When refresh myself,
unbending my mind from this intenseness of care ?
19. Perish everything, dismiss these empty van-
ities, and betake myself to the one search for truth !
Life is vain, death uncertain ; if it steals ujDon me on
a sudden, in what state shall I depart hence? and
where shall I learn what here I have neglected?
and shall I not rather suffer the punishment of this
negligence ? What, if death itself cut off and end
all care and feeling ? Then must this be ascertained.
But God forbid this ! It is no vain and empty thing,
that the excellent dignity of the authority of the
Christian Faith hath overspread the whole world.
Never would such and so great things be by God
wrought for us, if with the death of the body the life
of the soul came to an end. Wherefore do I delay
then to abandon worldly hopes, and give myself
wholly to seek after God and the blessed life? But
wait ! Worldly things are pleasant ; they have no
small sweetness. I must not lightly abandon them,
for it were a shame to return again to them. See, it
is no difficult matter now to obtain some station, and
then what more should I wish for ? I have store of
powerful friends ; if nothing else offer, and I be in
much haste, at least a presidentship ^ may be given
me : and a wife with some money, that she increase
not my charges : and this shall be the bound of my
desire. Many great men and most worthy of imita-
1 The government of a province.
138 He is ignoraiit that God gives strength.
tion, have given themselves to the study of wisdom
in the state of marriage."
20. While I went over these things, and these
winds shifted and drove my heart this way and that,
time passed on, but I delayed to turn to the Lord ;
and from day to day deferred to live in Thee, and so
died in myself Loving a happy life, I feared to seek
it in its own true abode, and sought it by fleeing
from it. I thought I should be too miserable, unless
folded in female arms ; and of the medicine of Thy
mercy to cure that infirmity I thought not, not hav-
ing tried it. As for continency, I supposed it must
be in our own powder (though in myself I did not
find that power), being so foolish as not to know
what is written, JS^one can he continent unless Thou
give it;^ and that Thou wouldest give it, if with
inward groanings I did knock at Thine ears, and
with a settled faith did cast my care on Thee.
XIL 2L Alypius indeed kept me from marrying ;
alleocins:, that in that case, we could not in undis-
tracted leisure live together in the search after wis-
dom, as we had long desired. He himself was even
then most chaste, so much so that it was wonderful ;
and all the more, since in the outset of his youth he
had entered into that course, but had not stuck fist
therein ; rather had he felt remorse and revolting at
it, living thenceforth until now most continently.
But I opposed him with the examples of those who,
as married men, had cherished wisdom, and served
God acceptably, and retained their friends, and loved
1 Wisd. viii. 2. Vulj?.
Modes of life. 139
them faithfully. Of whose greatness* of spirit I came
far short ; and bound with the disease of the flesh,
and its deadly sweetness, I drew along my chain,
dreading to be loosed, and as if my wound had been
fretted, put back his good persuasions, as it were the
hand of one that would unchain me. Moreover, by
me did the serpent speak unto Alypius himself, by
my tongue weaving and laying in his path pleasur-
able snares, wherein his virtuous and free feet might
be entangled.
22. For when he wondered that I, whom he es-
teemed not slightly, should stick so fast in the bird-
lime of that pleasure, as to protest (so oft as we
discussed it) that I could never lead a single life;
and urged in my defence, when I saw him wonder,
that there was a great difference between his momen-
tary and scarce-remembered knowledge of that life,
which so he might easily despise, and my continued
acquaintance with it, whereto if but the honorable
name of marriage were added, he ought not to won-
der why I could not contemn it ; he began also to
desire to be married, — not as overcome with desire
of such pleasure, but out of curiosity. For he would
fain know, he said, what that should be, without
which my life, to him so pleasing, would to me seem
not life but a punishment. For his mind, free from
that chain, was amazed at my thraldom ; and through
that amazement was going on to a desire of trying it,
thence to the trial itself, and thence perhaps to sink
into that bondage whereat he wondered, seeing he
was willing to inahe a covenant with death j^ and,
1 Is. xxviii. 15.
140 Marriage,
he that loves danger shall fall into it} For whatever
honor there be in the office of a well-orclered married
hfe and a family, moved us but slightly. The habit
of satisfying an insatiable appetite tormented me,
while it held me captive ; and an admiring wonder
was leading him captive. Thus were we, until Thou,
O Most High, not forsaking our dust, commiserating
us miserable, didst come to our help, by wondrous
and secret ways.
XIII. 23. Continual effort was made to have me
married. I wooed, I was promised, chiefly through
my mother's pains, that so once married, the health-
giving baptism might cleanse me, towards which she
rejoiced that I was becoming daily more disposed,
and observed that her prayers, and Thy promises,
were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time,
verily, both at ray request and her own longing, with
strong cries of heart she daily begged of Thee, that
Thou wouldest by a vision discover unto her some-
thing concerning my future marriage; but Thou
never wouldest. She saw indeed certain vain and
fmtastic things, such as the energy of the human
spirit, busied thereon, brought together; and these
she told me of, not with that confidence she was
wont, when Thou showedst her anything, but slight-
ing them. For she could, she said, through a certain
feeling, which in words she could not express, discern
betwixt Thy revelations, and the dreams of her own
soul. Yet the matter was pressed on, and a maiden
asked in marriage, two years under the fit age ; but,
as I liked her, I waited for her.
1 Ecclus. iii. 27.
Proposed reclitse life. 141
XIV. 24. And many of us friends conferring
about, and detesting the turbulent turmoils of hu-
man life, had debated and now almost resolved on
living apart from business and the bustle of men ;
and this was to be thus obtained ; we were to bring
whatever we might severally procure, and make one
household of all ; so that through the truth of our
friendship nothing should belong especially to any ;
but the whole thus derived from all, should as a
whole belong to each, and all to all. We thought
there might be some ten persons in this society ;
some of us were very rich, esj^ecially Romanianus,
our townsman, from childhood a very familiar friend
of mine, whom the grievous perplexities of his affairs
had brought up to court. He was the most earnest
for this project; and his voice was of great weight,
because his ample estate far exceeded any of the
rest. We had settled, also, that two annual officers,
as it were, should provide all things necessary, the
rest being undisturbed. But when we began to con-
sider whether the wives, which some of us already
had, and others hoped to have, would allow this, all
that plan, which was being so well moulded, fell to
pieces in our hands, and was utterly dashed and cast
aside. Thence we betook us to sighs, and groans,
and to follow the broad and beaten loays of the
world.^ Many were the thoughts in our heart, hut
Thy counsel standeth forever? Out of which coun-
sel Thou didst deride ours, and preparedst Thine
own ; purposing to give us meat in due season^ and
1 Matt. vii. 13. 2 Ps. xxxiii. 11.
12
142 Ills inveterate sins.
to open Thy hand^ and to fill our soids loith bless-
ing}
XV. 25. Meanwhile my sins were multiplied, and
my concubine being torn from my side as a hin-
drance to my marriage, my heart, which clave unto
her, was torn and wounded and bleeding. And she
returned to Africa, vowing unto Thee never to know
any other man, leaving with me my son by her. But
unhappy I, who could not imitate a very woman,
impatient because not till after two years was I to
obtain my wife, and not being so much a lover of
marriage as a slave to lust, procured another concu-
bine, that so, by the servitude of an enduring custom,
the disease of my soul might be kept up and carried
on in its vigor, or even augmented, into the dominion
of marriage. Nor was my wound cured, which had
been made by the previous incision, but after inflam-
mation and most acute pain, it mortified, and then
my pains became less acute, but more desperate.
XVI. 26. Praise be to Thee, glory to Thee, O
Fountain of mercies. I was becominar more miser-
able, and Thou becoming nearer. Thy right hand
was continually ready to pluck me out of the mire,
and to wash me thoroughly, and I knew it not ; nor
did anything call me back from a yet deeper gulf of
carnal pleasures, but the fear of death, and of Thy
judgment to come; which, amid all my changes,
never departed from my breast. And in my dis-
putes with my friends, Alypius and Nebridius, con-
cerning the nature of good and evil, I held that
1 Fs. cxiv. 15, 16.
His inveterate sins. 143
Epicurus would have, in my mind, won the pahn,
had I not believed that after death there remained a
life for the soul, and places of requital according to
men's deserts, which E]iicurus would not believe.
And I asked, " were we immortal, and to live in per-
petual bodily pleasure, without fear of losing it, why
should we not be happy, or what else should we
seek ? " not knowing that great misery was involved
in this very thing, that, being thus sunk and blinded,
I could not discern that light of excellence and
beauty, to be embraced for its own sake, which the
eye of flesh cannot see, and which is seen only by
the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy, consider from
what source it sprung, that even on these things,
foul as they were, I with pleasure discoursed with
my friends ; nor could I, even according to the no-
tions I then had of happiness, be happy without
friends, amid what abundance soever of carnal pleas-
ures. And yet these friends I loved for themselves
only, and I felt that I was beloved of them again for
myself only.
O crooked paths! Woe to the audacious soul,
which hoped, by forsaking Thee, to gain some better
thing ! Tossed up and down, upon back, sides, and
breast, it found only j^ain ; for Thou alone art rest.
And behold. Thou art at hand, and deliverest us
from our wretched wanderings, and placest us in Thy
way, and dost comfort us, and say, " Run ; I will
carry you ; yea, I will bring you through ; beyond
also will I carry you."
THE SEVENTH BOOK.
AUGUSTINE'S THIRTY-FIKST TEAR — HE IS GRADUALLY EXTRICATED
PROM HIS ERRORS, BUT STILL WITH MATERIAL CONCEPTIONS OP
GOD— AIDED BY AN ARGUMENT OP NEBRIDIUS — SEES THAT THE
CAUSE OP SIN LIES IN PREE- WILL— REJECTS THE MANICH^AN
HERESY, BUT CANNOT ALTOGETHER EMBRACE THE DOCTRINE OP
THE CHURCH — RECOVERED PROM THE BELIEF IN ASTROLOGY, BUT
MISERABLY PERPLEXED ABOUT THE ORIGIN OF EVIL — IS LED TO
FIND IN THE PLATONISTS THE SEEDS OP THE DOCTRINE OP THE
DIVINITY OP THE WORD, BUT NOT OP HIS HUMILIATION — HENCE
HE OBTAINS CLEARER NOTIONS OP GOD'S MAJESTY, BUT, NOT KNOW-
ING CHRIST TO BE THE MEDIATOR, REMAINS ESTRANGED FROM HIM
— ALL HIS DOUBTS REMOVED BY THE HOLY SCRIPTURE, ESPECIALLY
ST. PAUL.
I. 1. My evil and abominable youth was now
ended, and I was passing into early manhood ; the
more defiled by vain things as I grew in years, for I
could not imagine any substance but such as is wont
to be seen with these eyes. I did not think of Thee,
0 God, under the figure of an human body ; since I
began to hear aught of wisdom, I always avoided
this ; and rejoiced to have found the same in the
faith of our spiritual mother. Thy Catholic Church.
But what else to conceive Thee I knew not. And I,
a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of Thee
the sovereign, only, true God ; and I did in my in-
most soul believe that Tliou art incorruptible, and
uninjurable, and unchangeable ; because, though not
knowing whence or how, yet I saw plainly and was
His thirty-first year. 145
sure that the corruptible must be inferior to the in-
corruptible; what could not be injured, I preferred
unhesitatingly to what could receive injury; the un-
changeable, to things subject to change. My heart
passionately cried out against all phantoms, and with
one blow I sought to beat away from the eye of my
mind all that unclean troop which buzzed around it.
And lo ! being scarcely driven off, in the twinkling
of an eye they gathered again thick about me, flew
against my face, and beclouded it ; so that, though
not under the form of the human body, yet was I
constrained to conceive of Thee (that incorruptible,
uninjurable, and unchangeable, which I preferred
before the corruptible, and injurable, and change-
able) as being in space, either infused into the world,
or diffused infinitely without it. Because, whatsoever
I conceived deprived of this sj^ace seemed to me
nothing, yea, altogether nothing ; not even a void, as
if a body were taken out of its place, and the place
should remain empty of any body at all, of earth and
water, air and heaven, yet would it remain a void
place, as it were a spacious nothing.
2. I then being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even
to myself, whatsoever was not extended over certain
spaces, nor diffused, nor condensed, nor swelled out,
or did not or could not receive some of these dimen-
sions, I thought to be altogether nothing. For over
such forms as my eyes are wont to range, did my
heart then range : nor yet did I see that this same
notion of the mind, whereby I formed those very
images, was not of this sensuous sort, and yet the
146 Inquiries about the Being of God.
mind could not have formed them, had not itself been
some great thing. So also did I endeavor to con-
ceive of Thee, Life of my life, as vast, through infinite
spaces on every side penetrating the whole mass of
the universe, and beyond it, every way, through
unmeasurable boundless spaces; so that the earth
should have Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things
have Thee, and they be bounded in Thee, and Thou
bounded nowhere. For as the body of this air which
is above the earth hindereth not the light of the
sun from passing through it, penetrating it, not by
bursting or by cutting, but by filling it wholly : so I
thought the body not of heaven, air, and sea only,
but of the earth too, pervious to Thee, so that in all
its parts, the greatest as the smallest, it should admit
Thy presence, by a secret inspu-ation, within and
without, directing all things which Thou hast cre-
ated. So I guessed, only as unable to conceive
aught else, for it was false. For in that case, a
greater part of the earth would contain a greater
portion of Thee, and a less, a lesser : and all things
would be full of Thee, in such manner that the body
of an elephant would contain more of Thee than
that of a sparrow, since it is larger, and takes up
more room ; and thus Thou wouldest make the sev-
eral portions of Thyself present unto the several
portions of the world, in fragments, large to the
large, little to the little. But such art not Thou,
who hadst not as yet enlightened my darkness.
II. 3. It was enough for me, Lord, to oppose to
those deceived deceivers, and dumb praters, what
Manner of God'' s presence in the Universe. 147
Nebriclius used to propound, while we were yet at
Carthage, at which all we that heard it were stag-
gered : " That kingdom of darkness, which the Man-
ichees are wont to set as an 02)posing mass, over
against God, what could it have done unto God, had
He refused to fight with it ? For, if they answer, ' it
would have done God some hurt,' then would God
be subject to injury and corruption : but if they an-
swer ' it could do God no hurt,' then there was no
reason why God should fight with it ; and fighting,
too, in such wise, as that a certain jDortion or mem-
ber of God, or oflTspring of His very Substance,
should be mingled with opposed powers and na-
tures not created by God, and be by them so far
corrupted and changed to the worse, as to be turned
from happiness into misery, and need assistance,
whereby it might be extricated and purified; and
that this offspring of God's Substance was the soul,
which being enthralled, defiled, corrupted, the Divine
Word, free, pure, and whole, might relieve; that
Word Itself being also corruptible, because It was
of one and the same Substance.^ So then, should
they afl&rm God, whatsoever He is (that is, the Sub-
stance whereby He is), to be incorruptible, then were
all these sayings false and execrable ; but if corrupt-
ible, the very statement showed it to be false and
revolting." This argument, then, of Nebridius suf-
ficed against those, who deserved wholly to be vom-
1 Compare the account of the Manichaean cosmogony, together with
that of the Basilidean and Valentinian Gnosticism, in Guericke's Church
History, §§ 46, 47, 54. —Ed.
1 48 The proUem of evil.
ited out of the overcharged stomach ; for they had
no escape from horrible blasphemy of heart and
tongue, thus thinking and speaking of Thee.
III. 4. But although I held, and was firmly per-
suaded, that Thou our Lord the true God, who
madest not only our souls, but our bodies, and not
only our souls and bodies, but all beings, and all
things, art undefilable and unalterable, and in no
degree mutable, yet I understood not, clearly and
without difficulty, the cause of evil. And yet, what-
ever it were, I perceived it was in such wise to be
sought out, as should not constrain me to believe the
immutable God to be mutable, lest I should become
the evil I was seeking to understand. I sought it
out, then, thus far free from anxiety, certain of the
untruth of what the Manichees held, from whom I
shrunk with my whole heart ; for I saw that, through
inquiring the origin of evil, they were filled with evil,
in that they preferred to think that Thy substance
did suffer ill than that their own did commit it.
5. And I strained to perceive what I now heard,
that freewill was the cause of our doing ill, and Thy
just judgment of owy suffeiHng ill. But I was not
able clearly to discern it. So, then, endeavoring to
draw my soul's vision out of that deep pit, I was
again plunged therein, and endeavoring often, I was
l)lunged back as often. But this raised me a Httle
into Thy light, so that I knew as well that I had a
will, as that I lived : when then I did will or nill
anything, I was most sure that no other than myself
did will and nill : and I all but saw that there was
The problem of evil. 149
the cause of my sin. But what I did against my
will, I saw that I suffered rather than did, and I
judged not to be my fault, but my punishment;
whereby, however, holding Thee to be just, I speed-
ily confessed myself to be not unjustly punished.
But again I said, Who made me ? Did not my God,
who is not only good, but goodness itself? Whence
then came I to will evil and nill good, so that I am
thus justly punished ? who set this in me, and in-
grafted into me this plant of bitterness, seeing I was
wholly formed by my most sweet God ? If the devil
were the author, whence is that same devil ? And
if he also by his own perverse will, of a good angel
became a devil, whence, again, came in him that evil
will whereby he became a devil,^ seeing the whole na-
ture of angels was made by that most good Creator ?
By these thoughts I was again sunk down and choked;
yet not brought down to that hell of error (where no
man confesseth unto Thee), to think rather that Thou
dost suffer ill, than that man doth it.^
IV. 6. For I was striving to find out the rest,
having already found that the incorruptible must
needs be better than the corruptible : and whatso-
ever Thou wert, I confessed Thee to be incorrupt-
ible. For never • soul was, nor shall be, able to
conceive anything which may be better than Thou,
who art the sovereign and the best good. But
since, most truly and certainly, the incorruptible is
1 The question : What is the efficient cause of an evil will? Augustine,
at a later clay, affirmed to be inadmissible because it involves a self-con-
tradiction. See De Civitate Dei, XII. 7. — Ed.
2 Ps. vi. 5.
150 The problem of eml.
preferable to the corruptible (as I did now prefer
it), then if Thou wert not incorruptible, I could in
thought have arrived at something better than my
God. Where then I saw the incorruptible to be
preferable to the corruptible, there ought I to seek
for Thee, and there observe "wherein evil itself
was;" that is, whence corruption comes, by which
Thy substance can by no means be impaired. For
corruption does no ways impair our God ; by no will,
by no necessity, by no unlooked-for 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 against Thy wdll constrained to do any-
thing, since Thy will is not greater than Thy power. But
greater should it be, were Thyself greater than Thy-
self For the will and power of God, is God Him-
self And what can be unlooked-for by Thee, who
knowest all things? Nor is there any nature in
things, but Thou knowest it. And what more rea-
son should we give, " why that substance which God
is should not be corruptible," seeing if it were so, it
should not be God ?
V. 7. And I sought, " whence is evil," and sought
in an evil way; and saw not the evil in my very
search. I set now before the sight of my spirit the
whole creation, whatsoever we can see therein (as
sea, earth, air, stars, trees, mortal creatures), yea, and
whatever in it we do not see, as the firmament of
heaven, all angels moreover, and all the spiritual in-
habitants thereof But these very beings, as though
they were bodies, did my fancy dispose each in its
The 2)rohlem of evil, 151
own place, and I made one great mass of Thy crea-
tion, distinguished as to the kinds of bodies ; some,
real bodies; some, what myself had feigned for spirits.
And this mass I made huge, not as it was (which I
could not know), but as I thought fitting, 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 unmeasured space, one only
boundless sea, and it contained within it a sponge,
huge, but bounded ; that sponge must needs, in all
its parts, be filled from that unmeasurable sea: so
conceived I Thy creation, itself finite, full of 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, the Good, created them good : and see how
He environs and full-fills them. Where is evil, then ?
and whence, and how crept it in hither? What is
its root, and what its seed ? Or, hath it no being ?
Why then fear we and avoid what is not ? Or, if we
fear it idly, then is that very fear evil, whereby the
soul is thus idly goaded and racked. Yea, and so
much a greater evil, as we have nothing to fear, and
yet do fear. Therefore either that evil which we fear
actually exists, or else our fear is evil. Whence is evil,
then ? seeing God, the Good, hath created all these
things good. He indeed, the greater and chiefest
Good, hath created these lesser goods ; still both Cre-
ator and created, all are good. Whence, then, is evil ?
Was there^some evil matter out of which He made,
152 The prohUm of evil,
and formed, and ordered these lesser goods, yet left
something in this matter which He did not convert
into good ? Why so, then ? Had He no might to
turn and change the whole, so that no evil should
remain in it, seeing He is All-mighty ? Lastly, why
would He make anything at all of it, and not rather
by the same Allmightiness cause it not to be at all ?
Or, could it then be, against His will ? Or, if it were
from eternity, why suffered He it so to be for infinite
spaces of times past, and was pleased so long after to
make something out of it ? Or, if He were suddenly
pleased now to effect somewhat, this rather should
the Almighty have effected, that this evil matter
should not be, and He alone be, the whole, true,
sovereign and infinite Good. Or, if it was not good
that He, who is good, should not also frame and
create something that were good, then, that evil
matter being taken away and brought to nothing.
He might form good matter, whereof to create all
things. For He would not be Ahnighty, if He might
not create something good without the aid of that
matter which Himself had not created. These
thoughts I revolved in my miserable heart, over-
charged with the most gnawing anxiety lest I should
die ere I had found the truth ; yet was the faith of
Thy Christ our Lord and Saviour, professed in the
Church CathoUc, firmly fixed in my heart, in many
points, although yet unformed, and fluctuating from
the rule of floctrine ; yot my mind did not utterly
leave it, but rather daily took in more and more
of it.
No faith to he placed in astrologers. 153
VI. 8. By this time, also, had I rejected the lying
divinations and impious dotages of the astrologers.
Let Thine own mercies, out of my very inmost soul,
confess unto Thee for this also, O my God. For
Thou, Thou altogether (for who else calls us back
from the death of all errors, save the Life which can-
not die, and the Wisdom which, needing no light,
enlightens the minds that need it, whereby the
universe is directed, down to the whirling leaves
of trees?) Thou madest provision for my obstinacy
wherewith I struggled against Yindicianus,^ an acute
old man, and Nebridius, a young man of admirable
talents ; the first vehemently affirming, and the latter
often (though with some doubtfulness) saying, " That
there was no such art whereby to foresee things to
come, but that men's conjectures were a sort of lot-
tery, and that out of many things, which they said
should come to pass, some actually did, unawares to
them who spake it, who stumbled upon it, through
their oft speaking." Thou providest then a friend
for me, who was no negligent consulter of the astrol-
ogers ; nor yet was he well skilled in those astrolog-
ical arts, but (as I said) a curious consulter with
astrologers and yet knowing something, which he
said he had heard from his father, which how far it
went to overthrow the estimation of that art, he
knew not. This man then, Firminus by name, of
liberal education, and well taught in Rhetoric, con-
sulted me, as one very dear to him, to know what,
according to his so-called constellations, I thought in
1 See B. IV. e. iii.
154 No faith to he placed in astrologers.
regard to certain affairs of his, wherein his worldly
hopes had risen ; and I, who had now begun to in-
cline towards Nebridius's opinion, did not altogether
refuse to conjecture, and tell him what came into my
unresolved mind ; but added, that I was now almost
persuaded, that these were but empty and ridiculous
follies. Thereupon he told me that his father had
been very curious in such books, and had a friend as
earnest in them as himself, who with joint study and
conference fanned the flame of their affections to
these toys, so that they would observe the moments
whereat the very dumb animals which bred about
their houses gave birth, and then observed the rela-
tive position of the heavens, thereby to make fresh
experiments in this so-called art. He said then that
he had heard from his father, that when his mother
was about to give birth to him, Firminus, a woman-
servant of that friend of his father's was also with
child, a fact which could not escape her master, who
took care with most exact diligence to know the
births of his very puppies. And it so happened, that
while the one for his wife, and the other for his ser-
vant, with the most careful observation, was reckon-
ing days, hours, nay, the lesser divisions of the hours,
both women were delivered at the same instant; so
that both were constrained to allow the same con-
stellations, even to the minutest points, the one for
his son, the other for his new-bom slave. For so
soon as the women began to be in labor, each gave
notice to the other what was fallen out in their
houses, and had messengers ready to send to one
Falslly of Astrology. loo
another, so soon as they had notice of the actual
birth, — of which they had easily provided, each in
his own case, to receive instant intelligence. And
the messengers of the respective parties met, he aver-
red, at such an equal distance from either house,
that neither of them could make out any difference
in the position of the stars, or any other minutest
points ; and yet Firminus, born in a high estate in
his parents' house, ran his course through the gilded
paths of life, was increased in riches, raised to hon-
ors ; whereas that slave continued to serve his mas-
ters, without any relaxation of his yoke, as Fir-
minus, who knew him, told me.
9. Upon hearing and believing these things, told
by one of such credibility, all my resistance gave
way; and first I endeavored to reclaim Firminus
himself from his hankering after astrology, by tell-
ing him that upon inspecting his constellations, I
ought, if I were to predict truly, to have seen in
them parents eminent among their neighbors, a noble
family in its own city, high birth, good education, lib-
eral learning. But if that servant had consulted me
upon the same constellations, since they were his
also, I ought again (if I would tell him, too, truly)
to see in them a lineage the most abject, a slavish
condition, and everything else, utterly at variance
with the former. Whence, then, if I spake the
truth, I should, from the same constellations, speak
diversely, or if I spake the same, speak falsely:
thence it followed most certainly, that whatever,
upon consideration of the constellations, was spoken
156 Falsity of Astrology.
truly, was spoken not out of art, but chance ; and
whatever spoken falsely, was not out of ignorance
in the art, but the failure of the chance.
10. An opening thus made, ruminating with my-
self on the like things, that no one of those dotards
(who lived by such a trade, and whom I longed to
attack, and with derision to confute) might urge
against me, that Firminus had informed me falsely,
or his father him ; I bent my thoughts on those that
are born twins, wiio for the most part come out of
the womb so near one to other, that the small in-
terval (how much force soever in the nature of
things folk may pretend it to have) cannot be noted
by human observation, or be at all expressed in
those figures which the Astrologer is to inspect,
that he may pronounce truly. Yet they cannot be
true : for looking into the same figures, he must
have predicted the same of Esau and Jacob, where-
as the same happened not to them. Therefore he
must speak falsely ; or if truly, then, looking into
the same figures, he must not give the same answer.
Xot by art, then, but by chance would he speak
truly. For Thou, O Lord, most righteous Ruler of
the Universe, while consulters and consulted know
it not, dost by Thy hidden inspiration effect that
the consulter should hear what according to the hid-
den deservings of souls, he ought to hear, out of the
abyss of Thy just judgment ; to Whom let no man
say. What is this? Why that? Let him not so say,
for he is man.
YIL 11. Xow then, O my Helper, hadst Thou
Still troubled by the problem of evil. 157
loosed me from those fetters ; and I sought " whence
is evil," and found no way. But Thou sufFeredst me
not by any fluctuations of thought to be carried
away from the Faith whereby I beUeved Thee both
to be, and Thy substance to be unchangeable, and
that Thou hast 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 set the way
of man's salvation, to that life which is to be after
this death. These things being safe and immovably
settled in my mind, I sought anxiously "whence
was evil ? " What were the pangs of my teeming
heart, what groans, O my God ! ,yet even there were
Thine ears open, and I knew it not: and when in
silence I vehemently sought, those silent contritions
of my soul were strong cries unto Thy mercy. Thou
knewest what I suffered, but no man knew. For
how insignificant was that which was through my
tongue distilled into the ears of my most familiar
friends? Could the whole tumult of my soul, for
which neither time nor utterance sufficed, reach
them? Yet went up the whole to Thy hearing,
all which I roared out from the groanings of my
heart ; and my desire was befere Thee, but the light
of mine eyes was not with me ;^ for that was within,
I without : nor was that confined to space, but I was
intent on things contained in space, and in space I
found no resting-place ; nor did these visible things
so receive me, that I could say " It is enough," " it is
1 Ps. xxxvii. 9—11. Vulg.
13
158 Assisted hy the Platonists
well : " nor did they yet suffer me to 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 only when I am subjected
to Thee, and Thou subjectest to me only what Thou
hast created below me. And this was the true tem-
perament, and middle region of my safety, to remain
in Thy image, and by serving Thee, rule the body.
But when I rose proudly against Thee, and ran
against the Lord icith tny neck^ with the thick bosses
of my hucJcler^ even these inferior things were set
above me, and pressed me down, and no where was
there respite or space of breathing. They met my
sight on all sides by heaps and troops, and in
thought the images thereof presented themselves
unsought, as I would return to Thee, as if they
would say unto me, " Whither goest thou, unworthy
and defiled?" And these things had grown out
of my wound ; for Thou " humblest the proud like
one that is wounded," ^ and through my own swell-
ing was I separated from Thee ; yea, my pride-
swollen face closed up mine eyes.
VIII. 12. But Thou, Lord, ahidest for ever^ yet
not for ever art Thou angry with us ;^ because
Thou j^itiest our dust and ashes, and it was pleas-
ing in Thy sight to reform my deformities ; and by
inward goads didst Thou rouse me, that I should
be ill at ease, until Thou wert manifested to my
inward sight. Thus, by the secret hand of thy
medicining was my swelling abated, and the trou-
1 Job XV. 26. 2 Ps. Ixxxviii. 11. Vulg. 3 Ps. cii. 13.
to recognize the Logos. 150
bled and bedimmed eye-sight of my mind, by the
smarting anointings of healthful sorrows, was from
day to day healed.
IX. 13. And Thou, willing first to shew me how
Thou resistest the proud^ hut givest grace unto the
himihle^ and by how great an act of Thy mercy
Thou hast traced out to men the way of humility,
in that Thy Word was made flesh, and dwelt
among men: — Thou procuredst for me, by means
of one puffed up with most unnatural pride, certain
books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into
Latin. And therein I read, not indeed in the very
words, but to the very same purpose, enforced by
many and divers reasons, that In the beginning was
the Word, and the Word loas loith God, and the
Word was God: the Same was i?i the beginning with
God: all things i^ere made by Him^ and without
Him was nothing made: that lohich was made by
Hitn is life, and the life icas the light of men, and
the light shineth in the darkness, a7id the darkness
coinprehended it not? And that the soul of man,
though it hears witness to 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 poicer to become the sons of
1 James iv. 6. 1 Pet. v. 5. 3 John i. 9. 5 John i. 11.
2 John i. 1 — 5. 4 John i. 10.
160 Comparison of Plato7iism loith Scripture.
God^ as many as believed in his name ;^ this I read
not there.
14. Again I read there, that God the Word was
horn not of flesh nor of bloody nor of the will of
man^ nor of the will of the fleshy but of God? But
that the Word was made fleshy and dwelt among us^
I read not there. For I traced in those Platonic
books, that it was many and divers ways said that
the Son loas 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 taking the form of a servant, being made in
the likeness of m,en, and found in fashion as a man,
humbled Himself and became obedient %tnto death,
and that the death of the cross : wherefore God ex-
alted Him from the dead, and gave Him a name
above every name, that at the name of Jesus every
knee shoidd bote, of things hi heaven, and things in
earth, and things under the earth ; and that every
tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is
in the glory of God the Father ;^ those Platonic
books have not. For that before all times and
above all times Thy Only-Begotten Son remaineth
unchangeably, coeternal with Thee, and that of His
fulness soids receive^ that they may be blessed ; and
that by participation of wisdom abiding in them,
they are renewed, so as to be wise, is there. But
that in due time he died for the ungodly ;^ and that
Thou sparedst not Thine Only Son, but deliveredest
1 John i. 12. 3 John i, 14. 5 John i. 16.
2 John i. 13. 4 Phil. ii. 6 —11. 6 Rom. v. 6.
Invmrdly taught hy God. 161
Him for us all} is not there. For Thou hiddest
these things from the wise, and revealedst them to
habes ; that they that labor and are heavy laden,
might come unto Sim, and He refresh them,, because
He is meek and lowly in heart /^ and the meek He
directeth i7i judgment, and the ge7itle He teacheth His
vmys^ beholding our lovMness and trouble, and for-
giving all our sins^ But such as are lifted up by
the buskin of some would-be sublimer learning, hear
not Him, saying, Learn of Me, for I a?n meek and
lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest to your soids.^
Although they know God, yet they glorify Hi^n not
as God, nor are thankful, but loax vain i7i their
thoughts ; and their foolish heart is darkened ; pro-
fessing that they are icise, they become fools. ^
15. And therefore did I read there also, that they
had changed the glory of Thy incorruptible nature
into idols and divers shapes, into the likeness of the
image of corruptible man, and birds and beasts, and
creephtg things ;'^ hankering after that Egyptian
food,^ for which Esau lost his birth-right,^ since Thy
first-born people worshipped the head of a four-
footed beast instead of Thee,^" turning back in heart
towards Egypt, and bowing Thy image, their own
soul, before the image of a calf that eateth hay}^
These things found I here, but I fed not on them.
For it pleased Thee, O Lord, to take away the re-
1 Rom. viii. 32. 5 Matt. xi. 29. 9 Gen. xxv. 83, 34.
2 Matt. xi. 25, 28, 29. 6 Eom. i. 21, 22. 10 Ex. xxxii. 1—6.
3 Ps. xxv. 9. 1 Rom. i 23. n Ps. cvi. 20.
4 Ps. xxv. 18. 8 The lentil ; compare Augustine Enarratio in Ps. xlvi.
162 InvKirdly taught by God.
proach of diminution from Jacob, that the elder
should serve the younger:^ and Thou callest the
Gentiles into Thine inheritance. And I had come
to Thee from among the Gentiles ; and I set my
mind upon the gold which Thou willedst Thy peo-
ple to take from Egypt, seeing Thine it was, where-
soever it were.^ And to the Athenians Thou saidst
by Thy Apostle, that in Thee ice live^ move^ and
have our heing^ as one of their oion poets had said?
And verily these Platonic books came from thence.
But I set not my mind on the idols of Egypt, whom
they served with TJiy gold^ who changed the truth
of God into a lie^ and worshipped and served the
creature more than the Creator?
X. 16. And being thence admonished to return to
myself, I entered even into my inward self. Thou
being my Guide : and I was able to do so because
Thou wert become my Helper. And I entered and
beheld with the eye of my soul, (such as it was,)
even above my soul, above my mind, — the Light
Unchangeable. Not this ordinary light, which all
flesh may look upon, nor as it were a greater of the
same kind, as though the brightness of this should
be manifold brighter, and with its greatness take up
all space. Not such was this light, but different, far
different from all these. Nor was it above my soul,
as oil is above water, nor yet as heaven above earth :
but above my soul, because It made me ; and I
below It, because I was made by It. He that knows
1 Eom ix 13. 3 Acts xvii. 28. 5 Eom. i. 25.
2 Exod. iii. 22 . xi. 2. 4 Hos. ii. 8.
Contemplation of God. 163
the Truth, knows what that Light is ; and he that
knows It, knows eternity. Love knoweth it. O
Truth Who art Eternity ! and Love Who art Truth !
and Eternity Who art Love ! Thou art my God, to
Thee do I sigh night and day. When I first knew
Thee, Thou liftedst me up, that I might see there
was somewhat for me to see, and that I was not yet
able to see. And Thou didst beat back the weak-
ness of my sight, streaming forth Thy beams of Ught
upon me most strongly, and I trembled with love
and awe : and I perceived myself to be far off from
Thee, in the region of unlikeness, as if I heard this
Thy voice from on high : " I am the food of grown
men ; grow, and thou shalt feed upon Me ; nor shalt
thou convert Me, like the food of thy flesh, into
thee, but thou shalt be converted into Me." And I
learned, that Thou for iniquity chaste7iest tyicm^ and
Thou madest my soid to consume aicay lilce a spider}
And I said, "Is Truth therefore nothing because it is
not diffused through space finite or infinite ? " And
Thou criedst to me from afar ; " Yea, verily, I AM
that I A3€'^ And I heard, as the heart heareth,
nor had I room to doubt, and I should sooner doubt
that I live, than that Truth is not, which is clearly
seen, being understood by those thbigs lohich are
tnade?
XL 17. And I beheld the other things below
Thee, and I perceived that they neither altogether
are, nor altogether are not ; for they are, since they
are from Thee, but are not, because they are not
1 Ps. xxxix. 11. 2 Exod. iii. 14. 3 Kom. i. 20.
164 Evil not a substance.
what Thou art. For that truly is which remains
unchangeably. It is good then for me to hold fast
unto God ;^ for if I remain not in Him, I cannot in
myself; but He remaining in Himself reneineth all
things? And Thou art the Lord my God, since
Thou standest not in need of my goodness.^
XII. 18. And it was manifested unto me, that
those things are good which yet are corruptible ;
which if they were sovereignly good, or if they were
not at all good, could not be corrupted : for if sover-
eignly good, they were incorruptible; if not good
at all, there were nothing in them to be corrupted.
For corruption injures, but unless it diminished good-
ness, it could not injure. Either then corruption in-
jures not, which cannot be ; or, which is most cer-
tain, all which is corrupted is deprived of good.
But if they be deprived of all good, they shall cease
to be. For if they shall be, and can now^ no longer
be corrupted, they shall be better than before, be-
cause they shall abide incorruptibly. And what
more monstrous, than to affirm things to become
better by losing all their good? 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 substantially is, is good. That
evil then w^hich I sought to know whence it is, is
not any substance : for were it a substance, it should
be good. For either it should be an incorruptible
substance, and so a chief good, or a corruptible sub-
stance ; which unless it were good, could not be cor-
1 rs. Ixxiii. 28. 2 Wisd. vii. 27. 3 Ps. xvi. 1.
All things praise God. 165
rupted. I perceived therefore, and it was manifested
to me, that Thou madest all things good, nor is
there any substance at all, which Thou madest not;
and because Thou madest not all things equal, there-
fore is there a diversity of things ; for each is good,
and all together are very good, because our God
onade all things very good}
XIII. 19. And to Thee is nothing whatsoever evil:
yea, not only to Thee, but also to Thy creation as
a whole, because there is nothing without, which
may break in and corrupt that order which Thou
hast appointed. But in the parts thereof, some
things, because unharmonizing with other some, are
accounted evil: whereas those very things harmo-
nize with others, and are good; and in themselves
are good. And all these things which harmonize
not together, do yet harmonize with the inferior part,
wdiich we call Earth, which has its own cloudy and
windy sky harmonizing with it. Far be it then that
I should say, "These things should not be:" for
should I see nought but these, I should long for
the better; but still I must even for these alone
praise Thee; for that Thou art to be praised do
shcAV from the earth, dragons^ and all deeps^ fire,
hail, snoio, ice, and stormy wind, which fulfil Thy
word. Moimtaiyis, and all hills, fruitfid trees, and
all cedars, beasts, and all cattle, creeping things, and
flying fowls, hings of the earth, and all people,
princes a7id all judges of the earth, young men and
maidens, old men and young, praise Thy Name.
1 Gen. i. 31; Eccli. xxxix.
166 All things praise God^
But when from heaven Thy works praise Thee, our
God, all Thy angels in the heights^ all Thy hosts, sun
and moon, all the stars and light, the Heaven of
heavens, and the waters that he above the heavens,
praise Thy Name} I did not now long for things
better, because I thought of all : and with a sounder
judgment I apprehended that the things above were
better than these below, yet that all together were
better than those above by themselves.
Xiy. 20. There is no soundness in them, whom
aught of Thy creation displeaseth : as neither in me,
when much which Thou hast made displeased me.
And because my soul durst not be displeased at
my God, it would fain not account that to be Thine,
which displeased it. Hence it had gone into the
opinion of two substances, and had no rest, but
talked idly. And returning thence, it had made to
itself a God through infinite measures of all space ;
and thought it to be Thee, and placed it in its
heart ; and had again become the temple of its own
idol, to Thee abominable. But after Thou hadst
soothed my head, unknown to me, and closed Tnine
eyes that they should not behold vanity^ I ceased
somewhat of my former self, and my frenzy was
lulled to sleep ; and I awoke in Thee, and saw
Thee infinite, but in another way, and this sight
was not derived from the flesh.
XY. 21. And I looked back on other things; and
I saw that they owed their being to Thee ; and
were all bounded in Thee : but in a different way,
1 Ps. cxlviii. 1—12. 2 Ps. cxix. 37.
and are contained in God. 167
not as being in space, but because Thou containest
all things in Thine hand, in Thy Truth; and all
things are true so far as they be ; nor is there any
falsehood, unless when that is thought to be, which
is not. And I saw that all things did harmonize,
not with their places only, but with their seasons.
And thou, who only art Eternal, didst not begin to
work after innumerable spaces of times spent; for
that all spaces of times, both which have passed, and
which shall pass, neither go nor come but through
Thee working and abiding.
XYI. 22. And I perceived and found it nothing
strange, that bread which is pleasant to a healthy
palate, is loathsome to one distempered : and to sore
eyes light is offensive, which to the sound eye is
delightful. And Thy righteousness displeaseth the
wicked ; much more the viper and reptiles, whicli
Thou hast created good, fitting in with the infe-
rior portions of Thy Creation, with which the very
wicked also fit in ; and that the more, by how much
they be unlike Thee ; but with the superior crea-
tures, by how much they become more like to Thee.
And I enquired what iniquity was, and found it to
be no substance, but the perversion of the will,
turned aside from Thee, O God, the Supreme, to-
wards these lower things, and casting out *its boioels,
and puffed up outwardly.
XVII. 23. And I wondered that I now loved
Thee, and no phantasm for Thee. And yet did I
not press on to enjoy my God; but was borne up
to Thee by Thy beauty, and soon borne down fi'om
168 Augustine's psychology.
Thee by mine own weight, sinking with sorrow into
inferior things. This weight was carnal custom. .
Yet dwelt there with me a remembrance of Thee ;
nor did I any way doubt, that there was One to
whom I might cleave, but that I was not yet such
as to cleave to Thee : because the body lohich is cor-
rupted^ presseth doicn the soid, and the earthly tab-
ernacle loeigheth down the mind that tnuseth upon
many things} And most certain I was, that Thy
invisihle icorks from the creation of the icorld are
clearly seen^ being understood by the things that are
made^ even Thy eternal poioer and Godhead.^ For
examining whence it was that I admired the beauty
of bodies celestial or terrestrial ; and what aided
me in judging soundly on things mutable, and pro-
nouncing, " This ought to be thus, this not ; " exam-
ining, I say, whence it was that 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 through the bodily senses perceives ; and
thence to its inward faculty, to which the bodily
senses represent things external, whitherto reaches
the faculties of beasts ; and thence again to the
reasoning faculty, to which what is received from
tlie senses; of the body is referred to be judged.
Which finding itself also to be in me a thing varia-
ble, raised itself up to its own understanding, and
drew away my thoughts from the power of habit,
withdrawing itself from those troops of contradic-
1 Wisd. ix. 15. 2 Kom. i. 20.
His dim apprehension of the Logos. IGO
tory phantasms; that so it might find what that
light was, whereby it was bedewed, when, without
aS doubting, it cried out, "That the unchangeable
was to be preferred to the changeable;" whence
also it knew That Unchangeable, which, unless it
had in some way known, it had had no sure ground
to prefer it to the changeable. And thus with the
flash of one trembling glance it arrived at That
Which Is. And then I saw Thy invisible things
understood by the things which are made} But I
could not fix my gaze thereon ; and my infirmity
being struck back, I was thrown again on my wonted
habits, carrying along with me only a loving mem-
ory thereof, and a longing for what I had, as it were,
perceived the odor of, but was not yet able to feed
on.
XVIII. 24. Then I sought a way of obtaining
strength, sufficient to enjoy Thee ; and found it not,
until I embraced that Mediator betwixt God and
men, the Man Christ Jesns^ who is over all, God
blessed for evermore,^ calling unto me, 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 teas made fesh,^ that Thy
Wisdom, whereby Thou createdst all things, might
provide milk for our infant state. For not being
humbled, I did not understand the humiliation of
my Lord Jesus Christ ; nor knew I yet whereto His
infirmity would guide us. For Thy Word, the Eter-
1 Rom. i. 20. 3 Rom. ix. 5. 5 lb. i. 14.
2 1 Tim. ii. 5. ■* John xiv. 6.
170 Learns to understand
nal Truth, being far above Thy highest creatures,
raises up the subdued unto Itself: but in this lower
world It built for Itself a lowly habitation of our
clay, whereby to abase from themselves such as
would be subdued, and bring them over to Itself;
allaying their swelling pride, and fomenting their
love ; that they might go on no further in self-con-
fidence, but rather consent to become weak, on see-
ing at their feet the Divinity infirm by having taken
on our coats of skin- ^ and wearied, might cast them-
selves down upon It, and It rising, might lift them
up.
XIX. 25. But I thought otherwise ; conceiving
only of my Lord Christ as of a man of excellent
wisdom, whom no one could be equalled unto ; espe-
cially, for that being wonderfully born of a Virgin,
He seemed, in conformity therewith, through the
Divine care for us, to have attained that great emi-
nence of authority, for an ensample of despising
things temporal for the obtaining of immortality.
But what mystery there lay in, "J'Ae Word was
made fleshj'' I could not even imagine. Only I had
learnt out of what is delivered to us in Scripture
of Him, that He did eat, and drink, sleep, walk,
rejoiced in spirit, was sorrowful, discoursed ; that,
flesh did not cleave by itself unto Thy Word, but
with the human soul and mind. All know this,
who know the unchangeableness of Thy Word,
which I now knew, as far as I could, nor did I at all
doubt thereof For, now to move the limbs of the
body by will, now not, now to be moved by some af-
1 Gen. iii 21.
the Person of Christ. 171
fection, now not, now to cleliA^er wise sayings through
human signs, now to keep silence, belong to soul and
mind subject to variation. And should these things
prove to be falsely written of Him, all the rest of
Scrij^ture also would be put in jeopardy, nor would
there remain in those books any saving faith for
mankind. Since then they were written truly, I
acknowledged a perfect man to be in Christ; not
the body of a man only, nor, with the body, a sensi-
tive soul without a rational, but very man ; whom,
not only as being a form of Truth, but for a certain
great excellency of human nature and more perfect
participation of wisdom, I judged to be preferred
before others. But Alypius imagined the Catholics
to believe God to be so clothed with flesh, that be-
sides God and flesh, there was no soul at all in
Christ, and did not think that a human mind was
ascribed to Him. And because he was well per-
suaded, that the actions recorded of Him, could
only be performed by a vital and a rational crea-
ture, he moved the more slowly towards the Chris-
tian Faith. But understanding afterwards, that this
was the error of the Apollinarian heretics, he joyed
in and was conformed to the Catholic Faith. But
somewhat later, I confess, did I learn, how in that
saying. The Word was made flesh, the Catholic
truth is distinguished from the falsehood of Pho-
tinus.^ For the rejection of heretics makes the te-
nets of Thy Church, and sound doctrines, to stand
out more clearly. For there must also he heresies,
1 Guericke's Church History, § 84.
172 Receives great assistance
that the approved may he made manifest among the
iceaJc}
XX. 26. But having then read those books of the
Platonists, and thence been taught to search for in-
corporeal truth, I saw Thy invisible things, under-
stood by those things which are made ;'^ and though
cast back, I perceived what that was, which, through
the darkness of my mind, I was hindered from con-
templating, being assured " that Thou art, and art
infinite, and yet not diffused in space, finite or infi-
nite; and that Thou truly art who art the same
ever, in no part nor motion varying ; and that all
other things are from Thee, on this most sure ground
alone, that they are." Of these things I was assured,
yet too unsure to enjoy Thee. I prated as one well
skilled ; but had I not sought Thy way in Christ our
Saviour, I had proved to be, not skilled, but killed.
For now I had begun to wish to seem wise, being
filled with mine own punishment, yet I did not
mourn, but rather scorn, puffed up with knowl-
edge.^ For where was that charity building upon
the foundation of humility, lohich is Christ Jesus f^
or when should these Platonic books teach me it ?
Upon these, I believe, Thou therefore willedst that
I should fall, before I studied Thy Scriptures, that
it might be imprinted on my memory how I was
affected by them ; and that afterwards, when my
spirits were tamed through Thy books, and my
wounds touched by Thy healing fingers, I might
1 1 Cor. xi 19. 3 1 Cor. viii. 1.
2 Kom. i. 20. 4 1 Cor. iii. 11.
from the loritings of ^t. Paul. 173
discern and distinguish between presumption and
confession ; between those who saw whither they
were to go, yet saw not the way, — a way that lead-
eth not merely to behold the beatific country, but to
dwell in it. For, had I first been formed in Thy
Holy Scriptures, and hadst Thou in the familiar use
of them grown sweet unto me, and had I then
fallen upon those other volumes, they might per-
haps have withdrawn me from the solid ground of
piety ; or, had I continued in that healthful frame
which I had thence imbibed, I might have thought
that it might have been obtained by the study of
the Platonic books alone.
XXI. 27. Most eagerly, then, did I seize that
venerable writing of Thy Spirit, and chiefly the
Apostle Paul ; whereupon those difiiculties vanished
away wherein he once seemed 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 word appeared to me one
and the same ; and I learned to rejoice ivith treni-
hling} So I began ; and whatsoever truth I had
read in those other books, I found here amid the
praises of Thy grace ; that whoso sees, may not so
glory as if he had not received^ not only what he
sees, but also that he sees (for what hath he^ which
he hath not received?)^ and that he may be not only
admonished to behold Thee, Who art ever the same^
but also, being healed, to hold Thee ; and that he
who cannot see afar off^ may yet walk on the way,
1 Ps. ii. 11. 2 1 Cor. iv. 7.
14
174 Plato's loritings and
whereby he may arrive, and behold, and hold Thee.
For, though a man he delighted with the km of God
after the inner man^ what shall he do with that
other lato in his members ichich loarreth against the
law of his mind^ and hringeth him into cafptivity to
the laic of sin which is in his members f^ For Thou
art righteous^ 0 Lord ; but we have sinned^ and com-
mitted iniquity^ and have done icicJcedly^ and Thy
hand is grown heavy upon us, and we are justly de-
livered over unto that ancient sinner, the king of
death ; because he persuaded our will to be like his
will, whereby he abode not in Thy truth. What
shall icr etched man do? tcho shall deliver him from
the body of this deaths but only Thy grace, through
Jesus Christ our Lord^ whom Thou hast begotten
coeternal, and formedst in the beginning of Thy
%oays^ in lohom the prince of this loorld found noth-
ing worthy of deatli^ yet killed he Him ; and the
haiidioritiyig, which was contrary to us, was blot-
ted outf^ This the Platonic writings contain not.
Those pages j^resent not the image of this piety, the
tears of confession. Thy sacrifice, a troubled spirit, a
broken and a contrite heart^ the salvation of the
people, the JBridal City^ the earnest of the Holy
Ghost^^ the Gup of our Redemption}^ No man
sings there, Shall not my so\d be submitted unto
God? for of Him cometh my scdvation. For He is
1 Rom. vii. 22. 6 Prov. viii. 22. 8 Ps. li. 17.
2 Rom. vii. 23. 6 John xiv. 30. 9 Rev. xxi. 2.
3 Soug of the Three Children, 4 sqq. 10 2 Cor. v. 5.
4 Rom. vii. 24. ^ Col. ii. 14. li Ps. cxvi. 13.
the Scriptures. 175
my God and my salvation^ my guardian^ I shall no
more he moved} No one hears Him call in those
books, Come unto Me all ye that labor? They scorn
to learn of Him^ because He is meek and loioly in
heart ; for these things hast Thou hid from the wise
and prudent^ and hast revealed them unto babes?
For it is one thing, from the mountain's shaggy top
to see the land of peace, and to find no way thither,^
and in vain to strive towards it through paths im-
passable, opposed and beset by fugitives and desert-
ers led by their captain the lion and the dragon y' and
quite another thing to keep on the way that leads
thither, guarded by the hosts of the heavenly Gen-
eral, where those who have deserted the heavenly
army spoil and rob not, for they avoid that army
as very torment itself These things did wonder-
fully sink into my heart, when I read that least of
Thy Apostles,^ and meditated upon Thy works, and
trembled exceedingly.
1 Ps. Ixii. 1, 2. 3 Matt. xi. 29. 5 1 Cor. xv. 9.
2 Matt. xi. 28. 4 Deut. xxxii. 49.
THE EIGHTH BOOK.
AUGUSTINE'S THIRTY-SECOND YEAK — HE CONSULTS SIMPLICIANUS —
FROM HIM HE HEARS THE HISTORY OP THE CONVERSION OP VICTO-
RINU8, AND LONGS TO DEVOTE HIMSELP ENTIRELY TO GOD, BUT IS
MASTERED BY HIS OLD HABITS — IS STILL FURTHER ROUSED BY THE
HISTORY OP ANTONY, AND THE CONVERSION OP TWO COURTIERS —
DURING A SEVERE STRUGGLE, HEARS A VOICE FROM HEAVEN,
OPENS SCRIPTURE, AND IS CONVERTED, WITH HIS FRIEND ALYP-
IU8 — HIS MOTHER'S VISION FULFILLED.
I. O my God ! let me, with thanksgiving, remem-
ber, and confess unto Thee Thy mercies to me. Let
my hones be bedewed with Thy love, and let them
say unto Thee^ Who is like unto Thee, O Lordf^
Thou hast broken my bonds in sunder, I icill offer
unto Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving? And how
Thou hast broken them, I will declare ; and all who
worship Thee, when they hear this, shall say, "Bles-
sed be the Lord, in heaven and in earth, great and
wonderful is his name." Thy words had stuck fast
in my heart, and I vKts hedged round about on all
sides by Thee? Of Thy eternal life I was now cer-
tain, though I saw it in a figure and as through a,
glass? Yet I had ceased to doubt that there was
an incorruptible substance, whence was all other sub-
stance; nor did I now desire to be more certain of
Thee, but more steadfast in Thee. As for my tem-
1 rs. XXXV. 10. 3 Job. i. 10.
2 Ps. cxvi. 16, 17. 4 1 Cor. xiii. 12.
visits SimpUcianus. 177
poral life, all was wavering, and my heart had to he
purged from the old leaven > The Way^ the Saviour
Himself, well pleased rae, but as yet I shrunk from
going through its straitness. And Thou didst put
into my mind, and it seemed good in my eyes, to go
to Simplicianus, who seemed to me a good servant
of Thine; and Thy grace shone in Him. I had
heard also, that from his very *youth he had lived
most devoted unto Thee. !N'ow he was grown into
years ; and by reason of so great age spent in sucli
zealous following of Thy ways, he seemed to me
likely to have learned much experience ; and so he
had. Out of which store, I wished that he would
tell me (setting before him my anxieties) which
were the fittest way for one in my case to walk in
Thy paths.
2. For I saw the church full ; and one went this
way, and another that way. But I was displeased,
that I led a secular life ; yea, now that my desires no
longer inflamed me, as of old, with hopes of honor
and profit, a very grievous burden it was to undergo
so heavy a bondage. For, in comparison of Thy
sweetness, and the beauty of TJiy house which I
loved f those things delighted me no longer. But
still I was enthralled with the love of woman ; nor
did the Apostle forbid me to marry, although he
advised me to something better, chiefly wishing that
all men loere as himself teas} But I, being weak,
chose the more indulgent place ; and because of this
1 1 Cor. V. 7. 3 Ps. xxvi. 8.
2 John xiv. 6. 4 1 Cor. vii. 8.
178 Augustine's distractions.
alone, was tossed up and down in all beside, faint
and wasted with withering cares, because in other
matters I was constrained against my will to con-
form myself to a married life, to which I was given
up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of
the Truth, that there icere some eunuchs^ which had
made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of hea-
ven's sake: hut, saith He, let him icho can receive
it receive it} Surely vain are all men loho are ig-
norant of God, and coidd not out of the good things
ichich are seen, find out Him who is good? But I
was no longer in that vanity ; I had surmounted it ;
and by the common witness of all Thy creatures
had found Thee our Creator, and Thy Word, God
with Thee, and together with Thee one God, by
whom Thou createdst all things. There is yet
another kind of ungodly, icho knowing God glori-
fied Him not as God, neither were thankful? Into
this also had I fallen, but Thy right hand upheld
me^ and took me thence, and Thou placedst me
where I might recover. For Thou hast said unto
man. Behold, the fear of the Lord is wisdom^ and
Desire not to seem wise /^ because they icho affirmed
themselves to be loise, became fools! But I had now
found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that Ihadf
I ought to have bought, and I hesitated.
II. 3. To Simplicianus then I went, the spiritual
father of Ambrose (a Bishop now), and whom Am-
brose truly loved as a father. To him I related the
1 Matt. xix. 12. 4 Ps. xviii. 35. 7 Rom i. 22.
2Wisd. xiu. 1. 5 Job xxviii. 28. 8 Matt. xiii. 46.
3 Rom. i. 21. 6 Prov. iii. 7.
-J
Tlie conversion of Victor inus. 179
mazes of my t\^andermgs. But when I mentioned
that I had read certain books of the Platonists,
which Victorinus, sometime Rhetoric Professor of
Rome (who had died a Christian, as I had heard),
had translated into Latin, he testified his joy that
I had not fallen upon the writings of other philoso-
phers, full of fallacies and deceits^ after the rudi-
ments of this if^orld^ whereas the Platonists many
w^ays led to the belief in God and His Word. Then
to exhort me to the humility of Christ, hidden from
the icise^ and revealed to little ones^ he spoke of Vic-
torinus himself, whom, while at Rome, he had most
intimately known: and of him he related what I
will not conceal. For it contains great praise of
Thy grace^ to be confessed unto Thee, how that
aged man, most learned and skilled in the liberal
sciences, and who had read and weighed so many
works of the philosophers; the instructor of so
many noble Senators ; who also, as a monument of
his excellent discharge of his office, had (which men
of this world esteem a high honor) both deserved
and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum ; he, to
that time of life a worshipper of idols, and a par-
taker of the sacrilegious rites, to which almost all
the nobility of Rome were given up, and which had
inspired the people with the love of
Anubis, barking deity, and all
The monster gods of every kind, who fought
'Gainst Neptune, Venus, and Minerva:
whom Rome had once conquered, and now adored,
1 Col. ii. 8. 2 Matt. xi. 25.
180 The conversion
all which the aged Yictorinus had with thunder-
ing eloquence so many years defended ; — he now
blushed not to be the child of Thy Christ, and the
new-born babe of Thy fountain ; submitting his neck
to the yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead
to the reproach of the Cross.
4. O Lord, Lord, Which hast hoicecl the heavens
and come dovm^ touched the mountains and they did
smoke^ by what means didst Thou convey Thyself
into that breast? He used to read (as Simplicianus
said) the holy Scripture, most studiously sought and
searched into all the Christian writings, and said to
Simplicianus (not openly, but privately, and as a
friend), "Understand that I am already a Chris-
tian." Whereto Simplicianus answered, " I will not
believe it, nor will I rank you among Christians, un-
less I see you in the Church of Christ." The other,
in banter, replied, "Do walls then make Christians?"
And this he often said, that he was already a Chris-
tian; and Simplicianus as often made the same an-
swer, and the conceit of the "walls" was by the
other as often renewed. For he feared to offend his
friends, proud daemon-worshippers ; from the height
of whose Babylonian dignity, as fi'om cedars of Liha-
nus^ which the Lord had not yet hrohen doicn^ he
supposed the weight of enmity would fall upon him.
But after that by reading and earnest thought he
had gnthered firmness, and feared to be denied hy
Christ before the holy angels^ should he note he afraid
to confess Him before men^ and appeared to him-
1 Ps. cxliv. 5. 2 Ps. xxix. 5. 3 Luke ix. 26.
of Victorinus. 1<^1
self guilty of a heavy offence, in being ashamed
of the Sacraments of Thy lowly Word and not
ashamed of the sacrilegious rites of those proud dae-
mons, whose pride he had imitated and their rites
adopted, he became bold-faced against vanity, and
shame-faced towards the truth, and suddenly and
unexpectedly said to Simphcianus (as himself told
me), "Go we to the church; I wish to be made a
Christian." But he, not containing himself for joy,
went with him. And having been admitted to the
first sacrament and become a Catechumen, not long
after he further gave in his name, that he might
be regenerated by baptism, — Rome wondering, the
church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were loroth ;
they gnashed with their teeth, and melted aimy}
But the Lord God ims the hope of Thy servant,
and he regarded not vanities and lying madness.^
5. To conclude : when the hour was come for mak-
ing profession of his foith (which profession at Rome
they who are about to approach to Thy grace de-
liver, from an elevated place, in the sight of all the
faithful, in a set form of words committed to mem-
ory), the presbyters, he said, offered Victorinus (as
was done to such as seemed likely through bashful-
ness to be alarmed) to make his profession more
privately ; but he chose rather to profess his salva-
tion in the presence of the holy multitude. " For it
was not salvation that he taught in rhetoric, and
yet that he had publicly professed : how much less
then ought he, when pronouncing Thy word, to
1 Ps. cxii 10. 2 Ps. xxxi. 6, 40, etc
182 GocVs goodness
fear Thy meek flock, who, when delivering his own
words, had not feared a mad multitude!" When,
then, he went up to make his profession, all, as they
knew him, whispered his name one to another with
the voice of congratulation. And who there knew
him not ? And there ran a low murmur through all
the mouths of the rejoicing multitude, Yictorinus !
Victorinus ! Sudden was the burst of rapture, that
they saw him ; suddenly were they hushed that they
might hear him. He pronounced the true faith with
an excellent boldness, and all wished to draw him
into their very heart : yea, by their love and joy
they drew him thither; such were the hands where-
with they drew him.
III. 6. Good God ! what takes jjlace in man, that
he should more rejoice at the salvation of a soul
despaired of, and freed from greater peril, than if
there had always been hope of him, or the danger
had been less ? For so Thou also, merciful Father,
dost more rejoice over one penitent^ than over ninety-
nine just ^^ersons, that need no repentance} And
with much joyfulness do we hear, so often as we
hear with what joy the sheep which has strayed is
hroiight hack upon the shepherd"^ s shoulder^ and the
groat is restored to Thy treasury^ the neighbors re-
joicing loith the looman who found it ;'^ and the joy
of the solemn service of Thy house force th to tears,
when in Thy house it is read of Thy younger son,
that he was dead and liveth again ; had been lost,
and is found. For Thou rejoicest in us, and in Thy
holy angels, holy through holy charity. For Thou
1 Luke XV. 7 2 Luke xv 5—9
towards penite^its. - 183
art ever the same ; for all things which abide not
the same nor for ever, Thou for ever knowest in
the same way.
7. What then takes place in the soul, when it is
more delighted at finding or recovering the things
it loves, than if it had ever had them? yea, and
other things witness hereunto; and all things are
full of witnesses, crying out, " So is it." The con-
quering commander triumph eth ; yet had he not
conquered unless he had fought; and the more
peril there was in the battle, so much the more joy
is there in the triumph. The storm tosses the sail-
ors, threatens shipwreck ; all wax pale at approach-
ing death ; sky and sea are calmed, and they are
exceeding joyed, as having been exceeding afraid.
A friend is sick, and his pulse threatens danger ; all
who long for his recovery are sick in mind with him.
He is restored, though as yet he walks not with his
former strength; yet there is such joy as was not
when before he walked sound and strong. Yea, the
very pleasures of human life men acquire by difficul-
ties, not those only which fall upon us unlocked for,
and against our wills, but even by self-chosen, and
pleasure-seeking trouble. Eating and drinking have
no pleasure, unless there precede the pmching of
hunger and thirst. Men, given to drink, eat certain
salt meats to procure a troublesome heat, which, the
drink allaying, causes pleasure. It is also ordered
that the affianced bride should not at once be given,
lest as a husband he should hold cheap her whom, as
betrothed, he sighed not after.
184 GoiVs goodness totvards penitents.
8. This law holds in foul and accursed joy ; in per-
mitted and lawful joy ; in the very j^urest perfection
of friendship ; in him who icas dead, and lived again,
had been lost and was found. Everywhere the
greater joy is ushered in by the greater pain. What
means this, O Lord my God, whereas Thou art ever-
lastingly joy to Thyself, and some things around Thee
evermore rejoice in Thee? What means this, that
thisj^ortion of things thus ebbs and flows alternately
displeased and reconciled ? Is this their allotted
measure ? Is this all Thou hast assigned to them,
whereas fi'om the highest heavens to the lowest earth,
from the beginning of the world to the end of ages,
from the angel to the worm, from the first motion to
the last. Thou settest each in its place, and realizest
each in their season, every thing good after its kind ?
Woe is me ! how high art Thou in the highest, and
how deep in the deepest ! and Thou never departest
from us, and we scarcely return to Thee.
IV. 9. Up, Lord, and do ; stir us up, and recall
us ; kindle and draw us ; inflame, grow sweet unto
us ; let us now love, let us run} Do not many, out
of a deeper hell of blindness than Victorinus, return
to Thee, approach, and are enlightened, receiving
that Light, which they who receive, receive poioer
from Thee to become Thy sons f ^ But if they hap-
pen to be less known to the people, even those that
do know them rejoice less for them in conversion.
For when many rejoice together, each also has
more exuberant joy; for that they are kindled and
1 Cant. i. 4. 2 John i. 12.
GocVs goodness toicar els penitents. 185
inflamed one by the other. Again, because those
that are widely known influence many more towards
salvation, and lead the way with many to follow ;
therefore do they also who preceded these widely
known persons much rejoice in them, because they
rejoice not in them alone. For far be it, that in Thy
tabernacle the persons of the rich should be accepted
before the poor, or the noble before the ignoble ; see-
ing rather that Thou hast chosen the weaJc things
of the icorld, to confound the strong ; and the base
things of this ivorld^ and the things despised hast
Thou chosen^ a7id those things vnhich are not^ that
Thou mightest bring to nought things that are}
And yet even that least of Thy apostles^ by
whose tongue Thou soundest forth these words,
when, through his warfare, Paulus the Proconsul, his
pride conquered, was made to pass under the easy
yoke of Thy Christ, and became a provincial of the
great King, he also for his former name Saul, was
pleased 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 he hath more hold of,
through their nobility; and by them, of more through
their authority. By how much the more welcome
then the heart of Yictorinus was esteemed, which
the devil had held as an impregnable possession ; and
the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and
keen weapon he had slain many ; by so much the
more abundantly ought Thy sons to rejoice, for that
1 1 Cor. i. 27, 28. 2 l Cor. xv. 9.
186 Encouraged by the exmnple
our King hath hound the strong man} and they saw
his vessels taken from him and cleansed^ and made
meet for Thy honor ^^ and become serviceable for the
Lord^ unto every good work?
y. 10. Now when that man of Thine, Simplicia-
niis, related to me this of Yictorinus, I was on fire
to imitate him ; and for this very end had he related
it. But when he had subjoined, also, how in the
days of the Emperor Julian, a law was made, where-
by Christians were forbidden to teach the liberal
sciences or oratory; and how he, obeying this law,
chose rather to give over the wordy school than Thy
Word^ by which Thou makest eloquent the tongues
of the dumb / * he seemed to me not more resolute
than blessed, in having thus found opportunity to
wait on Thee only. Which thing I was sighing for,
bound as I was, not with another's irons, but by my
own iron will. My will the enemy held, and thence
had made a chain for me, and bound me. For of a
perverse will comes lust ; and a lust served becomes
custom ; and custom not resisted becomes necessity.
By which links, as it were, joined together (whence
I called it a chain) a hard bondage held me en-
thralled. But that new will which had begun to be
in me, freely to serve Thee, and to wish to enjoy
Thee, O God, the only assured pleasantness, was not
yet able to overcome my former wilfulness strength-
ened by age. Thus did my two wills, one new, and
the other old, one carnal, the other spiritual, struggle
within me ; and by their discord, undid my soul.
1 Matt. xii. 29. 2 Luke xi. 22, 25. 3 2 Tim. ii. 21. 4 Wisrl. x. 21.
of Victorinus ; but still weaJc. 187
11. Thus I understood, by ray own experience,
what I had read, how the flesh lusteth against the
spirit^ and the spirit against the flesh. ^ It was my-
self verily either way ; yet more myself, in that
which I approved in myself, than in that which in
myself I disapproved.^ For in this last, it was now
for the more part not myself, because in much I
rather endured against my will, than acted willingly.
And yet it was through me that custom had obtained
this power of warring against me, because I had come
willingly Avhither I willed now not to be. And who
has any right to speak against it, if just punishment
follow the sinuGi- ? Nor had I now any longer my
former plea, that I therefore as yet hesitated to be
above the world and serve Thee, for that the truth
was not altogether ascertained to me ; for now it
was. But I, still under service to the earth, refused
to fight under Thy banner, and feared as much to be
freed of all incumbrances, as I ought to have feared
to be encumbered therewith. Thus with the baggage
of this present world was I held down pleasantly, as
in sleep : and the thoughts wherein I meditated on
Thee, \YQve like the efforts of such as would awake,
who yet overcome with a heavy drowsiness, are again
drenched therein. And as no one would sleep for
ever, and in all men's sober judgment, waking is
better, yet a man very often feeling a heavy lethargy
in all his limbs defers to shake off sleep, and, though
half displeased, yet, even after it is time to rise, with
pleasure yields to it, so was I assured, that much
iGal. V. 17. 2Kom. vii.17.
188 Sioine mention of his friends.
better were it for me to give myself up to Thy
charity, than to give myself over to mine own
cupidity ; but though the former course satisfied me
and gained the mastery, the latter pleased me and
held me mastered. Nor had I anything to answer
Thee calling to me, AvKike^ thou that sleepest^ and
arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.
And when Thou didst on all sides show me that
what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by the truth,
had nothing at all to answer, but only those dull and
drowsy words, " Anon, anon," " presently ; " " leave
me but a little." But "presently, presently," had
no present, and my " little while " went on for a long
while ; in vain I delighted in Tliy law according to
the hiyier maii., loheii another laio hi my 'members
rebelled against the law of ')ny mind, and led one cap-
tive under the law of sin vjhich teas in my members.^
For the law of sin is the violence of custom, whereby
the mind is drawn and holden, even against its will ;
but deservedly, for that it willingly fell into it. Who
then shoidd deliver me thus loretched from the body
of this death, but Thy grace only, through Jesus
Christ our Lordf^
VI. 13. And how Thou didst deliver me out
of the bonds of desire, wherewith I was bound
most straitly to carnal concupiscence, and out of the
drudgery of worldly things, I will now declare, and
confess unto Thy name, 0 Lord, my helper and my
redeemer.^ Amid increasing anxiety, I was doing my
wonted business, and daily sighing unto Thee. I at-
1 Eph. V. 14. 2 Rom. vii. 22. 3 Yer. 24, 25. 4 Ts. xix. 14.
The story of Pontiticoms. 189
tended Thy Church, whenever free from the business
under the burden of which I groaned. Alypius was
with me, now after the third sitting released from
his law business, and awaiting to whom to sell his
counsel, as I sold the skill of speaking, if indeed
teaching can impart it. To please us, Nebridius had
now consented to teach under Yerecundus, a citizen
and a grammarian of Milan, and a very intimate
friend of us all ; who urgently desired, and by the
right of friendship challenged from our company,
such faithful aid as he greatly needed. Nebridius
then was not drawn to this by any desire of ad-
vantage (for he might have made much more of his
learning had he so willed), but as a most kind and
gentle friend, he would not be wanting to a good
office, and slight our request. But he acted herein
very discreetly, shunning to become known to person-
ages great according to this world, avoiding the dis-
traction of mind thence ensuing, and desiring to
have it free and at leisure, as many hom-s as might
be, to seek, or read, or hear something concerning
wisdom.
14. One day then, Nebridius being absent (I recol-
lect not why), there came to see me and Alypius, one
Pontitianus, our countryman so far as being an Af
rican, in high office in the Emperor's court. What
he would with us, I know not, but we sat down to
converse, and it happened that upon a gaming-table,
before us, he observed a book, took, opened it, and,
contrary to his expectation, found it the Apostle
Paul ; for he had thought it some of those books
15
190 The storij of Pontitianus.
which I was wearmg myself in teaching. Whereat
smiling, and looking at me, he expressed his joy and
wonder, that he had on a sudden found this book,
and this only before my eyes. For he was a Chris-
tian, and baptized, and often bowed himself before
Thee our God in the Church, in frequent and con-
tinued prayers. When then I had told him that I
bestowed very great pains upon those Scriptures, a
conversation arose (suggested by his account) on An-
tony the Egyptian Monk : whose name was in high
reputation among Thy servants, though to that hour
unknown to us. Which when he discovered, he
dwelt more upon that subject, informing, and wonder-
ing at our ignorance of one so eminent. But we
stood amazed, hearing of Thy wonderful works (most
fully attested, in times so recent, and almost in our
own time) wrought in the true Faith and Church
Catholic. We all wondered ; we, that they were so
great, and he, that they had not reached us.
15. Thence his discourse turned to the flocks in
the Monasteries, and their holy ways, a sweet-smell-
ing savor unto Thee, and the fruitful deserts of the
wilderness, whereof we knew nothing. And there
w^as a Monastery at Milan, full of good brethren,
without the city walls, under the fostering care of
Ambrose, and we knew it not. He went on with his
discourse, and we listened in intent silence. He told
us then how one afternoon at Triers, w^hen the
Emj^eror was taken up with the Circensian games, he
and three others, his companions, went out to walk in
gardens near the city walls, and there as they hnp-
The story of Pontitianus. 191
pened to walk in j^airs, one went apart with him, and
tlie other two wandered by themselves ; and these
latter, in their wanderings, lighted upon a certain cot-
tage, inhabited by certain of Thy servants, jooor hi
spirit^ of whom, is the kingdom of heaven^ ^ and there
they found a little book, containing the life of An-
tony. This, one of them began to read, admire, and
kindle at it ; and as he read, to meditate on taking
up such a life, and giving over his secular service to
serve Thee. And these two were of those whom
they style agents for the public affairs. Then sud-
denly, filled with an holy love, and a sober shame, in
anger with himself he cast his eyes upon his friend,
saying, " Tell me, I pray thee, what would we attain
by all these labors of ours ? what aim we at ? what
serve w^e for ? Can our hopes in court rise higher
than to be the Emperor's favorites? and in this,
what is there not brittle, and full of perils ? and by
how many perils arrive we at a greater peril ? and
when arrive we thither ? But, if I desire it, I can
become now at once a friend of God." So spake he.
And in pain with the travail of a new life, he turned
his eyes again upon the book, and read on, and was
changed inwardly, where Thou lookest, and his mind
was stripped of the world, as soon appeared. For as
he read, and rolled up and down the weaves of his
heart, he stormed at himself a while, then discerned,
and determined on a better course ; and now being
Thine, said to his friend, " Now have I broken loose
from those our hoj^es, and am resolved to serve God >
1 Matt. V. 3.
102 Augustine's irresolution.
and from this hour, m this place, I begin upon this.
If thou likest not to imitate me, clo not oppose me."
The other answered, that he would cleave to him, to
partake so glorious a reward, so glorious a service.
Thus both being now Thine, were huilding the tower
at the necessary cost^ the forsaking all that they had
and folloicmg Thee} Then Pontitianus and the
other with him, that had walked in other parts of the
garden, came in search of them to the same place ;
and finding them, reminded them to return, for the
day was now far spent. But they relating their reso-
lution and purpose, and how that determination was
begun, and settled in them, begged them, if they
would not join, not to molest them. Their friends,
though nothing altered from their former selves, did
yet bewail themselves (as he affirmed), and piously
congratulated them, recommending themselves to
their prayers ; and so, with hearts lingering on the
earth, went away to the palace. But the other two,
fixing their hearts on heaven, remained in the cot-
tage. And both had affianced brides, who, when
they heard hereof, also dedicated their virginity unto
God.
YII. 16. Such was the story of Pontitianus;
but Thou, O Lord, while he was sj^eaking, didst turn
me round towards myself, taking me from behind ray
back where I had placed me, unwiUing to observe
myself; and setting me before my face, that I might
see how foul I was, how crooked and defiled, bespot-
ted and ulcerous. And I beheld, and stood asrhast ;
1 Luke xiv. 26—35.
His xmll still divided. 193
and whither to flee from myself I found not. And if
I sought to turn mine eye from oif myself, he went
on with his relation, and Thou again didst set me
over against myself, and thrustedst me before my
eyes, that I might fiiid out mme iniquity., and hate
it} I had known it, but made as though I saw it not,
winked at it, and forgot it.
17. But now, the more ardently I loved those
whose healthful affections I heard of, that they had
resigned themselves wholly to Thee to be cured, the
more did I abhor myself, when compared with them.
For many of my years (some twelve) had now run
out with me since my nineteenth, when, upon the
reading of Cicero's Hortensius, I was stirred to an
earnest love of wisdom ; and still I was deferring to
reject mere earthly felicity, and give myself to search
out that, whereof not the finding only but the very
search, was to be preferred to the treasures and king-
doms of the world, though already found, and to the
pleasures of the body, though spread around me at
my wdll. But, I wretched, most wretched, in the
very commencement of my early youth, had begged
chastity of Thee, and said, "Give me chastity and
continency, only not yet?'' For I feared lest Thou
shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of the dis-
ease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satis-
fied rather than extinguished. And I had w^andered
through crooked ways in a sacrilegious superstition,
not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to
1 Ps. xxxvi. 2.
194 Sis will still divided.
tlie truth which I did not seek religiously, but op-
posed maliciously.
18. And I had heretofore thought, that I therefore
deferred from day to day to reject the hopes of this
world, and follow Thee only, because there did not
appear aught certain, whither to direct my course.
And now was the day come wherein I was to be
laid bare to myself, and my conscience was to up-
braid me. " Where art thou now, my tongue ? Thou
saidst, that for an uncertain truth thou likedst not
to cast off the baggage of vanity ; now truth is
certain, and yet that burden still oppresseth thee ;
while they who neither have so worn themselves
out with seeking it, nor for ten years and more have
been thinking thereon, have had their shoulders
lightened, and received wings to fly away." Thus
was I gnawed within, and exceedingly confounded
with an horrible shame, while Pontitianus was
speaking. And he having brought to a close his
tale and the business he came for, went his way;
and I into myself What said I not against myself?
with what scourges of condemnation lashed I not
my soul, that it might follow me, striving to go after
Thee ! Yet it drew back ; refused, but excused not
itself All arguments were spent and confuted;
there remained a mute shrinking ; and §he feared as
she would death, to be restrained from the flux of
that custom, whereby she was wasting to death.
VIII. 19. Then in this great contention of my
inward dwelling, which I had strongly raised against
His icill still divided. 195
myself in the chamber ^ of my heart, troubled in mind
and countenance, I turned upon Alypius. " What
ails us ? " I exclaim : " what is it ? what heardest
thou ? The unlearned start up and tahe heaven by
force ^ and we with our learning, and without heart,
wallow in flesh and blood ! Are we ashamed to fol-
low, because others are gone before, and are not
ashamed not even to follow ? " Some such words I
uttered, and my fever of mind tore me away from
him, while he, gazing on me in astonishment, kept
silence. For it was not my wonted tone ; and my
forehead, cheeks, eyes, color, tone of voice, spake
my mind more than the words I uttered. A little
garden there wAs to our lodging, which we had the
use of, as of the whole house ; for the master of the
house, our host, was not living there. Thither had the
tumult of my breast hurried me, where no man might
hinder the hot contention wherein I had engaged
with myself, until it should end as Thou knewest,
but I knew not. Only I was healthfully distracted
and dying, to live; knowing what evil thing I was,
and not knowing what good thing I was shortly to
become. I retired then into the garden, and Alyp-
ius on my steps. For his presence did not lessen
my privacy; and how could he forsake me so dis-
turbed ? We sate down as far removed as might be
from the house. I was troubled in spirit, most vehe-
mently indignant that I entered not into Thy will
and covenant, O my God, which all my bones cried
out unto me to enter, and praised it to the skies.
1 Isaiah xxvi. 20; Matt. vi. 6. 2 Matt. vi. 12.
196 How is it that the mind
And therein we enter not by ships, or chariots, or
feet, no, move not so far as I had come from the
house to that place where we were sitting. For, not
only to go, but to arrive, was nothing else but to will
to go, — but to will resolutely and thoroughly; not
to turn and toss this way and that a maimed half-
divided will, struggling, with one part sinking as
another rose.
20. Lastly, in the very fever of my irresoluteness,
I made with my body many such motions as men
sometimes would, but cannot, because they have not
the limbs, or are bound with bands, weakened with
infirmity, or in some way hindered. Thus, if I tore
my hair, beat my forehead, if locking my fingers I
clasped my knee, it was done because I willed it.
But I might have willed, and not done it, if the
power of motion in my limbs had not obeyed. Many
things then I did, when " to will " was not in itself
" to be able ; " but I did not what both I longed in-
comparably more to do, and what soon after, when I
should will, I should be able to do; because soon
after, when I should will, I should will thoroughly.
For in these spiritual things ability is one with will,
and to will is to do ; and yet at that time was it not
done : and more easily did my body obey the weak-
est willing of my soul, in moving its limbs at its nod,
than the soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will
alone this its momentous will.
IX. 21. Whence is this monstrousness ? and to
what end ? Let Thy mercy gleam that I may ask,
if the secret penalties of men, and those darkest
disobeys itself. 197
pangs of the sons of Adam, may perhaps answer me.
Whence is this monstrousness ? and to what end ?
The mind commands the body, and it obeys in-
stantly ; the mind commands itself, and is resisted.
The mind commands the hand to be moved ; and
such readiness is there, that command is scarce dis-
tinct from obedience. Yet the mind is mind, the
hand is body. The mind commands the mind, its
own self, to will, and yet it doth not. Whence this
monstrousness ? and to what end ? It commands it-
self, I say, to will, and would not command, unless it
willed, and what it commands is not done. But it
willeth not entirely : therefore doth it not command
entirely. For so far forth it commandeth, as it will-
eth : 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 what it com-
mandeth, is not. For w^ere the will entire, it would
not even command it to be, because it would already
be. It is therefore no monstrousness partly to will,
partly to nill, but a disease of the mind, that it doth
not whoUy rise, by truth up-borne, borne down by
custom. And therefore are there two wills, for that
one of them is not entire : and what the one lacketh,
the other hath.
X. 22. Let them perish from Thy presence^^ O
God, as vain talkers and seducers'^ of the soul, who,
because they observe that in deliberating there are
two determinations, aiRrm that there are two mental
1 Psalm Ixviii. 2. 2 Tit i. 10.
198 Hoio is it that the mind
natures in us of two kinds, one good, the other evil.
Themselves are truly evil, when they hold these evil
things ; and themselves shall become good when they
hold the truth and assent unto the truth, that Thy
Apostle may say to them, le were sometimes dark-
ness^ hut 71010 light in the Lord} But they, wishing
to be light, not in the Lord but in themselves,
imagining the nature of the soul to be that which
God is, are made more gross darkness through
a dreadful arrogancy ; going hack farther from
Thee^ the true Light that enlighteneth every man
that cometh iiito the world? Take heed what you
say, and blush for shame : draw near unto Sim
and he enlightened^ and your faces shall not he
ashamed? Deliberating upon serving the Lord my
God now, as I had long purposed, it was I who
willed, I who nilled, I, I myself I neither willed
entirely, nor nilled entirely. Therefore was I at
strife with myself, and rent asunder by myself And
this rent befel me against my will, and yet indi-
cated not the presence of another mind, but the
punishment of my own. Therefore it loas no more I
that wrought it^ hut sin that dicelt in me ;^ the pun-
ishment of a sin more freely committed, in that I was
a son of Adam.
23. For if there be so many contrary natures as
there be conflicting wills, there shall be not two
only, but many. If a man deliberate whether he
should go to their conventicle, or to the theatre,
these Manichees cry out, Behold, here are two na-
1 Eph. V. 8. 2 John i. 9. 3 Ps. xxxiv. 5. 4 Rom. vii. 17.
199
tures : one good, draws this way ; another bad, draws
back that way. For whence else is tliis hesitation
between conflicting wills ? But I say, that both be
bad : that which draws to them, as that which draws
back to the theatre. But they believe that will to be
good, which draws to them. What then if one of lis
should deliberate, and amid the strife of his two wills
be in a strait, whether he should go to the theatre, or
to our church ? would not these Manichees also be in
a strait what to answer ? For either they must con-
fess (which they fain would not) that the will which
leads to our church is good, or they must suppose two
evil natures, and two evil souls conflicting in one
man, instead of seeing the truth, that in deliberation,
one soul fluctuates between contrary wills.
24. Let them no more say, then, when they per-
ceive two conflicting wills in one man, that the con-
flict is between two contrary souls, of two contrary
substances, from two contrary principles, one good,
and the other bad. For Thou, O true God, dost dis-
prove, check, and convict them by focts ; as when,
both wills being bad, one deliberates, whether he
should kill a man by poison, or by the sword ;
whether he should seize this or that estate of an-
other's, when he cannot both ; whether he should
purchase pleasure by luxury, or keep his money by
covetousness ; whether he go to the circus, or the
theatre, if both be open on one day ; or, thirdly, to
rob another's house, if he have the opportunity ; or,
fourthly, to commit adultery, if at the same time he
liave the means thereof also. All these, meeting to-
200 Tioo opposing loills m 0)ie man
getlier in the same juncture of time, and all being
equally desired, which cannot at one time be acted,
do rend the mind amid four, or even (amid the vast
variety of things desired) more conflicting wills ; but
who will say that there are so many divers sub-
stances ? So also in wills which are good. For I
ask them, is it good to take pleasure in reading the
Apostle ? or good to take pleasure in a sober Psalm ?
or good to discourse on the Gospel ? They will
answer to each, " It is good." What then if all give
equal pleasure, and all at once ? Do not divers wills
distract the mind, while he deliberates which he
should rather choose ? yet are they all good, and are
at variance till one be chosen, whither the one entire
will may be borne, which before was divided into
many. Thus also, when eternity above delights us,
and the pleasure of temporal good holds us down be-
low, it is the same soul which willeth neither way
with an entire will ; and therefore is it rent asunder
with grievous perplexities, because its love of truth
sets this first, while its habit sets the other one first.
XI. 25. Thus soul-sick was I, and tormented, ac-
cusing myself much more severely than my wont,
rolling and turning me in my chain, till that were
wholly broken, whereby I now was but just, but still
was, held. And Thou, O Lord, didst press upon me
inwardly by a severe mercy, redoubling the lashes of
fear and shame, lest I should again give way, and, not
bursting that slight remaining tie, it should recover
strength, and bind me the faster. For I said within
myself, "Be it done now, be it done now;" and
do not miply two souls. 201
as I spake, I all but performed it ; I all but did it,
and did it not ; yet sunk not back to ray former state,
but kept my stand bard by, and took breath. And I
essayed again, and wanted somewhat less of it, and
somewhat less, and all but touched, and laid hold of
it ; and yet came not to it, nor touched nor laid hold
of it ; hesitating to die to death and to live to life ;
and the worse, whereto I was inured, prevailed more
with me than the better whereto I was unused ; and
as the moment approached wherein I was to become
other than I was, the greater horror did it strike into
me ; yet did it not strike me back, nor turned me
away, but held me in suspense.
26. The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities,
my ancient mistresses, still held me ; they plucked
my fleshly garment, and whispered softly, " Dost thou
cast US ofi"? 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 was it which they suggested in that I said,
" this or that," O my God ? Let Thy mercy turn it
away from the soul of Thy servant. What defile-
ments did they suggest ! what shame ! But now I
much less than half heard them, not openly showing
themselves and contradicting me, but muttering as it
were behind my back, and privily plucking me, as I
was departing, but to look back on them. Yet they
did retard me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake
myself free from them, and to spring over whither I
was called ; a violent habit saying to me, " Thinkest
thou, thou canst live without them ?"
202 Finds relief in a flood of tears,
27. But now it- spake very faintly. For on that
side whither I had set my face, and whither I trem-
bled to go, there appeared unto me the chaste
dignity of Continency, serene, not dissolutely gay,
honestly alluring me to come and doubt not ; and
stretching forth to receive and embrace me, her holy
hands full of multitudes of good examples: there
were so many young men and maidens here, a multi-
tude of youth and every age, grave widows and aged
virgins ; and Continence herself in all, not barren,
but a fruitful mother of children of joys, by Thee
her Husband, O Lord. And she smiled on me with a
persuasive mockery, as if she would say, " Canst not
thou do what these youths, what these maidens can ?
or do they do it of themselves, and not rather by the
Lord their God ? The Lord their God gave me unto
them. Why standest thou in thyself, and so standest
not ? cast thyself upon Him, fear not. He will not
withdraw Himself that thou shouldest fall ; cast thy-
self fearlessly upon Him, He will receive, and will
heal thee." And I blushed exceedingly, for that I
yet heard the murmuring of those toys, and hung in
suspense. And she again seemed to say, " Stop thine
ears against those thy unclean memhers on the earthy
that they may be mortified. They tell thee of
delights., hnt not as doth the law of the Lord thy
God?^^ Thi^ controversy in my heart was self
against self only. But Alypius sitting close by my
side, in silence waited the issue of my unwonted
emotion.
1 Ps. cxix. 85. Old Ver.
Finds relief in a flood of tears. 203
XII. 28. And when a deep consideration had
from the secret bottom of my soul drawn together
and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my
heart, there arose a mighty storm, bringing a mighty
shower of tears. Which that I might pour forth
wholly, in its natural expressions, I rose from Aly-
pius : sohtude seemed to me fitter for the business
of weeping ; so I retired so far that even his pres-
ence could not be a burden to me. Thus was it with
me, and he perceived something of it ; for I suppose
I had spoken something, wherein the tones of my
voice appeared choked with weeping, as I had risen
up. He remained where we were sitting, most
extremely astonished. I cast myself down I know
not how, under a certain fig-tree, giving full vent to
my tears ; and the floods of mine eyes gushed out an
acceptable sacrifice to Thee. And, not indeed in these
words, yet to this purpose, spake I much unto Thee :
and Tliou., 0 Lord., hoio long f hoio long., Lord., wilt
TIiou he angry for ever 9^ Itememher not our for-
mer iniqidties.,'^ for I felt that I was held by them. I
sent up these sorrowful words ; How long ? how
long? "to-morrow% and to-morrow?" Why not
now ? why this hour is there not an end to my un-
cleanness ?
29. So was I speaking, and weeping in the most
bitter contrition of my heart, when, lo ! I heard from
a neighboring house a voice, as of boy or girl, I
know not, chanting, and oft repeating, "Take up
and read ; Take u]) and read." Instantly, my coun-
1 Psalm vi. 4. 2 Psalm Ixxix. 5, 8.
204 Determined at length
tenance altered, I began to think most intently,
whether children were wont in any kind of play to
sing such words : nor could I remember ever to have
heard the like. So checking the torrent of my tears,
I arose ; interpreting it to be no other than a com-
mand from God to open the book and read the first
chapter I should find. For I had heard of Antony,
that coming in during the reading of the Gospel, he
received the admonition, as if what was being read
was spoken to him : 6ro, sell all that thou hast^ and
give to the ijoor^ and thou shalt have treasure in
heaven, and come and folloic me :^ and by such
oracle he was forthwith converted unto Thee. —
Eagerly then I returned to the place where Alypius
was sitting ; for there had I laid the volume of the
Apostle, when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and
in silence read that passage, on which my eyes
first fell : Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in
chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envy-
ing : hut 'put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and maJce
not provision for the flesh,'^ in concupiscence. No
further would I read ; nor needed I : for instantly at
the end of this sentence, by a light as it were of
serenity infused into my heart, all the darkness of
doubt vanished away.
30. Then putting my finger between, or some
other mark, I shut the volume, and with a calmed
countenance made it known to Alypius. And what
was wrought in him, which I knew not, he thus
showed me. He asked to see what I had read : I
1 Matt, xix, 21. 2 Eom. xiii. 13, 14.
by a passage of Holy Scripture. 205
showed him ; and he looked even further than I had
read, and I knew not what followed. Tliis followed :
hbn that is weah in the faith^ receive /^ which he ap-
plied to himself, and disclosed to me. And by this
admonition was he strengthened ; and by a good
resolution and purpose, and according to his natural
character, in which he was far different from me, and
far better, without any turbulent delay he joined me.
Thence we go in to my mother ; we tell her ; she re-
joices ; we relate in order how it took place ; she
leaps for joy, and triumphs, and blesses Thee, Who
art able to do above that ichich we ask or think ;^
for she perceived that Thou hadst given her more for
me, than she was wont to beg by her pitiful and most
sorrowful groanings. For Thou convertedst me unto
Thyself, so that I sought neither wife, nor any hope
of this world, standing in that rule of faith, where
Thou hadst showed me unto her in a vision, so many
years before.^ And Thou didst convert her mourn-
ing into joy^^ much more plentiful than she had
desired, and in a much more precious and purer way
than she erst required, when she asked grandchildren
of my body.
1 Rom. xiv. 1. 8 Compare Book III. xi.
2 Eph. iii. 20. 4 Psalm xxx. 11.
16
THE NINTH BOOK.
AUGUSTIIfE DETERMINES TO DEVOTE HIS LIFE TO GOD, AND TO ABAN-
DON HIS PROFESSION OP RHETORIC, QUIETLY HOWEVER— RETIRES
TO THE COUNTRY TO PREPARE HIMSELF TO RECEIVE THE RITE
OF BAPTISM, AND IS BAPTIZED WITH ALYPIU8, AND HIS SON ADEO-
DATUS— AT OSTIA, ON HIS WAY TO AFRICA, HIS MOTHER MONICA
DIES, IN HER FIFTY-SIXTH YEAR, THE THIRTY-THIRD OP AUGUS-
TINE— HER LIFE AND CHARACTER.
1. 1. 0 Xord, I am Thy servant ; I am Thy ser-
vard^ and the son of Thy handmaid ; Thou hast
broken my bonds in sunder. I will offer to Thee the
sacrifice of ]yraise.^ Let my heart and my tongue
praise Thee ; yea, let all my bones say^ 0 Lord^ loho
is like unto Thee f Let them say, and answer Thou,
and say unto my soul, I am thy salvatio7i.^ Who
am I, and what man am I ? Rather what evil have I
not been, either in my deeds, or if not in my deeds,
in my words, or if not in my words, in my will ?
But Thou, O Lord, art good and merciful, and Thy
right hand had respect unto the depth of my death,
and from the bottom of ray heart emptied that abyss
of corruption. And this Thy whole gift was, to nill
what I willed, and to will what Thou willedst. But
where, through all those years, was my free will, and
1 rsalm cxvi. 16, 17. 2 Psalm xxxv. 10.
Hesolves to give up his professioii. 207
out of what low and deep recess was it called forth
m a moment, so that I submitted my neck to Thy
easy yoke^^ and my shoulders unto Thy light burden^
0 Christ Jesus^ my Helper and my Redeemer f^
How sweet did it at once become to me, to give up
the sweetnesses of those toys ! and what I feared to
be parted from, was now a joy to part with. For
Thou didst cast them forth from me, Thou true and
highest sweetness. Thou castedst them forth, and in
place of them enteredst in Thyself, sweeter than all
pleasure, though not to flesh and blood ; brighter
than all light, but more hidden than all depths ;
higher than all honor, but not to the high in their
own conceits. Now was my soul free from the biting
cares of canvassing and getting, and weltering in
filth, and scratching off the itch of lust. And my in-
fant tongue spake freely to Thee, my brightness, and
my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.
II. 2. And I resolved in Thy sight, not tumultu-
ously to tear, but gently to withdraw, the service of
my tongue from the marts of lip-labor : that the
young, w^ho studied not Thy law^, nor Thy peace, but
lying dotages and law-skirmishes, should no longer
buy at my mouth arms for their madness. And very
seasonably, it now wanted but very few days unto
the Vacation of the Vintage, and I resolved to
endure them, then in a regular way to take my leave,
and having been purchased by Thee, to sell myself
no more. Our purpose then was known to Thee ;
but to men, other than our own friends, was it not
1 Matt. xi. 30. 2 Psalm xix. 4.
208 Augicstine resolves
known. For we had agreed among ourselves not to
disclose it to any : although to us, now ascending
from the valley of tears^ and singing that song of de-
grees^ Thou hadst given sharp arrows^ and destroying
coals^ against whatever subtle tongue^ that on pre-
tence of advising would thwart us, and would out of
love devour us, as it doth its meat.
3. For Thou hadst pierced our hearts with Thy
love, and we carried Thy words as it were fixed in
our bowels : and the examples of Thy servants,
whom for black Thou hadst made bright, and for
dead, alive, being piled together in the receptacle of
our thoughts, kindled and burned up our heavy tor-
por, that we should not sink down to the abyss ; and
they fired us so vehemently, that all the blasts of
suhtle tongues from gainsayers might only inflame us
the more fiercely, not extinguish us. Nevertheless,
because for Thy Name^s sake which Thou hast hal-
loioed throughout the earth, this our vow and pur-
pose might also find some to commend it, it seemed
like ostentation not to wait for the vacation now
so near, but to quit beforehand a public profession,
which was before the eyes of all ; so that all looking
on this act of mine, and observing how near was the
time of vintage which I wished to anticipate, would
talk much of me, as if I had desired to appear some
great one. And what end had it served me, that
people should repute and dispute upon my purpose,
and that our good should he evil spohen off^
4. Moreover, it had at first troubled me, that in
1 Kom. xiv. 16.
to give up his profession. 200
this very summer my lungs began to give way, amid
too great literary labor, and to breathe deeply with
difficulty, and by the pain in my chest to show that
they were injured, and to refuse any full or length-
ened speaking; this had troubled me, for it almost
constrained me of necessity, to lay down that burden
of teaching ; or, if I could be cured and recover,
at least to intermit it. But when the full wish for
leisure, that I might see how that Thou art the
Lord} arose, and was fixed, in me, my God, Thou
knowest, I began even to rejoice that I had this sec-
ondary, and no feigned, excuse, which might some-
what moderate the offence taken by those, who for
their sons' sake wished me never to have the freedom
of Thy sons. Full then of such joy, I endured till
that interval of time were run ; it may have been
some twenty days, yet they were endured manfully ;
endured, for the covetousness which aforetime bore a
part of this heavy business, had left me, and I re-
mained alone, and had been overwhelmed, had not
patience taken its place. Perchance, some of Thy
servants, my brethren, may say, that I sinned in this,
that with a heart fully set on Thy service, I suffered
myself to sit even one hour in the chair of lies. Nor
would I be contentious. But hast not Thou, O most
merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also,
with my other most horrible and deadly sins, in the
holy waters of baptism ?
III. 5. Yerecundus was worn down with care
about this our blessedness, for that being held back
1 Psalm xlvi. 10.
210 Conversion of Ve^^ecundus
by bonds, whereby he was most straitly bound, he
saw that he should be severed from us. For himself
was not yet a Christian, his wife one of the faithful ;
and yet hereby, more rigidly than by any other chain,
was he let and hindered from the journey which
we had now essayed. For he would not, he said,
be a Christian on any other terms than on those he
could not. However, he offered us courteously to
remain at his country house, so long as I should stay
there. Thou, O Lord, shalt reward him hi the res-
urrection of thejust^^ seeing Thou hast already given
him the lot of the righteous.^ For, in my absence at
Rome, he was seized with bodily sickness, and therein
being made a Christian, and one of the faithful, he
departed this life ; thus hadst Thou mercy not on
hitn only^ hut on me also :^ lest remembering the ex-
ceeding kindness of my friend towards me, yet un-
able to number him among Thy flock, I should be
agonized with intolerable sorrow. Thanks unto Thee,
my God, I am Thine : Thy suggestions and conso-
lations tell me. Faithful in promises, that Thou now
requitest Verecundus for his country house of Cassia-
cum, where from the fever of the world I reposed in
Thee, with the eternal Ireshness of Thy Paradise : for
that Thou hast forgiven him his sins upon earth, in
that rich mountain, that mountain which yieldeth
milk, Thine own mountain.
6. He, however, was at that time troubled, but Ne-
bridius rejoiced. For although he too, not being yet
a Christian, had fallen into the pit of that most per-
1 Luke xiv. 14. 2 Psalm cxxv. 3. 3 Phil. ii. 27.
and Nehridius. 211
nicious error, believing the flesh of Thy Son to be a
phantom : yet emerging thence, he believed as I did ;
not as yet indued with any Sacraments of Thy
Church, but a most ardent searcher-out of truth.
Whom, not long after my conversion and regener-
ation by Thy Baptism, becoming also a faithful mem-
ber of the Church Catholic, and serving Thee in per-
fect chastity and continence amongst his people in
Africa, his whole house having through him first been
made Christian, didst Thou release from the flesh ;
and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. ^ Whatever
tliat be, which is signified by that bosom, there lives
my Nebridius, my sweet friend, and Thy child, O
Lord, adopted of a freed man : there he liveth. For
what other place is there for such a soul ? There he
liveth, whereof he asked much of me, a poor inex-
perienced man. Now lays he not his ear to my
mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto Thy fountain,
and drinketh as much as he can receive, wisdom in
proportion to his thirst, endlessly happy. Nor do I
think that he is so inebriated therewith, as to forget
me ; seeing Thou, Lord, Whom he drinketh, art mind-
ful of me. But now I tried to comfort Verecundus,
who sorrowed, as far as friendship permitted, that my
conversion was of such sort ; exhorting him to be-
come faithful, according to his state of married life ;
and expecting Nebridius to follow me, which he was
all but doing. And so those days rolled by at length ;
for long and many they seemed, for the love I bare to
the easeful liberty, in which I could sing to Thee from
1 Compare Au;?ustini De Anima IV. 15, 16. — Ed.
212 Retires to the country
my inmost marrow, My heart hath said imto Thee^
I have sought Thy face : Thy face^ Lorcl^ loill I
seek. ^
IV. 7. Now was the day come, wherein I was in
deed to be freed of my Rhetoric Professorship,
whereof in thought I was already freed. And it was
done. Thou didst rescue my tongue, whence Thou
hadst before rescued my heart. And I blessed Thee,
rejoicing ; retiring with all my friends to the villa.
What I there did in writing, which was now enlisted
in Thy service, though still, in this breathing-time as
it were, panting from the school of pride, my Treat-
ises may witness, as well what I debated with others,
as what with myself alone, before Thee :^ what with
Nebridius, who was absent, my Epistles bear witness.
And when shall I have time to rehearse all Thy great
benefits towards me at that time, especially when
hasting on to yet greater mercies ? For my remem-
brance recalls me, and pleasant is it to me, O Lord, to
confess to Thee, by what inward goads Thou tamedst
me ; and how Thou hast evened me, loioering the
mountains and hills of my high imaginations,
straightening my croohedness, and smoothing my
rough ways ; and how Thou also subduedst the
brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the Name 'of Thy
Only Begotten, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,
which he would not at first vouchsafe to have in-
serted in my wi'itings. For rather would he have
1 Psalm xxvii. 8.
2 Their subjects, and order, may be found in Augustine's Retractatioues
I. 1-4.— Ed.
with Alypius and his mother. •213
them savor of the lofty cedars of the Schools, which
the Lord hath now broken doimi^ than of the whole-
some herbs of the Chm-ch, the antidote against ser-
pents.
8. Oh, in what accents spake I unto Thee, my
God, when I read the Psalms of David, those faith-
ful songs, and sounds of devotion, which allow of no
swelling spirit, as yet a Catechumen, and a novice in
Thy real love, resting in that villa, with Alypius a
Catechumen, my mother cleaving to me, in female
garb, wath masculine faith, with the tranquillity of
age, motherly love, Christian piety. Oh, what ac-
cents did I utter unto Thee in those Psalms, and
how was I by them kindled towards Thee, and on
fire to rehearse them, if possible, through the whole
world, against the pride of mankind. And they are
sung through the whole w^orld, nor can any hide
himself from Thy heat^ With what vehement
and bitter sorrow was I angered at the Manichees !
and again I pitied them, for that they knew not
those Sacraments, those medicines, and w^ere mad
against the antidote, which might have recovered
them of their madness. How I would they had
then been somewhere near me, and without my
knowing that they were there, could have beheld my
countenance, and heard my words, when I read the
fourth Psalm in that time of my rest, and seen how
that Psalm wrought upon me. When I called^ the
God of my righteousness heard me ; in tribulation
Thou enlargest me. Have mercy upon me, 0 Lord^
1 Psalm xxix. 5. ' 2 Psalm xix. 6.
214 Application of the fourth Psalm.
and hear my prayer} Would that what I uttered
on these words, they could hear, without my know-
ing whether they heard, lest they should think I
spake it for their sakes. For, in truth, neither should
I speak the same things, nor in the same way, if I
perceived that they heard and saw me ; nor if I
spake them, would they so receive them, as when I
spake by and for myself before Thee, out of the nat-
ural feelings of my soul.
9. I trembled for fear, and again kindled with
hope, and with rejoicing in Thy mercy, O Father;
and all my soul issued forth both by mine eyes and
voice, w^hen Thy good Sj^irit turning unto us, said, 0
ye sons of men, how lo7ig slow of heart f why do ye
love vanity, and seek after leas%7ig f^ For I had
loved vanity, and sought after leasing. And Thou,
0 Lord, hadst already m.agnified 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 Comforter, the Spnrit of
truth} And He had already sent Him, but I knew
it not ; He had sent Him, because He was now mag-
nified, rising again from the dead, and ascending into
heaven.^ For till then, the Spirit was not yet given,
because Jesus was not yet glorified} And the
prophet cries out, How long, slow of heart f why do
ye love vanity, and seek after leasing ? Kfnow this,
that the Lord hath magnified His Holy One. He
1 Ps. iv. 1. Old Ver. 4 Luke xxiv. 49; John xiv. 16, 17.
2 Ps. iv. 2. 5 Acts ii. 1-^.
3 Eph. i. 20. 6 John vii. 39.
Application of the fourth Psalm. 215
cries out, How long f He cries out, Know this : and
I so long, not knowing, loved vanity^ and sought
after leasing : and therefore I heard and trembled,
because it was spoken unto such as I remembered
myself to have been. For in those phantoms which
I had held for truths, was there vanity and leasing ;
and I spake aloud many things earnestly and forci-
bly, in the bitterness of my remembrance. Which
would they had heard,*who yet love vanity and seek
after leasing! They would 23erchance have been
troubled, and have vomited it up ; and Thou would-
est hear them lohen they cried unto Tliee ; for by a
true death in the flesh did He die for us, who now
intercedeth unto Thee for us}
10. I further read. Be angry ^ and sin not.^ And
how was I moved, O my God, who had now learned
to be angry at myself for things past, that I might
not sin in time to come ! Yea, to be justly angry ;
for it was not another nature of dark spirits which
sinned for me,^ as they say who are not angry at
themselves, and treasure up wrath against the day
of wrath, and of the revelation of Thy just judg-
ment} Nor were my good things now sought from
without, nor sought with the eyes of flesh in the
earthly sun ; for they that would have joy from with-
out soon become vain, and waste themselves on the
things seen, and temporal, and in their famished
thoughts do lick their very shadows. Oh that they
1 Rom. viii. 34. 2 Eph. iv. 26.
3 The allusion is to the Gnostico-Manichaean theory of evil, which places
the ultimate source of sin out of human nature. — Ed.
4 Rom. ii. 5.
216 Ajy^yUes to Ambrose
were wearied out with their fiimine, and said, Who
icill shoio us good things ?^ Then we would say,
and they hear, Th,e light of Thy countenance is
sealed upon us.^ For we are not that light which
enlighteneth every man^^ but we are enlightened by
Thee ; that having been sometimes darhiess^ loe may
be light in Thee^ Oh that they could see the
Eternal internal, which having tasted, I was grieved
that I could not show It them, so long as they
brought me their heart in their eyes roving abroad
from Thee, while they said, Who will show us good
things f^ For there, where I was angry within my-
self in my chamber^ where I was inwardly pricked,
where I had sacrificed, slaying my old man and com-
mencing the purpose of a new X\iQ^ putting my trust
in Thee,^ — there hadst Thou begun to grow sweet
unto me, and hadst 2^^^ gladness in my heart J And
I cried out, as I read this outwardly, and found it in-
wardly. Nor would I be multiplied with worldly
goods ; wasting away time, and wasted by time ;
whereas I had in Thy eternal Simple Essence other
corn^ and wine, and oil.
11. And with a loud cry of my heart I cried out
in the next verse, Oh ! in peace. Oh for The Self-
Same ! Oh what a word ! I loill lay me down and
sleep ;^ for who shall hinder us, when cometh to pass
that saying lohich is loritten. Death is sicalloioedup in
victory?^ And Thou surpassingly art the Self-Same,
who art not changed; and in Thee is rest which
1 Ps. iv. 6. 3 John i. 9. 5 Ps. iv. 6. 7 Ps. iv. 7. 9 1 Cor. xv. 54.
2 Ps. iv. 6. 4 Eph. V. 8. 6 Ps. iv. 5 8 Ps. iv. 8.
for instructwn and haptism. 217
forgettetli all toil, for there is none other with Thee,
nor are we to seek those many other things, which
are not what Thou art : but Thou, Lord, alone hast
made me dwell in hope. I read, and kindled ; nor
found I what to do to those deaf and dead, of whom
I myself had been one, a pestilent person, a bitter
and a blind bawler against those writings, which are
honied with the honey of heaven, and lightsome
with Thine own hght ; and I was consumed with
zeal at the enemies of this Scripture.
12. When shall I recall all which passed in those
holydays ? Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will
I pass over the severity of Thy scourge, and the
wonderful swiftness of Thy mercy. Thou didst
then torment me with pain in my teeth ; which
when it had come to such height that I could not
speak, it came into my heart to desire all my friends
present to pray for me to Thee, the God of all man-
ner of health. And this I wrote on wax, and gave
it them to read. Presently so soon as with hum-
ble devotion we had bowed our knees, that pain
went away. But what pain ? or how went it away ?
I was affrighted, O my Lord, my God ; for from
inflxncy I had never experienced the like. And the
power of Thy nod was deeply impressed upon me,
and rejoicing in faith, I praised Thy name. And
that faith suffered me not to be at ease about my
past sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Thy
baptism.
V. 13. The vintage-vacation ended, I gave no-
tice to the Milanese to provide their scholars with
218 Jlis friend Ahjjnus.
another master to sell words to them ; for that I had
both made choice to serve Thee, and through my
difBculty of breathing and pain in my chest, was not
equal to the Professorship. And by letters I signi-
fied to Thy prelate, the holy man Ambrose, my
former errors and present desires, begging his advice
what of Thy Scriptures I had best read, to become
readier and fitter for receiving so great grace. He
recommended Isaiah the Prophet ; I believe, because
he above the rest is a more clear foreshower of the
Gospel and of the calling of the Gentiles. But I, not
understanding the first lesson in him, and imagining
the whole to be like it, laid it by, to be resumed
when better practised in our Lord's own words.
yi. 14. When the time was come, wherein I
was to give in my name for baptism, we left the
country and returned to Milan. It pleased Alypius
also to be with me born agjain^ in Thee, beinor al-
ready clothed with the humiUty befitting Thy Sacra-
ments ; and a most valiant tamer of the body, so as,
with unwonted venture, to wear the frozen ground
of Italy with his bare feet. We joined with us the
boy Adeodatus, born after the flesh, of my sin. Ex-
cellently hadst Thou made him. He was not quite
fifteen, and in wit surpassed many grave and learned
men. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts, O Lord my
God, Creator of all, and abundantly able to reform
our deformities: fori had no part in that boy, but
1 Rennsci : here, as often in the patristic writers, employed to denote the
initiating rite of baptism, with alhision, probably, to the phrase " born
of water and the Spirit,"' iu John iii. 5. — Ed.
His son Adeodatiis. 219
the sin. If I brought him up in Thy cliscij)linc, it
was Thou, none else, that inspired me to it. I con-
fess unto Thee Thy gifts. There is a book of mine
entitled The Master;^ it ^is a dialogue between him
and me. Thou knowest, that all there ascribed to
the person conversing with me were his ideas, in
his sixteenth year. Much besides, and yet more ad-
mirable, I found in him. His talent struck awe into
me. And who but Thou could be the workmaster
of such wonders ? Soon didst Thou take his life from
the earth : and I now remember him without anxi-
ety, fearing nothing for his childhood or youth, or
his whole self Hira we joined with us, our contem-
porary in grace, to be brought ujd in Thy discipline ;
and we were baptized, and anxiety for our past life
vanished from us. Nor was I sated in those days
with the wondrous sweetness of contemplating the
depth of Thy counsels concerning the salvation of
mankind. How did I weep, in hearing Thy Hymns
and Canticles, touched to the quick by the voices of
Thy sweet-attuned church ! The voices flowed into
mine ears, and the Truth distilled into my heart,
whence the aflections of my devotion overflowed,
and tears ran down, and happy was I therein.
VII. 15. Not long had the church of Milan be-
gun to use this kind of consolation and exhortation,
the brethren zealously joining with harmony of voice
and hearts. For it was a year, or not much more,
since Justina, mother to the Emperor Yalentinian,
yet a child, jiersecuted Thy servant Ambrose, in
1 De Magistro: Compare Augustini Retractationes I. 12, — Ed.
220 Church music; Pi^otasius and Gervasius.
favor of her heresy, to which she was seduced by
the Arians. The devout people kej^t watch in the
church, ready to die with their bishop Thy servant.
There my mother Thy handmaid, bearing a chief
part of those anxieties and watchings, lived for
prayer. I, though yet unwarmed by the heat of Thy
Spirit, still was stirred \x^ by the sight of the amazed
and disquieted city. Then it was first instituted that
after the manner of the Eastern churches, hymns and
psalms should be sung, lest the people should wax
flint through the tediousness of sorrow : and from
that day to this the custom is retained, — divers, yea,
almost all Thy congregations, throughout other parts
of the world, following herein.
16. Then didst Thou by a vision discover to Thy
forenamed bishop, where the bodies of Gervasius and
Protasius the martyrs lay hid (whom Thou hadst in
Thy secret treasury stored uncorrupted so many
years), whence Thou mightest seasonably produce
them to repress the fury of a woman indeed, but an
empress. For when they were discovered and dug
up, and with due honor translated to the Ambrosian
Basilica, not only they who were vexed with unclean
spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were cured,
but a certain man, who had for many years been
blind, a citizen, and well known to the city, asking
and hearing the reason of the people's confused
joy, sprang forth, desiring his guide to lead him
thither. Led thither, he begged to be allowed to
touch with his handkerchief the bier of Thy saints^
Death of Monica. 'irlX
whose death is ^^recious i?i Thy sight} Which when
he had done, and put to his eyes, they were forth-
with opened.^ Thence did the fame spread, thence
Thy praises glowed, shone ; thence the mind of that
enemy Justina, though not turned to the soundness
of believing, was yet turned back from her fury of
persecuting. Thanks to Thee, O my God. Whence
and whither hast Thou thus led my remembrance,
that I should confess these things also unto Thee ?
which great though they be, I had passed by in for-
getfulness. And yet then, -^Vhen the odor of Thy
ointments was so fragrant^ did I not rim after Thee?
Therefore did I the more weep during the singing
of Thy hymns ; at first sighing after Thee, and at
length breathing in Thee, so far as vital breath can
enter into this our house of grass.
VIII. 17. Thou that mahest men to dwell of one
mind in one house* didst join with me Euodius also, a
young man of my own city ; who being an ofiicer of
court, was before me converted to Thee and bap-
tized, and quitting his secular warfare, girded himself
to Thine. We were together, about to dwell to-
gether in our devout purpose. We sought where
we might serve Thee most usefully, and were to-
gether returning to Africa : but when we came as far
as Ostia, my mother departed this life. I omit much
in my story, being in haste. Receive my confessions
and thanksgivings, O my God, for innumerable things
1 Ps. cxvi. 15.
2 Augustine mentions this miracle again, with others, in De Civitate
Dei, XXII. viii — Ed .
3 Cant. i. 2, 3. 4 Ps. Ixviii. 6.
17
222 Death of Monica.
whereof I am silent. But I will not omit whatso-
ever my soul would bring forth concerning Thy
handmaid, who brought me forth, both in the flesh,
that I might be born to this temporal light, and in
heart, that I might be born to Light eternal. ISTot her
gifts, but Thine in her, would I speak of: for neither
did she make or educate herself Thou createdst
her ; nor did her father and mother know what crea-
ture should come from them. And the sceptre of
Thy Christ, the discipline of Thine only Son, in a
Christian house, a good member of Thy Church, edu-
cated her in Thy fear. Yet for her good discipline,
was she wont to commend not so much her mother's
diligence, as that of a certain decrepit maid-servant,
who had carried her father when a child, as little
ones use to be carried at the backs of elder girls.
For which reason, and for her great age, and ex-
cellent conversation, was she, in that Christian fam-
ily, well respected by its heads ; and the charge of
her master's daughters was intrusted to her; to
which she gave diligent heed, restraining them ear-
nestly, when necessary, with holy severity, and teach-
ing them with a grave discretion. For, except at
those hours wherein they were most temperately fed
at their parent's table, she would not suffer them,
though parched with thirst, to drink even water ; pre-
venting an evil custom, and adding this wholesome
advice : "You drink water now, because you have not
wine in your power ; but when you come to be mar-
ried, and be made mistresses of cellars and cup-
boards, you will scorn water, but the custom of
Her early years. 223
drinking will abide." By this method of instruction,
and the authority she had, she abated the greediness
of childhood, and moulded their very thirst to such
an excellent moderation, that what they should not,
that they would not.
18. And yet (as Thy handmaid told me her son)
there had crept upon her a love of wine. For when
(as the custom was) she was bidden by her parents
to draw wine out of the hogshead, holding the vessel
under the tap, before she poured the wine into the
flagon, she sipped a little with the tip of her lips :
for more her natural taste refused. This she did,
not out of any love of drink, but out of the exuber-
ance of youth, whereby it boils over in mirthful
freaks, which in youthful spirits are wont to be kept
under by the gravity of their elders. And thus by
adding to that little, daily littles (for ichoso clespis-
eth little things^ shall fall by little and little)^ she
had fillen into such a habit, as greedily to drink ofi*
her little cup brim-full almost of wine. Where was
then that discreet old woman, and her earnest coun-
termanding ? Would aught avail against a secret dis-
ease, if Thy healing hand, O Lord, watched not over
us ? Father, mother, and governors absent, Thou
present, who created st, who callest, who also by
those set oyer us workest something towards the sal-
vation of our souls, what didst Thou then, O my
God? how didst Thou cure her? how heal her?
Didst Thou not out of another soul bring forth a
hard and a sharp taunt, like a lancet out of Thy se-
1 Eccl. xix. 1.
224 Her early years
cret store, and with one touch remove all that foul
stuff? For a maid-servant with whom she used to go
to the cellar, falling to words (as it haj^pens) with
her little mistress, when alone with her, taunted her
with this fault, with most bitter insult, calling her
wine-bibber. With which taunt, stung to the quick,
she saw the foulness of her fault, and instantly con-
demned and forsook it. As flattering friends pervert,
so reproachful enemies often correct. Yet by what
themselves purposed, not what Thou doest by them,
dost Thou repay them. For she in her anger sought
to vex her young mistress, not to amend her ; and
did it in private, either because the time and place of
the quarrel so found them ; or lest she herself should
be blamed for discovering it thus late. But Thou,
Lord, Governor of all in heaven and earth, who turn-
est to Thy purposes the deepest currents, and rulest
the turbulence of the tide of times, didst by the very
unhealthiness of one soul, heal another; lest any,
when he observes this, should ascribe it to his own
power, even when another, whom he wished to be
reformed, is reformed through words of his.
IX. 19. Brought up thus modestly and soberly,
and made subject rather by Thee to her parents, than
by her parents to Thee, so soon as she was of mar-
riageable age, being bestowed upon a husband, she
served him as her lord ; and did her diligence to win
him unto Thee, preaching Thee unto him by her con-
versation ; by which Thou madest her beautiful, rev-
erently amiable, and admirable unto her husband.
And she so endured the wronging of her bed, as
and married life. 225
never to have any quarrel with her husband thereon.
For she looked for Thy mercy upon him, that be-
lieving in Thee, he might be made chaste. Besides
this, he was fervid, as in his affections, so in anger :
but she had learnt, not to resist an angry husband,
even in word. Only when he was smoothed and tran-
quil, and in a temper to receive it, she would give an
account of her actions, if haply he had over-hastily
taken offence. In a word, while many matrons, who
had milder husbands, yet bore even in their faces
marks of blows, and would in familiar talk blame
their husbands' lives, she would blame their tongues,
giving them, as in jest, earnest advice : "That from
the time they heard the marriage writings read to
them, they should account them as indentures,
wliereby they were made servants ; and so, remem-
bering their condition, ought not to set themselves
up against their lords." And when they, knowing
what a choleric husband she endured, marvelled that
it had never been heard, nor by any token perceived,
that Patricius had beaten his wife, or that there had
been any domestic difference between them, even for
one day, and confidentially asked the reason, she
taught them her practice above mentioned. Those
wives who observed it found the benefit, and thanked
her ; those who observed it not, found no relief, and
suffered.
20. Her mother-in-law also, at first by whisperings
of evil servants incensed against her, she so over-
came by kindnesses and persevering endurance and
meekness, that she of her own accord discovered to
226 Eminent for meekness
her son the meddling tongues whereby the domestic
peace betwixt her and her daughter-in-law had been
disturbed, asking him to correct them. Then, when
in compliance with his mother, and for the well-
ordering of the family, and the harmony of its mem-
bers, he had with stripes corrected them, she prom-
ised the like recompense to any w^ho, to j^lease her,
should speak ill of her daughter-in-law to her : and,
none now venturing, they lived together with a re-
markable sweetness of mutual kindness.
21. This great gift also Thou bestowedst, O my
God, my Mercy, upon that good handmaid of Thine
in whose womb Thou createdst me, that between
any disagreeing and discordant parties, where she
was able, she showed herself such a peacemaker, that
hearing on both sides most bitter things, such as
swelling and indigested choler uses to break out into,
when the crudities of enmities are breathed out in
sour discourses to a present friend against an absent
enemy, she never would disclose aught of the one
unto the other, but what might tend to their recon-
cilement. A small good this might appear to me,
did I not to my grief know numberless j^ersons, who
through some horrible and wide-spreading contagion
of sin, not only 'disclose to persons mutually angered
things said in anger, but add, withal, things never
spoken ; whereas to a humane man, it ought to seem
a light thing not to foment or increase ill-will by
ill words, but to study withal by good words to
quench it. Such was she. Thyself, her most inward
Instructor, teaching her in the school of the heart.
and peace-making. 227
22. Finally, her own husband, towards the very
end of his earthly life, did she gain unto Thee ; nor
had she to complain after he became a Christian, of
what, before he was a believer, she had borne from
him. She was also the servant of Thy servants ;
whosoever of them knew her, did much praise and
honor and love Thee in her ; for through the witness
of the fruits of a holy conversation they perceived
Thy presence in her heart. For she had been the
yylfe of one man., had requited her parents^ had gov-
ei ned her house piously, vkis xmll reported of for
good loorks^ had brought up children^^ travailing in
birth of them^'^ as often as she saw them SAverving
from Thee. Lastly, as though she had been mother
of us all, she took care of all of Thy servants, O
Lord (whom on occasion of Thy own gift Thou suf-
ferest to speak), who, before her sleeping in Thee,
lived united together having received the grace of
Thy baptism, and served us, as though she had been
child to us all.
X. 23. The day now approaching whereon she
was to depart this life (which day Thou well knew-
est, we knew not), it came to pass. Thyself, as I be-
lieve, by Thy secret ways so ordering it, that she and
I stood alone, leaning in a certain window, which
looked into the garden of the house where we now
lay, at Ostia ; where removed from the din of men,
we were recruiting from the fatigues of a long jour-
ney, for the voyage. We were discoursing then to-
gether, alone, very sweetly ; and forgetting those
1 1 Tim. V. 4, 9, 10. 2 Gal. iv. 19.
228 Her last conversation
things luhich are hehmd, and reaching forth unto
those things ichich are hefore^^ we were inquiring
between ourselves in the presence of the Truth,
which Thou art, of what sort the eternal life of the
saints was to be, which eye hath not seen, nor ear
heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man.^
But yet unsatisfied, we gasped with the mouth of
our heart, after those heavenly streams of Thy foun-
tain, the fountain of life, which is with Thee ;^ that
being bedewed thence according to our capacity, we
might in some sort meditate upon so high a mystery.
24. And when our discourse was brought to that
point, that we perceived the very highest delight of
the earthly senses, in the very purest material light,
was, in respect of the sweetness of that heavenly
life, not only not worthy of comparison, but not even
of mention, we, raising up ourselves with a more
glowing affection towards the "Self-same," did by
degrees pass through all things bodily, even the very
heaven, whence sun and moon and stars shine upon
the earth ; yea, we were soaring higher yet, by in-
ward musing, and discourse, and admiring of Thy
works ; and we came to our own minds, and went
beyond them, that we might arrive at that region of
never-failing plenty, where Thou feedest Israel^ for
ever with the food of truth, and where life is the
very Wisdom by whom all these things are made,
both what have been, and what shall be. But
Wisdom is not made, but is, as she hath been, and so
shall she be ever ; yea rather, to " have been," and
1 Phil. iii. 13. 2 1 Cor. ii. 9. 3 Ps. xxxvi. 9. 4 Ps. Ixxx. 1.
with Augustine. 229
" hereafter to be," are not in her, but only " to be,"
seeing she is eternah For to "have been," and to
" be hereafter," are not eternal. And while we were
discoursing and panting after her, we slightly touched
on her with the whole effort of our heart ; and we
sighed, and there we left bound the first fruits of
the Spirit ^^ and returned to vocal expressions of our
mouth, where the word spoken has beginning and
end. And what is like unto Thy Word, our Lord,
who endiireth in Himself without becoming old, and
^naheth all things new P
25. We were saying to ourselves then : If the tu-
mult of the flesh were hushed, hushed the images of
earth, and waters and air, hushed also the poles of
heaven, yea the very soul hushed to herself, and by
not thinking on self surmounting self, hushed all
dreams and imaginary revelations, every tongue and
every sign, and whatsoever exists only in transition,
— if they all should be hushed, having only roused
our ears to Him who made them (since if any can
hear, all these say. We made not ourseliies^ hut He
made us that abideth forever)^ and He alone should
then speak, not by them, but by Himself, that we
might hear His Word, not through any tongue of
flesh, nor angel's voice, nor sound of thunder, nor in
the dark riddle of a similitude, but might hear Him
whom in these things we love, might hear His very
Self without these (as we two now strained our-
selves to hear, and in swift thought touched on that
Eternal Wisdom, which abideth over all) ; — could
1 Rom. viii. 22. 2 Wisd. vii. 27.
230 Her presentiment of her oion death.
this be continued on, and other visions of kind far
unlike be withdrawn, and this one should ravish, and
absorb, and wraj) up its beholder amid these inward
joys, so that life might be for ever like that one mo-
ment of intuition which now we sighed after ; were
not this the Enter into thy Master' s joy f^ And
when shall that be ? When loe shall all rise again,
though we shall not all he changed?^
26. Such things was I S2:)eaking, and even if not
in this very manner, and these same words, yet, Lord,
Thou knowest, that in that day when we were speak-
ing of these things, and this world with all its de-
lights became, as we spake, contemptible to us, my
mother said, "Son, for mine own part I have no
further delight in anything in this life. What I do
here any longer, and to what end I am here, I know
not, now that my hopes in this world are ac-
complished. One thing there was, for which I de-
sired to linger for a while in this life, that I might
see thee a Catholic Christian before I died. My God
hath done this for me more abundantly, in that I
now see thee despising earthly happiness, and be-
come His servant. What do I here ? "
XI. 27. What answer I made her unto these
things, I remember not. For scarce five days after,
or not much more, she fell sick of a fever ; and in
that sickness one day she fell into a swoon, and was
for a while withdrawn from these visible things.
We hastened round her ; but she was soon brouo-ht
back to her senses ; and looking on me and my
1 Matt. XXV. 21. 2 1 Cor. xv. 51. Vulg., etc.
Her presentiment of Iter own death. 231
brother standing by her, said to us inquiringly,
" Where was I ? " And then looking fixedly on lis,
who were amazed with grief, she said: "Here shall
you bury your mother." I held my peace, and re-
frained weeping ; but my brother spake something,
wishing for her, as the happier lot, that she might
die, not in a strange place, but in her own land.
Whereat, with anxious look, checking him with her
eyes, because he still savored such things^ and then
looking upon me, "Behold," saith she, "what he
saith:" and soon after to us both, "Lay this body
anywhere ; let not the care for that anyway dis-
quiet you : this only I request, that you would re-
member me at the Lord's altar, wherever you be."^
1 This incident is cited by Roman Catholic writers, in proof that the
Papal custom of prayers for the dead has the authority of Augustine,
and of the church of his day, in its favor. But it should be noticed, that
the mother of Augustine was an eminently pious person, and had been
so for years. The " remembrance " which she desii-ed might be had of
her at the sacramental table, was not, therefore, a prayer either for her
regeneration, or for her deliverance from penal torment. Augustine, it
is true, in the petition which he offers, entreats God to pardon the sins
which his mother must have committed after her baptism. But he adds :
"I believe Thou hast already done what I ask." This prayer is merely
the transfer of filial affection from time to eternity. He had been in the
habit of praying for the spiritual welfare, the perfect deliverance from sin,
of a beloved parent, while she was upon earth. This supplication he con-
tinues after her decease, fi'om a merely instinctive feeling, and in logi-
cal inconsistency with his own belief that she had passed beyond the need
of prayers. For he was so certain of her being in bliss, that he even
" thought it not fitting to solemnize that funeral with tearful lament,
and groanings, as though she were unhappy or altogether dead ; whereas
she was neither unhappy in her death, nor altogether dead." Monica in
her request, and Augustine in his compliance with it, followed the prac-
tice of the Trimitive church, but not of the Papal. Tlie prayers of tlie
Primitive church, in which the departed believer was mentioned, were
eucharistic, — an offering of thanks for what divine grace had wrought in
232 Her indifference
And having delivered this sentiment in what words
she could, she held her peace, being exercised by her
growing sickness.
28. But I, considering Thy gifts. Thou unseen
God, which Thou instillest into the hearts of Thy
faithftil ones, whence wondrous fruits do spring, did
rejoice and give thanks to Thee, recaUing what I
before knew, how careful and anxious she had ever
been, as to her place of burial, which she had pro-
vided and prepared for herself by the body of her
husband. For because they had lived in great har-
mony together, she also wished (so little can the hu-
man mind embrace things divine) to have this ad-
dition to that happiness, and to have it remembered
among men, that after her pilgrimage beyond the
seas, what was earthly of this united pair had been
permitted to be united beneath the same earth. But
when this vanity, through the fulness of Thy good-
ness, first began to cease in her heart, I knew not,
him. The churches, for example, " assembled upon the anniversary of
the death of a martyr, at his tomb. The narrative of his sufferings was
read, he was particularly mentioued in the public prayers, and the
Lord's Supper was administered, in the vivid consciousness of the endur-
ing communion between the living believer, and those who sleep in
Jesus. The church in Smyrna, in the reign of Auielius, specifies as the
true end in celebrating these anniversaries, that it should contribute to
the commemoration of those who had finished their course, and to train
and prepare those that shall come after. In answer to the objection,
that such remembrance was idolatrous, they say : Christ we worship as
the Sou of God; but the martyrs we deservedly love as the disci'ples and
imitators of our Lord, of whom we would become associates and fellow-
disciples." (Eusc-bius, lY. 15. Guericke, § 88.) The custom, however,
was liable to abuse, and prepared the way for the distinctively Papal
custom, of prayers for the salvation and repoi;e of the souls of the dead.
But this result dates later than the fourth century. — Ed.
respecting her hurial-place. • 233
and rejoiced that it was so ; though indeed in that
discourse in the window, when she said, « What do I
here any longer?" there appeared no desire of dying
in her own country. I heard afterwards, also, that
while we were at Ostia, she with a maternal con-
fidence, when I was absent, one day discoursed with
certain of my friends about the contempt of this life,
and the blessing of death; and when they were
amazed at such courage which Thou hadst given to
a woman, and asked, " Whether she were not afraid
to leave her body so far from her own city ? " she re-
plied, "Nothing is far to God; nor was it to be
feared lest at the end of the world. He should not
recognize whence He were to raise me up." On the
ninth day then of her sickness, and the fifty-sixth
year of her age, and the three and thirtieth of mine,
was that religious and holy soul freed from the body.
Xn. 29. I closed her eyes ; and there flowed
withal a mighty sorrow into my heart, which was
overflowing into tears ; mine eyes at the same time,
by the violent command of my mind, drank up their
fountain wholly dry ; and woe w^as me in such a
strife ! But when she breathed her last, the boy Ade-
odatus burst out into a loud lament ; then, checked
by us all, held his peace. In like manner, also, a
childish feeling in me, which was finding its vent in
weeping, through the juvenile voice of my heart, was
checked and silenced. For we thought it not fitting
to solemnize that funeral with tearful kment, and
groanings, as though she were unhappy, or alto-
gether dead; whereas she was neither unhappy in
234 • Buries hei\ h(t
her death, nor altogether dead. Of this we were as-
sured on good grounds, the testimony of her good
conversation and her faith unfeigned.
30. What then was it which did grievously pain
me within, but a fresh wound wrought through the
sudden wrench of our most sweet and dear custom
of living together? I joyed indeed in one tes-
timony of her last sickness, that mingling her en-
dearments with my acts of duty, she called me " duti-
ful," and mentioned, with great affection of love,
that she never had heard any harsh or reproachful
sound uttered by my mouth against her. But yet, 0
my God, Who madest us, what comparison is there
betwixt that honor that I paid to her, and her sla-
very for me? Being then deprived of so great com-
fort in her, my soul was wounded, and that life rent
asunder as it were, which, of hers and mine together,
had been made but one.
31. The boy then being stilled from weeping, Euo-
dius took up the Psalter, and began to sing the
Psalm, I will si?ig of mercy and judgment to Tliee^
O Xord,^ the whole house answering. But hearing
what we were doing, many brethren and religious
women came together ; and whilst they whose office
it was made ready for the burial, as the manner is, I
(in another part of the house, where I might prop-
erly), together with those who thought not fit to
leave me, discoursed upon something fitting the
time ; and by this balm of trutli, I assuaged that tor-
ment, known to Thee, and which they listening in-
1 Psalm ci.
without immoderate grief. 235
tently, knew not, conceiving me to be without all
sense of sorrow. But in Thy ears, where none of
them heard, I chicled the wx\akness of my feelings,
and refrained my flood of grief, and it gave way a
little unto me ; but again it came, as with a tide, yet
not so as to burst out into tears, nor to a change of
countenance ; still I knew what I was keeping down
in my heart. And being very much displeased that
these human things had such power over me, which
in the due order and appointment of our natural
condition must needs come to pass, with a new grief
I grieved for my grief, and was thus worn by a
double sorrow.
32. And behold, the corpse was carried to the
burial ; we went and returned without tears. For
neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto
Thee, when the sacrifice of our ransom was offered
for her (the corpse being by the grave's side, as the
manner there is, previous to its being laid therein),
did I weep even during those prayers ; yet was I the
whole day in secret heavily sad, and with troubled
mind prayed Thee, as I could, to heal my sorrow ; yet
Thou didst not ; impressing, I believe, upon my mem-
ory by this one instance, how strong is the bond of
nil habit, even upon a soul, which now feeds upon no
deceiving word. It seemed also good to me to go
and bathe, having heard that the bath had its name
(balneum) from the Greek paXavetov, for that it
drives sadness from the mind. And this also I con-
fess unto Thy mercy. Father of the fatherless^ that
1 Psalm Ixviii. 5.
236 Finds relief in tears.
I bathed, and was the same as before I bathed. For
the bitterness of sorrow could not be sweated out of
my heart. Then I slept, and woke up again, and
found my grief not a little softened ; and as I was
alone in my bed, I remembered those true verses of
Thy Ambrose. For Thou art the
Maker of all, the Lord,
And Ruler of the height;
Who, robing day in light, hast poured
Soft slumbers o'er the night.
That to our limbs the power
Of toil may be renewed.
And hearts be raised that sink and cower.
And sorrows be subdued.
33. And then by little and little I recovered my
former thoughts of Thy handmaid, her holy conver-
sation towards Thee, her holy tenderness and observ-
ance towards us, whereof I was suddenly deprived ;
and I was minded to weep in Thy sight, for her and
for myself, in her behalf and in my own. And I
gave way to the tears which I before restrained, to
overflow as much as they desired ; reposing my heart
upon them ; and it found rest in them, for it was in
Thy ears, not in those of man, who would have scorn-
fully interpreted my weeping. And now, Lord, in
writing I confess it unto Thee. Read it who will,
and interpret it how he will ; and if he finds sin
therein, that I wept my mother for a small portion
of an hour (the mother who for the time was dead
to mine eyes, who had for many years wept for me
His prager in her behalf. 237
that I might live in Tliine eyes), let liim not deride
me ; but rather, if he be one of large charity, let him
weep himself for my sins unto Thee, the father of all
the brethren of Thy Christ.
XIII. 34. But now, with a heart cured of that
wound, wherein it might seem blamable for an
earthly feeling, I pour out unto Thee, our God, in
behalf of that Thy handmaid, a far different kind of
tears, flowing from a spirit shaken by the thoughts of
the dangers of every soul that clieth in Adam} And
although she, having been quickened in Christ, even
before her release from the flesh had lived to the
praise of Thy name for her faith and conversation ;
yet dare I not say that from the time that Thou re-
generatedst her by baptism, no word issued from her
mouth against Thy commandment.^ Thy Son, the
Truth, hath said, Whosoever shall say unto his
brother., Thou fool., shall be in danger of hell fire?
And woe be even unto the commendable life of men,
if, laying aside mercy. Thou shouldest examine it.
But because Thou art not extreme in inquiring after
sins, we confidently hope to find some place with
Thee. But whosoever reckons up his real merits to
Thee, what reckons he up to Thee but Thine own
gifts ? Oh that men would know themselves to be
men ! and that he that glorieth^ looidd glory i?i the
Lord}
35. I therefore, O my Praise and my Life, God of
my heart, laying aside for awhile her good deeds, for
which I give thanks to Thee with joy, do now be-
1 1 Cor. XV. 22. 2 Matt. xii. 36. 3 Matt. v. 22. 4 2 Cor. x. 17.
18
238 His prayer in her behalf.
seech Thee for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto
me, I entreat Thee, by the Medicine of om- wounds,
Who hung upon the tree, and now sitting at Thy
right hand, maketh intercession to Thee for us} I
know that she dealt mercifully, and from her heart
forgave her debtors their debts / do Thou also for-
give her debts^ whatever she may have contracted in
so many years, since the water of salvation. For-
give her, Lord, forgive, I beseech Thee; e7iter not
into judgment tcith her? Let Thy mercy be exalted
above Thy justice^ since Thy words are true, and
Thou hast promised mercy unto the mercifid;^
which thou gavest them to be, 0 Thou icho wilt
have mercy 07i ichom Thou wilt have mercy, and
wilt have compassion on v:hom Thou hast had
compassion?
36. And I believe Thou hast already done what I
ask; but accept, O Lord, the free-tmll offerings of my
mouth] For she, the day of her dissolution now at
hand, took no thought to have her body sumptuously
wound up, or embalmed with spices; nor desired she
a choice monument, or to be buried in her own land.
These things she enjoined us not, but desired only
to have her name commemorated at Thy altar, which
she had served without intermission of one day:
whence she knew that holy sacrifice to be dispensed,
by which the handioriting that was against us
is blotted out ;^ through which the enemy was tri-
1 Rom. viii. 34. 4 James ii. 13. 7 Ps. cxix. 108.
2 Matt, xviii. 35, vi. 12. 5 Matt. v. 7. 8 Col. ii. 14.
3 Ts. cxliii. 2. 6 Rom. ix. 15.
His prayer in her behalf. 239
umphed over, who, summing up our offences, ami
seeking what to lay to our charge, found nothing in
Him^ in whom we conquer. Who shall restore to
Him His innocent blood ? Who repay Him the price
wherewith Pie bought us, and so take us from Him ?
Unto the sacrament of our ransom. Thy handmiiid
bound her soul by the bond of faith. Let none
sever her from Thy protection ; let neither the lion
nor the dragon^ interpose himself by force or fraud.
For she will not answer that she owes nothing, lest
she be convicted and seized by the crafty accuser;
but she will answer, that her sins are forgiven her
by Him, to whom none can repay that price, which
He, who owed nothing, 23aid for us.
37. May she rest, then, in peace, with the only hus-
band she ever had ; whom she obeyed, loith patience
bringing forth fruit ^ unto Thee, that she might win
him also unto Thee. And inspire, O Lord my God,
inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons my mas-
ters, whom with voice and heart and pen I serve,
that so many as shall read these Confessions, may at
Thy altar remember Monica Thy handmaid, with Pat-
ricius her husband, by whose bodies Thou broughtest
me into this life, I know not how. May they with
devout affection remember my parents in this transi-
tory light, who are my brethren under Thee our Fa-
ther in our Catholic Mother, and my fellow-citizens
in that eternal Jerusalem which Thy pilgrim people
sigh after from their exodus, even until their return
1 John xiv. 30. 2 Psalm xci. 13. 3 Luke viii. 15.
240 Sis prayer in her behalf.
thither. That so, my mother's last request of me
may, through my confessions, more than through
my prayers, be, through the prayers of many, more
abundantly fulfilled to her.
THE TENTH BOOK.
HAVING IN THE FORMER BOOKS SPOKEN OP HIMSELF BsiPORB HIS
RECEIVING THE RITE OP BAPTISM, IN THIS AUGUSTINE CONFiStfSES
WHAT HE THEN WAS — BUT PIRST, HE INQUIRES BY WHAT FAC-
ULTY WE CAN KNOW GOD AT ALL, WHENCE HE ENLARGES ON THE
MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER OP THE MEMORY, WHEREIN <JOD, BEING
MADE KNOWN, DWELLS, BUT WHICH COULD NOT DISCOVER HIM —
THEN HE EXAMINES HIS OWN TRIALS UNDER THE TRIPLE DIVISION
OP TEMPTATION, " LUST OP THE PLESH, LUST OP THE EYES, AND
PRIDE'"— WHAT CHRISTIAN CONTINENCY PRESCRIBES AS TO EACH
— CHRIST THE ONLY MEDIATOR, WHO HEALS AND WILL HEAL ALL
INFIRMITIES.
I. 1. Let me know Thee, O Lord, who knowest
me ; let me 'knoio Thee as I am known} Power of
my soul, enter into it, and fit it for Thee, that Thou
mayest have and hold it without spot or wrinkle?
This is my hope, therefore do I speak ;'^ and in this
hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice healthfully. Other
things of this life are the less to be sorrowed for, the
more they are sorrowed for ; and the more to be sor-
rowed for, the less men sorrow for them. For behold.
Thou lovest the truth^ and he that doeth it, cometh to
the light? This would I do in my heart before Thee
in confession ; and in my writing, before many wit-
nesses.
1 1 Cor. xiii. 12. 3 Ps, cxvi. 10. 5 John iii. 20.
2 Eph. V. 27. 4 Ps. li. 6.
242 Augustine's motives
II. 2. And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes'^
the abyss of man's conscience is naked, what could
be hidden in me even though I would not confess it?
I might hide Thee from me, not me from Thee. But
now, since my groaning is witness that I am dis-
pleased with myself. Thou shinest out, and art pleas-
ing, and beloved, and longed for ; that I may be
ashamed of myself, and renounce myself, and choose
Thee, and neither please Thee nor myself but in
Thee. To Thee therefore, O Lord, am I open, what-
ever I am ; and for what reason I confess unto Thee,
I have said. Nor do I confess with words and sounds
of the flesh, but with the words of my soul, and the
cry of the thought which Thy ear knoweth. For
when I am evil, then to confess to Thee, is nothing
else than to be displeased with myself; but when
holy, nothing else than to ascribe glory to Thee : be-
cause Thou, O Lord, hlessest the godly^ but first
Thou justijiest him vilmn ungodly? My confession
then, O my God, in Thy sight, is made silently, and
not silently. For in sound, it is silent : in affection,
it cries aloud. For neither do I utter anything right
unto men, which Thou hast not before heard from
me; nor dost Thou hear any such thing from me,
which Thou hast not first said unto me.
III. .3. But what have I to do with men, that
they should hear my confessions, — as if they could
heal all my infirmities^^ — a race curious to know the
lives of others, slothful to amend their OAvn ? Why
seek they to hear from me what I am, who will not
1 Heb. iv. 13. 2 Ps. v. 12. 3 Rom. iv. 5. 4 Vs. ciii. 3.
inpuUishing his Confessions. 243
hear from Thee what themselves are? And how
know they, when from myself they hear of myself,
whether I say true ; seeing no man knows what is in
inan^ hut the spirit of man which is in himf^ But if
they hear from Thee of themselves, they cannot say,
"The Lord lieth." For what is it to hear from Thee
of themselves, but to know themselves? and wlio
knoweth and saith, "It is false," unless himself lieth?
But because charity helieveth all things'^ (that is,
among those whom knitting unto itself it maketh
one), I also, O Lord, will in such wise confess unto
Thee, that men may hear, to whom I cannot demon-
strate whether I confess truly ; yet they believe me,
whose ears charity openeth unto me.
4. But do Thou, my inmost Physician, make plain
unto me what object I may gain by doing it. For
the confessions of my past sins, which Thou hast/or-
giveii and covered^ that Thou mightest bless me in
Thee, changing my soul by faith and Thy sacrament,
when read and heard, stir up the heart, that it sleep
not in despair and say " I cannot," but awake in the
love of Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace,
whereby whoso is tceak is strong^ when by it he
becomes conscious of his own weakness. And the
good delight to hear of the past evils of such as are
now freed from them, not because they are evils, but
because they have been, and are not. With what
object, then, O Lord my God, to whom my conscience
daily confesseth, trusting more in the hope of Thy
mercy than in her own innocency, — with what
1 1 Cor. ii. n. 2 1 Cor. xiii. 7. 3 Ps. xxxii. 1
244 Acknowledges their imperfections.
object, I pray, tlo I by this book confess to men also
in Thy presence what I now am, not what I have
been? For that other object, the knowledge of what
I have been, I have spoken of and attained. But
what I now am, at the very time of making these
confessions, divers desire to know, who have or have
not known me, who have heard from me or of me ;
but their ear is not at my heart, where I am, what-
ever I am. They wish then to hear me confess what
I am within ; whither neither their eye, nor ear, nor
understanding, can reach ; they wish it, as ready to
believe, — but will they know? For charity, whereby
they are good, telleth them, that in my confessions I
lie not ; and she in them, believeth me.
IV. 5. But for what object would they hear this?
Do they desire to joy with me, when they hear how
near, by Thy gift, I approach unto Thee ? and to
pray for me, when they shall hear how much I am
held back by my own weight? To such will I dis-
cover myself. For it is no mean object, O Lord, my
God, that by many^ thanJcs should be given to Thee
on our behalf ^ and Thou be by many in treated for
us. Let the brotherly mind love in me what Thou
teachest is to be loved, and lament what Thou teach-
est is to be lamented. Let a brotherly, not an alien
mind do this, — not that of the strange children^ichose
mouth talketh of vanity., and their right hand is a
hand of iniquity^- but that brotherly mind, which,
when it appro veth, rejoiceth for me, and when it dis-
approveth, is sorry for me; because, whether it ap-
1 1 Cor, ii. 11. 2 Psalm cxliv. 11.
Acknowledges their imperfections. 245
proveth or disapproveth, it loveth me. To such will I
discover myself: they will breathe freely at my good
deeds, sigh for my ill. My good deeds are Thine ap-
pointments, and Thy gifts ; my evil ones are my of-
fences, and Thy judgments. Let them breathe freely
at the one, sigh at the other ; and let hymns and
weeping go up into Thy sight, out of the hearts of my
brethren. Thy" censers} And do Thou, O Lord, be
pleased with the incense of Thy holy temple, ham
mercy upon me according to Thy great mercy for
Thine own name's sake ;'^ and no ways forsaking
what Thou hast begun, perfect my imperfections.
6. This is the object of my confessions of what I am,
not of what I have been, — to confess this, not before
Thee only, in a secret exultation with trembling} and
secret sorrow with hope, but in the ears also of the
believing sons of men, sharers of my joy, and part-
ners of my mortality, my fellow-citizens, and fellow-
pilgrims, who are gone before, or are to follow on,
companions of my way. These are Thy servants, my
brethren, whom Thou wiliest to be Thy sons ; my mas-
ters, whom Thou conmiandest me to serve, if I would
live with Thee, of Thee. But this Thy Word were
little did it only command by speaking, and not go
before in performing. This, then, I do in deed and
word ; this I do under Thy imngs ; in over great
peril, were not my soul subdued unto Thee under
Thy wings, and my infirmity known unto Thee. I
am a little one, but my Father ever hveth, and my
Guardian is sufficient for me. For He is the same
1 Rev. viii. 3. 2 Ps., li. 1. 3 Ps. ii. 11.
246 Analysis of the love
who begat me, and defends me ; and Thou Thyself
art all my good ; Thou, Almighty, who art with me,
yea, before I am with Thee. To such, then, whom
Thou commandest me to serve, will I discover, not
what I have been, but what I now am and what I
still am. But neither do I judge myself} Thus there-
fore I would be heard.
y. 7. For Thou.) Lord, dost jiidge me : ^ because,
/ although no man knov^eth the things of a man, hut
the spirit of a man ichich is in him, yet is there
something of man, which not even the sjnrit of
man that is in him, itself knoweth? But Thoi%
Lord, knowest all of him, Who hast made him.
Yet I, though in Thy sight I desj^ise myself, and
account myself dust and ashes, know something of
Thee, which I know not of myself And, truly, now
we see through a glass darkly, not face to face * as
yet. So long therefore as I he absent from Thee^ I
am more present with myself than with Thee ; and
/ yet I know Thee that Thou art in no ways tempt-
; able ; but I know not what temptations I can resist,
and what ones I cannot. And there is hope, because
Thoit art faithful. Who will not suffer us to he tempted
above that we are able; hut wilt icith the tempta-
tion also make a way to escapee, that we may he able
to hear it.^ I will confess then what I know of my-
self, I will confess also what I know not of myself.
And that because what I do know of myself, I know
by Thy shining upon me ; and what I know not of
1 1 Cor. iv. 3. 3 1 Cor. ii. 11. 5 2 Cor. v. 6.
2 1 Cor. iv. 3. 4 1 Cor. xiii. 12. 6 1 Cor. x. 3.
and knowledge of Qod. 247
myself, so long know I it not, until my darJcness he
made as the noonday ^ in Thy countenance.
' yi. 8. Not with doubting, but with assured con-
sciousness, do I love Thee, Lord. Thou hast smitten
my heart with Thy word, and I loved Thee. Yea,
also heaven, and earth, and all that therein is, behold,
on every side they bid me love Thee ; nor cease to
say so unto all, that they may be icithout excuse. —
But more deeply icilt Thou have mercy on lohom
Thou loilt have mercy, and loilt have compassion on
lohom thou hast had compassion : ^ else in deaf ears
do the heaven and the earth speak Thy praises. But
what do I love, when I love Thee ? not the beauty of
bodies, nor the fair harmony of time, nor the bright-
ness of the light so gladsome to our eyes, nor sweet
melodies of varied songs, nor the fragrant smell of
flowers and ointments and spices, not manna and
honey, not limbs acceptable to the embracements of
flesh. None of these do I love, when I love my God ;
and yet I love a kind of light, a kind of melody, a
kind of fragrance, a kind of meat, and a kind of em-
bracement, when I love my God, — the light, the
melody, the fragrance, the meat, the embracement of
the inner man : where there shineth unto my soul,
what space cannot contain, and there soundeth, what
time beareth not away, and there smelleth, what
breathing disperseth not, and there tasteth, what eat-
ing diminisheth not, and there clingeth, what satiety
divorceth not. This is it which I love when I love
my God.
1 Isa. Iviii. 10. 2 Kom. i. 20, ix. 15.
248 Do loe know God by the senses f
9. And what is this ? I asked the earth, and it an-
swered me, "I am not He ;" and whatsoever are in
it confessed the same, I asked the sea and the
deeps, and the living creeping things, and they an-
swered, "We are not thy God, seek above us," I
asked the moving air ; and the whole air with his in-
habitants answered, "Anaximenes was deceived, I
am not God." I asked the heavens, sun, moon, stars,
"Nor (say they) are we the God whom thou seek-
est." And I replied unto all the things which en-
compass the door of my flesh : " Ye have told me of
my God, that ye are not He ; tell me something of
Him." And they cried out with a loud voice, " He
made us." My questioning them, was my thoughts
on them : and their form of beauty gave the answer.
And I turned myself unto myself, and said to my-
self, "Who art thou?" And I answered, "A man."
And behold, in me there present themselves to me
soul and body, one without, the other within. By
which of these ought I to seek my God ? I had
sought Him in the body from earth to heaven, so far
as I could send messengers, the beams of mine eyes.
But the better is the inner, for to it as presiding and
judging, all the bodily messengers reported the an-
swers of heaven and earth, and all things therein,
who said, "We are not God, but He made us."
These things did my inner man know by the min-
istry of the outer : I, the inner, knew them ; I, the
mind, through the senses of my body. I asked the
whole frame of the world about my God ; and it an-
swered me, "I am not He, but He made me."
Do we know God by the senses f 249
10. Is not this corporeal figure apparent to all
whose senses are perfect ? why then speaks it not
the same to all? Animals small and great see it,
but they cannot interrogate it : because no reason is
set over their senses to judge on what they report.
But men can interrogate, so that the invisible things
of God are clearly seen^ being understood by the
things that are made ;'^ only, that by love of them,
they are made subject unto them, and subjects can-
not judge. Things do not answer, unless the ques-
tioners can judge : they do not, however, change
their voice {i. e., their appearance), so as to appear
one way to this man, another way to that ; but ap-
pearing the same way to both, are dumb to this,
speak to that ; yea, rather speak to all ; but they only
understand, who compare the voice received from
without, with the truth within. For truth saith unto
me, " Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any other body,
is thy God." And the very nature of created things
saith to him that seeth them : " They are a mass ; a
mass is less in a part than in the whole." Now, O
my soul (to thee I speak), thou art my better part :
for thou quickenest the mass of my body, giving it
life, which no body can give to a body : but thy God
is even unto thee the Life of thy life.
VII. 11. What then do I love, when I love my
God ? Who is He so high above my soul ? Yet by
my very soul will I ascend to Him. I will pass be-
yond that vital j^ower whereby I am united to my
body, filling its whole frame with life. Nor can I by
1 Rom. i. 20.
250 Do ice hnow God by the senses?
that power find my God ; for so, horse and mide that
have no understanding ^ might find Him ; seeing it
is the same j^ower, whereby even their bodies live.
But another power there is, not that only whereby I
animate (vivifico), but that too whei*eby I imbue
with sense (sensifico), my flesh which the Lord hath
framed for me : commanding the eye not to hear,
and the ear not to see ; but the eye, to see, and the
ear, to hear; and to the other senses severally, what
i§ to each their own peculiar seats and ofiices '•>
which, being divers, I the one mind, do through
them act. I will pass beyond this sensational power
also ; for this also have the horse and mule, for they
also j)erceive through the body.
YIII. 12. I will pass then beyond this power of
my nature also, rising by degrees unto Him, who
made me. And I come to the fields and spacious
palaces of my memory,^ where are the treasures of
innumerable images, brought into it from things of
all sorts, perceived by the senses. There is stored
up whatsoever besides we think, either by enlarging
or diminishing, or any other way varying those things
which the sense hath come to ; and whatever else
hath been committed and laid up, which forgetful-
ness hath not yet swallowed up and buried. When
1 Tsalm xxxii. 9.
2 By " memory," in this analysis of the mental operations, which fol-
lows, Augustine includes what goes under the name of " reflective con-
sciousness," in the nomenclature of modern philosophy; and in many
places his meaning will be clearer, if the term " consciousness" or " self-
consciousness," and sometimes the word " mind " itself, be substituted
for " memory." — Ed.
hy memory f 251
I enter there, I require what I will to be brought
forth, and something instantly comes ; others must
be longer sought after, which are fetched, as it were,
out of some inner receptacle ; others rush out in
troops, and while one thing is desired and required,
they start forth, as who should say, "Is it perchance
I ?" These I drive away with the hand of my heart,
from the face of my remembrance ; until what I wish
for be unveiled, and appear in sight, out of its secret
l^lace. Other things come up readily, in unbroken
order, as they are called for ; those in front making
way for the following ; and as they make way, they
are hidden from sight, ready to come when I will.
All which takes place when I relate a thing memor-
iter.
13. And all things are preserved distinctly and
under general heads, each having entered by its own
avenue : as light, and all colors and forms of bodies,
by the eyes ; by the ears, all sorts of sounds ; all
smells, by the avenue of the nostrils ; all tastes, by
the mouth ; and by the sensation of the whole body,
what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rugged,
heavy or light, either outwardly or inwardly to the
^ body. All these doth that great harbor of the mem-
ory receive in her numberless secret and inexpres-
sible windings, to be forthcoming, and brought out at
need ; each entering in by his own gate, and there
laid up. N"or yet do the things themselves enter in ;
only the images of the things perceived are there in
readiness, for thought to recall. But how these im-
ages are formed, who can tell, though it doth plainly
252 Notices the wonderful
appear by which sense each hath been brought in
and stored up ? For even while I dwell in darkness
and silence, in my memory I can produce colors, if I
will, and discern betw^ixt black and white, and what
others I will : nor do sounds break in, and disturb
the image drawn in by my eyes, which I am review-
ing, though they also are there, lying dormant, and
laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I call for,
and forthwith they appear. And though my tongue
be still, and my throat mute, I can sing as much as I
will ; nor do those images of colors, which notwith-
standing be there, intrude themselves and interrupt,
when another store is called for, which flowed in by
the ears. So the other things, piled in and up by the
other senses, I recall at my pleasure. Yea, I discrim-
inate the breath of lilies from violets, though smell-
ing nothing ; and I prefer honey to sweet wine,
smooth before rugged, at the time neither tasting,
nor handling, but remembering only.
14. These things do I within, in that vast court
of my memory. For there, are present with me,
heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I could think on
therein, besides what I have forgotten. There, also,
meet I with myself, and recall myself, and when, ,
where, and what I have done, and under what feel-
ings. There, is all which I remember, either on my
own experience, or others' testimony. Out of the
same store do I myself continually combine with the
past fresh likenesses of things, which I have expe-
rienced, have believed : and thence again infer fu-
ture actions, events and hopes, and all these again I
power of tneniory. 253
reflect on, as present. "I will clo this or that," say I
to myself, in that great receptacle of my mind, stored
with the images of things so many and so great,
" and this or that will follow." " Oh that this or that
might be !" " God avert this or that ! " So speak I
to myself: and when I speak, the images of all I
speak of are present, out of the same treasury of
memory ; nor would I speak of any thereof, were the
images wanting.
15. Great is this force of memory, excessive great,
0 my God ! a large and l^oundless chamber ! who
ever sounded the bottom thereof? yet is this a
power of mine, and belongs unto my nature ; nor do
1 myself comprehend all that I am. Therefore is
the mind too strait to contain itself And where
should that be, which it containeth not of itself? Is
it without it, and not within ? how then doth it not
comprehend itself? A wonderful admiration sur-
prises me, amazement seizes me ujson this. And
men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains,
the* mighty billows of the sea, the broad tides of
rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of
the stars, and pass themselves by ; nor wonder, that
when I spake of all these things, I did not see them
with mine eyes, yet could not have spoken of them,
unless I then actually saw the mountains, billows,
rivers, stars, which I had seen, and that ocean which
I believe to be, inwardly in my memory, and that, too,
with the same vast spaces between, as if I saw them
abroad. Yet did not I by seeing draw them into
myself, when with mine eyes I actually beheld them ;
19
254 How it coticeives some things
nor are they themselves Avith me, but their images
only. And I know by what sense of the body each
was impressed upon me.
IX. 16. Yet not these alone does the unmeasur-
able capacity of my memory retain. Here, also, are
all those things that have been learnt from the
liberal sciences, and have not yet fallen out of the
mind ; removed as it were to some inner place,
which is yet no jolace : nor are they the images
thereof, but the very things themselves. For, what
literature is, what the art of disputing, how many
kinds of logical questions there be, — whatsoever of
these things I know, does not exist in my memory, in
such manner as that I have taken in the image and
left out the thing, or that it should have sounded
and passed away like a voice fixed on the ear by that
impress whereby it might be recalled, as if it sounded,
when it no longer sounded ; or as a smell while it
passes and evaporates into air affects the sense of
smell, whence it conveys into the memory an image
of itself, which remembering, we renew ; or as meat,
which verily in the belly hath now no taste, and yet
in the memory still in a manner tasteth ; or as any-
thing which the body by touch perceiveth, and
which when removed from us, the memory still con-
ceives. For^ such things as these latter are not
themselves transmitted into the memory, but their
images only are with an admirable swiftness caught
up, and stored as it were in wondrous cabinets, and
thence wonderfully by the act of remembering,
brought forth. '^
without the aid of the semises. 255
X. 17. But now when I hear that there be three
kinds of questions : " Whether the thing be ? what
it is? of what kind it is?" I do indeed hold the
images of the sounds of which those words be com-
posed, and know that those sounds passed with a
noise through the air, and now are not. But the
things themselves which are signified by those sounds,
I never reached with any sense of my body, nor
ever discerned them otherwise than in my mind ;
yet in my memory have I laid up not their images,
but themselves. Which how they entered into me,
let them say if they can ; for I have gone over all
the avenues of my flesh, but cannot find any by
which they entered. For the eyes say, "If those
images were colored, we reported of them." The
ears say, "If they sound, we gave knowledge of
them." The nostrils say, " If they smell, they passed
by us." The taste says, " Unless they have a savor,
ask me not." The touch says, "If it have not size, I
handled it not ; if I handled it not, I gave no notice
of it." Whence and how entered these things into
my memory ? I know not how. For when I learned
them, I gave not credit to another man's mind, but
recognized them in mine ; and approving them for
true, I commended them to it, laying them up as it
were, whence I might bring them forth when I
willed. In my heart then they were, even before I
learned them, but in my memory they were not.
Where then ? or wherefore, when they were spoken,
did I acknowledge them, and said, " So is it, it is
true," unless that they were already in the memory,
256 How it conceives some things
but so thrown back and buried as it were in deeper
recesses, that had not the suggestion of another
drawn them fortli, I had perchance been unable to
conceive of them ?
XI. 18. Wherefore we find, that to learn these
things whereof we imbibe not the images by our
senses, but perceive them within by themselves, as
they are, without images, is nothing else but by reflec-
tion to bring together those things which the mem-
ory did before contain at random and unarranged,
and, by marking, to take care that they be laid up at
hand as it were in that same memory, where before
they lay unknown, scattered and neglected, and so
readily occur to the mind familiarized to them.
And how many things of this kind does my memory
carry which have been already found out, and, as I
said, placed as it were at hand, which we are said to
have learned and come to know ; which were I for
some short space of time to cease to call to mind,
they are again so buried, and glide back, as it were,
into the deeper recesses, that they must again, as if
new, be thought out thence, for other abode they
have none : but they must be drawn together again,
that they may be known ; that is to say, they must
as it were be collected together from their dis-
persion: whence the word "cogitation" is derived.
For cogo (collect) and cogito (re-collect) have the
same relation to each other as ago and agito^facio
and fcictito. But the mind hath appropriated to it-
self this word (cogitation), so that, not what is " col-
lected" anyhow, but what is "re-collected," — i.e..
without the aid of the senses. 257
brought together, in the mind, — is properly said to
be cogitated, or thought upon.
XII. 19. The memory contain eth, also, innumer-
able reasons and laws of numbers and dimensions,
none of which hath any bodily sense impressed ; see-
ing they have neither color, nor sound, nor taste, nor
smell, nor touch. I have heard the sound of the
words whereby when discussed they are denoted :
but the sounds are other than the things. For the
sounds are other in Greek than in Latin : but the
things are neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other
language. I have seen the lines of architects, the
very finest, like a spider's thread ; but those reasons
and laws, above mentioned, are still different ; they are
not the images of those lines which the eye of flesh
showed me : he knoweth them, whosoever without
any conception whatsoever of a body, recognizes
thera within himself I have perceived also the num-
bers with which we number all the senses of my
body; but those invisible numbers wherewith we
number, are different from the visible things num-
bered ; nor are they the images of these, and there-
fore they absolutely are. Let him who seeth them
not, deride me for saying these things, and I will pity
him, while he derides me.
XIII. 20. All these things I remember, and how I
learnt them I remember. Many things also most
falsely objected against them have I heard, and re-
member ; which though they be false, yet is it not
false that I remember them ; and I remember also
that I have discerned betwixt those truths and these
258 How it represents
falsehoods objected to tliem. And I perceive that
the present discerning of these things is different
from remembering that I oftentimes discerned them,
when I often thought upon them. I remember
then to have often understood these things; and
what I now discern and understand, I lay up in my
memory, that hereafter I may remember that I im-
derstood it now. So then I remember also to have
remembered ; as, if hereafter I shall call to remem-
brance that I have now been able to remember these
things, by the force of memory shall I call it to re-
membrance.
XIV. 21. The same memory contains also the af-
fections of my mind, not in the same manner that my
mind itself contains them, when it feels them ; but
far otherwise, according to a power of its own. For
without rejoicing I remember myself to have joyed ;
and without sorrow do I recollect my past sorrow.
And that I once feared, I review without fear ; and
without desire call to mind a past desire. Some-
times, on the contrary, with joy do I remember my
fore-past sorrow, and with sorrow, joy. Which is not
wonderful, as to the body ; for mind is one thing,
body another. If I therefore with joy remember
some past pain of the body, it is not so wonderful.
But now seeing this very memory itself is mind (for
when we give a thing in charge, to be kept in mem-
ory, we say, "See that you keep it in mind;" and
when we forget, we say, "It did not come to my
mind," and, " It slipped out of my mind," calling the
memory itself the mind); — this being so, how is it,
abstract truths^ and feelings. 259
that when with joy I remember my past sorrow, the
mind hath joy, the memory hath sorrow ; the mmcl
upon the joyfulness which is in it, is joyful, yet the
memory upon the sadness which is in it, is not sad ?
Does the memory perchance not belong to the mind ?
Who will say so ? The memory then is, as it were,
the belly of the mind, and joy and sadness, like sweet
and bitter food ; which, when committed to the mem-
ory, are, as it were, passed into the belly, where they
may be stowed, but cannot taste. Ridiculous it is to
imagine these to be alike ; and yet are they not ut-
terly unlike.
22. But, behold, out of my memory I bring it,
when I say there be four perturbations of the mind :
desire, joy, fear, sorrow ; and whatsoever I can dis-
pute thereon, by dividing each into its subordinate
species, and by defining it, in my memory find I what
to say, and thence do I bring it : yet am I not dis-
turbed by any of these perturbations, when by call-
ing them to mind, I remember them ; yea, and be-
fore I recalled and brought them back, they were
there ; and therefore could they, by recollection,
thence be brought. Perchance, then, as meat is by
chewing the cud brought up out of the belly, so by
recollection, these out of the memory. Why then
does not the disputer, thus recollecting, taste in the
mouth of his musing the sweetness of joy, or the bit-
terness of sorrow ? Is the comparison unlike in this
respect, because not in all respects like ? For who
w^ould willingly speak thereof, if, so oft as we name
grief or fear, we should be compelled to be sad or
260 Sometimes memory recalls the
fearful ? And yet could we not speak of them, did
we not find in our memory, not only the sounds of
the names according to the images impressed by the
senses of the body, but notions of the very things
themselves which we never received by any avenue
of the body, but which the mind itself perceiving by
the experience of its own passions, committed to the
memory, or the memory of itself retained, without
being committed unto it.
XV. 23. But whether by images or no, who can
readily say ? Thus, I name a stone, I name the sun,
the things themselves not being present to my senses,
but their images to my memory. I name a bodily
pain, yet it is not present with me, when nothing
aches : yet unless its image were present in my mem-
ory, I should not know what to say thereof, nor in dis-
coursing discern pain from pleasure. I name bodily
health ; being sound in body, the thing itself is pres-
ent with me ; yet, unless its image also were present
in my memory, I could by no means recall what the
sound of this name should signify. Nor would the
sick, when health were named, recognize what were
spoken, unless the same image were by the force of
memory retained, although the thing itself were ab-
sent from the body. I name numbers whereby we
number ; and not their images, but themselves are
present in my memory. I name the image of the
sun, and that image is present in my memory. For I
recall not the image of its image, but the image itself
is present to me, calling it to mind. I name memory,
and I recognize what I name. And where do I rec-
sometimes the image of it. 261
ognize it, but in the memory itself? Is it also pres-
ent to itself by its image, and not by itself?
XYI. 24. How is it, when I name forgetfulness,
and Avithal recognize what I name ? whence should I
recognize it, did I not remember it ? I speak not of
the sound of the name, but of the thing w^hich it sig-
nifies : which if I had forgotten, I could not recognize
what that sound signifies. When then I remember
memory, memory itself is, through itself, present
with itself: but when I remember forgetfulness, there
are present both memory and forgetfulness ; memory
whereby I remember, forgetfulness which I remem-
ber. But what is forgetfulness, but the privation of
memory ? How then is it j)resent that I remember
it, since when present I cannot remember ? But if
what we remember we hold it in memory, yet, unless
we did remember forgetfulness, we could never, at
the hearing of the name, recognize the thing thereby
signified, then forgetfulness is retained by memory.
Present then it is, that we forget not, and being so,
we forget. It is to be understood from this, that for-
getfulness, when we remember it, is not present to
the memory by itself, but by its image : because if it
were present by itself, it would not cause us to re-
member, but to forget. Who now shall search out
this ? who shall comprehend how it is ?
25 Lord, I, truly, toil therein, yea and toil in my-
self; I am become a heavy soil requiring over-much
sweat of the hroio. For we are not now searching
out the regions of heaven, or measuring the distances
of the stars, or inquiring the balancings of the earth.
262 If the knowledge of ourselves he so difficult.
It is I myself who remember ; I, the mind. It is not
so wonderful, if what I myself am not, be far from
me. But what is nearer to me than myself? And
lo ! the force of mine own memory is not understood
by me ; though I cannot so much as name myself
without it. For what shall I say, when it is clear to
me that I remember forgetfulness ? Shall I say that
that is not in my memory, which I remember ? or
shall I say that forgetfulness is for this purpose in my
memory, that I might not forget ? Both were most
absurd. What third way is there ? How can I say
that the image of forgetfulness is retained by my
memory, not forgetfulness itself, when I remember
it ? How could I say this either, seeing that when
the image of anything is impressed on the memory,
the thing itself must needs be first present, whence
that image may be impressed ? For thus do I re-
member Carthage, thus all places where I have been,
thus men's faces whom I have seen, and things re-
ported by the other senses ; thus the health or sick-
ness of the body. For when these things were pres-
ent, my memory received from them images, which,
being present with me, I might look on and bring
back in my mind, when I remembered them in their
absence. If, then, this forgetfulness is retained in the
memory through its image, not through itself, then
plainly itself was once present, that its image might
be taken. But when it was present, how did it wnite
its image in the memory, seeing that forgetfulness by
its presence effaces even what it finds already noted ?
And yet, in whatever way, although that way be past
much more the Jcnoicledge of God. 263
conceiving and explaining, yet certain am I that I
remember forgetfulness itself also, whereby what we
remember is effaced.
XVII. 26. Great is the power of memory, a feai--
ful thing, O my God, a deep and bomidless manifold-
ness ; and this thing is the mind, and this am I my-
self. What am I then, O my God ? What nature
am I ? A life various and manifold, and exceeding
immense. Behold in the plains, and caves, and cav-
erns of my memory, innumerable and innumerably
full of innumerable kinds of things, either through
images, as all bodies ; or by actual presence, as the
arts ; or by certain notions or impressions, as the af-
fections of the mind, which, even when the mind
doth not feel, the memory retaineth, while yet what-
soever is in the memory, is also in the mind, — over
all these do I run, I fly ; I dive on this side and on
that, as far as I can, and there is no end. So great is
the force of memory, so great the force of life, even
in the mortal life of man. What shall I do then, O
Thou my true life, my God ? I will pass even beyond
this power of mine which is called memory : yea, I
will pass beyond it, that I may approach unto Thee,
O sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me ? See, I
am mounting up through my mind towards Thee who
abidest above me. Yea, I now will pass beyond this
power of mine which is called memory, desirous to
arrive at Thee, by Whom Thou mayest be arrived
at ; and to cleave unto Thee, by Whom one may
cleave unto Thee. For even beasts and birds have
memory, else could they not return to their dens and
264 Memory reaches not to God.
nests, nor many other things they are used unto ; nor
indeed could they be used to anything, but by mem-
ory. I will pass then beyond memory also, that I
may arrive at Him who hath separated me from the
four-footed beasts, and made me wiser than the fowls
of the air ; I will pass beyond memory also, and where
shall I find Thee, Thou truly good and certain sweet-
ness ? And where shall I find Thee ? If I find Thee
without my memory, then do I not retain Thee within
my memory. And how shall I find Thee, if I remem-
ber Thee not ?
XYIII. 27. For the woman that had lost her
groat, and sought it with a light, unless she had re-
membered it, she had never found it.^ For when it
was found, whence should she know whether it were
the same, unless she remembered it ? I remember to
have sought and found many a thing ; and this I
thereby know, that when I was seeking any of them,
and was asked, " Is this it ? " " Is that it ? " so long
said I "Xo," until that were ofiered me which I
sought. But had I not remembered it (whatever it
were), though it were offered me, yet should I not
find it, because I could not recognize it. And so it
ever is, when we seek and find any lost thing. Not-
withstanding, when anything is by chance lost from
the sight, not from the memory (as any visible body),
yet its image is still retained within, and it is sought
until it be restored to sight ; and when it is found, it
is recognized by the image which is within ; nor do
Ave say that we have found what was lost, unless we
1 Luke XV. 8.
Me^nory reaches not to God. 265
recognize it ; nor can we recognize it, unless we re-
member it. It was lost to the eyes, but retained in
the memory.
XIX. 28. But how is it when the memory itself
loses anything, as hapj^ens when we forget, and seek
that we may recollect ? Where in the end do w^e
search, but in the very memory itself? and there, if
one thing be perchance offered instead of another, we
reject it, until what we seek meets us ; and when it
doth, we say, " This is it ; " w^hich we should not, un-
less we recognized it, nor recognize it unless we re-
membered it. Certainly then we had forgotten it.
Or, had not the whole escaped us, but by the part
whereof we had hold, was the lost part sought for ;
in that the memory felt that it did not carry on to-
gether all which it was wont, and limping, as it were,
from the curtailment of its ancient habit, demanded
the restoration of what it had missed ? For instance,
if we see or think of some one known to us, and hav-
ing forgotten his name, try to recover it, every thing
that does not connect itself therewith, because it was
not wont to be thought upon together with him, is
rejected, until that presents itself, whereon the knowl-
edge reposes equably as its wonted object. And
w^hence does this present itself, but out of the mem-
ory itself? for even when we recognize it, on being
reminded by another, it is thence it comes. For we
do not believe it as something new, but, upon recollec-
tion, allow that what was mentioned is the right thing.
But were it utterly blotted out of the mind, we should
not remember it, even when reminded. For we have
266 Some things perceived hy the mind^
not as yet utterly forgotten that which we remember
ourselves to have forgotten. What, then, we have
utterly forgotten and lost, we cannot even seek after.
XX. 29. How then do I seek Thee, O Lord ?
For when I seek Thee, my God, I seek a hajDpy life.
I will seek Thee^ that my soul may live. For my
body liveth by my soul ; and my soul by Thee. How
then do I seek a happy life, seeing I have it not, until
I can actually say [in heaven], where I ought to say
it, " It is enough ? " How seek I it ? By remem-
brance, as though I had forgotten it, remembering
that I had forgotten it ? Or, desiring to learn it as
a thing unknown, either never having known, or so
forgotten it as not even to remember that I had for-
gotten it ? Is not a happy life what all will, and no
one altogether wills it not ? Where have they known
it, that they so will it ? where seen it, that they so
love it ? Truly we have it, how, I know not. Yea,
there is another way, wherein when one hath it, then
is he happy ; and there are, who are blessed in hope.
These have it in a lower kind, than they who have it
in very deed; yet are they better off than such as are
happy neither in deed, nor in hope. Yet even these
last, had they it not in some sort, would not so will to
be happy, which that they do will, is most certain.
They have known it then, I know not how, and so
have it by some sort of knowledge, what, I know not,
and am perplexed whether it be in the memory, which
if it be, then we have been happy once ; whether all
severally, or in that man who first sinned, in whom
without any experience of them. 207
also ice all died^ and from whom we are all born
with misery, I now inquire not ; but only whether the
happy life be in the memory. For neither should we
love it did we not know it. We hear the name, and
we all confess that we desire the thing; for we are
not delighted with the mere sound. For when a
Greek hears it in Latin, he is not delighted, not know-
ing what is spoken ; but we Latins are delighted, as
would he too, if he heard it in Greek ; because the
thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin, which Greeks
and Latins, and men of all other tongues, long for so
earnestly. Known therefore it is to all, for could they
with one voice be asked, " would they be happy ? "
they would answer without doubt, " they would."
And this could not be, unless the thing itself, whereof
it is the name, were retained in their memory.
XXI. 30. But is it so, as one remembers Carthage
who hath seen it ? No. For a happy life is not seen
with the eye, because it hath not a body. As we re-
member numbers, then ? No. For these he that hath
in his knowledge, seeks not further to attain unto ; but
a happy life we have in our knowledge, and therefore
love it, and still desire to attain it, that we may be
happy. As we remember eloquence, then? No.
For although upon hearing this name also, some call
to mind the thing, who yet are not eloquent, and
many who desire to be so, whence it appears that it is
in their knowledge ; yet these have by their bodily
senses observed others to be eloquent, and been de-
lighted, and desired to be the like (though indeed
1 1 Cor. XV. 22.
268 All long for happiness^
they would not be delighted but for some inward
knowledge thereof, nor wish to be the like, unless they
•were thus delighted) ; whereas a happy life, we do by
no bodily sense experience in others. As then we re-
member joy ? Perchance ; for, my joy I remember,
even when sad, as a happy life, when unhappy ; nor
did I ever with bodily sense see, hear, smell, taste, or
touch my joy; but I experienced it in my mind,
when I rejoiced ; and the knowledge of it clave to my
memory, so that I can recall it with disgust sometimes,
at others with longing, according to the nature of the
things, wherein I remember myself to have joyed.
For even from foul things have I been immersed in a
sort of joy ; which now recalling, I detest and exe-
crate; otherwhiles from good and honest things,
which I now recall with longing, although perchance
no longer present ; and therefore with sadness I recall
former joy.
31. Where then and when did I experience my
happy life, that I should remember, and love and long
for it ? Nor is it I alone, or some few besides, but we
all would fain be happy ; which, unless by some cer-
tain knowledge we knew, we should not with so cer-
tain a will desire. But how is this, that if two men
be asked whether they would go to the wars, one, per-
chance would answer that he would, the other, that
he would not ; but if they were asked whether they
would be happy, both would instantly without any
doubting say they would ; and for no other reason
would the one go to the wars, and the other not, but
to be happy. Is it perchance, that as one looks for his
though all do not knoio lohat happiness is. 2G9
joy in this thing, another in that, all agree in their de-
sire of being happy, as they would agree, if they were
asked, that they wished to have joy, and this joy they
call a happy Hfe ? Although, then, one obtains the
joy by one means, another by another, all have one
end, which they strive to attain, namely, joy. Which
being a thing which all must say they have experi-
enced, it is therefore found in the memory, and recog-
nized whenever the name of a haj)py life is mentioned.
XXII. 32. Far be it. Lord, far be it from the
heart of Thy servant who here confesseth unto Thee,
far be it, that, be the joy what it may, I should
therefore think myself happy. For there is a joy
which is 7iot given to the imgodly^ but to those who
love Thee for Thine own sake, whose joy Thou Thy-
self art. And this is the happy hfe, to rejoice to Thee,
of Thee, for Thee ; this is it, and there is no other.
For they who think there is another, pursue some
other, and not the true joy. Yet is not their will
turned away from some semblance of joy.
XXII. 33. It is not certain, then, that all wish to
be happy, inasmuch as they who wish not to joy in
Thee, which is the only happy life, do not truly desire
the happy life. Or do all men desire this, but because
the flesh lusteth against the Spirit^ and the Spirit
against the fleshy that they caymot do what they
loould^ they fall upon that which they can, and are con-
tent therewith ; because, what they are not able to do,
they do not will so strongly, as would suffice to make
them able ? For if I ask any one had he rather joy
1 Isaiah xlviii. 22. 2 Gal. v. 17.
20
270 God reveals Himself to
in truth or in felsehood ? he will as little hesitate to
say "in the truth," as to say that, "he desires to be
happy," for a happy life is joy in the truth : for this
is a joying in Thee, Who art the Truth} O God my
lights health of my countenance^ my God? This is the
genuinely happy life which all desire ; this life which
alone is happy, all desire ; to joy in the truth all de-
sire. I have met with many that would deceive ; none
who would be deceived. Where, then, did they know
this happy life, save where they knew the truth also ?
For they love it since they would not be deceived.
And when they love a happy life, which is no other
than joying in the truth, then also do they love the
truth ; which yet they would not love, were there not
some notice of it in their memory. Why, then, joy
they not in it ? why are they not happy ? because
they are more strongly taken up with other things
which have more power to make them miserable, than
that which they so faintly remember to make them
happy. For there is yet a little light in men ; let them
walk, let them walk^ that the darhness overtake them
not?
34. But why doth " truth generate hatred," and the
man of thine^^ preaching the truth, become an enemy
to them, while yet a happy life is loved, which is nothing-
else but joying in the truth ? Why is it, unless it be
that truth is loved in such a way, that they who love
anything else, would gladly have that which they love
to be the truth ; and because they do not wish to be
1 John xiv. 6. 3 John xii. 35.
2 Ps. xxvii. 1; xlii. 11. 4 John viii. 40.
those loho really seek Him. 271
deceived, would not be convinced that they are so ?
Therefore do they hate the truth for that thing's sake,
which they love instead of the truth. They love truth
when she enlightens, they hate her when she reproves.
For since they would not be deceived, and would de-
ceive, they love her when she discovers herself unto
them, and hate her when she discovers them. Whence
she shall so repay them, that they who would not be
onade manifest'^ by her, she both against their will
makes manifest, and herself becomes not manifest
unto them. Thus, thus, yea, thus, doth the mind of
man, blind and sick, foul and ill-favored, wish to be
hidden, but wished not that aught should be hidden
from it. But the contrary is requited it, that itself
should not be hidden from the Truth ; but the Truth
is hid from it. Yet even thus miserable, it had rather
joy in truths than in falsehoods. Happy then will it
be, when, no distraction interposing, it shall joy in
that only Truth, by Whom all things are true.
XXIY. 35. See what a space I have gone over in
my memory seeking Thee, O Lord, and I have not
found Thee beyond or outside of it. Nor have I
found anything concerning Thee, but what I have kept
in memory ever since I learnt Thee. For since I
learnt Thee, I have not forgotten Thee. For where I
found Truth, there found I my God, the Truth Itself ;
which since I learnt, I have not forgotten. Since then
I learned Thee, Thou residest in my memory; and
there do I find Thee, when I call Thee to remembrance,
and delight in Thee. These be my holy dehghts,
1 Eph. V. 13.
272 God reveals Himself to
which Thou hast given me in Thy mercy, having re-
gard to my poverty.
XX Y. 36. But where in my memory residest
Thou, O Lord, where residest Thou there? what
manner of lodging hast Thou framed for Thee ? what
manner of sanctuary hast Thou builded for Thee ?
Thou hast given this honor to my memory, to reside
in it ; but in what quarter of it Thou residest, that I
am considering. For in thinking on Thee, I passed
beyond such parts of it as the beasts also have, for I
found Thee not there among the images of corporeal
things : and I came to those parts to which I commit-
ted the affections of my mind, nor found Thee there.
And I entered into the very seat of my mind (which it
hath in my memory, inasmuch as the mind remembers
itself also), neither wert thou there : for as Thou art
not a corporeal image, nor the affection of a living be-
ing (as when we rejoice, condole, desire, fear, remem-
ber, forget, or the like), so neither art Thou the mind
itself; because Thou art the Lord God of the mind;
and all these are changed, but Thou remainest un.
changeable over all, and yet hast vouchsafed to dwell
in my memory, since I learnt Thee. And why seek I
now, in what place thereof Thou dwellest, as if tliere
were places therein ? Sure I am that in it Thou dwell-
est, since I have remembered Thee, ever since I learnt
Thee, and there I find Thee, w^hen I call Thee to re-
membrance.
XXVI. 37. Where then did I find Thee, that I
might learn Thee ? For in my memory Thou wert
not, before I learned Thee. Where did I find Thee,
those who really seek Him. 273
that I might learn Thee, but in Thyself above me ?
Place there is none ; ice go backward and forvmrd^^
and there is no place. Everywhere, O Truth, dost
Thou give audience to all who ask counsel of Thee,
and at once answerest all, though on manifold mat-
ters they ask Thy counsel. Clearly dost Thou an-
swer, though all do not clearly hear. All consult
Thee on what they wish, though they hear not al-
ways what they wish. He is Thy best servant who
looks not so much to hear that from Thee which
himself wills, as rather to will that which from Thee
he hears.
XXYIL 38. Too late I loved Thee, O Thou \
Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new ! too late I
loved Thee ! And behold. Thou wert within, and I
abroad, and there I searched for Thee ; deformed I,
plunging amid those fair forms, which Thou hadst
made. Thou wert wdth me, but I was not with Thee.
Things held me far from Thee, which, unless they
were in Thee, were not at all. Thou didst call, and
shout, and burst my deafness. Thou didst flash, shine,
and scatter my blindness. Thou didst breathe odors,
and I drew in breath 2^ndi panted for Thee. I tasted,
and hunger and thirst. Thou touchedst me, and I
burned for Thy peace.
XXVIII. 39. When I shall with my whole self
cleave to Thee, I shall nowhere have sorrow, or la-
bor ; and my life shall wholly live, as wholly full of
Thee. But now, since whom Thou fillest Thou liftest
up, because I am not full of Thee I am a burden to
*
1 Job xxiii. 8, 9.
274 Did not seek God aright.
myself. Lamentable joys strive with joyous sorrows ;
and on which side is the victory, I know not. Woe
is me ! Lord, have j)ity on me. My evil sorrows
strive with my good joys ; and on which side is the
victory, I know not. Woe is me ! Lord, have pity
on me. Woe is me ! lo ! I hide not my womids ;
Thou art the Physician, I the sick ; Thou merciful, I
miserable. Is 7iot the life of man upon earth all
trial 9^ Who wishes for troubles and difficulties?
Thou commandest them to be endured, not to be
loved. Xo man loves what he endures, though he
love to endure. For though he rejoices that he en-
dures, he had rather there were nothing for him to
endure. In adversity, I long for prosperity ; in pros-
perity, I fear adversity. What middle place is there
betwixt these two, where the life of man is not all
trial? Woe to the prosperities of the world, once
and again, through fear of adversity, and corruption
of joy. Woe to the adversities of the world, once
and again, and the third time, from the longing for
prosperity, and because adversity itself is a hard
thing, and lest it shatter endurance. Is not the life
of man upon earth all trials without any interval ?
XXIX. 40. And all my hope is nowhere but in
Tliy exceeding great mercy. Give what Thou en-
joiiiest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. Thou enjoinest
us continency ; and lohen I Jcnew, saith one, that no
man can he continent, unless God give it, this also
ifxfs a part of wisdom to knoto whose gift she is.^
By continency, verily, are we bound up and brought
iJobvii. 1. OldVulg. 2 Wisd. viii. 21.
Did not seek God aright. 275
back into One, whence we were dissipated into
many. For too little doth he love Thee, who loves
anything with Thee, which he loveth not for Thee.
O love, who ever burnest and never consumest ! O
charity, my God ! kindle me. Thou enjoinest conti-
nency : give me what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin'
what Thou wilt.
XXX. 41. Verily Thou enjoinest me continency
from the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and
the ambition; of the loorld} Thou enjoinest conti-
nency from concubinage ; and, for wedlock itself.
Thou hast counselled something better than what
Thou hast permitted. And since Thou grantedst it,
it was done, even before I became a dispenser of
Thy Sacrament. But there yet live in my memory
(whereof I have much spoken) the images of such
things as my ill-custom there fixed ; which haunt
me, strengthless when I am awake ; but in sleep, not
only so as to give pleasure, but even to obtain assent,
and what is very like reality. Yea, so far prevails
the illusion of the image, in my soul and in my flesh,
that, w^hen asleep, false visions persuade to that
which, when waking, the true cannot. Am I not then
myself, O Lord my God ? And yet there is so much
diflerence betwixt myself and myself, within that
moment wherein I pass from waking to sleeping, or
return from sleeping to waking ! Where is reason
then, which, awake, resisteth such suggestions ? And
should the things themselves be urged on it, it re-
maineth unshaken. Is it clasped up with the eyes ?
1 1 John ii, 16.
276 Laments evil in him, still
is it lulled asleep with the senses of the body ? And
whence is it that often even in sleep we resist, and
mindful of our purpose, and abiding most chastely in
it, yield no assent to such enticements ? And yet so
much difference there is, that when it hap23eneth
otherwise, upon waking we return to peace of con-
science : and by this very difference discover that we
did not, what yet we be sorry that in some way was
done in us.
42. Art Thou not mighty, God Almighty, to heal
all the diseases of my soul^^ and by Thy more abun-
dant grace to quench even the impure motions of my
sleep ! Thou wilt increase. Lord, Thy gifts more and
more in me, that my soul may follow me to Thee, dis-
entangled from the birdlime of concupiscence ; that
it rebel not against itself, nor even in dreams commit
those debasing corrujDtions, even to pollution of the
flesh, nor even consent unto them. For that nothing
of this sort should have, over the pure affections even
of a sleeper, the very least influence, not even such as
a thought would restrain, — to work this, not only
during life, but even at my present age, is not hard
for the Almighty, Who is able to do above all that
loe ash or thhik,^ But what I yet am in this kind of
evil, have I confessed unto my good Lord ; rejoicing
icith trembling^ in that which Thou hast given me,
and bemoaning that wherein I am still imperfect ;
hoping that Thou wilt perfect Thy mercies in me,
even to perfect peace, which my outward and inward
1 Ps. ciii. 3. 2 Eph. iii. 20. 3 Ps. ii. 11.
even in his natural appetites. 277
man shall have with Thee, when death shall be swal-
lowed up in victory. ^
XXXI. 43. There is another evil of the day^ which
I would were sufficient for it. For by eating and
drinking we repair the daily decays of our body, un-
til Thou destroy both belly and meat^ when Thou
shalt slay my emptiness with a wonderful fulness, and
clothe this incorruptible icith an eternal incorruption.^
But now the necessity is sweet unto me, against which
sweetness I fight, that I be not taken captive ; and
carry on a daily war by fastings ; often bringiny my
body into subjection^ and my pains are removed by
pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in a manner pains ;
they burn and kill like a fever, unless the medicine of
nourishment comes to our aid. Which, since it is at
hand through the consolations of Thy gifts, with which
land and water and air serve our weakness, our calam-
ity is termed gratification.
44. This hast Thou taught me that I should set
myself to take food as physic. But while I am pass-
ing from the discomfort of emptiness to the content of
replenishing, in the very passage the snare of concupis-
cence besets me. For that passing is pleasure, nor is
there any other way to pass thither, whither we needs
must pass. And health being the cause of eating and
drinking, there joineth itself as an attendant a danger-
ous pleasure, which often endeavors to go before, so
that I may for her sake do what I say I do, or wish to
do for health's sake. Nor have each the same meas-
1 1 Cor. XV. 54. 3 1 Cor. vi. 13. 5 1 Cor. ix. 27.
2 Matt. vi. 34. 4 l Cor. xv. 54.
278 Desires complete governance
ure ; for what is enough for health, is too little for
pleasure. And oft it is uncertain, whether it be the
necessary care of the body Avhich is yet asking for
sustenance, or whether a voluptuous deceivableness of
greediness is proffering its services. In this uncer-
tainty the unhappy soul rejoices, and therein prepares
an excuse to shield itself, glad that it is difficult to de-
termine what suffices for the moderation of health, so
that under the cloak of health it may disguise the
matter of gratification. These temptations I daily en-
deavor to resist, and I call on Thy right hand, and to
Thee do I refer my j^erplexities ; because I have as
yet no settled counsel herein.
45. I hear the voice of my God commanding. Let
not your hearts he overcharged with surfeiting and
drunkenness} Drunkenness is far from me: Thou
wilt have mercy, that it come not near me. But full-
feeding sometimes creepeth upon Thy servant : Thou
wilt have mercy, that it may be far from me. For 710
one can he continent unless TJiou give it? Many
things Thou givest us, praying for them ; and what
good soever we have received before we prayed, from
Thee we received it; yea to the end we might after-
wards know this, did we before receive it. Drunkard
was I never, but drunkards have I known made sober
by Thee. From Thee then it was, that they who
never were such, should not so be, as from Thee it was,
that they who have been such, should not ever so be ;
and from Thee it was, that both might know from
whom it was. I heard another voice of Thine, Go not
1 Luke xxi. 34. 2 Wisd. viii. 21.
of his appetites.
279
after thy lusts, and^from thy pleasures turn away}
Yea by Thy favor have I heard that text which I
have much loved : neither if we eat, shall ice ahomid;
neither if we eat not, shall we lach;^ which is to say,
neither shall the one make me plenteous, nor the other
miserable. I heard also another text : for I have
learyied in whatsoever state I am, thereioith to be con-
tent; ITcnow how to abound, and how to suffer need.
I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth
me^ Behold a soldier of the heavenly camp, not the
dust which we are. But remember^ Lord, that we are
dust, and that of dust Thou hast made man;^ and he
icas lost and is founds Nor could Paul of himself do
this ; because he whom I so loved, saying this through
the in-breathing of Thy inspiration, was of the same
dust. I can do all things (saith he) through him that
strengtheneth 7ne. Strengthen me, that Ica7i. Give
what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt. He
confesses to have received, and when he glorieth, in
the Lord he glorieth J Another have I heard begging
that he might receive : Take from me (saith he) the
desires of the belly ;^ whence it appeareth, O my holy
God, that Thou givest, when that is done which Thou
commandest to be done.
46. Thou hast taught me, good Father, that to the
pure all thi?igs are pure; but that it is evil wito the
man that eateth with offence;^ and that every crea-
ture of Thine is good, and nothing to be refused, ivhich
1 Eccl. xviii. 30. 4 Ps. ciii. 14. ^ 1 Cor. i. 30, 31.
2 1 Cor. viii. 8. 5 Gen. iii. 19. 8 Eccl. xxiii. 6.
3 Phil. iv. 11-13. 6 Luke xv. 32. 9 Kom. xiv. 20.
280 Several temptations
is received loith thanksgiving;^ 'Smd that 77ieat com-
mendeth us not to God;"^ aiid that no man should
judge us in meat or drinh;^ and, that he which eateth^
let him not despise him that eateth not; and let not
him that eateth not^ judge him that eateth} These
things have I learned, thanks be to Thee, praise to Thee,
my God, my Master, knocking at my ears, enlighten-
ing my heart, delivering me out of all temptation. I
fear not micleanness of meat, but the uncleanness of
lusting. I know that Noah was permitted to eat all
kind of flesh that was good for food;^ that Elijah was
fed with flesh ;^ that John, endued with an admirable
abstinence, was not poUuted by feeding on living crea-
tures, locusts. I know also that Esau was deceived by
lusting for lentiles;^ and that David blamed himself
for desiring a draught of water ; ^ and that our King
was tempted, not concerning flesh, but bread.^ And
also the people in the wilderness deserved to be re-
proved, not for desiring flesh, but because, in the desire
of food, they murmured against the Lord.^*'
47. Placed, then, amid these temptations, I strive
daily against concupiscence in eating and drinking.
For it is not of such nature, that I can settle on cut-
ting it ofl" once for all, and never touching it after-
wards, as I could concubinage. The bridle of the
throat then is to be held attempered between slack-
ness and stifihess. And who is he, O Lord, who is
1 1 Tim. iv. 4. 5 Gen. ix. 3. ,82 Sam. xxiii. 15—17.
2 1 Cor. vii. 8. 6 1 Kings xvii. 6. 9 Matt. iv. 3.
3 Col. ii. 16. 7 Gen. xxiii. 34. 10 JS^umb. xi.
4 Kom. xiv. 3.
enter through the senses. 281
not more or less transported beyond the limits of ne-
cessity ? whoever he is, he is a great one ; let him
make Thy Name great. But I am not such, for lam
a sinful man} Yet do I too magnify Thy name ;
and-Se maketh intercession to Thee^ for my sins, who
hath overcome the world ;^ numbering me among the
weak members o/His hody;^ because Thine eyes have
seen my imperfections^ and in Tliy hooTc shall all he
written.^
XXXn. 48. With the allurement of perfumes I am
not much concerned. When absent, I do not miss
them ; when present, I do not refuse them ; yet ever
ready to be without them. So I seem to myself; per-
chance I am deceived. For that also is a mournful
darkness, whereby my abilities within me are hidden
from me; so that my mind making inquiry into
herself of her own powers, ventures not readily to
believe herself; because even what is in it is mostly
hidden, unless experience reveal it. And no one ought
to be secure in that life, the whole whereof is called a
trial,^ that he who hath been capable of worse to be
made better, may not likewise of better be made worse.
Our only hope, only confidence, only assured prom-
ise, is Thy mercy.
XXXIII. 49. The delights of the ear had more
firmly entangled and subdued me ; but Thou didst
loosen, and free me. Now, in those melodies which
Thy words breathe soul into, when sung with a sweet
and attuned voice, I do a little repose ; yet not so
1 Luke V. 8. 3 John xvi. 33. 5 Ps. cxxxix. 16.
2 Eom. viii. 34. 4 1 Cor. xii. 22. 6 Job vii. 1- Vulg.
282 The character and use of church music.
to be held thereby, but that I can disengage myself
when I will. But with the words which are their life,
and whereby they find admission into me, the melodies
themselves seek in my affections a place of some estima-
tion, and I can scarcely assign them one suitable. For
at one time I seem to myself to give them more honor
than is seemly, feeling our minds to be more holily
and fervently raised into a flame of devotion by the
holy words themselves when thus sung, than when not ;
and that the several affections of our spirit, by a sweet
variety, have their own proper measures in the voice
and singing, by some hidden correspondence wherewith
they are stirred up. But this contentment of the flesh,
to which the soul must not be given over to be ener-
vated, doth oft beguile me, the sense not so waiting
upon reason as patiently to follow her ; but having
been admitted merely for her sake, it strives even to
run before her, and lead her. Thus in these things
I unawares sin, but afterwards am aware of it.
50. At other times, shunning over-anxiously this
very deception, I err in too great strictness ; and
sometimes to that degree as to wish the whole melody
of sweet music which is used with David's Psalter
banished from my ears, and the church's too ; and that
mode seems to me safer, which I remember to have
been told me of Athanasius bishop of Alexandria, who
made the reader of the psalm utter it with s-o slight
inflection of voice, that it was nearer speaking than
singing. Yet, again, when I remember the tears T
shed at the Psalmody of Thy Church, in the begin-
ning of my recovered faith ; and how at this time I
The character and use of church music. 283
am moved, not with the singing, but with the things
sung, when they are sung with a clear voice and mod-
ulation most suitable, I acknowledge the great use of
this institution. Thus I fluctuate between peril of pleas-
ure and approved wholesomeness ; inclined the rather
(though not as pronouncing an irrevocable opinion)
to approve of the usage of singing in the church ; that
so by the delight of the ears, the weaker minds may
rise to the feeling^ of devotion. Yet when it befalls
me to be more moved with the voice than the words
sung, I confess to have sinned penally, and then had
rather not hear music. See now my state ; weep Avith
me, and weep for me, ye who so regulate your feel-
ings within as that good acts ensue. For you who
do not, these things touch not you. But Thou, O
Lord my God, hearken ; behold, and see, and have
Qiiercy^ and heal me^ Thou, in whose presence I have
become a problem to myself; and that is my infirm-
ity?
XXXIV". 51. There remains the pleasure of these
eyes of my flesh, on which to make my confessions in
the hearing of the ears of Thy temple, those brotherly
and devout ears ; and so to conclude the temptations
of the lust of the fleshy which yet assail me, groaning
earnestly^ and desiring to he clothed upon with my
house from heaven? The eyes love fair and varied
forms, and bright and soft colors. Let not these oc-
cupy my soul ; let God rather occupy it, loho made
these things, very good^ indeed, yet is He my good, not
they. And these afiect me, waking, the whole day,
1 Ps. vi. 3. 2 Ps. Ixxvii. 10. 3 2 Cor. v. 2. 4 Gen. i. 31.
284 The blessings of the light.
nor is any rest given me from them, as there is from
musical voices, and sometimes, in silence, from all
voices. For this queen of colors, the light, bathing-
all which we behold, wherever I am through the day,
gliding by me in varied forms, sooths me w^hen engaged
on other things and not observing it. And so strongly
does it entwine itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn,
it is with longing sought for, and if absent long, sad-
dens the mind.
52. O Thou Light, which Tobias saw, when, with
eyes closed, he taught his son the way of life ; ^ and
himself went before with the feet of charity, never
swerving. Or which Isaac saw, when, his fleshly eyes
heing heavy^ and closed by old age, it was vouchsafed
him, not knowingly to bless his sons, but by blessing to
know them. Or which Jacob saw, when he also, blind
through great age, with illumined heart, in the per-
sons of his sons shed light on the different races of the
future peoj)le,in them foresignified ; and laid his hands,
mystically crossed, upon his grandchildren by Joseph,
not as their father by his outward eye corrected
them, but as himself inwardly discerned.^ This is
the light, it is one, and all are one w^ho see and love it.
But that corporeal light whereof I spake, it seasoneth
the life of this world for her blind lovers, with an en-
ticing and dangerous sweetness. But they who know
how to praise Thee for it, " O all-creating Lord," take
it up in Thy hymns and are not taken up with it in
their sleep. Such would I be. These seductions of
the eyes I resist, lest my feet wherewith I walk upon
1 Tob. iv. 2 Gen. xxvii. 3 Gen. xlviii.
The blessings of tJte light. 285
Thy way be ensnared ; and I lift up mine invisible
eyes to Thee, that Thou wouldst pluck my feet out of
the snare} Thou dost ever and anon pluck them out,
for they are ensnared. Thou ceasest not to pluck
them out, while I often entangle myself in the snares
on all sides laid; because Thou that keepest Israel
shalt neither slumber nor sleep?
53. What innumerable toys, made by divers arts
and manufactures, in our apparel, shoes, utensils, and
all sorts of works, in pictures, also, and divers images,
and these far exceeding all necessary and moderate
use and all pious meaning, have men added to tempt
their own eyes withal; outwardly following what
themselves make, inwardly forsaking Him by whom
themselves were made, and destroying that w^hich
themselves have been made ! But I, my God and my
Glory, do hence also sing a hymn to Thee, and do
consecrate praise to Him who consecrateth me, be-
cause those beautiful patterns which through men's
souls are conveyed into their cunning hands, Qome
from that Beauty, Which is above our souls, Which
my soul day and night sigheth after. But the fi*amers
and followers of the outward beauties, derive thence
the rule of judging of them, but not of using them.
And He is there, though they perceive Him not, that
so they might not wander, but keep their strength for
Thee^ and not scatter it abroad upon pleasurable wea-
rinesses. And I, though I speak and see this, entan-
gle my steps w^ith these outward beauties ; but Thou
pluckest me out, O Lord, Thou pluckest me out ; be-
1 Ps. XXV. 15. 2 Ps, cxxi. 4. 3 Ps. Iviii. 10. Vulg.
21
2SQ What is mecmt hy
cause Thy loving-kindness is before my eyes} For I
am taken miserably, and Thou 2:)luckest me out mer-
cifully ; sometimes not perceiving it, when I had but
lightly lighted upon them ; otherwhiles with pain, be-
cause I had stuck fast in them.
XXXV. 54. To this is added another form of
temj)tation more manifoldly dangerous. For besides
that concupiscence of the flesh which consisteth in
the delight of all senses and pleasures, wherein its
slaves, who go far from Thee^ waste and^msA, the
soul hath, through the same senses of the body, a
certain vain and curious desire, veiled under the
title of knowledge and learning, not of delighting in
the flesh, but of making experiments through the
flesh. The seat whereof being in the appetite of
knowledge, and sight being the sense chiefly used
for attaining knowledge, it is in Divine language
called The lust of the eyes? For to see, belongeth
properly to the eyes ; yet we use this word of the
other senses also, when we employ them in seeking
knowledge. For we do not say, hark how it flashes,
or smell how it glows, or taste how it shines, or feel
how it gleams ; for all these are said to be seen.
And yet we say not only, see how it shineth, which
the eyes alone cin perceive; but also, see how it
soundeth, see how it smelleth, see how it tasteth,
see how hard it is. And so the general experience
of the senses, as was said, is called The lust of
the eyes, because the oflice of seeing, wherein the
eyes hold the prerogative, the other senses by way
1 Ps. XXV. 3. 2 Ps. Ixxiii. 27. 3 i John ii. 16.
" the lust of the eyes.'' 287
of similitude take to themselves, when they make
search after any knowledge.
55. But by this may more evidently be discerned,
wherein pleasure, and wherein curiosity, is the ob-
ject of the senses ; for pleasure seeketh objects
beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savory, soft ; but curi-
osity, for trial's sake, the contrary, as well, not for
the sake of suffering annoyance, but out of the lust
of making trial and knowing them. For what pleas-
ure hath it, to see in a mangled carcass what will
make you shudder ? and yet if it be lying near, men
Hock thither, to be made sad, and to turn pale. Even
in sleep they are afraid to see it. As if when awake,
any one forced them to see it, or any report of its
beauty drew them thither ! Thus also in the other
senses, which it were long to go through. From
this disease of curiosity, are all those strange sights
exhibited in the theatre. Hence, men go on to
search out the hidden powers of nature, which to
know profits not, and wherein men desire nothing
but to know. Hence, also, with that same end
of perverted knowledge in view, magical arts are
employed. Hence, also, in religion itself, is God
tempted, when signs and wonders are demanded of
Him ; not desired for any good end, but merely to
make trial of
56. In this so vast wilderness, full of snares and
dangers, behold many of them I have cut off, and
thrust out of my heart, as Thou hast given' me
power, 0 God of my salvation. And yet when dare
I say, — since so many things of this kind buzz on all
288 The danger of curiosity.
sides about our daily life, — when dare I say, that
nothing of this sort engages my attention, or causes
in me an idle interest ? True, the theatres do not
now carry me away, nor care I to know the courses
of the stars, nor did my soul ever consult ghosts de-
parted ; all sacrilegious mysteries I detest. From
Thee, O Lord my God, to whom I owe humble and
single-hearted service, by what artifices and sugges-
tions doth the enemy deal with me to desire some
sign ! But I beseech Thee by our King, and by our
pure and holy country, Jerusalem, that as any con-
senting thereto is far from me, so may it ever be
further and further. But when I pray Thee for the
salvation of any, my end and intention is far differ-
ent. Thou givest and wilt give me to follow Thee
willingly, doing what Thou vnlt}
57. Notwithstanding, who can recount in how
many most petty and contemptible things is our
curiosity daily tempted, and how often we give
way ? How often do we begin, as if we were tol-
erating people telling vain stories, lest we offend the
weak ; then by degrees we take interest therein ! I
go not now to the circus to see a dog coursing a
hare ; but in the field, if passing, that coursing per-
ad venture will distract me even from some weighty
thought, and draw me after it : not that I turn aside
the body of my beast, yet still incline my mind
thither. And unless Thou, having made me see my
infirmity, didst speedily admonish me, either through
the sight itself by some contemplation to rise to-
1 John xxi. 22.
The danger of curiosity. 289
wards Thee, or altogether to despise and pass it by,
I stupidly stand fixed therein. When sitting at
home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling
them as they rush into her nets, ofttimes takes my
attention. Is the thing different, because they are
but small creatures ? I indeed go on from them to
praise Thee, the wonderM Creator and Orderer of
all, but this does not first draw my attention. It is
one thing to rise quickly, another not to fall. And
of such things is my life full ; and my one hoj^e is
Thy wonderful great mercy. For when our heart
becomes the receptacle of such things, and is over-
charged with throngs of this abundant vanity, then
are our prayers also thereby often interrupted and
distracted, and whilst in Thy presence we direct the
voice of our heart to Thine ears, this so great con-
cern is broken off, by the rushing in of I know not
what idle thoughts. Shall we then account this also
among things of slight concernment, or shall aught
bring us back to hope, save Thy complete mercy,
since Thou hast begun to change us ?
XXXVI. 58. And Thou knowest how far Thou
hast already changed me, who first didst heal me of
the lust of vindicating myself, that so Thou might-
est forgive all the rest of my iniquities^ and heal all
my infirmities^ and redeem my life from corruption^
and croimi me luith mercy and pity ^ and satisfy my
desire with good things .'^ who didst curb my pride
with Thy fear, and tame my neck to Thy yoJce. And
now I bear it, and it is light^ unto me, because so
1 Ps. ciii. 3—5. 2 Matt. xi. 30,
290 The love of the praise of men^
hast Thou promised, and hast made it ; and verily s(?
it was, and I knew it not, when I feared to take it.
59. But, O Lord, Thou alone Lord without pride,
because Thou art the only true Lord, who hast no
lord, hath this third kind of temptation also ceased
fi'om me, or can it cease through this whole life ?
To wish, namely, to be feared and loved of men, for
no other end but that we may have a joy therein,
which is no joy ? A miserable life this, and a foul
boastfulness ! Hence especially it comes, that men
do neither purely love, nor fear Thee. And there-
fore dost Thou resist the ^yroud^ and givest grace to
the humUe:^ yea, Thou thunderest down upon the
ambitions of the world, and the foundations of the
mountains tremhle? Because now certain offices of
human society make it necessary to be loved and
feared of men, the adversary of our true blessedness
layeth hard at us, everywhere spreading his snares
of " well done, well done ;" that, greedily catching
at them, we may be taken unawares, and sever our
joy from Thy truth, and set it in the deceivingness
of men ; and be pleased at being loved and feared,
not for Thy sake, but in Thy stead : and thus having
been made like him, he may have them for his own,
not in the bands of charity, but in the bonds of pun-
ishment : who purposed to set his throne in the
north^ that, dark and chilled, they might serve him,
pervertedly and crookedly imitating Thee. But we,
O Lord, behold we are Thy little flocJc;^ possess us
as Thine, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us fly
1 James iv. 6. 2 Ts. xviii. 7. 3 Is. xiv. 13, 14. 4 Luke xii. 32.
another snare. 291
under them. Be Thou our glory ; let us be loved
for Thee, and Thy word feared in us. He who
would be praised of men when Thou blamest, will
not be defended of men when Thou judgest ; nor
delivered when Thou condemnest. But when, —
not the sinner is ^9ra^sec? in the desires of his soul^
nor he blessed who doth ungodly ^^ but, — a man is
praised for some gift which Thou hast given him,
and he rejoices more at the praise for himself than
that he hath the gift for which he is praised, he also
is praised, while Thou dispraisest ; and better is he
who praised than he who is praised. For the one
took pleasure in the gift of God in man ; the other
was better pleased with the gift of man, than of
God.
XXXYII. 60. By these temptations we are as-
sailed daily, O, Lord ; without ceasing we are assailed.
Our daily furnace^ is the tongue of men. And in this
way, also. Thou commandest us self-denial. Give
what Thou enjoinest, and enjoin what Thou wilt.
Thouknowest on this matter the groans of my heart,
and the floods of mine eyes. For I cannot learn bow
far I am cleansed from this plague, and I much fear
my secret sins^^ which Thine eyes know, mine do not.
For in other kinds of temptations I have some sort of
means of examining myself; in this, scarce any. For,
in refraining my mind from the j^leasures of the flesh,
and idle curiosity, I see how much I have attained
to, when I do without them ; foregoing, or not having
them. For then I ask myself how much more or less
1 rs. ix. 29. Vulg. 2 Ts. X. 3. 3 Prov. xxvii. 21. 4 Ps. xix. 12.
292 Limits within lohich
troublesome it is to me, not to have them? Thus,
riches, which are desired that they may serve to some
one or two or all of the three concupiscences,^ if the
soul cannot discern whether, when it hath them it de-
spiseth them, they may be cast aside, that so it may
prove itself. But how can we divest ourselves of
praise, and try ourselves in this respect ? Must we
live ill, yea so abandonedly and atrociously, that no
one should know us without detesting us? What
greater madness can be uttered, or thought of? But
if praise is wont, and ought, to accompany a good life
and good works, we ought as little to forego its com-
pany, as good life itself Yet I know not whether I
can contentedly or discontentedly be without any
thing, unless it be absent.
61. What then do I confess unto Thee in this kind of
temptation, O Lord ? What, but that I am delighted
with praise, but with truth itself, more than with
praise ? For were it proposed to me, whether I would,
being frenzied in error on all things, be praised by
all men, or being consistent and most settled in the
truth, be blamed by all, I see which I should choose.
Yet fain would I, that the approbation of another
should not even increase my joy for any good in me.
Yet I own, it doth increase it, and not so only, but
dispraise doth diminish it. And when I am troubled
at this my misery, an excuse occurs to me, which of
what value it is, Thou God knowest, for it leaves me
uncertain. For since Thou hast commanded us not
continency alone, that is, from what things to refrain
1 1 John ii. 16.
the love of praise is allowable. 293
our love, but righteousness also, that is, whereon to
bestow it, and hast willed us to love not Thee only,
but our neighbor also, often, when pleased with intel-
ligent praise, I seem to myself to be pleased with the
proficiency or towardliness of my neighbor, or to be
grieved for evil in him, when I hear him dispraise
either what he understands not, or is good. For
sometimes I am grieved at my own praise, either
when those things be praised in me, in which I mislike
myself, or even lesser and slight excellences are more
esteemed than they ought to be. But, again, how
do I know whether I am not thus affected, because
I would not have him who praises me, differ from me
about myself; not as being influenced by concern for
him, but because those same good things which please
me in myself, please me more when they please
another also ? For somehow I am not praised when
my judgment of myself is not praised ; forasmuch as
either those things are praised, which displease me ;
or those more, which please me less. Am I then
doubtful of myself in this matter ?
62. Behold, in Thee, O Truth, I see, that I ought
not to be moved at my own praises, for my own sake,
but for the good of my neighbor. And whether it be
so with me, I know not. For herein I know less of
myself than of Thee. I beseech now, 0 my God,
discover to me myself also, that I may confess unto
my brethren, who are to pray for me, wherein I find
myself maimed. Let me examine myself again more
diligently. If in my praise I am moved with the
good of my neighbor, why am I less moved if another
294 Confesses inan^s inability
be unjustly disj^raised than if it be myself? Why
am I more stung by reproach cast upon myself, than
at that cast upon another, with the same injustice be-
fore me ? Know I not this also ? or is it at last that
I deceive myself^ and do not the truth before Thee in
my heart and tongue ? This madness put far from me,
O Lord, lest mine own mouth be to me the sinner''s
oil to make fat my JteacV I am poor and needy j^ yet
best, while in hidden groanings I mortify myself, and
seek Thy mercy, until what is lacking in my defective
state be renewed and perfected, even to that peace
which the eye of the proud knoweth not.
XXXYIII. 63. Yet the word, which cometh out of
the mouth, and deeds known to men, bring with them
a most dangerous temptation through the love of
praise ; which, to establish a certain excellency of our
own, solicit and collect men's suffrages. It tempts,
even when it is reproved by myself in myself, on the
very ground that it is reproved ; and often glories
more vainly of the very contempt of vain-glory ; and
so it is no longer contempt of vain-glory, whereof it
glories ; for it doth not contemn when it glorieth.
XXIX. 64. Within also, within is another evil, aris-
ing out of a like temptation ; whereby men become
vain, pleasing themselves in themselves, though they
please not, or displease, or care not to please, others.
But pleasing themselves, they much displease Thee,
not only taking pleasure in things not good, as if good,
but in Thy good things, as if they were their ow^n ;
or even if as Thine, yet as though for their own mer-
1 Gal. vi. 3; 1 John i. 8. 2 Ps. cxli. 5. S Ps. cix. 22.
to search out himself. 295
its ; or even if as though from Thy grace, yet not with
brotherly rejoicing, but grudging tliat grace to others.
In all these and the like perils and travails. Thou seest
the trembling of my heart ; and I rather feel my
wounds to be cured by Thee, than not inflicted by
me.
XL. 65. Where hast Thou not walked with me, O
Truth, teaching me what to beware, and what to de-
sire, when I referred to Thee what I could discover
here below, and consulted Thee ? With my outward
senses, as I might, I surveyed the world, and observed
the life which my body hath from me, and these my
senses. Thence entered I the recesses of my mem-
ory, those manifold and spacious chambers, wonder-
fully furnished with innumerable stores ; and I consid-
ered, and stood aghast ; being able to discern nothing
of these things without Thee, and finding none of
them to be Thee. Nor was it I myself who found
out these things, who went over them all, and labored
to distinguish and to value every thing according
to its dignity, taking some things upon the report of
my senses, questioning about others which I felt to be
mixed up with myself, numbering and distinguishing
the reporters themselves, and in the large treasure-
house of my memory, revolving some things, storing
up others, drawing out others, — nor was it I myself
who did this : that is, it was not my power whereby
I did it. Neither was it Thou, for Thou art the
abiding light, which I consulted concerning all
these, whether they were, what they were, and how
to be valued ; and I heard Thee directing and com-
296 There must he a Mediator
manding me ; and this I often do, this delights me,
and as far as I maybe freed from necessary duties, unto
this jDleasure have I recourse. Nor in all these, which
I run over consulting Thee, can I find any safe place
for my soul, but in Thee ; whither my scattered mem-
bers may be gathered, and nothing of me depart
from Thee. And sometimes Thou admittest me to
an affection, very unusual, in my inmost soul ; rising
to a strange sweetness, which if it were perfected
in me, I know not what in it would not belong to the
life to come. But through my miserable encum-
brances I sink down again into these lower things,
and am swept back by former custom, and am held,
and greatly weep, but am greatly held. So much
doth the burden of a bad custom weigh us down.
Here I can stay, but would not ; there I would, but
cannot; both ways, miserable.
XLI. 66. Thus then have I considered the sick-
nesses of my sins in that threefold concupiscence,
and have called Thy right hand to my help. For
with a wounded heart have I beheld Thy brightness,
and stricken back I said, " Who can attain thither ?
I am cast away from the sight of thine eyes} Thou
art the Truth who presidest over all, but I, through
my covetousness, would not indeed forego Thee, but
would with Thee possess a falsehood, just as no man
would speak falsely, in such a way, and to such a de-
gree, as to wholly lose the knowledge of truth. So
then I lost Thee, because Thou vouchsafest not to be
possessed along with a falsehood."
1 Ps. xxxi. 22.
between God and man, 297
XLII. 67. Whom could I find to reconcile me to
Thee ? was I to have recourse to angels ? by what
prayers ? by what sacraments ? Many endeavoring
to return unto Thee, and of themselves unable, have, as
I hear, tried this, and fallen into the desire of curious
visions, and been accounted worthy to be deluded.
For they, being high-minded, sought Thee by the
pride of learning, swelling out their breasts, rather
than smiting upon them, and so by the agreement of
their heart, drew unto themselves the princes of the
air^ the fellow-consjDirators of their pride, by whom,
through magical influences, they were deceived, seek-
ing a mediator by whom they might be purged, and
there was none. For the devil it was, transforming
himself into an Angel of Light? And it much enticed
proud flesh, that he had no body of flesh. For they
were mortal, and sinners ; but Thou Lord, to whom
they proudly sought to be reconciled, art immortal,
and without sin. But a mediator between God and
man must have something like to God, something
like to men ; lest being in both like to man, he should
be far from God ; or if in both like God, too unlike
man ; and so not be a mediator. That deceitful me-
diator, then, by whom in Thy secret judgments pride
deserved to be deluded, hath one thing in common
with man, that is sin; another he would seem to
have in common with God ; and not being clothed
with the mortality of flesh, would vaunt himself to be
immortal. But since the wages of siii is death^ this
1 Eph. ii. 2. 2 2 Cor. xi. 14. S Rom. vi. 20.
298 Christ a sufficient Mediator.
hath he in common with men, that with them he
should be condemned to death.
XLIII. 68. But the true Mediator, Whom in Thy
secret mercy Thou hast showed to the humble, and
sentest, that by His example also they might learn
that same humility, that Mediator hetioeen God and
raan^ the Man Christ Jesus^ appeared betwixt mor-
tal sinners and the Immortal Just One ; mortal with
men, just with God ; that, because the wages of right-
eousness is life and peace. He might, by a righteous-
ness conjoined with God, make void that death of
sinners, now justified, which He willed to have in
common with them. Hence He was showed forth to
holy men of old, that so they, through faith in His
Passion to come, as we through faith in it passed,
might be saved. For as Man, He was a Mediator ;2
but as the Word, he was not in the middle (Media-
tor) between God and man, because he was equal to
God, and God with God, and together one God.
69. How hast Thou loved us, good Father, who
sparedst not TJiine only Son^ hut deliveredst Him up
for us ungodly!^ How hast Thou loved us, for whom
He that thought it no rohhery to he equal with Thee,
toas made suhject even to the death of the cross,* He
alone free among thedead^ having power to lay down
His life, andpoimr to taJce it again :^ for us, to Thee,
both Victor and Victim, and therefore Victor, because
the Victim ; for us, to Thee, Priest and Sacrifice, and
1 1 Tim. ii. 20.
2 Rather, as God-Man ; mere humanity is not " in the middle between
God and man." — Ed.
3 Rom. viii. 32. 4 Phil. ii. 6, 8. 5 Ps. Ixxxviii. 5. 6 John x. 18.
Christ a sufficient Mediator. 299
therefore Priest because the Sacrifice ; making us, to
Thee, of servants, sons, by being born of Thee, and
serving us. Deservedly then is my hope strong in
Him, that Thou loilt heal all my infirmities^ by Him
Who sitteth at Thy right harid and maJceth inter-
cession for tcs;^ else should I despair. For many and
great are my infirmities, many they are and great;
but Thy medicine is mightier. We might imagine
that Thy Word was far from any union with man,
and despair of ourselves, unless He had been fnade
flesh and dwelt among us?
70. Afii-ighted with my sins, and the burden of my
misery, I had thought in my heart, and had purposed,
to flee to the wilderness :^ but Thou forbaddest me,
and strengthenedst me, saying. Therefore Christ died
for all, that they lohich live may now no longer live
unto themselves, hut unto Him that died for them?
See, Lord, least ony care upon Thee^ that I mayUve,
and consider wondrous things out of Thy law? Thou
knowest my unskilfulness, and my infirmities ; teach
me, and heal me. He, Thine only son, in Whom are
hid all the treasures ofioisdom and knowledge,^ hath
redeemed me with His blood. Let not the proud
speak evil of me ;" because I meditate on my Ran-
som, and eat and drink, and appropriate it ; and poor,
desire to be satisfied from Him, amongst those that
eat and are satisfied. And they shcdl praise the Lord
who seek Him?^
1 Ps ciii. 3. 5 2 Cor. v. 15. 8 Col. ii. 3.
2 Eom. viii. 34. 6 Ps. Iv. 22. 9 Ps. cxix. 122. Vulg.
3 John i. 12. 7 Ps. cxix. 18. 10 Ps. xxii. 26.
4 Ps. Iv. 7.
THE ELEVENTH BOOK.
AUGUSTINE BREAKS OFF THE HISTORY OF THE MODE WHEREBY GOD
TED HIM TO HOLY ORDERS, IN ORDER TO " CONFESS" GOD'S MER-
CIES IN OPENING TO HIM THE SCRIPTURE — MOSES IS NOT TO BE
UNDERSTOOD, BUT IN CHRIST, — NOT EVEN THE FIRST WORDS, " IN
THE BEGINNING GOD CREATED THE HEAVEN AND THE EARTH"—:
ANSWER TO CAVILLERS, WHO ASKED, WHAT DID GOD BEFORE HE
CREATED THE HEAVEN AND THE EARTH, AND WHENCE WILLED HE
AT LENGTH TO MAKE THEM, WHEREAS HE DID NOT MAKE THEM
BEFORE — INQUIRY INTO THE NATURE OF TIME.
I. 1. Lord, since eternity is Thine, art Thou igno-
rant of what I say to Thee ? or dost Thou see in
time, what passeth in time ? Why then do I lay in
order before Thee so many relations? Not, of a
truth, that Thou mightest learn them through me,
but to stir up mine own, and my readers' devotions
towards Thee, that we may all say. Great is the
Xord, and greatly to be ^praised} I have said al-
ready, and again will say, for love of Thy love do I
this. For we pray, also ; and yet Truth hath said.
Your Father knoioeth ichat you have need of^ before
you ask? It is then our affections which we lay
open unto Thee, confessing our own miseries, and
Thy mercies upon us, that Thou mayest free us
1 Ps. xcvi. 4. 2 Matt. vi. 8.
Augustine prays to he kept from error. 301
wholly, since Thou hast begun, that we may cease to
be wretched in ourselves, and be blessed in Thee ;
seeing Thou hast called us, to become poor in spirit^
and meeJc^ and mourners^ and hungering and athirst
after righteousness^ and mercifid^ and pure i7i hearty
and peace-makers} See, I have told Thee many
things, as I could and as I would, because Thou first
wouldest that I should confess unto Thee, my Lord
God. For Thou art good^for Thy mercy endureth
forever?
II. 2. But how shall I suffice with the tongue of
my pen to utter all Thy exhortations, and all Thy
terrors, and comforts, and guidances, whereby Thou
broughtest me to preach Thy Word, and dispense
Thy Sacrament to Thy people ? And if I suffice to
utter them in order, the drops of time are precious
with me ; and long have I burned to ineditate m
Thy law} and therein to confess to Thee my skill
and unskilfulness, the day-break of Thy enlightening
and the remnants of my darkness, until infirmity be
swallowed up by strength. And I would not have
aught besides steal away those hours, which I find
free from the necessities of refreshing my body and
the powers of my mind, and the service which we owe
to men, or which, though we owe not, we yet pay.
3. O Lord my God, give ear unto my prayer, and
let Thy mercy hearken unto my desire : because it is
anxious, not for myself alone, but would serve
brotherly charity; and Thou seest my heart, that, so
it is. I would sacrifice to Thee the service of my
1 Matt. V. 3—9. 2 Ps. cxxxvi. 3 Ts. cxix. 97.
22
302 Augustine prays for light
thought and tongue ; do Thou give me what I may
offer Thee. For I cm% poor and needy ^ Thou rich to
all that call upon Thee ;^ and, inaccessible to care,
carest for us. Circumcise from all rashness and all
lying both 'iny inward and outward lips ; let Thy
Scriptures be my pure delights ; let me not be de-
ceived in them, nor deceive out of them. Lord,
hearken and pity, O Lord my God, Light of the
blind, and Strength of the weak ; yea, also, Light of
those that see, and Strength of the strong : hearken
unto my soul, and hear it crying out of the depths?
For if Thine ears be not with us in the depths also,
whither shall we go ? whither cry ? The day is
Thine^ and the night is Thine ; at Thy beck the
moments flee by. Grant thereof a space for our
meditations in the hidden things of Thy laio^ and
close it not against us who knock. For not in vain
wouldest Thou have the darksome secrets of so
many pages written ; nor are those forests without
their harts, which retire therein and range and walk,
feed, lie down, and ruminate. Perfect me, O Lord,
and reveal them mito me. Behold, Thy voice is my
joy ; Thy voice exceedeth the abundance of pleas-
ures. Give what I love : for I do love ; and this
hast Thou given. Forsake not Thy own gifts, nor
despise Thy green herb that thirsteth. Let me con-
fess unto Thee whatsoever I shall find in Thy books,
and hear the voice of praise., and drink in Thee, and
meditate on the wonderful things out of Thy law ;
even from the beginning^ wherein Thou madest the
1 Ps. xl. 17, Ixxxvi. 5. 2 Ps. cxxx. 1.
and trite knowledge. 303
heaven and the earthy unto the everlasting reigning
of Thy holy city with Thee.
4. Lord^ have mercy on me, ayid hear my desire.
For it is not, I deem, desire of the earth, not of gold
and silver and precious stones, or gorgeous apparel,
or honors and offices, or the pleasures of the flesh, or
necessaries for the body and for this life of our pil-
grimage,— all which shall he added unto those that
seek Thy kingdom and Thy righteousness. Behold,
O Lord my God, wherein is my desire. The wicked
have told me of delights^ hut not such as Thy lavn^
0 Lord. Behold wherein is my desire. Behold,
Father, behold, and see and approve ; and be it
pleasing in the sight of Thy mercy, that I may find
grace before Thee, that the inward parts of Thy
words be opened to me knocking. I beseech by our
Lord Jesus Christ, Thy Son, the Man of Thy right
hand^ the Son of Man^ whom Thou hast estahlished
for Thyself as Thy Mediator and ours, through
Whom Thou soughtest us who did not seek Thee,
but soughtest us that we might seek Thee ; Thy
Word, through Whom Thou m^adest all things, and
among them, me also ; Thy Only Begotten, through
whom Thou calledst to adoption the believing peo-
ple, and therein me also, — I beseech Thee by Him,
who sitteth at Thy right hand, and intercedeth icith
Thee for us, in Whom are hidden all the treasures
of vnsdom ayid knowledge. Him do I seek in Thy
books. Of Him did Moses write. This saith He
Himself; this saith the Truth.^
1 John V. 46.
304 The meaning of 3£oses.
III. 5. I would hear and understand how, " In the
Beginning Thou madest the heaven and earth."
Moses wrote this, wrote and departed, j^assed hence
from Thee to Thee. Xor is he now before me ; for
if he were, I would hold him, and ask him, and
beseech him by Thee to open these things unto me,
and would lay the ears of my body to the sounds
bursting out of his mouth. And should he speak
Hebrew, in vain will it strike on my senses, nor
would aught of it touch my mind ; but if Latin, I
should know what he said. But whence should I
know whether he spake the truth? Yea, and if
I knew this also, should I know it from him ? Truly
within me, within, in the chamber of my thoughts.
Truth, Who is neither Hebrew, nor Greek, nor
Latin, nor barbarian, without organs of voice or
tongue, or sound of syllables, would say, "It is
truth;" and I forthwith should say confidently to
that man of Thine, " Thou sayest truly." Whereas,
then, I cannot inquire of Moses, Thee, Thee I be-
seech, O Truth, being filled with Whom, he spake
truth. Thee, my God, I beseech, forgive my sins ; and
Thou, who gavest him to speak these things, give to
me also to understand them.
IV. 6. Behold, the heavens and the earth arej
they proclaim that they were created; for they
change and vary. Whereas whatsoever hath not
been made, and yet is, hath nothing in it which it
had not before ; and this it is, to change and vary.
They proclaim, also, that they made not themselves ;
" We are, because we have been made ; we were not,
God does not create from existing materials. 305
therefore, before we were, so as to make ourselves."
jSTow the evidence of the thing is the voice of the
speakers. Thou, therefore. Lord, madest them ; who
art beautiful, for they are beautiful ; who art good,
for they are good ; who art, for they are ; yet are
they not beautiful, nor good, as Thou art, nor are
they as Thou their Creator art; compared with
Whom, they are neither beautiful, nor good, nor are.
This we know, thanks be to Thee. And our knowl-
edge, compared with Thy knowledge, is ignorance.
y. 7. But how didst Thou mahe the heaven and
the earth f and what was the engine of Thy so
mighty fabric ? For it was not as a human artificer,
forming one body from another, according to the dis-
cretion of his mind, which can in some way invest
with such a form, as it seeth in itself by its inward
eye. And whence should he be able to do this, un-
less Thou hadst made that mind? for he invests
with a form what ah-eady exists and has a being, as
clay, or stone, or wood, or gold, or the like. And
whence should they be, hadst not Thou appointed
them ? Thou madest the artificer's body ; his mind
commanding his limbs ; the matter whereof he
makes anything ; the apprehension whereby to take
in his art, and see within, what he doth without; the
sense of his body, whereby, as by an interpreter, he
may fi-om mind to matter convey that which he
doth, and report to his mind what is done ; that his
mind may consult the truth, which presideth over it,
whether it be well done or no. All these praise
Thee, the Creator of all. But how dost Thou make
30 6 God does not create from existi/ig materials.
them ? how, O God, didst Thou make heaven and
earth f Verily, neither in the heaven, nor in the
earth, didst Thou make heaven and earth : nor in
the air, or waters, seeing these also belong to the
heaven and the earth ; nor in the whole world didst
Thou make the whole world ; because there was no
place where to make it, before it was made, that it
might be. Nor didst Thou hold anything in Thy
hand, whereof to make heaven and earth. For
whence shouldest Thou have this, which Thou hadst
not made, thereof to make anything ? For what is,
but because Thou art ? Therefore Thou spakest^
and they were made^ and in Thy Word Thou mad-
est them.
VI. 8. But how didst Thou speak? In the
way that the voice came out of the cloud, saying,
This is my beloved So7i?'^ For that voice passed by
and passed away, began and ended; the syllables
sounded and passed away, the second after the first,
the third after the second, and so forth in order, un-
til the last after the rest, and silence after the last.
Whence it is abundantly clear and plain that the
motion of a creature expressed it, itself temporal,
serving Thy eternal will. And these Thy words,
created for a time, the outward ear reported to the
intelligent soul, whose inward ear lay listening to
Thy Eternal Word. But she compared these words
sounding in time, with Thy Eternal Word in silence,
and said, " It is different, far different. These words
are far beneath me, nor are they, because they flee
1 Matt. iii. 17, xvii. 5.
The creative word not vocal. 307
and pass away ; but the IVord of my Lord abideth
above me forever?'' If, then, m sounding and passing
words Thou saidst that heaven and earth should he
made^ and so madest heaveoi and earthy there was
a corporeal creature before heaven and earth, by
whose motions in time that voice might take his
course in time. But there was nought corporeal be-
fore hectveii and earth; or if there were, surely Thou
hadst, without such a passing voice, created that
whereof to make this passing voice, by which to say.
Let the heaven and the earth he made. For whatso-
ever that were, whereof such a voice were made, un-
less by Thee it were made, it could not be at all.
By what Word then didst Thou speak, that a sub-
stance might be made, whereby these words again
might be made ?
VII. 9. Thou callest us then to understand the
Word, God loith Thee God, Which is spoken eter-
nally, and by It are all things spoken eternally. For
what was spoken was not spoken successively, one
thing concluded that the next might be spoken, but
all things together and eternally. Else have we
time and change ; and not a true eternity nor true
immortality. This I know, O my God, and give
thanks. I know, I confess to Thee, O Lord, and
with me doth know and bless Thee, whoso is not
unthankful to assured Truth. We know. Lord, we
know ; since, inasmuch as anything is not, which was,
and is, which w.as not, so far forth it dieth and aris-
eth. Nothing then of Thy Word doth give place or
succeed, because It is truly immortal and eternal.
308 The eternal Word
And therefore unto the Word coeternal with Thee
Thou dost at once and eternally say all that Thou
dost say ; and whatever Thou sayest shall be made,
is made ; nor dost Thou, make, otherwise than by
saying; and yet are not all things made together, or
everlasting, which Thou makest by saying.
VIII. 10. Why, I beseech Thee, O Lord my
God ? I see it in a way ; but how to express it, I
know not, unless it be, that whatsoever begins to be,
and leaves off to be, begins then, and leaves off
then, when in Thy eternal Reason it is known, that
it ought to begin or leave off; in which Reason It-
self, nothing beginneth or leaveth off. This is Thy
Word, which is also " the Beginning^ because also It
speaketh unto usP'^ Thus, in the Gospel, He speaketh
through the flesh ; and this sounded outwardly in
the ears of men, that it might be believed, and
sought inwardly, and found in the eternal Verity ;
where the good and only Master teacheth all His
disciples. There, Lord, hear I Thy voice speaking
unto me ; because He speaketh unto us, Who teach-
eth us. But he that teacheth us not, though He
speaketh, to us He speaketh not. Who now teach-
eth us, but the unchangeable Truth ? for even when
we are admonished through a changeable creature,
we are but led to the unchangeable Truth ; where
we learn truly, while we stand and hear Ilim^ and
rejoice greatly because of the BridegrooiVb s voice^
restoring us to Him, from Whom we are. And He
is therefore the Beginning, because unless He abide,
1 John viii. 25.
IS
the Creator. 309
there should not be whither to return, when we
went astray. But when we return from error, it is
through knowing that we return ; and that we may
know, He teacheth us, because He is the Beginning,
and speaketh unto us.
IX. 11. In this Beginning, O God, Jiast Thou
made heaven and earth, in Thy Word, in Thy Son, in
Thy Power, in Thy Wisdom, in Thy Truth ; won-
drously speaking, and wondrously making. Who
shall comprehend ? Who declare it ? What is that
which gleams through me, and strikes my heart
without hurting it, and I shudder and kindle? I
shudder, inasmuch as I am unlike it ; I kindle, inas-
much as I am like it. It is Wisdom, Wisdom's self
which gleameth through me ; disparting my cloudi-
ness which yet again mantles over me, shrinking
from it, through the darkness which for my punish-
ment gathers upon me. For my strength is brought
dovm in need, so that I cannot support my blessings,
till Thou, Lord, Who hast been gracious to all mine
iniquities, shalt heal all my infirmities. For Thou
shalt also redeem my life from corruption, and
croion me with loving-kindness and tender mercies,
and shalt satisfy my desire with good things, be-
cause my youth shall be reneiced like an eaglets}
For in hope we are saved, wherefore loe through pa-
tience wait for Thy promises. Let him that is able,
hear Thee inwardly discoursing. I will boldly cry
out of Thy oracle, Hoio %oonderf%d are Thy Works,
0 Lord, in Wisdom hast Thou made them all.^
1 Ps. ciii. 3 sq 2 Ps. civ. 24.
310 The difference between
And this Wisdom is the Beginning^ and in that Be-
ginning didst Tho.u Y)%ake heaven and earth.
X. 12. Lo, are they not full of their old leaven,
who say to us, "What was God doing before He
made heaven and earth f'' "For if (say they) He
were unemployed and wrought not, why does He
not also henceforth, and forever, as He did hereto-
fore ? For did any new motion arise in God, and a
new will to make a creature, which he had never be-
fore made, how then would that be a true eternity,
where there ariseth a will, which was not ? For the
will of God is not a creature, but before the crea-
ture ; seeing nothing could be created, unless the
will of the Creator had preceded. The will of God,
then, belongeth to His very Substance. And if
aught have arisen in God's Substance, which before
was not, that Substance cannot be truly called eter
nal. But if the will of God has been from eternity
that the creature should be, why was not the crea-
ture from eternity ? "
XI. 13. They who speak thus, do not yet under-
stand Thee, O Wisdom of God, Light of souls;
understand not yet how the things be made, which
by Thee, and in Thee are made : yet they strive to
comprehend things eternal, whilst their heart flutter-
eth between the motions of things past and to
come, and is still unstable. Who shall hold their
heart, and fix it, that it be settled awhile, and awhile
catch the glory of that ever-fixed Eternity, and com-
pare it with the times which are never fixed, and see
that it cannot be compared ; and that a long time
time and eternity. 311
cannot become long but out of many motions j^a^s-
ing by, which motions cannot be prolonged alto-
gether ; but that in the Eternal nothing passeth, but
the whole is present ; whereas no time is all at once
present : and that all time past is driven on by time
to come, and all to come followeth upon the past ;
and all past and to come, is created, and flows out of
that which is ever j^i'esent? Who shall hold the
heart of man, that it may stand still, and see how
eternity ever still-standing, neither past nor to come,
uttereth the times past and to come ? Can my hand
do this, or the hand of my mouth by speech bring
about a thing so great ?
XII. 14. See, I answer him that asketh, "What
did God before He 7nade heaven and earth .^" I an-
swer not as one is said to have done, merrily (elud-
ing the pressure of the question), "He was preparing
hell for pryers into mysteries." It is one thing to an-
swer inquiries, another to make s^^ort of inquirers. I
answer not thus ; for rather had I answer, "I know-
not," what I know not, than so answer as to raise a
laugh at him who asketh deep things, and gain
praise as one who answereth false things. But I say
that Thou, our God, art the Creator of every crea-
ture ; and if by the name " heaven and earth," every
creature be understood, I boldly say, that before
God made heaven and earth. He did not make any-
thing. For if He made, what did He make but a
creature ? And would that I knew whatsoever I de-
sire to know to my profit, as surely as I know that
312 Time is created.
no creature was made, before there was made any
creature.
XIII. 15. But if any excursive brain rove over
the images of forepassed times, and wonder that
Thou the God Almighty and All-creating and All-
supporting, Maker of heaven and earth, didst for in-
numerable ages forbear from so great a work, before
Thou wouldest make it ; let him awake and con-
sider, that he wonders at false conceits. For whence
could innumerable ages pass by, which Thou madest
not. Thou the Author and Creator of all ages ? or
what times should there be, which were not made
by Thee ? or how should they pass by, if they never
w^ere ? Seeing, then, Thou art the Creator of all
times, if any time was before Thou madest heaven
and earthy why say they that Thou didst forego
working? For that very time didst Thou make,
nor could times pass by, before Thou madest those
times. But if before heaven OMd earth there was no
time, why is it demanded, what Thou then didst ?
For there was no "then," when there was no time.
16. N'or dost Thou by time precede time: else
shouldest Thou not precede all times. But Thou
precedest all things past, by the sublimity of an
ever-present eternity ; and surpassest all future be-
cause they are future, and when they come, they
shall be past; but Thou art the Same, and Thy
years fail not. Thy years neither come nor go ;
whereas ours both come and go, that they all may
come. Thy years stand together, because they do
stand ; nor are, departing, thrust out by coming years,
The idea of time inexplicable. 313
for they j^ass not away; but ours shall all be, when
they shall be no more. Thy years are one day ; and
Thy day is not daily, but to-day, seeing Thy to-day
gives not j^lace unto to-morrow, for neither doth it
replace yesterday. Thy to-day is Eternity, there-
fore didst Thou beget The Coeternal, to whom
Thou saidst, This day have I begotten Thee} Thou
hast made all things ; and before all times Thou art ;
neither in any time was time not.
XIV. 17. At no time^ then, hadst Thou not made
anything, because time itself Thou madest. And no
times are coeternal with Thee because Thou abid-
est ; but if they abode, they should not be times.
For what is time ? Who can readily and briefly ex-
plain this ? Who can even in thought comprehend
it, so as to utter a word about it ? But what in dis-
course do we mention more familiarly and know-
ingly, than time ? And we understand, when we
speak of it ; we understand, also, when we hear it
spoken of by another. What then is time ? If no
one asks me, I know ; if I wish to explain it to one
that asketh, I know not; yet I say boldly, that I
know that if nothing passed away, time past were
not ; and if nothing were coming, a time to come
were not ; and if nothing were, time present were
not. Those two times then, past and to come, how
are they, seeing the past now is not, and that to
come is not yet ? But the present, should it always
be present, and never pass into time past, verily it
should not be time, but eternity. If, therefore, time
IPs. ii. 7; Heb. V. 5.
314 Time lyt'esent is
present, in order to be time at all, comes into exist-
ence only because it passes into time past, how can
we say that that is in existence, whose cause of be-
ing is that it shall not be ? How is it that we can-
not truly say that time is, but because it is tending
not to be ?
XV. 18. And yet we saj^, "a long time " and a "short
time ; " still, only of time past or to come. A long
time past (for example) we call an hundred years
since; and a long time to come, an hundred years
hence. But a short time past, we call (suppose) ten
days since; and a short time to come, ten days
hence. But in what sense is that long or short,
which is not? For the past, is not now; and the
future, is not yet. Let us not, then, say, " It is long ; "
but of the past, "It hath been long ;" and of the future,
" It will be long." O my Lord, my Light, shall not
here also Thy Truth mock at man? For that past
time which was long, was it long when it was now
past, or when it was yet present ? For then might
it be long, when there was what could be long ; but
when past, it was no longer; wherefore, neither
could that be long, which was not at all. Let us not,
then, say, "Time past hath been long;" for we shall
not find what hath been long, seeing that since it
was past, it is no more ; bat let us say, "that present
time was long ; " because, when it was present, it was
long. For it had not yet passed away, so as not to
be; and therefore there was, what could be long; but
after it was past, that ceased also to be long, which
ceased to be.
an indivisible moment. 315
19. Let us see, then, thou soul of man, whether
present time can be long ; for to thee it is given to
feel and to measure length of time. What wilt thou
answer me ? Are an hundred years, when present, a
long time ? See first whether an hundred years can
be present. For if the first of these years be now
current, it is present, but the other ninety and nine
are to come, and therefore are not yet ; but if the
second year be current, one is now past, another
present, the rest to come. And so if we assume any
middle year of this hundred to be present, all be-
fore it are passed ; all after it to come ; wherefore an
hundred years cannot be present. But see at least
whether that one which is now current, itself is j^res-
ent; for if the current month be its first, the rest are
to come; if the second, the first is already past,
and the rest are not yet. Therefore neither is the year
now current present; and if not present as a whole,
then is not the year present. For twelve months are
a year; of which, whatever be the current month is
present ; the rest past or to come. Although neither
is that current month present, but one day, only;
the rest being to come, if it be the first ; past, if the
last ; if any of the middle, then amid past and to come.
20. See how the present time, which alone we
found could be called long, is abridged to the length
scarce of one day. But let us examine that also ;
because, neither is one day present as a whole. For
it is made up of four and twenty hours of night and
day ; of which, the first hath the rest to come ; the
last hath them past; and any of the middle hath
316 Contradictions involved in
those before it past, those behind it to come. Yea,
that one hour passeth away in flying particles. What-
soever of it hath flown away, is past ; whatsoever re-
maineth, is to come. If an instant of time be con-
ceived, which cannot be divided into the smallest
particles of moments, that alone is it, which may be
called present. Which yet flies with such speed
from future to past, as not to be lengthened out with
the least stay. For if it be, it is divided into past
and future. The present hath no space. Where
then is the time which we may call long? Is it to
come ? But, of this we do not say, " It is long," be-
cause it is not yet at all, so as to be long ; but we
say, " It will be long." When, therefore, will it be
long? For if, while it is yet in the future, it cannot
be long (because what does not exist cannot be long),
and, therefore, can be long only when from the fu-
ture, which as yet is not, it shall begin now to be, and
have become present, that so there should exist what
maybe long, — if this be so, then does time present
cry out, in the words above, that it cannot be long.
XVI. 21. And yet. Lord, we perceive intervals of
times, and compare them, and say, some are shorter,
and others longer. We measure, also, how much
longer or shorter this time is than that ; and we an-
swer, " This is double, or treble, and that, but once,
or only just so much as that." But we measure times
as they are passing, by perceiving them; but past,
which now are not, or the future, which are not yet,
who can measure? unless a man shall presume to say,
that can be measured which is not. When the time
the idea of twie. 317
is passing, it may be perceived and measured ; but
when it is past, it cannot, because it is not.
XYII. 22. I ask. Father, I affirm not; O my God,
rule and guide me. Who will tell me that there
are not three times (as we learned when boys, and
taught boys), past, present, and future, but only one,
the present, because those two are not? Or are they
also; and when from future it becometh present,
doth it come out of some secret place; and so, when
retiring, from present it becometh past ? For where
did they, who foretold things to come, see them, if
as yet they be not? For that which is not, cannot
be seen. And they who relate things past, could not
relate them, if in mind they did not discern them,
and if they were not, they could no way be dis-
cerned. Things then past and to come are.
XVIII. 23. Permit me. Lord, to seek further. O
my Hope, let not my purpose be confounded. For
if times past and to come be, I would know where
they be. Which yet if I cannot, yet I know, where-
ever they be, they are not there as future, or past,
but present. For if there also they be future, they
are not yet there ; if there also they be past, they are
no longer there. Wheresoever then is whatsoever
is, it is only as present. Although when past facts
are related, there are drawn out of the memory, not
the things themselves which are past, but words,
which, conceived by the images of the things, they,
in passing, have through the senses left as traces in
the mind. Thus my childhood, which now is not, is
in time past, which now is not ; but now when I re-
23
318 Past and future conceived as present.
call its image, and tell of it, I behold it in the present,
because it is still in my memory. Whether there be a
like cause of foretelling things to come also, so that of
things which as yet are not, the images may be per-
ceived before already existing, I confess, O my God,
I know not. This indeed I know, that we generally
think before on our future actions, and that that fore-
thinking is present, but the action whereof we fore-
think is not yet, because it is to come. Which, when
we have set upon, and have begun to do what we
were forethinking, then shall that action be; because
then it is no longer future, but present.
24. Which way soever, then, this secret fore-per-
ceiving of things to come be, that only can be seen
which is. But what now is, is not future, but pres-
ent. When, then, things to come are said to be seen,
it is not themselves, which as yet are not (that is,
which are to be), but their causes, perchance, or signs,
are seen, which already are. Therefore they are not
future but present to those who now see that from
which the future, being fore-conceived in the mind, is
foretold. Which fore-conceptions again now are;
and those who foretell those things, do behold the
conceptions present before them. Let now the nu-
merous variety of things furnish me some example.
I behold the daybreak, I foretell that the sun is about
to rise. What I behold, is present; what I fore-sig-
nify, to come ; not the sun, which already is; but the
sun-rising, which is not yet. And yet did I not in
my mind imagine the sun-rising itself (as now while
I speak of it), I could not foretell it. But neither is
GocCs foreJcnoioledge mexplicahle. 319
that day-break, which I discern in the sky, the sun-=
rising, although it goes before it ; nor that imagina-
tion of my mind ; which two are seen now present,
that the other which is to be may be foretold. Fu-
ture things then are not yet ; and if they be not yet,
they are not ; and if they are not, they cannot be
seen ; yet foretold they may be from things present,
which are already, and are seen.
XIX. 25. Thou, then. Ruler of Thy creation, by
what way dost Thou teach souls things to come ?
For Thou didst teach Thy Prophets. By what way
dost Thou, to Whom nothing is to come, teach things
to come ; or, rather, concerning the future, dost teach
things present ? For, what is not, cannot be taught.
Too far is this way out of my ken : it is too mighty
for me, I cannot attain unto it / but from Thee I
can, when Thou shalt vouchsafe it, O sweet Light of
my hidden eyes.
XX. 26. What now is clear and plain is, that
neither things to come nor past are. N'or is it prop-
erly said, " There be three times, past, present, and to
come : " yet perchance it might be properly said,
"There be three times; a present of things past, a
present of things 2:>i'esent, and a present of things fu-
ture." For these three do exist, in some sort, in the
soul, but otherwise do I not see them : a present of
things past, memory; a present of things present,
sight ; a present of things future, expectation. If
thus we be permitted to speak, I see three times, and
I confess there are three. Let it be said, too, "There
be three times, past, present, and to come," in our in-
320 How time is measured
correct way. See, I object not, nor gainsay, nor find
fault, if what is so said be but understood, that nei-
ther what is to be, now is, nor what is past. For
there are but few things which we speak properly,
most things improperly; still the things intended are
understood.
XXI. 27. I said then even now, we measure times
as they pass, in order to be able to say, this time is
twice so much as that one; or, this is just so much
as that; and so of any other part of time which is
measurable. Wherefore, as I said, we measure times
as they pass. And if any should ask me, " How know-
est Thou?" I might answer, "I know that we do
measure, nor can we measure things that are not;
and things past and to come are not." But time
present how do we measure, seeing it hath no space ?
It is measured while passing, but when it shall have
passed, it is not measured ; for there will be nothing
to be measured. But whence, by what way, and
whither passes it, wliile it is a measuring ? whence,
but from the future? which way but through the
present? whither, but into the past? From thr.t,
therefore, which is not yet, through that, which hatli
no space, into that, which now is not. Yet what do
we measure, if not time in some space ? For we do
not say single, and double, and triple, and equal, or
any other like way that we speak of time, except of
spaces of times. In what space, then, do we measure
time passing? In the future, into which it passes?
But what is not yet, we measure not. Or in the
present, through which it passes? But no space,
Augustine prays for light. 321
we do not measure. Or in the past, to which it
passes ? But neither do we measure that which now
is not.
XXII. 28. My soul is on fire to know this most
intricate enigma. Shut it not up, O Lord my God,
good Father ; through Christ I beseech Thee, do not
shut up these usual, yet hidden things from my desire,
that it be hindered from piercing into them ; but let
them dawn through Thy enlightening mercy, O Lord.
Whom shall I inquire of concerning these things ?
and to whom shall I more fruitfully confess my igno-
rance, than to Thee, to Whom these my studies, so
vehemently kindled towards Thy Scriptures, are not
so troublesome ? Give what I love ; for I do love,
and this hast Thou given me. Give, Father, Who
truly Jcnowest to give good gifts mito Thy children.
Give, because I have taken upon me to know, and
trouble is before me until Thou openest it. By
Christ, I beseech Thee, in His Name, Holy of Holies,
let no man disturb me. Yov I believed, and therefore
do I speak. This is my hope, for this do I live, that
I may contemplate the delights of the Lord. Be-
hold, Thou hast made my days old, and they pass
away, and how, I know not. And we talk of time
and time, and times and times. " How long time is
it since he said this?" "how long time since he did
this?" and, "how long time since I saw that?" and,
"this syllable hath double time to that single short
syllable." These words we speak, and these we hear,
and are understood, and understand. Most manifest
and ordinary they are, and the self-same things again
322 Time is not ^motion.
are but too deeply hidden, and the discovery of them
were new.
XXIII. 26. I heard once from a learned man, that
the motions of the sun, moon and stars constituted
time, and I assented not. For why should not,
rather, the motions of all bodies be times? Or, if the
lights of heaven should cease, and a potter's wheel
run round, would there be no time by which we
might measure those whirlings, and say, that either
it moved with equal pauses, or if it turned some-
times slower, otherwise quicker, that some rounds
were longer, others shorter ? Or, while we were say-
ing this, should we not also be speaking in time ?
And would there not be in our words, some sylla-
bles short, others long, because those sounded in a
shorter time, these in a longer ? God grant to men
to see in a small thing, notices common to things
great and small. The stars and lights of heaven are
also /or signs^ andfoi- seasons^ and for years and for
days; they are ; yet neither should I say that the
going round of that wooden wheel was a day, nor
yet he, that it was therefore no time.
30. I desire to know the force and nature of time,
by which we measure the motions of bodies, and say,
for example, " This motion is twice as long as that."
For I ask, seeing "day" denotes not the stay only of
the sun upon the earth (according to which, day is
one thing, night another), but also its whole circuit
from east to east again (according to which, we say,
" there passed so many days," the night being inclu-
ded when we say, " so many days," and the nights not
Time is an extensio7i^ or duration. 323
reckoned apart), — seeing then a day is completed by
the motion of the sun, and by his circuit from east to
east again, I ask, does the motion alone make the
day, or the stay in which that motion is completed,
or both ? For, if the first be the day, then should we
have a day, although the sun should finish that course
in so small a space of time as one hour comes to. If
the second, then should not that make a day, if be-
tween one sun-rise and another there were but so
short a stay as one hour comes to ; but the sun must
go four and twenty times about to complete one
day. If both, then neither could that be called a
day, if the sun should run his whole round in the
space of one hour ; nor that, if, while the sun stood
still, so much time should overpass, as the sun usu-
ally makes his whole course in, from morning to
morning. I will not, therefore, now ask what that
is which is called day ; but, what time is, whereby
we, measuring the circuit of the sun, should say
that it was finished in half the time it was wont, if
so be it was finished in so small a space as twelve
hours ; and comparing both times, should call this a
single time, that a double time ; even supposing the
sun to run his round from east to east, sometimes in
that single, sometimes in that double time. Let no
man, then, tell me that the motions of the heavenly
bodies constitute times because, when at the prayer
of one the sun had stood still till he could achieve
his victorious battle, the sun stood still, but time went
on. For in its own allotted space of time was that
324 Time is not motion.
battle waged and ended.^ I perceive time, then, to be
a certain extension. But do I perceive it, or seem to
perceive it ? Thou, Light and Truth, wilt show me.
XXI Y. 31. Dost Thou bid me assent, if any de-
fine time to be "motion of a body? " Thou dost not
bid me. For that no body is moved, but in time, I
hear; this Thou sayest; but that the motion of a
body is time, I hear not; Thou sayest it not. For
when a body is moved, I by time measure how long
it moves, from the time it began to move, until it left
off. And if I did not see whence it began, and it
continue to move so that I see not when it ends, I
cannot measure, save perchance from the time I be-
gan to see, until I cease to see. And if I look long,
I can only pronounce it to be a long time, but not
how long; because when we say "how long," we do
it by comparison; as, "this is as long as that," or
"this twice so long as that," or the like. But when
we can mark the distances of the places, whence and
whither goeth the body moved, or its parts, if it
moved as in a lathe, then can we say precisely in
how much time the motion of that body or its part,
from this place unto that, was finished. Seeing,
therefore, the motion of a body is one thing, that by
which we measure how long it is, another ; who sees
not, which of the two is rather to be called time?
And if a body sometimes moves, and sometimes
stands still, then we measure not its motion only, but
its standing still, too, by time ; and we say, " it stood
still as much as it moved;" or, "it stood still twice
1 Joshua X. 12 eq.
Augustine prays for illumination.
325
or thrice as long as it moved ; " or any other space
which our measuring hath either ascertained, or
guessed; more or less, as we used to say. Time,
then, is not the motion of a body.
XXV. 32. And I confess to Thee O Lord, that I
yet know not what time is ; and again I confess unto
Thee, O Lord, that I know that I speak this in time,
and that having long spoken of time, that very "long"
is not long, but by the pause of time. How then
know I this, seeing I know not what time is ? or is
it perchance that I know not how to express what I
know? Woe is me, that do not even know what I
do not know. Behold, O my God, before Thee I lie
not; but as 1 speak, so is my heart. Thou shall
light my candle; Thou^ 0 Lord my God^ wilt en-
lighten 7ny dai'Jcness.
XXVI. 33. Does not my soul most truly confess
unto Thee that I do measure times? Do I then
measure, O my God, and know not what I measure ?
I measure the motion of a body in time ; and the
time itself do I not measure ? Or could I indeed
measure the motion of a body, how long it,were, and
in how long space it could come from this place to
that, without measuring the time in which it is
moved? This same time, then, how do I measure ? do
we by a shorter time measure a longer, as by the space
of a cubit, the space of a rood? for so indeed we seem
by the space of a short syllable, to measure the space
of a long syllable, and to say that this is double the
other. Thus measure we the spaces of stanzas by
the spaces of the verses, and the spaces of the verse
326 Short times measure long times.
by the spaces of the feet, and the spaces of the feet
by the si)aces of the syllables, and the spaces of long
by the spaces of short syllables, not measuring by pa-
ges (for then we measure spaces, not times) ; but
when we utter the words and they pass by, we say,
" It is a long stanza, because composed of so many
verses ; long verses, because consisting of so many
feet ; long feet, because prolonged by so many sylla-
bles ; a long syllable, because double to a short one."
But neither do we this way obtain any certain meas-
ure of time ; because it may be that a shorter verse,
pronounced more fully, may take up more time
than a longer, pronounced hurriedly. And so for a
verse, a foot, a syllable. Whence it seemed to me,
that time is nothing else than protraction ; but of
what, I know not. And I wonder whether it be not
of the mind itself? For what, I beseech Thee, O my
God, do I measure, when I say, either indefinitely,
"this is a longer time than that," or definitely, "this
is double that ? " That I measure time, I know ; and
yet I measure not time to come, for it is not yet ; nor
present, l:j^cause it is not protracted by any space ; nor
past, because it now is not. What then do I meas-
ure ? Times passing, not past ? for so I said.
XXYII. 34. Courage, my mind, and press on
mightily. God is our helper, He 7nade us, and not
we ourselves. Press on where truth begins to dawn.
Suppose, now, the voice of a body begins to sound,
and does sound, and sounds on, and list, it ceases ; it
is silence now, and that voice is past, and is no more
a voice. Before it sounded, it was to come, and
Difficulties and contradictions. 327
could not be measured, because as yet it was not, and
now it cannot, because it is no longer. Then, there-
fore, while it sounded, it might ; because there then
was what might be measured. But yet even then it
was not at a stay ; for it was passing on, and passing
away. Could it be measured the rather, for that ?
For, while passing, it was being extended into some
space of time, so that it might be measured, since the
present hath no space. If, therefore, then it might,
then, lo, suppose another voice hath begun to sound,
and still soundeth in one continued tenor, without
any interruption ; let us measure it while it sounds ;
seeing when it hath left sounding, it will then be
past, and nothing left to be measured ; let us meas-
ure it verily, and tell how much it is. But it sounds
still, nor can it be measured but from the instant it be-
gan in, unto the end it left off in. For the very space
between is the thing we measure ; namely, from some
beginning, unto some end. Wherefore, a voice that
is not yet ended, cannot be measured, so that it may
be said how long, or short it is ; nor can it be called
equal to another, or double to a single, or the like.
But when ended, it no longer is. How may it then
be measured ? And yet we measure times ; but yet
neither those which are not yet, nor those which no
longer are, nor those which are not lengthened out by
some pause, nor those which have no bounds. We
measure neither times to come, nor past, nor present,
nor passing ; and yet we do measure times.
35. " Deus Creator omnium," this verse of eight
syllables alternates between short and long syllables.
328 Time is measured
The four short, then (the first, third, fifth, and sev-
enth), are but single, in respect of the four long (the
second, fourth, sixth, and eighth). Every one of the
latter hath a double time to every one of the former;
I pronounce them, report on them, and find it so, as
one's plain sense perceives. By plain sense, then, I
measure a long syllable by a short, and I sensibly find
it to have twice so much ; but when one sounds after
the other, if the former be short, the latter long, how
shall I detain the short one, and how, measuring,
shall I api^ly it to the long, that I may find this to
have twice so much ; seeing the long does not begin
to sound unless the short leaves sounding? And
that long one itself, I do not measure while present,
seeing I measure it not till it be ended ? Now its
ending is its passing away. What then is it I meas-
ure? where is the short syllable by which I meas-
ure ? where the long which I measure ? Both have
sounded, have flown, passed away, are no more;
and yet I measure, and confidently answer (so far as
is presumed on a practised sense), that as to space
of time this syllable is but single, that double. And
yet I could not do this, unless they were already past
and ended. It is not, then, themselves, which now
are not, that I measure, but something in my mem-
ory, which there remains fixed.
36. It is in thee, my mind, that I measure times.
Inten-upt me not, that is, interrupt not thyself with
the tumults of thy impressions. In thee I measure
times ; the impression, which things as they pass by
cause in thee, remains even when they are gone ;
07ily when past. 329
this it is which still present, I measure, and not the
things which pass by to make this impression. This
I measure, when I measure times. Either, then, this
is time, or I do not measure times. How is it then,
when we measure silence, and say that this silence
hath held as long time as did that Voice ? do we not
stretch out our thought to the measure of a voice,
as if it sounded; that so we may be able to report of
the intervals of silence in a given sj)ace of time ? For
though both voice and tongue be still, yet in thought
we go over poems, and verses, and any other discourse,
or dimensions of motions, and report as to the spaces
of times, how much this is in respect of that, no
otherwise than if vocally we did pronounce them.
If a man would utter a lengthened sound, and had
settled in thought how long it should be, he hath in
silence already gone through a space of time, and,
committing it to memory, begins to utter that speech,
which sounds on, until it be brought unto the end
proposed. Yea it hath sounded, and will sound ; for
so much of it as is finished, hath sounded already,
and the rest will sound. And thus passeth it on,
until the present intent conveys over the future into
the past ; the past increasing by the diminution of
the future, until by the consumption of the future, all
is past.
XXVIII. 37. But how is that future diminished or
consumed, which as yet is not? or how that past in-
creased, which is now no longer, unless because that
in the mind which enacts this, there be three things
done? For it expects, it considers (attendit), it re-
330 Time is measured in the m.ind.
members ; in such way that that which it expects,
through that which it considers, passes into that which
it remembers. Who therefore denies that things to
come are not as yet ? and yet, there is in the mind an
expectation of things to come. And who denies past
things to be now no longer? and yet there is still in
the mind a memory of things past. And who denies
that the present time hath no space, because it passes
away in a moment ? and yet our consideration (at-
tentio) continues, through which that which shall
be present proceeds to become absent. It is not
then future time, that is long, for as yet it is not ;
but a " long future," is " a long expectation of the fu-
ture." Nor is it time past, which now is not, that is
long ; but a " long past," is " a long memory of the
past."
38. I am about to repeat a Psalm that I know.
Before I begin, my expectation is extended over the
whole ; but when I have begun, how much soever of
it I shall separate off into the past, is extended along
my memory; thus the life of this action of mine is
divided between my memory as to what I have re-
peated, and expectation as to what I am about to re-
peat; but "consideration" (attentio) is present with
me, that through it, what was future may be con-
veyed over, so as to become past. Which the more
it is done again and again, so much the more the ex-
pectation being shortened, is the memory enlarged;
till the whole expectation be at length exhausted,
when that whole action being ended, shall have
passed into memory. And this which takes place in
All distractions harmonized iJi God. 331
the whole Psalm, takes place in each several portion
of it, and each several syllable ; the same holds in
that longer action, whereof this Psalm may be a
part; the same holds in the whole life of man,
whereof all the actions of man are parts; the same
holds through the whole age of the sons of men,
whereof all the lives of men are parts.
XXIX. 39. But because Thy loving kindness is
better than all lives, behold, my life is but a distrac-
tion, and TJiy right hand upheld me, in my Lord
the Son of Mmi, the Mediator hetioixt Thee, The
One, and us many (many also through our manifold
distractions amid many things), that by Him I may
apprehend in Whom I have been apprehended, and
may be re-collected from my old conversation, to fol-
low The One, forgetting what is behind, and, not
distended, but extended, not to things which shall be
and shall pass away, but to those things which are
before,iioX. distractedly but mtQntly folloio on for the
prize of my heavenly calling where I may hear the
voice of Thy praise, and contemplate Thy delights,
ever coming, never passing away. But now are my
years spent in mourning. And Thou, O Lord, art
my comfort, my Father everlasting. But I have been
severed amid times, whose order I know not ; and
my thoughts, even the inmost bowels of my soul, are
rent and mangled with tumultuous varieties, until I
flow together into Thee, purified and molten by the
fire of Thy love.
XXX. 40. And now will I stand, and become solid
in Thee, in my mould. Thy truth ; nor will I endure
332 Time is created.
the questions of men, who by a penal disease thirst
for more than they can contain, and say, " "What did
God before He made heamn and earth f'' " Or, how
came it into His mind to make anything, having
never made anything?" Give them, O Lord, to be-
think themselves what they say, and to find that
"never" cannot be j^redicated, when "time" is not.
This, then, that He is said "never to have made;"
what else is it than to say, "in 'no time' to have
made ? " Let them see, therefore, that time cannot
be without created being, and cease to speak that
vanity. May they also be extended towards those
things which are before; and understand Thee be-
fore all times the eternal Creator of all times, and
that no times be coeternal with Thee, nor any crea-
ture, even if there be any creature before all times.
XXXI. 41. O Lord my God, what a dej^th is that
recess of Thy mysteries, and how far from it have the
consequences of my transgressions cast me ! Heal
mine eyes that I may share the joy of Thy light.
Certainly, if there be a mind gifted with such vast
knowledge and foreknowledge as to know all things
past and to come, as I know one well-known Psalm,
truly that mind is passing wonderful, and fearfully
amazing ; in that, nothing past, nothing to come in
after ages, is any more hidden from him, than when
I sung that Psalm, was hidden from me, what, and
how much of it had passed away from the beginning,
what, and how much there remained unto the end.
But far be it, that Thou, the Creator of the universe,
the Creator of souls and bodies, far be it, that Thou
GocTs cognition different from man's. 333
shoiilclest in such wise know all past and to come.
Far, far more wonderfully, and far more mysteri-
ously, dost Thou know them. For not as the feel-
ings of one who sings what he knows, or hears some
well-known song, through expectation of the words
to come, and the remembering of those that are past,
are varied, and his senses divided, — not so doth any
thing happen unto Thee, unchangeably eternal, that
is, the Eternal Creator of minds. As, then. Thou in
the JBeginning knewest the heaven and the earthy
without any variety of Thy knowledge, so madest
Thou in the beginning^ heaven and earthy without
any distraction of thy action. Whoso understand-
eth, let him confess unto Thee ; and whoso under-
standeth not, let him confess unto Thee. Oh, how
high art Thou ! and yet the humble in heart are Thy
dwelling-place ; for Thou raisest up those that are
bowed down^ and they fall not, whose elevation Thou
art.
24
THE TWELFTH BOOK.
AUGUSXraE PROCEEDS TO COMMENT ON GENESIS I. 1, AND EXPLAINS
THE "heaven" to MEAN THAT SPIRITUAL AND INCORPOREAL
CREATION, WHICH CLEAVES TO GOD UNINTERMITTINGLY, ALWAYS
BEHOLDING HIS COUNTENANCE — " EARTH," THE FORMLESS MATTER
WHEREOF THE CORPOREAL CREATION WAS AFTERWARDS FORMED —
HE DOES NOT REJECT, HOWEVER, OTHER INTERPRETATIONS, WHICH
HE ADDUCES, BUT RATHER CONFESSES THAT SUCH IS THE DEPTH
OF HOLY SCRIPTURE, THAT MANIFOLD SENSES MAY AND OUGHT TO
BE EXTRACTED PROM IT, AND THAT WHATEVER TRUTH CAN BE
OBTAINED FROM ITS WORDS, DOES, IN FACT, LIE CONCEALED IN
THEM.
I. 1. My heart, 0 Lord, touched with the words
of Thy holy Scripture, is much busied, amid this
poverty of my Ufe. And therefore, oftentimes, is the
poverty of human understanding copious in words,
because inquiring hath more to say than discovering,
and demanding is longer than obtaining, and our
hand that knocks hath more work to do than our
hand that receives. But we have the promise (who
shall make it null ?) : If God he for us, who can be
against us? Ash, and ye shall have; seek, and ye
shall find; knock, and it shall he opened unto you.
For every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that
seeketh,findeth ; and to him that knocketh, shall it he
opened} These are Thine own promises ; and who
1 1 Matt. vii. 7.
The visible and invisible heavens. 335
need fear to be deceived, when the Truth prom=
iseth?
II. 2. The lowliness of my tongue confesseth unto
Thy Highness, that Thou madest heaven and earth;
this heaven which I see, and this earth that I tread
upon, whence also is this earth that I bear about
me, Thou madest it. But where is that heaven of
heavens^ O Lord, which we hear of in the words of
the Psalm : The heaven of heavens are the LordJs;
hut the earth hath He given to the children of men f^
Where is that heaven which we see not, and, com-
pared with which, all this which we see is earth ?
For this corporeal whole, not being wholly every-
where, hath in such wise received its portion of
beauty in these lower parts, whereof the lowest is
this our earth ; but in comparison to that heaven
of heavens^ even the heaven of our earth is but
earth : yea, both these great bodies may not absurdly
be called earth, when compared to that unknown
heaven, which is the Lord's, not the sons' of men.
III. 3. And now this earth was invisible and with-
out form, and there was I know not what depth of
abyss, upon which there was no light, because it had
no shape. Therefore didst Thou command it to be
written, that darkness loas upon the face of the deep,
— what else than the absence of light ? For had
there been light, where should it have been but by
being over all, aloft, and enlightening ? Where then
light was not, what was the presence of darkness,
but the absence of light ? Darhness, therefore, was
1 P8. cxv. 16.
336 The primitwe formless chaos.
upon it, because light was not upon it ; as where
sound is not, there is silence. And what is it to have
silence there, but to have no sound there? Hast not
Thou, O Lord, taught this soul, which confesseth
unto Thee ? Hast not Thou taught me, Lord, that
before Thou didst form and diversify this formless
matter, there was nothing ; neither color, nor figure,
nor body, nor spirit? And yet not altogether no-
thing ; for there was a certain formlessness, without
any beauty.
ly. 4. How then should it be called, that it might
be in some measure conveyed to those of duller
mind, but by some ordinary word ? And what,
among all parts of the world, can be found nearer to
an absolute formlessness, than earth and deep? For,
occupying the lowest stage, they are less beautiful
than the other higher parts are, transparent all and
shining. Wherefore, then, may I not conceive the
formlessness of matter (which Thou hadst created
without beauty, whereof to make this beautiful
world) to be suitably intimated unto men, by the
name oi earth invisible and icithout form.
V. 5. So that when thought seeketh what tho
sense may conceive under this, and saith to itself,
"It is no intellectual form, as life, or justice, because
it is the matter of bodies; nor object of sense, be-
cause, being invisible and without form, there was in
it no object of sight or sense," — while man's thought
thus saith to Itself, it may endeavor either to know
it, by being ignorant of it; or to be ignorant, by
knowing it.
Augustine is unable to conceive the fannies s. 307
VI. 6. But I, Lord (if I would by my tongue and
my pen confess unto Thee the whole that Thyself
hath taught me of that matter, the name whereof
hearing and not understanding, when they who un-
derstood it not told me of it), so conceived of it, as
having innumerable forms, and di^'erse. And there-
fore I did not clearly conceive it at all. My mind
tossed up and down foul and horrible "forms" out
of all order, but yet "forms;" and I called it loith-
out forni^ not because it wanted all form, but be-
cause it had such as my mind would, if presented to
it, turn from, as unwonted and jarring, and human
frailness would be troubled at. And still, that which
I conceived was without form^ not as being deprived
of all form, but in comparison of more beautiful
forms ; and true reason did persuade me, that I must
utterly uncase it of all remnants of form whatso-
ever, if I would conceive matter absolutely icithout
fortn; and I could not; for sooner could I imagine^
that which should be deprived of all form not to be,
than conceive a thing betwixt form and nothing,
neither formed, nor nothing, a formless almost noth-
ing. So my mind gave over to question thereupon
with my spirit, it being filled with the images of
formed bodies, and changing and varying them, as it
willed ; and I bent myself to the bodies themselves,
and looked more deeply into their changeableness,
by which they cease to be what they have been, and
begin to be what they were not ; and this same shift-
ing from form to form, I suspected to be through a
certain formless state, not through a mere nothing;
338 God does not create from his own
yet this I longed to know, not to suspect only. But
if my voice and pen confessed unto Thee the whole,
whatsoever knots Thou didst open for me in this
question, what reader would hold out to take in the
whole ? But my heart shall not cease to give Thee
honor, and a song of praise, for those things which
it is not able to express. The changeableness of
changeable things is itself capable of all those forms,
into which these changeable things are changed.
But this changeableness, what is it ? Is it soul ? Is
it body ? Is it that which constituteth soul or body ?
If one might use the phrase " a nothing something,"
an " is, is not," I would say this were it : and yet in
some way it even then was, as being capable of re-
ceiving these visible and compound figures.
yil. 7. But whence had it this degree of being,
but from Thee, from Whom are all things, so far
forth as they are ? but so much the further from
■Thee, as the unliker Thee ; for it is not distance in
space which makes the difference. Thou, therefore.
Lord, Who art not one in one place, and otherwise
in another, but the Self-same, and the Self-same, and
the Self-same, Holy^ Holy^ Holy^ Lord God Al-
mighty^ didst in the Beghining^ which is of Thee, in
Thy Wisdom, which was born of Thine own Sub-
stance, create something, and that out of nothing.
For Thou createdst heaven and earth; not out of
Thyself; for so should they have been equal to
Thine Only Begotten Son, and thereby to Thee
also; wlicreas no way were it right that aught
should be equal to Thee, which was not of Thee.
substance^ hut from nothing. 339
And aught else beside Thee was there not, whereof
Thou mightest create them, O God, One Trinity, and
Trine Unity; and therefore out of nothing didst
Thou create heaven and earthy — a great thing, and a
small thing; for Thou art Almighty and Good, to
make all things good, even the great heaven, and the
petty earth. Thou wert, and nothing was there be-
sides, out of which Thou createdst heaven and earth,
— things of two sorts; one near Thee, the other
near to nothing; one, to which Thou alone should-
est be superior, the other, to which nothing should
be inferior.
VIII. 8. But that heaven of heaven8 was for Thy-
self 0 Lord; and the earth which Thou gavest to
the sons of men, to be seen and felt, was not such as
we now see and feel. For it was invisible, without
form, and there was a deep, upon which there was
no light; or darkness was above the deep, that is,
more than in the deep. Because this deep of waters,
visible now, hath even in its depths a light proper
for its nature ; perceivable in some degree unto the
fishes, and creeping things in the bottom of it. But
that whole deep was almost nothing, because hith-
erto it was ?i\iogeihev without for7n ; yet there was
already that which could be formed. For Thou,
Lord, madest the world of a matter without form,
which, out of nothing. Thou madest next to nothing,
thereof to make those great things which we sons of
men wonder at. For very wonderful is this corpo-
real heaven ; ihQ firmament between water and icater,
of which upon the second day, after the creation of
340 The heaven of heavens is
light, Thou saidst, Xet it be made, and it was made,
^hioh firmament Thou calledst heaven; the heaven,
that is, to this earth and sea, which Thou madest the
third day, by giving a visible figure to the formless
matter which Thou madest before all days. For al-
ready hadst Thou made an heaven before all days,^
but that was the heaven of this heaven ; because In
the beginning Thoic hadst made heaven and earth.
But this same earth which Thou madest, was form-
less matter, because it was invisible and without
form, and dai'kness was upon the deep, — of which
invisible earth and loithout form, of which formless-
ness, of which almost nothing. Thou mightest make
all these things of which this changeable world con-
sists, but does not subsist ; whose very changeable-
ness aj^pears therein, that times can be observed and
numbered in it. For times are made by the alter-
ations of things, which result from the variation of
the figures (sj^ecies) which constitute the matter of
the invisible earth aforesaid.
IX. 9. And therefore the Spirit, the Teacher of
Thy servant, when it recounts Thee to have In the
Beginning created heaven and earth, speaks nothing
of times, nothing of days. For verily that heaven
of heavens which Thou createdst in the Begimiing,
is some intellectual creature, which, although no
1 Aucriistine here anticipates the modern geological exegesis, which
places an indelinite space of time between the action designated in the
first verse of Genesis, and that designated in the second and succeeding
verses. The first, or most absolute act of creative power, is the creation
of chaos, " before all [six] days; " then succeeds the cosmical formation
of this chaotic matter, in the six days' work. —Ed.
the intelligible world. 341
ways coeternal unto Thee, the Trinity, yet partaketh
of Thy eternity, and doth through the sweetness of
that most happy contemplation of Thyself, strongly
restrain its own changeableness ; and, without any
fall since its first creation, cleaving close unto Thee,
is placed beyond all the rolling vicissitudes of times.
Yea, neither is this very formlessness of the earth in-
visible and idithoutfonn., numbered among the days.
For where no figure nor order is, there does nothing
come or go ; and where this is not, there plainly are
no days, nor any vicissitude of spaces of times.
X. 10. Oh, let the Light, the Truth, the Light of
my heart, not mine own darkness, speak unto me. I
fell oflf into that, and became darkened ; but even
thence, even thence I loved Thee. I went astray,
and remembered Thee. I heard Thy voice behind
me, calling to me to return, and scarcely heard it,
through the tumultuousness of the enemies of peace.
And now, behold, I return in distress, and panting
after Thy fountain. Let no man forbid me ! of this
will I drink, and so live. Let me not be my own
life ; from myself I lived ill ; death was I to myself,
and I revive in Thee. Do Thou speak unto me, do
Thou discourse unto me. I have believed Thy
Books, and their words be most full of mystery.
XL 11. Already Thou hast told me with a strong
voice, O Lord, in mine inner ear, that Thou art eter-
nal, Who only hast immortality : since Thou canst
not be changed as to figure or motion, nor is Thy
will altered by times, because no will which varies is
immortal. This is in Thy sight clear to me, and let
342 The intelligible world is
it be more and more clear to me, I beseech Thee ;
and in the manifestation thereof, let me with so-
briety abide under Thy wings. Thou hast told me
also with a strong voice, O Lord, in my inner ear,
that Thou hast made all natures and substances,
which are not what Thyself is, and yet are ; that
that only is not from Thee, which is not, and, also,
the motion of the will from Thee who art, unto
that which in a less degree is, because such motion
is transgression and sin ; and that no man's sin doth
either hurt Thee, or disturb the order of Thv ajov-
ernment, first or last. This is, in Thy sight, clear
unto me, and let it be more and more cleared to me,
I beseech Thee; and in the manifestation thereof,
let me with sobriety abide under Thy wings.
12. Thou hast told me also with a strong voice, in
my inner ear, that neither is that creature coetemal
unto Thyself, whose happiness Thou only art, even
though with a most persevering purity, drawing its
nourishment from Thee, it should never put forth its
natural mutabiHty; and, although. Thyself being
ever present with it, it should with its whole affec-
tion keep itself to Thee, having neither future to
expect, nor conveying into the past what it remem-
bereth, neither altered by any change, nor distracted
into any times. O blessed creature ! if such there be,
cleaving unto Thy Blessedness ; blessed in Thee, its
eternal Inhabitant and its Enlightener! I find no
better name to call the heaven of heavens, which is
the LorcTs, than Thine house, one pure mind con-
templating Thy beatitude, most harmoniously one,
7iot co'eternal loith God. 343
in a settled peace of holy spirits, citizens of Thy city
in heavenly places; far above those heavenly places
that we see.^
13. The soul, whose pilgrimage is long and far
away by this may understand, if she now thirsts for
Thee., '\£her tears be now become her breads while they
daily say imto her., Where is thy God f if she now
seeks of Thee one thing., and desires it., that she may
dwell in Thy house all the days of her life (and
what is her life, but Thou ? and what Thy days, but
Thy eternity, for Thy years fail not., because Thou
art ever the same?)., — by this, then, may the soul
that is able, understand how far Thou art, above all
time, eternal ; seeing, Thy house, which at no time
went into a far country, although it be not coeternal
witli Thee, yet by continually and unfailingly cleaving
unto Thee, suffers no changeableness of times. This
is in Thy sight clear unto me, and let it be more and
more cleared unto me, I beseech Thee, and in the
manifestation thereof, let me with sobriety abide un-
der Thy wings.
14. There is, behold, I know not what formlessness
in the changes of the last and lowest creatures. And
who would tell me (unless one who, through the
emptiness of his own heart, wanders and tosses him-
self up and down amid his own fancies), — who but
such a one would tell me, that if all figure be so
wasted and consumed away, that there should only
remain formlessness, through which the thing was
changed and turned from one figure to another, it
1 Compare XV. 18 infra.
344 The cosmos is formed out of the chaos.
could exhibit the vicissitudes of times? Plainly it
could not, because, without variety of motions, there
are no times; and no variety,, where there is no
figure.
XII. 15. These things considered, as Thou givest,
O my God, as Thou stirrest me up to 'knoch^ and as
Thou ox>enest to me, hnoching^ I find that Thou hast
made two things, not within the compass of time,
neither of which is coeternal with Thee. One is so
formed, that, without any ceasing of contemplation,
without any interval of change, changeable, yet not
changed, it may thoroughly enjoy Thy eternity and
unchangeableness ; the other, so formless, that it had
not that which could be changed from one form into
another, whether of motion, or of repose, so as to be-
come subject unto time. But this Thou didst not
leave thus formless, because, before all days. Thou in
the Beginning didst create Heaven and Earth; the
two things that I spake of. But the Earth ivas in-
visible and without form^ and darkness icas upon the
deep. In which words is the formlessness conveyed
unto us, who are not able to conceive an utter priva-
tion of all form, without yet coming to nothing ; and,
out of this formlessness, another Heaven was created,
together with a Visible and well-formed earth, and
the waters diversely ordered, and all that which in
the formation of the world is recorded to have been
created in days ; it being of such nature, that the suc-
cessive changes of times may take place in it, as be-
ing subject to appointed alterations of motions and
of forms.
Distinction heticeen '■'' heaveoi" and ^''earthP 345
XIII. 16. This, then, is what I conceive, O my
God, when I hear Thy Scripture saying, Li the begin-
ning God made Heaven and Earthy and the earth
was hwisible and without form, and darJcness ivas
npon the deep; and not mentioning what day Thou
createdst them. It is, therefore, because of the Heaven
of heavens, that intellectual Heaven, whose intelligent
inhabitants know all at once, not iyipart, not darkly,
not through a glass, but as a whole, ^>^ manifestation,
face to face, not this thing now, and that thing anon,
but all at once, without any succession of times ; and
because of the earth invisible and without form,
without any succession of times, which succession
presents " this thing now, that thing anon " (because
where is no form, there is no distinction of things), —
it is, then, on account of these two, a primitive
formed, and a primitive formless, the one, heaven, but
the Heaven of heaven, the other earth, but the earth
invisible and without fonn, — it is because there
were these two, that Thy Scripture said, without men-
tion of days, In the Beginning God created Heaven
and Earth. For forthwith it subjoined what earth it
speaks of; and, moreover, as the Firmament is re-
corded to be created the second day, and ccdled
Heaven, it shows to us of which Heaven it before
spake without mention oi days.
XIY. 17 Wondrous depth of Thy words ! whose
surface, behold ! is before us, inviting to the docile
and childlike ; yet are they a wondrous depth, O my
God, a wondrous depth ! It is awful to look therein ;
an awfuluess of honor, and a trembling of love. The
346 Augustine argues loith those
enemies thereof I hate vehemently. O that Thon
woulclest slay them with Thy two-edged sword^ that
they might no longer be enemies unto it ! for so do I
love to have them slain unto themselves, that they
may live unto Thee. But behold others, not fault-
finders, but extollers of the book of Genesis, say:
"The Spirit of God, Who by His servant Moses
wrote these things, would not have those words thus
understood ; He would not have them understood as
Thou sayest, but otherwise, as we say." Unto whom,
Thyself, O Thou God of us all, being Judge, do I
thus answer.
XY. 18. "Will you affirm that to be false, whicli
with a strong voice Truth tells me in my inner ear,
concerning the eternity of the Creator, that His sub-
stance is noways changed by time, nor His will sep-
arate from His substance ? Wherefore, He willeth not
one thing now, another anon ; but once, and at once,
and always, He willeth all things that He willeth ;
not again and again, nor now this, now that ; nor will-
eth afterwards, what before He willed not, nor willeth
not, what before He willed ; because such a will is
mutable ; and no mutable thing is eternal : but our
God is eternal. Again, the expectation of things to
come becomes sight, when they are come, and this
same sight becomes memory, when they be past.
Now, all thought which thus varies is mutable ; and
nothing mutable is eternal : but our God is eternal."
These things I infer, and put together, and find that
ray God, the eternal God, hath not upon any new will
made any creature, nor doth His knowledcre admit
who dispute his interpretation. 347
of anything transitory. " What will ye say then, O
ye gainsayers ? Are these things false ? " — " No,"
they say. " What then ? Is it false, that every na-
ture already formed, or matter capable of form, is
only from Him Who is supremely good, because he
exists supremely ?" — " Neither do we deny this," say
they. " What then ? do you deny that there is a
certain sublime creature, with so chaste a love cleaving
unto the true and truly eternal God, that, although
not coeternal with Him, yet it is not detached from
Him, nor dissolved into the variety and vicissitude of
times, but reposeth in the most true contemplation of
Him only ? " Because Thou, O God, unto him that
loveth Thee as Thou commandest, dost show Thyself,
and sufficest him; therefore doth this sublime crea-
ture not decline from Thee, nor toward itself.
This is the house of God,^ not of earthly mould, nor
of any celestial bulk corporeal, but spiritual, and par-
taker of Thy eternity, because without defection for-
ever. For Thou hast made it fast for ever and ever ^
Thou hast given it a law ichich it shall not 2^ass.^
Nor yet is it coeternal with Thee, O God, because
not without beginning : for it was made.
20. Wisdom loas created before all things;^ not
that Wisdom which is altogether equal and coeternal
unto Thee, our God, His Father, and by Whom all
things were created, and in Whom, as the JBegiiining,
Thou createdst heaven and earthy' but that wisdom
which is created, that is, the intellectual nature,
which, by contemplating the light, is light. For this,
1 Compare XI. 12, supra. 2 Ps. cxlviii. 6. 3 Sirach i. 4.
348 Wisdo77i mci^eate^ and created.
though created, is also called wisdom. But such dif-
ference as is betwixt the Light which enlighteneth,
and which is enlightened, so much is there betwixt
the Wisdom that createth, and that created ; betwixt
the Righteousness which justifieth, and the righteous-
ness which is made by justification. For we also are
called Thy righteousness : as saith a certain servant
of Thine, That ice tnight he made the righteousness
of God in Him. Therefore, since a certain created
wisdom was created before all things, viz.^ the rational
and intellectual mind of that chaste city of Thine,
our mother which is above, and is free and eterncd in
the heavens (in what heavens, if not in those that
lyraise Thee, the Heaven of heavens f because this is
also the Heaven of heavens for the Lord) ; though
we find no time before it (because that which hath
been created before all things, precedeth also the
creature of time), yet is the eternity of the Creator
Himself before it, from Whom, being created, it took
the beginning, not indeed of time, for time itself was
not yet, but of its creation.^
21. Hence created wisdom is altogether other than
1 By this "created wisdom," this "sublime creature," this "chaste
city of God," Augustine seems to mean the intelligible world, as distin-
guished from the sensible. It is finite Spirit as a universal, in distinction
from finite Nature or Matter. The influence of his Platonic studies is
very apparent, in these speculations; and though it may be diflScult to
explain some of his phraseology, in such a manner as to keep quite clear
of the doctrine of an eternal creation de nihilo, such as Origen held, yet
Augustine is positive and plain in asserting, that this finite universal
Intelligence is a creature, and not of the same substance with God. He
carefully distinguishes it from the second person in the Trinity, the eter-
nal and absolute Wisdom, the Word which was with God and was God
the Son. — Ed.
Augustine argues with opposers. 349
Thou, and not the Self-same; because, though we
find time neither before it, nor even in it (it being
meet ever to behold Thy face, nor ever drawn away
from it, wherefore it is not varied by any change), yet
is there in it a liability to change, whence it would
wax dark and chill, were it not that, by a strong af-
fection cleaving unto Thee, like perpetual noon, it
shineth and gloweth from Thee. 0 house most light-
some and delightsome ! I have loved thy beauty, and
the place of the habitation of the glory of my Lord,
thy builder and possessor. Let my wayfaring sigh
after Thee ; and I say to Him that made thee, let
Him take possession of me also in thee, seeing He
hath made me likewise. I have gone astray like a
lost sheep y yet upon the shoulders of my Shepherd,
thy builder, I hope to be brought back to thee.
22. " What say ye to me, O ye gainsayers that I
was speaking unto, who yet believe Moses to have
been the holy servant of God, and his books the or-
acles of the Holy Ghost ? Is not this house of God,
not coeternal indeed with God, yet after its measure,
eternal in the heavens, where you seek for changes
of times in vain, because you will not find them ?
For that thing, which feels that it is ever good to
cleave fast to God, surpasses all extension, and all re-
volving periods of time." — " It is," say they. " What,
then, of all that which my heart loudly uttered unto
my God, when inwardly it heard the voice of His
praise, what part thereof do you afiirm to be false ?
Is it that the matter was without form, in which, be-
cause there was no/brm, there was no order? But
25
350 Aspirations after the Supreme Good.
where no order was, there could be no vicissitude of
times : and yet this ' almost nothing,' inasmuch as it
was not altogether nothing, was from Him certainly,
from Whom is whatsoever is, in what degree soever
it is." — " This also," say they, " do we not deny."
XVI. 23. With these would I now parley a little
in Thy presence, O my God, who grant all these
things to be true, which Thy Truth whispers unto
my soul. For those who deny these things, let them
bark, and deafen themselves as much as they please ;
I will essay to persuade them to quiet, and to open
in them a way for Thy word. But if they refuse,
and repel me, I beseech Thee, O my God, he not
Thou silent to me. Speak Thou truly in my heart,
for only Thou so speakest, and I will let them alone,
blowing upon the dust without, and raising it up
into their own eyes; and myself will enter my
chamber^ and sing there a song of loves unto Thee ;
groaning with groanings tmutterahle^ in my way-
faring, and remembering Jerusalem, with heart lifted
up towards it, Jerusalem my country, Jerusalem my
mother, and Thyself that rulest over it, the Enlight-
ener. Father, Guardian, Husband, the pure and strong
delight, and solid joy, and all good things unspeak-
able, yea, all at once, because the One Sovereign and
true Good. Nor will I be turned away, until Thou
gather all that I am, from this dispersed and this dis-
ordered estate, into the peace of that our most dear
mother, where are the first-fruits of my sjyirit al-
ready (whence I am ascertained of these things),
and Thou conform and confirm it forever, O my God,
Five explanations of Ge7i. i. 1. 351
my Mercy. But those who do not deny all these
truths, who honor Thy holy Scripture, set forth by
holy Moses, placing it on the summit of authority to
be followed, and do yet contradict me in some
things, I answer thus : Be Thyself Judge, O our
God, between my Confessions and these men's con-
tradictions.
XYII. 24. For they say, " Though these things be
true, yet did not Moses intend those two, when, by
revelation of the Spirit, he saith. In the heginning
God created heaven and earth. He did not, under
the name of heaven^ signify that spiritual or intellec-
tual creature which always beholds the face of God ;
nor under the name of earth., that formless matter."
"What then?" "That man of God," say they,
"meant as we say; this declared he by those words."
" What ?" " By the name of heaven and earth would
he first signify," say they, " universally and compen-
diously, all this visible world ; and afterwards, by the
enumeration of the several days, arrange in detail,
and, as it were, piece by piece, all those things, which
it pleased the Holy Ghost thus to enounce. For
such were that rude and carnal people to which he
spake, that he thought them fit to be entrusted with
the knowledge of such works of God only as were
visible." They agree, however, that under the words,
earth invisible and without form., and that darksome
deep., out of which it is subsequently shown that all
these visible things, which we all know, were made
and arranged during those " days," may, not incon-
gruously, be understood, this formless (first) matter.
352 Five explanations of Gen. i. 1.
25. What, now, if another should say, " that this
same formlessness and coufusedness of matter was
first conveyed under the name of heaven and earth.,
because out of it was this visible world with all those
natures which most manifestly appear in it, which is
oftentimes called by the name of heaven and earthy
created and perfected?" What, again, if another
should say, " that that invisible and visible nature is
not indeed inappropriately called heaven and earth;
and so, the universal creation which God made in
His Wisdom, that is, in the Beginning., was compre-
hended under those two words ? yet, since all things
be made not of the substance of God, but out of
nothing (because they are not the same that God is,
and there is a mutable nature in them all, whether
they abide, as doth the eternal house of God, or be
changed, as the soul and body of man are) : there-
fore the common matter of all things visible and in-
visible (as yet unformed, though caj^able of form),
out of which was to be created both heaven and
earth (^. e., the invisible and visible creature when
formed), was designated by the same names that are
given to the earth invisible and icithout form and
the darkness upon the deep., but with this distinction,
that by the earth invisible and icithout form is un-
derstood corporeal matter, antecedent to its being-
qualified by any form ; and by the darkness upon the
deep., spiritual matter, before it underwent any re-
straint of its unlimited fluidness, or received any
light from Wisdom?"
26. It yet remains for a man to say, if he will,
Divers interpretations harmless if reverent, 353
" that the already perfected and formed natures, visi-
ble and invisible, are not signified under the name of
heaven and earthy when we read, In the beginning
God made heaven and earthy but that the yet un-
formed commencement of things, the stuff apt to re-
ceive form and making, was called by these names,
because therein were confusedly contained, not as yet
distinguished by their qualities and forms, all those
which being now digested into order, are called
Heaven and Earthy the one being the spiritual, the
other the corporeal, creation.
XVIII. 27. All which things being heard and well
considered, I will not strive about words : for that is
profitable to nothing^ hut the suhversion of the hear-
ers. But the law is good to edfg, if a nia?i use it
lawfully: because the end of it is charity^ out of a
pure heart and good conscience and faith unfeigned.
And well did our Master know upon which tioo com-
mandments He hung all the laio and the Prophets.
And what doth it prejudice me, O my God, Thou
light of my eyes in secret, zealously confessing these
things, since divers things may be understood under
these words which yet are all true, — what, I say,
doth it prejudice me, if I think otherwise than
another thinketh the writer thought ? All we read-
ers verily strive to trace out and to understand his
meaning ; and seeing we believe him to speak truly,
we dare not imagine him to have said anything
which we either know or think to be false. While i
every man endeavors then to understand in the Holy
Scriptures, the same as the writer understood, what
354 Points wherein all expositors agree.
hurt is it, if a man understand what Thou, the light
of all true speaking minds, dost show him to be true,
although he whom he reads, understood not this,
seeing he also understood a Truth, though not this
truth ?
XIX. 28. For true it is, O Lord, that Thou madest
heave7i and earth ; and it is true, too, that the Be-
ginning is Thy Wisdom, in Which Thou ci^eatedst
all; and true, again, that this visible world hath for
its greater parts the heaven aiid the earth, which
briefly comprise all made and created natures. And
true, too, that whatsoever is mutable, gives us to un-
derstand a certain want of form, whereby it receiveth
a form, or is changed, or turned. It is true, that that
is subject to no times, which so cleaveth to the un-
changeable Form, as, although capable of change,
yet never to be changed. It is true, that that form-
lessness which is almost nothing, cannot be subject
to the alteration of times. It is true, that that
whereof a thing is made, may by a certain mode of
speech, be called by the name of the thing made of
it; whence that formlessness, whereof heaven and
earth were made, might be called heaven and earth.
It is true, that of things having form, theie is not
any nearer to having no form, than the "ea/-^/i" and
the ^UleqyP It is true, that not only every created
and formed thing, but whatsoever is capable of being
created and formed, Thou madest, of ichom are all
things. It is true, that whatsoever is formed out of
that which had no form, was unformed before it was
formed.
Various interpretations of Gen. i. 1. 355
XX. 29. Out of all these truths, of which they
doubt not whose inward eye Thou hast enabled to
see such things, and who unshakenly believe Thy
servant Moses to have spoken in the spirit of Truth,
one truth is taken by him, who saith, Jn the Jjegiii-
ning God made the heaven and the earth : that is " In
His word, coeterual with himself, God made the in-
telligible and the sensible, or the spiritual and the
corporeal creature ;" another truth by him that saith,
In the Beginiiing God made heaven and earth : that
is, "In His Word coeternal with Plimself, did God
make the universal bulk of this corporeal world, to-
gether with all those apparent and known creatures,
which it containeth;" another truth by him that
saith. In the Beginning God made heaven and earth:
that is, " In His Word coeternal with Himself, did
God make the formless matter of creatures spiritual
and corporeal ; " another truth by him that saith, In
the Beginning God created Heanen and Earth: that
is, "In His Word coeternal with Himself, did God
create the formless matter of the creature corporeal,
wherein heaven and earth lay as yet confused,
which being now distinguished and formed, we at
this day see in the bulk of this world;" another truth
by him who saith, In the Beginning God made
Heaven and Earth : that is, " In the very beginning
of creating and working, did God 9nake that formless
matter, confusedly containing in itself both heaven
and earth, out of which, being formed, do they now
stand out, and are apparent, with all that is in them."
XXI. And with regard to the understanding of
356 Various interpretations of Gen. i. 1.
the words following, He who saith, ^ut the earth was
invisible^ and without for'tn^ and darkness was upon
the deep: that is, "that corporeal thing that God made,
was as yet a formless matter of corporeal things,
without order, without light," chooses one of those
truths. Another truth he chooses, who says, The
earth was itivisible, and without form, and darkness
was upon the deep : that is, " this all, which is called
heaven and earthy was still a formless and darksome
matter, of which the corporeal heaven and the corpo-
real earth were to be made, with all things in them,
which are known to our corporeal senses." Another
truth he chooses, who says. The earth was invisible
and loithout form, and darkness loas upon the deep :
that is, "this all, which is called heaven and earth, was
still a formless and darksome matter, out of which was
to be made, both that intelligible heaven, otherwhere
called the Heaven of heavens, and the earth, that is,
the whole corporeal nature, under which name is
comprised this corporeal heaven also ; in a word, out
of which every visible and invisible creature was to
be created." Another truth he chooses, who says.
The earth was invisible and without form, and dark-
ness was upon the deep : that is, " the Scripture did
not call that formlessness itself by the name of
heaven and earth, but that formlessness already was,
Avhich it called the earth invisible, without form, and
darkness upon the deep, and of which it had before
said, that God had made heaven ayid earth, namely,
the spiritual and corporeal creature." Another truth
he chooses, who says The earth was invisible and
Does Scripture teach the creation of chaos? 357
without for?}^ and darhiess loas iqjon the deep : that
is, " there abeady was a certain formless matter, of
which the Scripture said before, that God made
heaven and earth; namely, the whole corporeal bulk
of the world, divided into two great parts, upper and
lower, with all the common and known creatures in
them."
XXII. 31. For, should any attempt to dispute
against these two last opinions in this manner : " If
you will not allow that this formlessness of matter
seems to be called by the name of heaven and earthy
then there was something which God had not made,
out of which to make heaven and earth ; for Scrip-
ture hath not told us that God made this formless
matter, unless we understand it to be included in the
name of heaven and earth, or of earth alone, when it
is said. In the Beginning God made the heaven and
earth, so that in what follows, and the earth was in-
visible and without form, we are to understand no
other matter but that which God made, whereof is
written above, God made heaven and earth,^'' — if this
be the manner of arguing, the maintainers of either
of those two latter opinions will, upon hearing this,
return for answer: "We do not deny this formless
matter to be indeed created very good, by God, that
God of Whom are all things ; for as we affirm that to
be a greater good, which is created and formed, so
we confess that to be a lesser good which is made
capable of creation and form, yet still good. We
say, however, that Scripture hath not set down, that
God made this formlessness, as also it hath not many
358 Matter is not coetemal with God.
other things ; as the Clieriibim^ and Seraphim^ and
those which the Apostle distinctly speaks of, Thrones^
Dominions^ Principalities^ Poioers} All which, that
God made, is most ai^parent. Or if in that which is
said. He made heaven and earthy all things be com-
prehended, what shall we say of the waters upon
which the Spirit of God moved f For if they be
comprised in this word earthy how then can formless
matter be meant in that name of earthy when we see
the waters so beautiful ? Or if it be so taken, why
then is it written, that out of the same formlessness
the Jirmament was made, and called heaven, and that
the waters were made, is not written ? For the
waters remain not formless and invisible, seeing we
behold them flowing in such a comely manner. But
if they then received that beauty, when God said,
Xet the water ichich is under the firmament he gath-
ered together, so that the gathering together be itself
the forming of them, what will be answered as to
those loaters which he above the firmament f Seeing
that if formless, they would not have been worthy of
so honorable a seat, nor is it written, by what word
they were formed. If, then. Genesis is silent as to
God's making a certain thing which yet neither sound
faith nor well-grounded understanding doubteth that
He made, and no sober teaching will dare to affirm
these waters to be coeternal with God, on the ground
that we find them to be mentioned in the book of
Genesis, but do not find when they were created;
why should we not understand that formless matter
1 Col. i. 16.
Truth offact^ and of grammatical meaning. 359
(wliich this Scripture calls the earth invisible and
without form^ and darksome deep) to have been cre-
ated of God out of nothing, and therefore not to be
coeternal to Him, notwithstanding that this history
hath omitted to show when it was created ?
XXIII. 32. These things, then, being heard and
perceived, according to the weakness of my capacity
(which I confess unto Thee, O Lord, that knowest it),
two sorts of disagreements I see may arise, when a
thing is in words related by true reporters ; one con-
cerning the truth of the things, the other concerning
the meaning of the relater. For we inquire one thing,
when we ask about the making of the creature, what
is the fact ; another thing, when we ask what Moses,
that excellent minister of Thy Faith, would have his
reader and hearer understand by those words. As
for the first thing, — away with all those who imagine
themselves to know as a fact, what is false ; and for
the second, — away with all who imagine Moses to
have written things false. But let me be united in
Thee, O Lord, with those, and delight myself in Thee,
with them, that feed on Thy Truth, in the largeness
of charity, and let us approach together unto the
words of Thy book, and seek in them for Thy mean-
ing, through the meaning of Thy servant, by whose
pen Thou hast dispensed them.
XXIY. 33. But which of us shall, among those so
many truths, which occur to inquirers in those words,
as they are diiferently understood, so discover that
one meaning, as to affirm, "This, Moses thought,"
and, "This, would he have understood in that his-
360 The interpreter of scripture
tory," with the same confidence as he would affirm, re-
specting a self-evident truth, " This is true," whether
Moses thought this or that ? For behold, O my God,
I, Thy servant, who have in this book vowed a sacri-
fice of confession unto Thee, and pray that by Thy ,
mercy I m^ij pay my vows unto TJiee^ can I, with the
same confidence wherewith I affirm that in Thy in-
commutable Word Thou createdst all things visible
and invisible, affirm also that Moses meant no other
than this, when he wrote. In the beginning God
made Heaven and Earth f No. Because I see not
in his mind that he thought of this latter when he
wrote these things, as I do see the former, in Thy
truth, to be certain. For he might have had his
thoughts upon God's commencement of creating,
when he said. In the Beginning ; and by heaveyi and
earthy in this place, he might intend no formed and
perfected nature, whether spiritual or corporeal, but
both of them inchoate and as yet formless. For I
perceive that whichsoever of the two had been said,
it might have been truly said ; but which of the two
he thought of in these words, I do not so perceive.
Although, whether it were either of these, or any
sense beside (that I have not here mentioned), which
this so great man saw in his mind, when he uttered
these words, I doubt not but that he saw it truly,
and expressed it aptly.
XXV. 34. Let no man harass me, then, by saying,
Moses thought not as you say, but as I say. For if
he should ask me, "How know you that Moses
thought that which you infer out of his words? " I
should not he dogmatic. 361
ought to take it in good part, and would answer, per-
chance, as I have above, or something more at large,
if he were unyielding. But when he saith, " Moses
meant not what you say, but what I say," and yet de-
nieth not that what both of us say may be true, —
0 my God, life of the poor, in Whose bosom is no
contradiction, pour down a softening dew into my
heart, that I may patiently bear with such as say this
to me ; who say it, not because they have a divine
Spirit, and have seen in the heart of Thy servant what
they speak, but because they be proud ; not knowing
Moses' opinion, but loving their own, not because it is
truth, but because it is theirs. Otherwise they would
equally love another true opinion, as I love what they
say, when they say true ; not because it is theirs, but
because it is true, — and on that very ground not
theirs, because it is true. But if they therefore love
it because it is true, then it is both theirs and mine,
as being in common to all lovers of truth. But
whereas they contend that Moses did not mean what
1 say, but what they say, this I like not, love not ;
for, though it were so, yet their rashness belongs not
to knowledge, but to over-boldness, and not insight
but vanity was its parent. O Lord, Thy judgments
are terrible ; seeing Thy truth is neither mine, nor
his, nor another's ; but belonging to us all, whom
Thou callest publicly to partake of it, warning us ter-
ribly, not to account it private to ourselves, lest we be
deprived of it. For whosoever challenges that as
proper in himself, which Thou propoundest to all to
enjoy, and would have that his own which belongs to
362 Differing interpretations to le proposed
all, is driven from what is in common, to his own ;
that is, from truth to a lie. For he that speaJceth a
lie^ speaheth it of his own.
35. Hearken, O God, Thou best Judge, Truth itself;
hearken to what I shall say to this gainsay er ; hear-
ken, for before Thee do I speak, and before my breth-
ren, who employ Thy law laicfully^ to the end of
charity ; hearken, and behold, if it please Thee, what
I shall say to him. This brotherly and peaceful word
do I return unto him : " If we both see that to be
true which thou sayest, and both see that to be true
which I say, where, I pray thee, do we see it ? Nei-
ther I in thee, nor thou in me ; but both in the un-
changeable Truth itself, which is above our souls.
Seeing, then, we strive not about the very light of the
Lord our God, why strive we about the thoughts of
our neighbor, which we cannot so see, as the unchange-
able Truth is seen ? because, if Moses himself had ap-
peared to us and said, ' This I meant,' even then we
should not see it, but should believe it. Let us 7iot
then he puffed up^ for one agaitist another^ above that
which is loritten; let us love the Lord our God with
all our hearty with all our soid, and icith all our
mind; and our neighbor as ourself. With a view to
which two precepts of charity, unless we believe that
Moses meant whatsoever in those books he did mean,
we shall mahe God a liai\ imagining otherwise of our
fellow-servant's mind than He hath taught us. Be-
hold, now, how foolish it is, in such abundance of
most true meaning as may be extracted out of those
words, rashly to affirm which of them Moses princi-
a spirit of charity, 363
pally meant ; and with pernicious contentions to of-
fend chanty itself, for whose sake he w^hose words
we go about to expound spake every thing."
XXYI. 36. And yet, O ray God, Thou lifter up of
ray humility, and rest of ray labor. Who hearest my
confessions, and forgivest my sins, seeing Thou com-
mandest me to love my neighhor as myself, I cannot
believe that Thou gavest a less gift unto Moses, Thy
faithful servant, than I would wish or desire Thee to
have given me, had I been born in the time he was, and
hadst Thou set me in that office, that by the service
of ray heart and tongue, those books raight be dis-
pensed, which for so long after were to profit all na-
tions, and, through the whole Avorld, from such an
eminence of authority, w^ere to surmount all sayings
of false and proud teachings. I should have desired,
verily, had I then been Moses (for we all corae from
the same lump, and %chat is man, save as Thou art
mindful of him?), and been enjoined by Thee to
write the book of Genesis, such a power of expres-
sion, and such a style, to be given me, that neither
they who cannot yet understand how God created,
might reject the sayings, as beyond their capacity,
and they who had attained thereto, might find what
true opinion soever they had by thought arrived at
not passed over in those few words of Thy servant ;
and should another man by the light of truth have
discovered another, neither should that fail of being
discoverable in those same words.
XXYII. 37. For as a fountain within a narrow
compass is more plentiful, and supplies a tide for more
364 GocVs creative agency not gradual.
streams over larger spaces than any one of those
streams which, after a wide interval, is derived fi-ora
the same fountain, so the relation of that dispenser of
Thine, which was to benefit many who were to dis-
com-se thereon, does, out of a narrow scantling, over-
flow into streams of clearest truth, whence every
man may draw out for himself such truth as he can,
upon these subjects; one, one truth, another, another,
by larger circumlocutions of discourse. For some,
when they read, or hear these words, conceive that
God, like a man or some mass endued with unbounded
power, by some new and sudden resolution, did, exte-
rior to Himself, as it were at a certain distance, cre-
ate heaven and earth., two great bodies above and
below, wherein all things were to be contained. And
when they hear, God saicJ^ Let it he made., and it was
made, they conceive of words begun and ended, sound-
ing in time, and passing away, after whose depart-
ure, that came into being which was commanded so
to do, — and whatever, of the like sort, men's acquaint-
ance with the material world would suggest. In
whom, being yet little ones and carnal, while their
weakness is by this humble kind of speech carried as
in a mother's bosom, their faith is wholesomely built
up, whereby they hold assured that God made all
those natural objects which in admirable variety
their eye beholdeth around. Which words, if any
one despising as too simple, with a proud weakness
shall stretch himself beyond the guardian nest, he
will, alas! fall miserably. Have pity, O Lord, lest
they who go by the way trample on the unfledged
Various interpretations of Gen. i. 1. 365
bird ; send Thine angel to replace it into the nest,
that it may live till it can fly.
XXYIII. 38. But others, unto whom these words
are no longer a nest, but deep, shady fruit-bowers, see
the fruits concealed therein, and fly joyously around,
and with cheerful notes seek out, and pluck them.
Reading or hearing these words, they see that all
times past and to come are surpassed by Thy eternal
and stable abiding; and yet that there is no creature
formed in time, not of Thy making. And, because
Thy will is the same that Thou art. Thou madest all
things, not by any change of will, nor by a will which
before was not ; and these things were not at first in
Thine own likeness, which is the Form of all thiwgs,
but were made, out of nothing, a formless unlikeness,
which was to be formed by Thy likeness (recurring
to Thy unity, according to their appointed capacity,
so far as is given to each thing in his kind), and might
all be made very good, whether they abide around
Thee, or, being in gradation removed in time and
place, make or undergo the beautiful variations of the
Universe. These things they see, and rejoice, in the
httle degree they here may, in the light of Thy truth.
39. Another bends his mind on that which is said,
l7i the Beginning God made heaven and earthy and be-
holds therein Wisdom, the Beginning^ because It also
speaketh unto us. Another likewise bends his mind
on the same words, and by Beginning understands
the commencement of things created; so that the
words, Li the Beginning He made^ mean He at first
made. And among them that understand. In the Be-
26
366 Various mteiyjretations of Gen. i. 1.
gi7i7ii7ig, to mean, " In Thy Wisdom Thou createdst
Heaven and Earthp one believes the matter out of
which the heaven and earth were to be created, to be
there called heaven and earth; another, natures al-
ready formed and distinguished; another, one formed
nature, and that a spiritual, under the name Heaven^
the other formless, of corjDoreal matter, under the name
Earth. They, again, who by the names heaven and
earth understand matter as yet formless, out of which
heaven and earth were to be formed, do not all un-
derstand it in one way; but some think matter is
that out of which both the intelligible and the sensi-
ble creature was to be perfected ; others think that
that only is matter, out of which this sensible corpo-
real mass was to be made, containing in its vast
bosom these visible and ordinary natures. Neither
do they, who believe creation already ordered and
arranged to be in this place called heaven and
earth., understand it in the same way ; but some un-
derstand by it, both the invisible and visible; others,
the visible only, in which we behold this lightsome
heaven, and darksome earth, with the things in them
contained.
XXIX. 40. But he that no otherwise understands
In the Beginning He made., than if it were said, At
first He made, can only properly understand heaven
and earth of the matter of heaven and earth., that is,
of the universal intelligible and corporeal creation.
For if he would understand thereby the universe as
already formed, it may be rightly demanded of him :
" If God made this first, what made He afterwards ?"
Relation of matter to form. 367
and after the universe, he will find nothing. Where-
upon, must he against his will hear another question :
"How did God make this^r^^, if nothing after?"
But when he says, God made matter first formless,
then formed, there is no absurdity, if he be but able
to discern what precedes by eternity, what by time,
what by choice, and what by origin, — by eternity,
as God is before all things ; by time, as the flower
before the fruit; by choice, as the fruit before the
flower; by origin, as the sound before the tune.
Of these four, the first and last mentioned are with
extreme difliculty understood ; the two middle, easily.
For a rare and too lofty vision is it to behold
Thy Eternity, O Lord, unchangeably making things
changeable, and thereby before them. And who,
again, is of so sharpsighted understanding, as to be
able, without great pains, to discern how the sound
is before the tune ? Because a tune is a formed
sound ; and a thing not formed, may exist ; whereas,
that which existeth not cannot be formed. Thus is
the matter before the thing made ; not because it
maketh it, seeing itself is rather made ; nor is it be-
fore by interval of time ; for we do not first in time
utter formless sounds without singing, and subse-
quently adapt or fashion them into the form of a chant,
as wood or silver, whereof a chest or vessel is fash-
ioned. For such materials do by time also precede
the forms of the things made of them ; but in singing,
it is not so : for when it is sung, its sound is heard ;
for there is not first a formless sound, which is after-
wards formed into a chant. For each sound, as soon
368 Relation of matter to form.
as made, passeth away, nor canst thou find aught to
recall and by art to compose. So then the chant is
concentrated in its sound, which sound is its matter.
And this indeed is formed, that it may be a tune;
and therefore, as I said, the matter of the sound is
before the form of the tune ; not before, through any
power it hath to make it a tune ; for a sound is no
way the work-master of the tune, but it is some-
thing corporeal, subjected to the soul which singeth,
whereof to make a tune. Nor is it first in time, for
it is given forth together with the tune ; nor first in
choice, for a sound is not better than a tune, a tune
being not only a sound, but a beautiful sound. But
it is first in origin or order of nature, because a tune
receives not form to become a sound, but a sound re-
ceives a form to become a tune. By this example, let
him that is able understand how the matter of things
was first made, and called heaven and earth, because
heaven and earth were made out of it. Yet was it
not made first in time, because the forms of things
give rise to time. It was vnthout form; but now is
in time, an object of sense, together with its fonii.
And yet nothing can be related of that chaotic mas-
ter, without considering it prior in time, whereas in
value it is last (because things formed are superior
to things without form), and is preceded by the Eto-
nity of the Creator ; that so there might be some-
thing out of nothing, whereof something might be
formed.
XXX. 41. In this diversity of true opinions, let
Truth herself produce concord, and our God have
Charity the e7id of Blhllcal studies. 369
mercy upon us, that we may use the law lawfully^ the
end of the conmiandment^ pure charity. By this, if
a man demands of me : " Which of these was the
meaning of Thy servant Moses ? " it were not the
language of my Confessions, should I not confess
unto Thee, " I know not ; " and yet I know that
those senses are true, those carnal ones excepted, of
which I have spoken what seemed necessary. And
the words of Thy Book, delivering high things low-
lily, and with few words a copious meaning, affright
not thy hopeful little ones, nor those who see and ex-
press the truth, delivered in the words Let us love
one another^ and equally love Thee our God, the foun-
tain of truth, if we are athirst for it and not for vani-
ties. Yea, let us so honor Thy servant Moses, the
dispenser of this Scripture, full of Thy Spirit, as to
believe that, when by Thy revelation he wrote these
thinsrs, he intended that sense which amono; them all
chiefly excels, both for light of truth, and fruitfulness
of profit.
XXXI. 42. So when one says, " Moses meant as
I do," and another, " Nay, but as I do," I suppose
that I speak more reverently : " Why not rather as
both, if both be true? " And if there be a third, or
a fourth, yea, if any other seeth any other truth in
those words, why may not he be believed to have
seen all these, through whom the One God hath tem-
pered the holy Scriptures to the senses of many, who
should see therein things true but divers ? For cer-
tainly (and fearlessly I speak it from my heart),
were I to indite anything to have supreme author-
370 Moses meant all that can
ity, I should prefer so to write, that whatever truth
any could apprehend on those matters, might be in-
cluded in my words, rather than set down my own
meaning so clearly as to exclude the rest, which not
being false could not offend me. I will not, therefore,
O my God, be so rash as not to beheve that Thou
vouchsafedst as much to that great man. . He, with-
out doubt, when he wrote those words, perceived and
thought on what truth soever we have been able to
find, yea, and whatsoever we have not been able, nor
yet are, but which may be found in them.
XXX. 43. Lastly, O Lord, who art God and not
flesh and blood, if man did see less, could anything
be concealed from Tfiy good Spirit (Who shall lead
me into the land of uprightness)^ which Thou Thy-
self, by those words, wert about to reveal to readers
in time to come, even though he through whom they
were spoken, perhaps, among many true meanings,
thought on only one ? Which, if so it be, let that
which he thought on be of all the highest. But to us,
O Lord, do Thou either reveal that same, or any
other true thing which Thou pleasest; that so,
whether Thou discoverest the same truth to us, as to
that servant of Thine, or some other by occasion of
those words, yet Thou mayest feed us, not error de-
ceive us. Behold, O Lord my God, how much I have
written upon a few words, how much I beseech Thee !
What strength of ours, yea, what ages would suffice
for all Thy books in this manner ? Permit me, then,
more briefly to confess unto Thee, and to choose some
one true, certain, and good sense which Thou shalt
logically hefomid in his words. 371
inspire, although many should occur, where many may
occur ; this being the law of my confession, that if I
should say that which Thy servant Moses intended,
that is right and best. For this should I endeavor,
and if I should not attain it, yet I should say what
Thy Truth willed by words to tell me, which revealed
also unto him what It willed.
THE THIRTEENTH BOOK.
CONTrNTTATION OF THE EXPOSITION OF GENESIS I. — IT CONTAINS THE
MYSTERY OP THE TRINITY, AND A TYPE OF THE FORMATION, EX-
TENSION, AND SUPPORT OF THE CHURCH.
I. 1. I call upon Thee, O my God, my Mercy,
Who didst create me, and forgat not me who forgat
Thee. I call Thee into my soul, which, by the long-
ing Thyself inspirest into it. Thou preparest for Thee.
Forsake me not now, as I call unto Thee, whom Thou
didst prevent before I called, and urged me with
much variety of repeated calls, that I would hear
Thee from afar, and be converted, and call upon
Thee, who didst call after me. For Thou, Lord,
didst blot out all my evil deservings, so as not to rec-
ompense into my hands wherewith I fell from Thee ;
and Thou hast prevented all my well deservings, so
as to recompense the work of Thy hands wherewith
Thou madest me. Because, before I was. Thou wert ;
nor was I anything, to which Thou mightest grant to
be. And yet behold, I am, out of Thy goodness pre-
venting all this which Thou hast made me, and
whereof Thou hast made me. For neither hadst
Thou need of me, nor am I any such good as to be
helpful unto Thee, my Lord and God : not in serving
All creatures subsist hy Divine goodness. 373
Thee, as though Thou wouldest tire in working, or lest
Thy power might be less, if lacking my service, nor
cultivating as a land. Thy service, which must remain
uncultivated, unless I cultivate Thee ;^ but serving and
worshipj)ing Thee, that I might receive well-being
from Thee from whom it comes that I have a being
capable of well-being.
n. 2. For of the fulness of Thy goodness doth
Thy creature subsist, that so a good, which could no
ways profit Thee, nor was of Thy substance (lest so
it should be equal to Thee), might yet exist, since it
could be made by Thy power. For what did heaven
and earthy which Thou madest in the Beginning^
deserve of Thee ? Let those spiritual and corporeal
natures, which Thou madest in Thy Wisdom, say
wherein they deserved of Thee to depend uj)on Thy
Word, in their inchoate and formless state, whether
spiritual or corporeal, and liable to fall away into an
immoderate liberty and far-distant unlikeness to Thee
(the spiritual, though loithout form., superior to the
corporeal though formed, and the corporeal without
form, better than were it altogether nothing), unless
by the same Word they were brought back to Thy
Unity, indued with form, and from Thee the One
Sovereign Good were made all very good. How did
they deserve of Thee, to be even without form ^ since
they had not been even this but from Thee ?
3. How did corporeal matter deserve of Thee to be
even invisible and without form f It had not been
1 "Neque ut sic te colara, quasi terram, ut sis incultus, si non te
colam."
374 Interjpretation of Gen. i. 3.
even this, but that Thou madest it ; and, therefore, not
being, it could not deserve of Thee to be made. Or
how could the inchoate spiritual creature deserve of
Thee even to ebb and flow darksomely like the
deep, unlike Thee, unless it had been by the same
Word turned to Him by Whom it was created, and
by Him so enlightened, become light; though not
equally, yet conformably to that Form which is equal
unto Thee ? For as in a body, to be, is not one with
being beautiful, else could a body not be deformed ;
so likewise to a created spirit to live, is not one with
living wisely, else should it be wise unchangeably.
But it is good for it always to hold fast to Tliee ;
lest what light it hath obtained by turning to Thee,
it lose by turning from Thee, and relapse into a life
resembling the darksome deep. For I, myself, who as
to the soul am a spiritual creature, but turned away
from Thee, the Light, was in that life sometimes dark-
ness; and still I labor amidst the relics of darkness,
until, in Thy Only One, I become Thy righteousness^
lihe the mountains of God; even as I have been Thy
judgments^ ichich are like the great deep}
HI. 4. That which Thou saidst in the beginning of
the creation. Let there he lights and there was lights I
understand of the spiritual creature ; because there
was already a sort of life, which Thou mightest illu-
minate. But as it had no claim on Thee for a life
which could be enlightened, so neither now, that it
was alone, had it any claim to be enlightened. For
its formless estate could not be pleasing unto Thee,
1 Ps. XXXV. 7, Septuagint ver.
The creator does not need the creature. 375
unless it became light ; and that not by existing sim-
ply, but by beholding the illuminating light, and cleav-
ing to it, so that its living and living happily it owes
to nothing but Thy grace ; being by a better change
turned unto That which cannot be changed into worse
or better ; which Thou alone art, because Thou alone
simply art : unto Thee it being not one thing to live,
another to live blessedly, seeing Thyself art Thine
own Blessedness.
IV. 5. What would be wanting unto Thy good,
which Thou Thyself art, even had these things never
been at all, or had they remained without form f
Thou madest them, not out of any want, but out of
the fulness of Thy goodness, restraining and convert-
ing them to form, as though Thy joy were fulfilled
by them. For to Thee, being perfect, their imperfec-
tions were displeasing, and hence were they perfected
by Thee, and pleased Thee. Not that Thou wert im-
perfect, and by their perfecting wert to be perfected.
For Thy good Spirit, indeed, was home over the wa-
ters^ not borne up by them, as if He rested upon them.
For those on w^hom Thy good Spirit is said to rest.,
He causes to rest in Himself. But Thy incorruptible
and unchangeable will, in itself all-sufficient for itself,
was home upon that life which Thou hadst created ;
to which, living is not one with happy living, seeing
it liveth, ebbing and flowing in its own darkness;
wherefore it remaineth to be converted unto Him by
Whom it w^as made, and to live more and more at
the fountain of life., and in His light to see light.,
and to be perfected, and enlightened, and beautified.
376 The doctrine of the Trinity
vY. 6. Lo, now the Trinity appears unto me in a
glciss darkly^ which is Thou, my God ; because Thou,
0 Father^ didst create heaven and earth in Him Who
is the Beginning of our wisdom. Which is Thy Wis-
dom, of Thyself, equal unto Thee and coeternal, that
is, Thy Son. Much now have we said of the heaven
of heavens^ and of the earth invisible and loithout
form^ and of the darksome deep^ in reference to the
wandering instabiUty of its spiritual deformity; which,
converted unto Him from Whom it had its first de-
gree of life, and enlightened by Him, became a beau-
teous life, and the heaven set between loater and water.
And under the name of God, I now held the Father,
Who made these things, and under the name of Be-
ginning,^ the Son, in whom He made these things ;
and believing, as I did, my God as the Trinity, I
searched further in His holy w^ords, and lo. Thy
Spirit moved npon the waters. Behold the Trinity,
my God, Father and Son and Holy Ghost, Creator of
all creation.
VI. 7. But what was the cause, O true-speaking
Light (unto Thee I lift up my heart, let it not teach
me vanities, dispel its darkness, and tell me), I be-
seech Thee by our mother charity, tell me the reason,
I beseech Thee, why after the mention of heaven, and
of the earth invisible and loithout form^ and darkness
upon the deep., Thy Scripture should then at length
1 " Under the name The Beginning, we understand the Son, who is a
Beginning not to the Father, but to the creature, created by Himself."
Augustine, De Genesi ad literam I. vi. Opera, Tom. III. p. 503. Ed.
Bas. 1569.
taught m Genesis I. 377
mention Thy Spirit ? Was it because it was meet
that the knowledge of Him should be conveyed, as
being " borne above ; " and this could not be said,
un'iess that were first mentioned, over which Thy
Spirit may be understood to have been home f For
neither was He home ahove the Father, nor the Son,
nor could He rightly be said to be home ahove^ if He
were home over nothing. First, then, was that to be
spoken of, over which He might be horjie ; and then
He, whom it was meet not otherwise to be spoken of
than as being home. But wherefore was it not meet
that the knowledge of Him should be conveyed other-
wise, than as being hor7ie ahove?
VH. 8. Hence let him that is able, follow with his
understanding Thy Apostle, where he thus sj^eaks,
Because Thy love is shed abroad in our hearts by the
Holy Ghost which is ginen unto us ;^ and where,
concerning spiritual gifts., he teacheth, and shoioeth
unto us a more excellent loay of charity ;^ and wdiere
he hows his knee unto Thee for us., that we may hiow
the supereminent knoicledge of the love of Christ.^
And therefore from the beginning, was He home su-
pereminent ahove the vmters. To whom shall I speak
this ? how speak of the weight of evil desires, down-
wards to the steep abyss, and how charity rises up
again by Thy Spirit which was hor7ie ahove the waters?
To whom shall I speak it ? How shall I speak it ?
Are we submerged, and do we emerge ? Certainly, it
is not in space that we are submerged and emerge.
"What can be more like, and yet what less like ? They
1 Rom. V. 5. 2 1 Cor. xii. 31. 3 Eph. iii. 14, 19
378 The elect angels heptfrom apostasy.
are affections, thej are loves ; the uncleanness of our
spirit flowing downwards with the love of cares, and
the holiness of Thy Spirit raising ns upward by love
of unanxious repose, that we may lift our hearts unto
Thee, where Thy Spirit is horjie above the vxiters^ and
come to that supereminent repose, when our soul shall
have passed through the boaters ichich yield no support.
YII. 9. Angels fell away, man's soul fell away, and
thereby pointed out the abyss in that dark depth,
ready for the whole spiritual creation, hadst not Thou
said from the beginning. Let there he lights and there
had been lights and every obedient intelligence of
Thy heavenly city had cleaved to Thee, and rested in
Thy Spirit, Which is home unchangeably over every
thing changeable. Otherwise, even the heaven of
heavens had been in itself a darksome deep ; but now
it is light in the Lord. For even in that miserable
restlessness of the spirits who fell away, and discov-
ered their own darkness when bared of the clothing
of Thy light, dost thou sufficiently reveal how noble
Thou madest the reasonable creature ; to which noth-
ing will suffice to yield a happy rest, less than Thee,
and so not even herself For Thou O our God^ shalt
lighten our darkness ; from Thee cometh our gar-
ment of light, and our darkness shall he as the noon-
day. Give Thyself unto me, O my God, restore
Thyself unto me ; behold I love, and if it be too
little, I would love more strongly. I cannot measure
so as to know, how much love there yet lacketh to
me, ere my life may run into Thy embracements, nor
turn away until it be J bidden in the hidden place of
God^ the souPs rest. 379
Thy presence. This only I know, that woe is me,
except in Thee, not only without but within myself
also ; and all abundance which is not my God, is
emptiness to me.
IX. 10. But was not either the Father or the Son
home above the loaters f If this means, in space, like
a body, then neither was the Holy Spirit ; but if it
means the unchangeable supereminence of Divinity
above all things changeable, then were both Father,
and Son, and Holy Ghost, home upon the loaters.
Why then is this said of Thy Spirit only ? Why is
it said only of Him, as if He had been in space, who
is not in space; of whom only it is written, that He
is Thy Gift? In Thy Gift we rest; there we enjoy
Thee. Our rest is our space. Love lifts us up
thither, and Thy Good Spirit lifts up our lowliness
from the gates of death. In Thy good pleasure is
our peace. The body by its own weight strives
towards its own j^lace. Weight tends not down-
ward only, but to its own proper place. Fire tends
upward, a stone downward. They are urged by
their own weight, they seek their own places. Oil
poured below water, is raised above the water;
water poured upon oil, sinks below the oil. They
are urged by their own weights to seek their own
places. When out of their order, they are restless ;
restored to order, they are at rest. My weight is my
love ; thereby am I borne whithersoever I am borne.
We are inflamed by Thy Gift, Thy Spirit, and are
carried upwards; we glow inwardly, and go for-
wards. We ascend Thy ascents that he in our heart,
380 Existence^ cognition^ and will are
and sing a song of degrees. We glow inwardly with
Thy fire, with Thy good fire, and we go, because we
go upwards to the peace of Jerusalem ; for glad-
dened teas I in those who said unto me. We will go
up to the house of the Lord} There hath Thy good
pleasure placed us, that we may desire nothing else,
but to abide there forever.
X. 11. Blessed creature, which, being itself other
than Thou, has known no other condition, than that,
so soon as it was made, it was, without any interval,
by Thy Gift, Which is home above every thing
changeable, borne aloft by that calling whereby Thou
saidst. Let there he lights and there vms light!
Whereas, in us men, this took place at diflferent times,
in that we were darkness^ and are made light. But of
that unfallen creature, is only said what it would have
been, had it not been enlightened ; and it is so said, as
if it had been unsettled and darksome before ; that so
the cause whereby it was made otherwise, might ap-
pear, namely, that, being turned to the Light unfail-
ing, it became light. Whoso can, let him understand
this ; and whoso cannot, let him ask of Thee. Why
should he trouble me, as if I could enlighten any
man that cometh into this loorldf
XI. 12. Who of us comprehends the Almighty
Trinity ? And yet who of us speaks not of it, if in-
deed it be an it? Rare is the soul, which, while it
speaks of it, knows what it speaks of. Men contend
and strive, yet, without peace ; no man sees that vis-
ion. I would that men would consider these three
1 Psalm cxxii. 1.
i7iscTutable symbols of the Trinity. 381
things, that are in themselves. These three are in-
deed far other than the Trinity; I do but tell, where
men may search themselves, and prove, and feel how
fir they are from it. Xow the three things I spake
of, are. To Be, to Know, and to Will. For I Am,
and Know, and Will ; I Am Knowing and Willing;
and I Know myself to Be, and to Will ; and I Will
to Be, and to Know. In these three, then, let him
discern how inseparable a life there is, yea, one life,
one mind, and one essence ; yea, lastly, how insepar-
able a distinction there is, and yet a distinction.
Surely a man hath it before him ; let him look into
him-self, and see, and tell me. But when he discov-
ers and can say anything of these, let him not there-
fore think that he has found that which is above
these Unchangeable ; which Is unchangeably, and
Knows unchangeably, and Wills unchangeably.
And whether, because of these three, there is in
God also a Trinity, or whether all three be in Each,
so that the three belong to Each ; or whether (both
ways at once) wondrously, simply, and yet man-
ifoldly, the Essence itself is a bound unto itself
within itself, yet unbounded, whereby it Is, and is
Known unto itself, and sufficeth to itself, unchange-
ably the Self-same by the abundant greatness of its
Unity, — who can readily conceive this? Who could,
any ways express it? Who would, any way, pro-
nounce thereon rashly ?
XII. 13. Proceed in thy confession; say, O my
faith, to the Lord thy God, Iloly^ Holy^ Holy^ 0
Lord my God^ in Thy Name, have we been baptized,
27
382 Allegorical interpTetations of
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; in Thy Name do we
baptize, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; because
among us, also, in His Christ did God make heaven
and earth, namely, the spiritual and carnal people of
His Church. Yea, and our earth, before it received
the form of doctrine, was invisible and without
form; and we were covered with the darkness of ig-
norance. For Thou chastenedst man for iniquity,
and Thy judgments were like the great deep unto him.
But because Thy Spirit loas home above the loaters,
Thy mercy forsook not our misery, and Thou saidst.
Let there be light. Repent ye, for the kingdom of
heaven is at hand. Repent ye, let there he light. And
because our soid icas troubled loithvi us, ice remem-
bered Thee, 0 Lord, from the land of Jordan, and
that mountain equal unto Thyself, but little for our
sakes; and our darkness displeased us, we turned
unto Thee, and there vkls light. And, behold, we
%oere sometimes darkness, but now light in the Lord.
Xni. 14. But, as yet we are such by faith and
not by sight; for by hope loe are saved, but hope that
is seen, is not hope. As yet doth deep call unto deep,
but now in the voice of Thy water-spouts. As yet
doth he that saith, L could not speak unto you as
unto spiritual, hut as unto carnal, even he as yet
doth not think himself to have apprehended, and ^or-
getteth those tilings v^hich are behind, and reacheth
forth to those ichich are before, and groaneth, being
burdened, and his soid thirsteth after the Living
God, as the hart after the loater-hrooks, and saith,
When shall L come f desiring to he clothed upon
variotis portions of Scripture. 383
loith his house which is from heaven^ and calleth
upon this lower deep^ saying, Be not conformed to
this world, hut be ye transformed hy the renewing of
your mind^ and, he not children in understanding,
hut in malice he ye childre77, that in understanding
ye may he perfect, and, 0 foolish Galatians, laho
hath bewitched you? But now no longer does he
speak in his own voice, but in Thine, Who sentest
Thy Spirit from above, through Him icho ascended
up on high, and set open the flood-gates of his gifts,
that the force of His strecmis might mahe glad the
city of God. Him doth this friend of the bride-
groom sigh after, having now the first fruits of the
Spirit laid up with Him, yet still groaning within
himself waiting for the adoption, to loit, the redemp-
tion of his body ; to Him he sighs, a member of the
Bride ; for Him he is jealous, as being afrieyid of the
Bridegroom ; for Him he is jealous, not for himself;
because in the voice of Thy xcater-spouts, not in his
own voice, doth he call to that other depth, over
whom being jealous, he feareth, lest as the serpe'txb
beguiled Eve through his subtilty, so their minds
should be corrupted from the purity that is in our
Bridegroom, Thy Only Son. O what a light of
beauty will that be, when we shall see Him as He is,
and those tears he passed aioay, which have been my
meat day and night, whilst they daily say unto me,
iVhere is now thy God?
XIY. 15. And I, too, say: O my God, where art
Thou ? Behold where Thou art. In Thee I breathe
a little, when I pour out my soul by myself in the
384 Allegorical interpretations of
voice of joy and praise^\\iQ> voice of Mm that keeps
holy-day. And yet again, the soul is sad, because it
relapses, and becomes a deep, or rather jjerceives it-
self still to be a deep. Unto it speaks my faith,
which Thou hast kindled to enlighten my feet in the
night, TFAy «>'^ thou sad, 0 my soul, and why dost
thou trouble mef Hope in the Lord. His word is a
lantern unto thy feet. Hope and endure, until the
night, the mother of the wicked, until the wrath of
the Lord, be overpast, whereof we also were once
children, who were so7netimes darkness, relics whereof
we bear about us in our body, dead because of sin,
until the day break, and the shadows fly away.
Hope thou in the Lord. Ln the morning I shall stand
in Thy presence, and contemplate Thee; I shall for
ever confess unto Thee. Ln the morning L shall
stand in Thy presence, and shall see the health of
my countenance, my God ; W7io also shall quichen
our mortal bodies, by the Spirit that dioelleth in us,
because He hath in mercy been borne over our inner
darksome and floating deep ; from Whom we have
in this pilgrimage received an earnest, that we should
now be light, whilst we are saved by hope, and are
the children of light, and the children of the day, not
the children of the night, nor of the darkness, which
yet sometimes we were. JBetwixt whom and us, in
this uncertainty of human knowledge, Thou only dl-
videst ; Thou, who provest our hearts, and callest the
light day, and the darkness night. For who discern-
eth us, but Thou ? And lohat have loe, that we have
not received of Thee f out of the same lump vessels
various portions of Scripture. 385 I
unto Jionor^ whereof others also are made unto dis- |
honor.
XY. 16. Or who, except Thou, our God, made for
us that firmament of authority over us in Thy divine
Scripture ? For it is said, the heaven shall be folded
up like a scroll (liber) ; and now is it stretched over i
us like a skin. For Thy Divine Scripture is of more !
eminent authority, since those mortals by whom Thou
dispensest it unto us, underwent mortality. And |
Thou knowest. Lord, Thou knowest, how Thou toith j
skitis didst clothe men, when they by sin became mor- |
tal. Hence Thou hast like a skin stretched out the
firmament of Thy book (liber) ^ that is. Thy harmon-
izing words, which by the ministry of mortal men i
Thou spreadest over us. For, by their very death,
was that solid firmament of authority, which was in
Thy discourses set forth by them, more eminently ex-
tended over all that be under it ; which, whilst they
lived here, was not so eminently extended. Thou
hadst not as yet spread abroad the heaven like a
skin; Thou hadst not as yet enlarged in all directions
the glory of their deaths.
17. Let us look^ O Lord, upon the heavens^ the
work of Thy fingers ; clear from our eyes that cloud
which Thou hast spread under them. There is Thy
testimony^ which giveth vnsdom unto the little ones.
Perfect^ O my God, ^\\j praise out of the mouth of
bahes and sucklings. For we know no other books,
which so destroy pride, which so destroy the enemy
and the defender., who resists Thy reconciliation by
defending his own sins. I know not. Lord, I know
386 Allegorical explanation of the
not any other such pure words, which so persuade me
to confess, and make my neck pliant to Thy yoke, and
invite me to serve Thee for nought. Let me under-
stand them, good Father ; grant this to me, who am
placed under them, because for those placed under
them, hast Thou established them.
18. Other waters there be above thi^ firmament^ I
believe immortal and separated from earthly corrup-
tion. Let them praise Thy name, let them praise
Thee, the super-celestial people, Thine angels, who
have no need to gaze up at this firmament, or by
reading to know of Thy Word. For they always he-
hold Thy /ace, and there read without any syllables
in time, what willeth Thy eternal Will. They read,
they choose, they love ; they are ever reading, and
that never passes away which they read. For by
choosing, and by loving, they read the very unchange-
ableness of Thy counsel. Their book is never closed,
nor their scroll folded up; seeing Thou Thyself art
this to them, and art eternally, because Thou hast or-
dained them above this firmament^ which Thou hast
firmly settled over the infirmity of the lower people,
where they might gaze uj) and learn Thy mercy, an-
nouncing in time Thee who madest times. For TJiy
mercy ^ Lord^ is in the heavens^ and Tliy truth reached
unto the clouds. The clouds pass away, but the
heaven abideth. The preachers of Thy word pass out
of this life into another ; but Thy Scripture is spread
abroad over the people, even unto the end of the
world. Yet heaven a^id earth also shall jmss awayy
but Thy words shall not pass away. Because the
firmament and the waters above it. 387
scroll shall be rolled together^ and the grass over
which it was spread, shall with the goodliness of it
pass away/ but Thy word remaineth forever^ which
now appeareth unto us mider the dark image of the
clouds, and through the glass of the heavens, not as it
is; because though we also are the well-beloved of
Thy Son, yet it hath not yet appeared what we shall
he. He looked through the lattice of our flesh, and
He spake us tenderly, and kindled us, and we ran af-
ter His odors. J^ut lohen He shall appear^ the^i shall
we be like Him., for we shall see Him as He is. As
He is, Lord, so will our sight be.
XYI. 19. For, altogether and wholly what Thou
art, Thou only knowest, Who art unchangeably, and
knowest unchangeably, and wiliest unchangeably.
And Thy Essence Knows, and Wills unchangeably;
and Thy Knowledge Is, and Wills unchangeably;
and Thy Will Is, and Knows unchangeably. Nor
seems it fitting in Thine eyes, that as the Unchange-
able Light knows Itself, so should it be known by
the thing enlightened and changeable. Therefore is
my soul like a land where no water is, because, as it
cannot of itself enlighten itself, so can it not of it-
self satisfy itself. For the fountain of life is with
Thee, in such a way that in Thy light we shall see
light.
XVII. 20. Who gathered the embittered children
of men together into one society? (For they have all
one end, a temporal and earthly felicity, for attaining
whereof they do all things, though they waver up
and down with an innumerable variety of cares.)
388 Allegorical explanation of the
Who, Lord, but Thou, Who saidst, Let the waters he
gathered together into one place^ and let the dry land
appear^ which thirsteth after Thee f Because the sea
also is Thine, and Thou hast made it, and Thy hands
prepared the dry land. Nor is the bitterness of men's
wills, but the gathering together of the waters, called
sea. For Thou restrainest the wicked desires of men's
H souls, and settest them their hounds, how far they may
I ; be allowed to pass, that their waves may break one
1 1 against another ; and thus makest ThOu it a sea, by
j ' the order of Thy dominion over all things.
i; 21. But the souls that thirst after Thee, and that
Ij appear before Thee (being by other bounds divided
II from the society of the sea). Thou waterest by a
1 sweet spring, that the earth may hring forth her
\ 1 fniit, and. Thou Lord God so commanding, our soul
may bud forth works of mercy according to their
kind, loving our neighbor in the rehef of his bodily
necessities, having seed in itself according to its like-
ness ; since, from feeling of our infirmity, we compas-
i sionate so as to relieve the needy, helping them, as we
would be helped, if we were in like need ; and this,
too, not only in things easy, as in herb yielding seed,
but also in the protection of our assistance with our
best strength, like the tree yielding fruit : that is,
well-doing in rescuing him that suffers wrong, from
the hand of the powerful, and giving him the shelter
of protection, by the mighty strength of just judg-
ment.
XVIII. 22. So Lord, so, I beseech Thee, let there
spring up, as Thou workest, as Thou givest cheerful-
lights ruling the day and night. 389
ness and ability, let truth spring out of the earthy and
righteousness look down from heaven^ and let there he
lights in the firmament. Let us break our bread to
the hungry^ and briiig the houseless ^oor to our house.
Let us clothe the naked., ayid despise not those of our
own flesh. Which fruits having sprung out of the
earth, behold it is good. And let our temporary
light break forth; and ourselves, from this lower
fruitfulness of action, arriving at the delightfulness of
contemplation, obtaining the Word of Life above, ap-
pear like lights i?i the world, cleaving to the firma-
ment of Thy Scripture. For there Thou instructest
ns, to divide between the things intellectual, and
things of sense, as betwixt the day and the night; or
between souls, given either to things intellectual, or
to things of sense ; so that now, not Thou only, in the
secret of Thy judgment, as before the firmament was
made, dividest betweefi the light and the darkness, but
Thy sj^iritual children also, set and ranked m the
same firmament (now that Thy grace is manifested
throughout the world), may give light upon the earth,
and divide betwixt the day and the night, and be for
signs of times ; because old thiyigs are passed away,
and, behold, all things are become new, and because
our salvation is nearer than when we believed, and be-
cause the night is far spent, and the day is at hand,
and because Thou wilt croicn Thy year with blessing,
sending laborers into Thy harvest, in sowing whereof
others have labored, sending also into another field,
whose harvest shall be in the end} Thus grantest
1 Matt. ix. 38; John iv. 37 seq.
390 Allegorical explanation of the
Thou the prayers of him that asketh, and hlessest the
years of the just ^' but Thou art the sarae^ and in Thy
years which ya^7 not^ Thou preparest a garner for our
passing years. For Thou, by an eternal counsel, dost
in their proper seasons bestow heavenly blessings
upon the earth. For to one is given by the /Spirit
the icord of wisdom^ as it were the greater lights for
their sakes who are delighted with the light of per-
spicuous truth, as it were /or the ride of the day. To
another the word of hnoidedge by the same Spirit^ as
it were the lesser light ; to another faith ; to another
the gift of healing ; to another the icorJcing of mir-
acles; to another prophecy ; to another discerning
of spirits ; to another divers kinds of tongues. And
all these are as it were stars. For all these loorketh
the one and selfsame Spirit^ dimdiyig to every man
his oicn as He will; and causing stars to appear
manifestly^ to profit loithcd. But^Ae vmrd ofhioinl-
edge^ wherein are contained cdl Sacraments^ which
are varied in their seasons^ as it were the moon^ and
those other denominations of gifts., which are reck-
oned up in order, as it were stars., inasmuch as they
come short of that brightness of wisdom which glad-
dens the forementioned day., are only /or the ride of
the night. For they are necessary to such as those to
whom Thy most prudent servant could not speak
as unto spiritual., but as unto carnal; even he who
speaketh wisdom among those that are perfect. But
the natural man., as it were a babe in Christ and/ec^
on milk., until he be strengthened for solid meat., and
his eye be enabled to behold the Sun, let him not
ligJUs ruling the day a7id night. 391
dwell in a night forsaken of all light, but be content
with the light of the moon and the stars. So dost
Thou speak to us, our All-wise God, in Thy Book,
Thy firmament ; that we may discern all things, in
an admirable contemplation ; though as yet in sig?is,
and in times, and in days, a?id in years.
XIX. 24. But first, toash you, be ye clean; put
away evil from your souls, and/ro?7i before mine eyes,
that the dry land may appear. Learn to do good,
judge the fatherless, plead for the widow, that the
earth may bring forth the green herb for meat, and
the tree bearing fruit; and come, let us reason to-
gether, saith the Lord, that there may be licjhts in
the firmament? of the heaven, and they may shine
upon the earth. That rich man asked of the good
Master, what he should do to attain everlasting Ufe.
Let the good Master tell him (whom he thought no
more than man ; but he is good because he is God),
let Him tell him, if he looidd enter into Ufe, he must
Iceep the cotninandments ; , let him put away from him
the bitterness of malice and tcickedness, not Mil, not
commit adultery, not steal, not bear false wit7iess,
that the dry land may appear, and bring forth the
honoring of father and mother, and the love of our
neighbor. All these (saith he) have Lhept. Whence
then so many thorns, if the eartli be fruitful ? Go,
root up the spreading thickets of covetousness ; sell
that thou hast, and.be filled with fruit, by giving to
the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven;
im^ follow the Lord, if thou toilt be perfect, associated
with them among whom lie speaketh wisdom. Who
392 Allegorical explanation of
knoweth what to distribute to the day and to the
7iight^ that thou mayest also know it, and that for
thee there may be lights in the firmament of heaven;
which will not be, unless thy heart he there ; nor will
that either be there, unless there thy treasure be ; as
thou hast heard of the good Master. But that bar-
ren earth was grieved;^ and the thorns choTced the
word.
25. But you, chosen generation., you weak things
of the world., who Yiscsr^ forsaken all, that ye m^ij fol-
low the Lord, go after Him, and confound the mighty;
go after Him, ye beautiful feet., and shine ye in the
firmament., that the heavens may declare His glory.,
dividing hetween the light of the j^erfect, though not
as the angels, and the darkness of the little ones,
though not despised. Shine over the earth ; and let
the day., lightened by the sun., utter unto day., speech
of wisdom ; and night., shining with the moon., show
unto night., the loord of knoidedge. The moon and
stars shine for the night ; yet doth the night obscure
them, seeing they give it light in its degree. For be-
hold God saying as it w^ere. Let there he lights in the
firmament of heaven; there came suddenly a sound
from heaven, as it had been the rushing of a mighty
loind, and there appeared cloven tongues like as of
fire, and it sat upon each of them,, and there were
made lights in the firmament of heaven, having the
\oord of life. Run ye to and fro everywhere, ye
holy fires, ye beauteous fires : for ye are the light of
the world, nor are ye put under a hushel. He whom
1 Matt. xix. 22.
tlie reptiles and birds. 393
you cleave unto, is exalted, and hath exalted you.
Run ye to and fro, and be known unto all nations.
XX. 26. Let the sea also conceive and bring forth
your works ; and let the waters bring forth the mov-
ing creature that hath life. For ye, separathig the
precious from the vile, are made the mouth of God, by
whom He saith, Let the waters bring forth^ not the
living creature which the earth brings forth., but the
Tnoving creature having life., and the fowls that fly
above the earth. For Thy Sacraments, O God, by
the ministry of Thy Holy Ones, have moved amid the
waves of the temptations of the world, to consecrate
the nations in Thy name, by Thy Baptism. And
amid these things, many great wonders were wrought,
as it were, great whales / and the voices were heard of
Thy messengers ^ym^ above the earth, in the open fir-
mament of Thy Book, which was set over them, as
their authority, under which they were to fly, whith-
ersoever they went. For there is no speech nor lan-
guage, where their voice is not heard; seeing their
sou7id is gone through all the earthy a7id their words
to the end of the world, because Thou, Lord, multi-
pliedst them by blessing.
27. Speak I untruly, or do I mingle and confound,
and not distinguish between the lucid knowledge of
these things in the firmament of heaven, and the ma-
terial works in the wavy sea, and under the firma-
ment of heaven f For of those things whereof the
knowledge is substantial and defined, without any
increase by generation, as it were lights of wisdom
and knowledge, yet even of them, the material opera-
394 Allegorical explanation of the
tions are many and divers, and one thing growing out
of another, they are multiplied by Thy blessing, O
God, who hast refreshed the fastidiousness of mortal
senses, so that one thing in the understanding of our
I j mind may, by the motions of the body, be many ways
set out and expressed. These Sacraments have the
waters brought forth ; but in Thy Word. The neces-
sities of the people estranged from the eternity of
Thy truth have brought them forth ; but in Thy Gos-
pel. Because the waters themselves cast them forth^
the diseased bitterness whereof was the cause why
they were sent forth in Thy Word.
28. Now are all things fair that Thou hast made,
but Thou Thyself art unutterably fairer, that madest
all ; from Whom had not Adam fallen, the brackish-
ness of the sea had never flowed out of him, that is,
the human race so profoundly curious, and tempestu-
ously swelling, and restlessly tumbling up and down ;
and then had there been no need of Thy dispensers
to work, in many waters^ after a corporeal and sensi-
ble manner, mysterious doings and sayings. For such
dispensers those moving and flying creatures now
seem to me to mean, whereby men, being initiated
and consecrated by corporeal Sacraments, should not
further profit, unless their soul had a spiritual life, and
unless after the word of admission it looked forwards
to perfection.
XXI. 29. And hereby, in Thy Word, not the deep-
ness of the sea, but the earth separated from the bit-
terness of the waters, brings forth, not the moving
creature that hath life^ but the living soul. For now
living soul, fishes, and fowls. 395
hath it no more need of baptism, as the heathen have,
and as itself had when it was covered with the waters.
For no other entrance is there into the kingdom of
heaven, since Thou hast appointed that this should be
the entrance ; nor does it seek after wonderfulness of
miracles to work belief For it is not such, that un-
less it sees sigjis and wonders, it loill not believe, now
that the faithful earth is separated from the waters
that were bitter with infidelity, and tongues are for a
sign, not to them that believe, but to them that believe
not. IN'either, therefore, does the earth which Thou
hast founded iipon the waters, need \h2X flying hind
which at Thy Word the waters brought forth. Send
Thou Thy Word into it by Thy messengers. For we
speak of their working, yet it is Thou that workest in
them that they may work out a Iwhig soul. The
earth brings the living soid forth, because the earth is
the cause that they work this in it, as the sea was the
cause that they wrought upon the moving creatures
that have life, and the fowls that fly under the flrma-
ment of heaven, of whom the earth hath no need ; al-
though it feeds upon that fish which was taken out of
the deep, upon that table which Thou hast prepared
in the presence of them that believe. For therefore
was the fish taken out of the deep, that it might feed
the dry land ; and Xh^fowl, though bred in the sea, is
yet midtiplied upon the earth. For of the first preach-
ings of the Evangelists, man's infidelity was the cause ;
yet are the faithful also exhorted and blessed by them
manifoldly, from day to day. But the living soul
takes its beginning from the earth / for it profits only
396 Exhortation to Go(Ps ministers.
those already among the Faithful to contain them-
selves from the love of this world, that so their soul
may live unto Thee, which was dead while it lived
in pleasures^ — in death-bringing pleasures. Lord, for
Thou, Lord, art the life-giving delight of the pure
heart.
30. Now then let Thy ministers work upon the
earthy not as upon the waters of infidelity, by preach-
ing and speaking, by miracles and sacraments and
mystic words, wherein ignorance, the mother of ad-
miration, might be intent upon them, out of a rever-
ence towards those secret signs. For such is the en-
trance unto the Faith, for the sons of Adam forgetful
of Thee, while they hide themselves from Thy face^
and become a darksome deep. But let Thy ministers
work now as on the dry land^ separated from the
whirlpools of the great deep ; and let them be a pat-
tern unto the Faithful, by living before them, and stii*-
ring them up to imitation. For thus do men hear, so
as not to hear only, but to do also. Seek the Lord^
and your soid shall live^ that the earth may bring
forth the living soul. Be not conformed to the loorld.
Contain yourselves from it. The soul lives by avoid-
ing what it dies by loving. Contain yourselves from
the ungoverned wildness of j^ride, the sluggish volup-
tuousness of luxury, and th^ false name of knowledge ;
that so the wild beasts may be tamed, the cattle
broken to the yoke, the serpents harmless. For these
are the motions of our mind under an allegory ; that
is to say, the haughtiness of pride, the delight of lust,
and the poison of curiosity, are the motions of a dead
JRestraining power of divine truth. 397
soul ; for the soul dies not so as to lose all motion ;
because it dies by forsaking the fountain of life.,
and so is taken up by this transitory world, and is
conformed unto it.
31. But Thy word, O God, is ih^foimtain of life
eternal, and passeth not away ; wherefore this depar-
ture of the soul is restrained by Thy word, when it is
said unto us. Be not co7 formed unto this world ; that
so the earth may in i\iQ fountain of life bring forth a
living soul y' that is, a soul made continent in Thy
Word, by Thy Evangelists, hy following \hQ followers
of Thy Christ. For this is after his hind ; because a
man is wont to imitate his friend. Be ye (saith he) as
I am., for I also am as you are. Thus in this living
soul shall there be good beasts., in meekness of action
(for Thou hast commanded, Go on with Thy business
in meekness., so shalt thou be beloved by all men); ^ and
good cattle., which neither if they eat shall they over-
abound., nor., if they eat not., have any lack ; and good
serpents., not dangerous to do hurt, but wise to take
heed, and only making so much search into this tem-
poral nature, as may suffice that eternity be clearly
seen., being understood by the things that are made.
For these creatures are obedient unto reason, when,
being restrained from deadly attack upon us, they
live, and are good.
XXII. 32. For behold, O Lord our God, our Crea-
tor, when our affections have been restrained from the
love of the world., by which we died through evil-
1 Sirach iii. 19.
28
398 Explanation of the divine image.
living, and have begun to be a living soul, through
good Hving, and Thy word which Thou spakest by
Thy apostle, is made good in us, £e not conformed
to this icorld, there follows that also which Thou pres-
ently subjoinedst, saying, But he ye transformed hy
the reneioing of your mind^ not now after your kind,
as though following your neighbor who went before
you, nor as living after the example of some better
man. For Thou saidst not, " Let man be made after
his kind," but, Let us make may% after our oion image
and similitude, that we might prove what Thy will is.
For to this purpose, said that dispenser of Thine, who
hegat children hy the Gospel, that he might not for-
ever have them hahes, whom he must be fain to feed
with milk, and cherish as a nurse : Be ye transformed
hy the renevmig of your mind, that ye may prove
what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of
God. Wherefore Thou sayest not, "Let man be
made," but ''^Let us 7nake man:'' Nor saidst Thou,
"according to his kind," but, '•^ after our hnage and
likeness.''^ For man being renewed hi his mind, and
beholding and understanding Thy truth, needs not
man as his director, so as to follow cfter his kind ;
but by Thy direction proveth what is that good and
acceptahle and perfect will of Thine ; and Thou teach-
est him, now made capable, to discern the Trinity of
the Unity, and the Unity of the Trinity. Wherefore
to that said in the plural. Let us make man, is yet
subjoined in the singular, And God made man ; and
to that said in the plural. After our likeness, is sub-
joined in the singular. After the image of God. Thus
The judgment of the spiritual man. 399
is man re^ieioed in the knoidedge of God^ after the
image of Him that created him y and being made
spiritual, hejudgeth all things (all things which are
to be judged), yet himself is judged of no man.
XVIII. 33. But that hejudgeth all things, this an-
swers to his having dominion over the fish of the sea,
and over thefoicls of the air, and over all cattle and !
wild beasts, and over all the earth, and over every
creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. For this
he doth by the understanding of his mind, whereby \
\\Q perceiveth the things of the Spirit of God^ w^hereas '
otherwise, man, being placed in honor, had no under- j
standing, and is compared tmto the brute beasts, and \
is become like unto them. In Thy Church, therefore, j
O our God, according to Thy grace which Thou hast |
bestowed upon it {for ice are Thy icorJcma7iship ere- ■
ated tmto good icorks), not those only who are spirit- |
ually set over, but they also who spiritually are sub-
ject to those that are set over them (for in this way
didst Thou make man male and female, in Thy spirit-
ual grace, where according to the sex of body there
is ?ieither mcde nor female, because neither Jew nor
Grecian, neither bond nor free), — all spiritual per-
sons, in Thy Church, whether such as are set over, or
such as obey, ^o judge spiritually. Not, indeed, of that
spiritual knowledge lohich shines in the firmament, for
they ought not to judge as to so supreme authority ;
nor may they judge of Thy Book itself, even though
something there shineth not clearly, for we submit
our understanding unto it, and hold for certain, that
even what is closed to our sight, is yet rightly and
400 The judgment of
\\ truly spoken. For man, though now spiritual^ and
renewed in the knowledge of God after Mis image
that created him^ ought to be a doer of the law^ not a
, judge. IST either doth he judge of that distinction of
; spiritual and carnal men, who are known unto Thine
il eyes, O our God, and have not as yet discovered
1 1 themselves unto us by works, that by their fruits we
j; might know theni^ but Thou, Lord, dost even now
\\ know them, and hast divided and called them in
|i secret, before ever \hQ firmament was made. Nor
|j doth he, though spiritual^ judge the unquiet people of
ji this world; for what hath he to do^ to judge them that
are loithout^ knowing not which of them shall hereaf-
j; ter come into the sweetness of Thy grace, and which
II continue in the perpetual bitterness of ungodliness.
;: 34. 3Ian^ therefore, whom Thou hast made after
|: Thine own image^ received not dominion over the
j] lights of heaven^ nor over that hidden heaven itself,
I nor over the day and the nighty which Thou calledst
\\ before the foundation of the heaven, nor over the
i i gathering together of the waters^ which is the sea; but
ij he received dominioji over the fishes of the sea, and
I I the fowls of the air^ and over all cattle^ and over all
jl the earth, and over all creeping things which creep
j; upon the earth. For he judgeth and aj^proveth what
' he findeth right, and he disalloweth what he findeth
amiss ; whether in the celebration of that sacrament
by which such are initiated as Thy mercy searches out
in many waters; or in that, in which that^sA^ is set
1 There is, probably, an allusion here to the early Christian monogram
iXi^us, i. e., 'I-r/o-oGj X'-pttTT^s 0-eou T-/os 5w-T7jp. — Ed.
the spiritual man. 401
forth, which, taken out of the deep, the devout earth
feed upon ; or in the expressions and signs of words,
subject to the authority of Thy Book, — such signs,
as proceed out of the mouth, and sound iovt\ flying
as it were under the firmament, by interpreting, ex-
pounding, discoursing, disputing, consecrating, or pray-
ing unto Thee, so that the people may answer, A^nen.
The vocal pronouncing of all which words, is oc-
casioned by the deep of this world, and the blindness
of the flesh, which cannot see thoughts, so that there
i is need to speak aloud in the ears. Thus, although
flying folds be multiplied upon the earth, yet they
derive their beginning from the waters. The spirit-
ual manjudgeth also by allowing of what is right, and
disallowing what he finds amiss, in the works and
lives of the faithful, — in their alms, as it were the
earth hringing forth fruit; in the living soul, living
by the taming of the aflections ; in chastity ; in fast-
ing; in holy meditations concerning those things
which are perceived by the senses of the body. Upon
all these is he now said io judge, wherein .he hath also
power of correction.
XXIY. 35. But what is this, and what kind of mys-
tery ? Behold, Thou blessest manJ^ind, O Lord, that
they may increase and multiply, and replenish the
earth. Dost Thou not thereby give us a hint to un-
derstand something ? Why didst Thou not as well
bless the light, which Thou calledst day; and the fir-
mamejit of heaven, and the lights, and the stars, and
the sea f I might say that Thou, O God, who created
us after Thine Image, I might say that it had been
402 "Why God hies sed ma7i^ fishes^ and fowls
Thy good pleasure to bestow this blessing peculiarly
upon man, hadst Thou not in like manner blessed the
fishes and the whales, that they shoidd hicrease and
omdtiply^ ayid replenish the waters of the sea, and that
the foivls should he multiplied upon the earth. I
might say, likewise, that this blessing pertained prop-
erly unto such creatures as are bred of their own
kind, had I found it given to the fruit-trees, and
plants, and beasts of the earth. But now neither
unto the herbs, nor the trees, nor the beasts, nor ser^
pents is it said. Increase and tnidtiply; notwithstand-
ing all these as well as the fishes, fowls, or men, do by
generation increase and continue their kind.
36. What then shall I say, O Truth my Light ?
" that it was idly said, and without meaning ? " Xot
I so, O Father of piety, far be it from a minister of
j Thy word to say so. And if I understand not what
I Thou meanest by that phrase, let my betters, that is^
j those of more understanding than myself, make bet-
I ter use of it, according as Thou, my God, hast given
j to each man to understand. But let my confession
; also be pleasing in Thine eyes, wherein I confess unto
: Thee, that I believe, O Lord, that Tliou spakest not so
j in vain ; nor will I suppress what this lesson suggests
I to me. For it is truth ; nor do T see what should hin-
1 der me from thus understanding the figurative sayings
of Thy Bible. For I know a thing to be manifoldly
j signified by corporeal expressions, which is understood
I one way by the mind ; and that understood many ways
in the mind, which is signified one way by corporeal
expression. Behold, the single love of God and our
and not herbs^ and other animals. 403
neighbor, by what manifold sacraments, and innumer-
able languages, and in each several language in how
innumerable modes of speaking, it is corporeally ex-
pressed. Thus do the offsprings of the loaters increase
and multiply. Observe again, whosoever thou art
that readest this. Behold what Scripture delivers,
and the voice pronounces in only one way : In the Be-
ginning God created heaven and earth; is it not un-
derstood manifoldly, not through any deceit of error,
but by various kinds of true senses ? Thus do man's
offspring increase and multiply.
36. If, therefore, we conceive of the natures of the
things themselves, not allegoric ally, but properly, then
does the phrase increase and multiply agree unto all I
things, that come of seed. But if we treat of the i ;
words as figuratively spoken (which I rather suppose |
to be the purpose of the Scripture, which doth not, I
surely, superfluously ascribe this benediction to the
offspring of aquatic animals and man only), then do
we find " multitude " to belong to creatures spiritual
as well as corporeal, as in heaven and earth; and to
souls both righteous and unrighteous, as in light and
darkness; and to holy authors who have been the
ministers of the Law unto us, as in the firmament
which is settled betwixt the waters and the waters;
and to the society of people yet in the bitterness of
infidelity, as in the sea; and to the zeal of holy souls,
as in the dry land; and to works of mercy belonging
to this present life, as in the herhs hearing seed, and
in trees hearing fruit; and to spiritual gifts set forth
for edification, as in the lights of heaven; and to affec-
404 The fruits of the earth signify
tions formed unto temperance, as in the living soul.
In all these instances we meet with multitudes, abun-
dance, and increase ; but what shall in such wise in-
crease and multiply^ that one thing may be ex-
pressed many ways, and one expression be understood
many ways, we find not, except in signs corporeally
expressed, and in things mentally conceived. By signs
corporeally pronounced, we understand the genera-
tions of the waters, necessarily occasioned by the fer-
tility of the flesh; by things mentally conceived,
human generations, on account of the fruitfulness of
reason. And for this end do we believe Thee, Lord,
to have said to these kinds. Increase and multiply.
For in this blessing, I conceive Thee to have granted
us a power and a faculty, both to express several ways
what we understand but one ; and to understand sev-
eral ways, what v/e read to be obscurely delivered but j
in one. Thus are the loaters of the sea replenished^
which are not moved but by several significations;
thus with human increase is the earth also replenished^
whose dryness appeareth in its longing, and reason
ruleth over it.
XXV. 38. I would also say, O Lord my God, what
the following Scripture minds me of; yea, I will say,
and not fear. For I will say the truth. Thyself inspi-
ring me with what Thou wiliest me to deliver out of
those words. But by no other inspiration than Thine,
do I believe myself to speak truth, seeing Thou art
the Truth, and every man a liar. He, therefore, that
speaJceth a lie, speaJceth of his own; that therefore I
may speak truth, I will speak of Thine. Behold,
worJcs of benevolence. 405
Thou hast given unto us for food, every herb bearing
seed lohich is upon all the earth, and every tree in
which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed ; and not
to us alone, but also to all the fowls of the air, and to
the beasts of the earth, and to all creeping things ;
but unto the fishes, and to the great lohales, hast Thou
not given them. Now, we said that by these fruits
of the earth were signified, and figured in an allegory,
the works of mercy which are provided for the neces-
sities of this life out of the fruitfid earth. Such an
earth was the devout Onesiphorus, unto whose house
Thou gavest mercy, because he often refreshed Thy
Paul, and was not ashamed of his chain. Thus did
also the brethreii, and snch fruit did they bear, who
out of Macedonia supplied what was lacking to him.
But how grieved he for some trees, which did not
afford him the fruit due unto him, where he saith,
At my first answer no man stood by me, but all men
forsook me. I pray God that it may not be laid to
their charge. For these fruits are due to such as
minister the spiritual doctrine unto us out of their
understanding of the divine mysteries ; and they are
due to them, as meyi ; yea and due to them, also, as
the living soul, which giveth itself as an example, in
all continency ; and due unto them, also, as fiying
creatures, for their blessings which are multiplied
upon the earth, because their sound went out into cdl
lands.
XXVI. 39. But they are fed by these fruits, that
are delighted with them ; nor are they delighted with
them, whose God is their belly. For neither in them
406 The worth of a gift
that yield them, are the mere things yielded the I
fruit, but with what ^nind they yield them. He !
therefore that served God^ and not his own helly^ I
plainly see why he rejoiced ; I see it, and I rejoice
with him. For he had received from the Philippians,
Avhat they had sent hy Epaphroditus unto him. And
I also perceive why he rejoiced so specially at that
whereon he fed. For, speaking in truth, he saith, 1
rejoiced greatly in the Lord^ that now at the last your
care of me hath flourished again^ wherein ye were
also careful^ but it had become wearisome unto you.
These Philippians^ then, had dried up, with a long ,
weariness, and withered, as it were, as to bearing this
fruit of a good work ; and he rejoiceth for them,
that they flourished again^ and not merely for him-
self, that they supplied his wants. Therefore subjoins
he, JSTot that I speah in respect of want^ for I have
learned in whatsoever state I am^ therewith to he con-
tent. I know hoih hoio to he abased^ and I know hoio
to abound ; everywhere and in all things I am in-
structed hoth to he full^ and to he hungry ; hoth to
abound, and to suffer need. I can do all things
through Him which strengtheneth me. I
40. Whereat then rejoicest thou, O great Paul ?
whereat rejoicest thou ? whereon feedest thou, O man,
reneioed in the knowledge of God, after the image of
Him that created thee, thou living soul, of so much
continency, thou tongue like flying fowls, speaking ; ;
mysteries (for to such creatures is this food due) ;
what is it that feeds thee ? Joy. Hear what follows : ,.
notwithstanding, ye have well done, that ye did com-
lies in the intention, 407
municate with 7ny affliction. Hereat he rejoiceth,
hereon feedeth ; because they had well done^ not be-
cause his strait was eased who saith unto Thee, TJioii
hast enlarged 7ne ichen I was in distress; for he hiew
how to abound^ and to suffer want, in Thee, TFAo
strengthenest him. For ye Philippians also hnow,
(saith he) that in the hegimiing of the Gospel, when
I departed from Macedonia, no church communi-
cated with me, as concerning givijig and receiving,
hut ye only. For even in Thessalonica ye sent once
and again unto my necessity. Unto these good
works, he now rejoiceth that they are returned ; and
is gladdened that they flourished again, as when a
fruitful field resumes its green.
41. Was it because of his own necessities, that he
said, Ye sent unto my necessity f Rejoiceth he for that?
Verily not for that. But how know this ? Because
himself says immediately, not because I desire a gift,
but I desire fruit. I have learned of Thee, my God,
to distinguish betwixt a gift, and fruit. A gift, is
the thing itself which he gives that imparts tliese
necessaries unto us, as money, meat, drink, clothing,
shelter, help ; but the fruit, is the good and right
will of the giver. For the Good Master said not
only, Se that receiveth a prophet, but added, in the
name of a prophet ; nor did He only say. He that
\ I receiveth a righteous man, but added, in the name of
a righteous man. So, verily, shall the one receive the
reward of a prophet, the other, the reward of a right-
eous man. ISTor saith He only. He that shall give to
drinh a cup of cold water to one of my little ones.
408 The fishes and ichales.
but added, 17% the name of a disciple ; and so con-
cludeth, Yerily I say unto you he shall not lose his
reward. The gift is, to receive a prophet^ to receive a
righteous man^ to give a cup of cold loater to a
disciple; but the fruit is, to do this in the name of
a prophet, in the name of a righteous man, in the
name of a disciple.
y^\\h fruit was Elijah fed by the widow that knew
she fed a man of God, and therefore fed him ; but by
the raven was he fed with a gift. Nor was the inner
man of Elijah so fed, but the outer only ; which might
also for want of that food have perished.
XXVII. 42. I will then speak w^hat is true in
Thy sight, O Lord : namely, that when carnal men and
infidels, whom we suppose to be signified by the name
of fishes and whales (for the gaining and initiating
whom, the initiatory Sacraments and the mighty
workings of miracles are necessary), undertake the
bodily refreshment, or otherwise succor Thy servants
with something useful for this present life, inasmuch
as they are ignorant, why this is to be done, and to
what end, they do not really feed these, nor are these
really fed by them ; because neither do the former do
it out of an holy and right intent, nor do the latter
rejoice at their gifts, whose fruit they as yet behold
not. For upon that is the mind fed, of which it is
glad. And therefore do not the fishes and whales
feed upon such 7neats as the earth brings not forth
until after it was separated, and divided, from the bit-
terness of the waves of the sea.
XXYIII. 43. And Thou, 0 God, sawest every-
God not conditioned by time. 409
thing that Thou hadst made^ and behold^ it was very
good. Yea we also see the same, and behold, all
things are very good. Of the several kinds of Thy
works, when Thou hadst said " let them be," and they
were, Thou sawest each that it was good. Seven
times have I counted it to be written, that Thou saw-
est that that which Thou madest was good ; and this
is the eighth, that Thou sawest every thing that Thou
hadst made^ and behold it was not only good^ but
also very good, as being now one, and altogether.
For severally they were only good; but altogether,
both good, and very good. All beautiful bodies ex-
press the same; because a body consisting of members
all beautiful, is far more beautiful than the same
members by themselves are, by whose well-ordered
blending the whole is perfected, although the mem-
bers, severally, be also beautiful.
XXIX. 44. And I looked narrowly to find, whether
seven, or eight times. Thou sawest that Thy works
were good, when they pleased Thee ; but in Thy see-
ing I found no times, whereby I might understand
that Thou sawest so often, what Thou madest. And
I said, " Lord, is not this Thy Scripture true, since
Thou art true, and being Truth, hast set it forth ?
Why dost Thou say unto me, ' that in Thy seeing
there be no times ;' whereas this Thy Scripture tells
me, that what Thou madest each day, Thou sawest
that it was good; and when I counted them, I
found how often." Unto this Thou answerest me,
for Thou art my God, and with a strong voice tellest
Thy servant in his inner ear, breaking through my
410 Crnostic and Manichaean cosmogonies.
dea&ess and crying, " O man, that which my Scrip-
ture saith, I say. And yet doth that speak in time ;
but time has no relation to My Word, because My
Word exists in equal eternity with Myself. So, the
things which ye see through My Spirit, I see ; and
what things ye speak by My Spirit, I speak. And
yet when ye see those things in time, I see them not
in time ; and u^hen ye sj^eak them in time, I si3eak
them not in time."
XXX. 45. And I heard, O Lord my God, and
drank up a drop of sweetness out of Thy truth, and
understood. For there are certain men who dis-
like Thy works ; and say that many of them Thou
madest because compelled by necessity ; such as the
fabric of the heavens, and harmony of the stars; and
that Thou madest them not of what was Thine, but
that they were otherwhere and from other sources
created, for Thee to bring together and compact and
combine, when out of Thy conquered enemies Thou
raisedst up the walls of the universe ; that they,
bound down by this structure, might not again be
able to rebel against Thee. And there are still other
things, they say, which Thou neither madest, nor
even compactedst, such as all fleshly creatures, and
all very minute creatures, and whatsoever hath its
root in the earth ; but that a mind at enmity with
Thee, and another nature, not created by Thee, and
contrary unto Thee, did, in these lower stages of the
world, beget and frame these things. Frenzied are
they who say thus, because they see not Thy works
by Thy Spirit, nor recognize Thee in them.
Man's need qf illumination. 411
XXXI. 46. But they who, by Thy Spirit, see these
things. Thou seest in them. Therefore, when they
see that these things are good., Thou seest that they
are good ; and whatsoever things for Thy sake
please. Thou pleasest in them; and what through
Thy Spirit please us, they please Thee in us. For
lohat man knoiocth the things of a mail, save the
spirit of a man^ ichich is in him f even so the things
of Godknoweth no one., hut the Spirit of God. Now
we (saith he) have received., not the spirit of this
luorld^ hut the Spirit vihich is of God., that ice might
Jcnovn the things that are freely given us of God.
The objection occurs to me: "Certainly the things of
God hnoviieth no one., hut the Spirit of God ; how
then do we also know, what things are given us of
GodV Answer is made me: "Because the things
which we know by His Spirit, even these no one
knoiceth., hut the Spirit of God. For as it is rightly
said unto those that were to speak by the Spirit of
God, It is not ye that speak ; so is it rightly said
to them that know through the Spirit of God, ' It is
not ye that know.' And no less, then, is it rightly
said to those that see through the Spirit of God, 'It
is not ye that see;' so whatsoever through the Spirit
of God they see to be good^ it is not they, but God
that sees that it is good^ It is one thing, then, for
a man to think that to be evil which is good, as the
forenamed do ; another thing that a man should see
that that which is good is good (for Thy creatures
are pleasing imto many because they are good, whom
yet Thou pleasest not in them, because they prefer
412 Summary ^of the
to enjoy them to Thee) ; and another thing that
when a man sees that a thing is good, God should in
him see that is good, so, namely, that He should be
loved in that which He made, Who cannot be loved,
but by the Holy Ghost which he hath given. Because
the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the
Holy Ghost^ Which is given unto us ; by Whom we
see that whatsoever in any degree truly is, is good.
For from Him it truly is, Who Himself is not in de-
gree, but what He Is, Is.
XXXII. 47. Thanks to Thee, O Lord, we behold
the heaven and earthy both the corporeal part, supe-
rior and inferior, and the spiritual and corporeal crea-
ture ; and in the adorning of these parts, whereof
the universal pile of the world, or rather the univer-
sal creation, doth consist, we see light made, and di-
vided from the darJcness. We see the firmament of
heaven, both that primary body of the world, betv'een
the spiritual upper loaters and the inferior corporeal
waters^ and (since this also is called heaven) this
space of air through which wander the fowls of
heaven, betwixt those icaters which are in vapors
borne above them, and in clear nights distil down
in dew, and those heavier icaters which flow along
the earth. We behold a surface of waters gathered to-
gether in the fields of the sea ; and the dry land both
void and formed so as to be visible and harmonized,
yea, and the matter of herbs and trees. We behold
1 Augustine, in his Retractationes (Lib. II. Cap. 6) remarks : Quod
dixi firmamentum factum inter spiritales aquas superiores et corporales in-
feriores^ non satls considerate dictum est; res autem in abdito est valde.
— Ed.
. works of the Creator. 413
the lights^ shining from above ; the sim, to suffice for
the day^ the moon and the stars to cheer the night;
and that, by all these, twies should be marked and ji
signified. We behold on all sides a moist element \\
replenished with fishes, beasts, and birds ; because j j
the grossness of the air, which bears up the flights ji
of birds, thickeneth itself by the exhalation of the | \
waters. We behold the face of the earth decked ji
out with earthly creatures; and man, created after ;!
Thy image and likeness, even through Thy very ii
image and liJceness, that is the power of reason and | j
understanding, set over all irrational creatures. And | !
as in his soul there is one power which has dominion \ |
by directing, another made subject, that it might j|
I obey; so was there for the man, corporeally also 1 1
I made a woman, who, in the mind of her reasonable j |
i understanding, should have a parity of nature, but
I in the sex of her body, should be in like manner
i subject to the sex of her husband, as the appetite of
doing is fain to obtain the skill of right-doing, from
the reason of the mind. These things we behold,
and they are severally good, and taken altogether
very good.
XXXIII. 48. Let Thy works praise Thee, that we
may love Thee; and let us love Thee, that Thy
works may praise Thee, which from time have be-
ginning and ending, rising and setting, growth and
decay, form and privation. They have then their
succession of morning and evening, part secretly,
part apparently. For they were made of nothing by
Thee, not of Thee ; not of any matter not Thine, or that
29
414 Creation is de nihilo,.
was before Thy creative act, but of matter concreated
(that is, a matter in which the matter and form were
i simultaneously created by Thee), because to its state
1 1 icithout form^ Thou without any interval of time didst
ji give form. For seeing the matter of heaven and
ji earth is one thing, and the form another. Thou
Ij madest the matter of merely nothing, but the form
I ! of the world out of the matter without form : yet
II both together, so that the form should follow the
1 1 matter, without any interval of delay .^
I ; XXXIY. 49. We have also examined what Thou
I i willedst to be shadowed forth, whether by the crea-
I j tion, or the relation of things in such an order ;
I I and we have seen, that things singly are good^ and
j: together very good^ in Thy Word, in Thy Only-
Begotten, both heaven and earthy the head and the
body of the church, in Thy predestination before all
times, without morning and evening. But when
Thou begannest to execute in time the things j^redes-
tinated, to the end Thou mightest reveal hidden
things, and rectify our disorders (for our sins hung
over us, and we had sunk into the dark dee^)^ and
Thy good Spirit was home over us, to help us in due
season)^ Thou dA^%\^ justify the ungodly^ and dividedst
them from the wicked ; and Thou madest the firma-
ment of authority of Thy book between those placed
above., who were to be docile unto Thee, and those
1 Augustine here precludes that theory of creation which regards the
Deity as conditioned by an eternally existent uA-rj, — an error in which
some of the early Christian Fathers, e. g., Justin Martyr, were involved.
Compare Guericke's Church History, § 53. — Ed.
Mecapitulatory statement. 415
placed mider^ who were to be subject to them; and
thou gatheredest together the society of unbelievers
into one conspiracy, that the zeal of the faithful might
appear, and they might bring forth works of mercy,
even distributing to the poor their earthly riches, to
obtain heavenly. And after this, didst Thou kindle
certain lights in the Jirmament, Thy Holy ones hav-
ing the word of lij\ and shining with an eminent
authority set on high through spiritual gifts. After
this, again, for the initiation of the unbelieving Gen-
tiles, didst Thou, out of corporeal matter, produce
the Sacraments, and visible miracles, and forms of
words, according to the firmament of Thy Book, by
which the faithful should be blessed and niultiplied.
Next, didst Thou form the living soid of the faithful,
through affections well ordered by the vigor of con-
tinency. After that hast Thou renewed the mind,
subjected to Thee alone and needing to imitate no
human authority, after Thy image and likeness^ and
didst subject its rational actions to the excellency of
the understanding, as the woman to the man ; and, to
all offices of Thy Ministry, necessary for the perfecting
of the faithful in this life. Thou willedst, that, for
their temporal uses, good things, fruitful to them-
selves in time to come, be given by the same faithful.
All these we see, and they are very good, because
Thou seest them in us. Who hast given unto us Thy
Spirit, by which we might see them, and in them
love Thee.
XXXY. 50. O Lord God, give peace unto ns (for
Thou hast given us all things), the peace of rest, the ||
416 Augustine sighs for
peace of the Sabbath which hath no evenmg. For
all this most goodly array of things very good^ having
finished their courses, is to pass away, for in them
there loas tnorning and evening.
XXXYI. 51. But the seventh day hath no even-
ing, nor hath it setting, because Thou hast sanctified
it to an everlasting continuance ; that that which
Thou didst after Thy icorhs which were very goody
namely, resting the seventh day (although Thou
madest them in unbroken rest), we, too, may do, —
Thy Book announcing beforehand unto us, that we
also, after our works {very good., because Thou hast
given them to us), shall rest in Thee also, in the Sab-
bath of eternal life.
XXXVII. 52. For Thou shalt rest in us, as now
Thou workest in us ; and Thy rest shall be through
us, as Thy works are through us. But Thou, Lord,
ever workest, and art ever at rest. Nor dost Thou
see in time, nor art moved in time, nor rested in
time ; and yet Thou makest things seen in time, yea
the times themselves, and the rest which results from
time.
XXXYIII. 53. We therefore see these things
which Thou madest, because they are ; but they are
because Thou seest them. And we see without, that
they are, and within, that they are good ; but Thou
sawest them when made, as Thou sawest them before
they were made. And we were at a later time moved
to do well, after our hearts had conceived of Thy
Spirit ; but in the former time we were moved to do
evil, forsaking Thee. But Thou, the One, the Good
the everlasting rest. 417
God, didst never cease doing good. And we also
have some good vwrks^ of Thy gift, but not eternal ;
after them we trust to rest in Thy great hallovnng.
But Thou, being the Good which needeth no good,
art ever at rest, because Thy rest is Thyself. And
what man can teach man to understand this ? or what
angel an angel ? or what angel a man ? Let it be
ashed of Thee, sought of Thee, knocked for at Thee :
so, so shall it be received, so shall it be found, so shall
it be opened. Amen.
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